#ella give me feedback | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hermetiqa · 1 month

Text

When will you meet your future spouse?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK

MASTERLIST | PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

Hello, Pile 1! I feel like you'll meet your future spouse when you prefer to be alone and be away from all the people you already know. You might think of going to some camp alone and when you're getting together in the camp, you might have come up with the idea of using a different name when you introduce yourself because you intend not to share who you truly are. You might think of the names Ella, Lily, Alisha, Cindy, Helena. The spelling of the names doesn't matter, any alternative spellings or name variations could be in your mind too. You might even use an odd name, like a name known to be masculine such as Alex and George. There's a TikToker who keeps popping in my head right now, the one who has a Chloe Paddington bags and named her bags. You might have had this camp and name idea from her. I can see that your future spouse might be the one who would approach you first and start the conversation, and they really have a strong masculine energy here while you're the feminine one. I'm also getting an intuitive energy from you and you might have a feeling that you feel like you've known each other for a long time, even if it was really your first time meeting each other. You might be a fire sign and they could be a water sign, but you're quite compatible. It seems like you could have each other's sun in one's moon and/or ascendant.

Signs: dark/black hair, curly hair, brown eyes, dark/light academia fashion style, white loose button-down shirt, latino/a looks, speaks spanish and italian, campfire, marshmallows, trees, beach, seashore, lowtide, collecting seashells

Pile 2

Hello, Pile 2! As for you, I'm seeing a picnic that involves books and paintings. 01:01 on the clock right now. You might think of reading a book or doing a painting, specifically watercolor or oil painting, in the afternoon. You might do this alone in a park or somewhere that has a pond. To be more detailed, I'm getting that you might read a book in a park and would prefer to paint some place that has a pond with koi fish or water lilies so you can paint them. I'm getting the seasons spring and summer too. You could be an introvert and you often go to your comfort places to breathe and rewind. And your future spouse would notice you visiting the same place oftentimes. They could observe you for a while before approaching you as well. And I feel like they might ask you if they could join you to read a book or paint something. You might even exchange books and paintings. You might annotate each other's books and paint each other's paintings (you know the thing where you both paint something on your canvas and you exchange each other's unfinished paintings and add something, and so on).

Signs: dark/brunette hair, curly hair, blue eyes, strong jawline, downtown/retro fashion, long white skirts, baggy shirts, leather bag, doc martens, the secret history, if we were villains, ophelia, the lumineers, (curtain) bangs, wavy hair, booktok

Pile 3

Hello, Pile 3! I feel like you'll meet yours when you're doing some charity event or donating something. It could be related to dogs and/or cats, so you could be pet lovers. This might be an all-of-a-sudden decision because the charity/donation wasn't planned that much but I'm getting that you might meet there. You might organize the charity or help them organize and they'll help too, and you might do most of the work together. I'm also getting that this is when you're trying to become a better person and finally end your toxic habits. I feel like you have feminine energy but to other people, you show your masculine energy. You might think of getting something to eat together at lunch when you work together after a charity event, and this is when you'll start to know each other. You'll be interested in each other's interests and might think that you're compatible, and might suit each other. You'll be really fond of each other for a while which will lead you to some dates and hanging out a lot. I feel like you'll both reciprocate each other's wants and needs in this connection, especially with all the adjustments at first, but you'll be close friends even while you're dating, you might be comfortable to be around each other as if you're best friends.

Signs: blonde, blue/green eyes, wavy hair, daisies/flowers on hair, blue shorts, white and blue shirt, band shirts, casual fashion, flexible, gymnastics and ballet (during childhood), waffles, hotdogs, pizzas, medium hair length, straight hair, brown hair highlights, summer

448 notes · View notes

moviestarmartini · 9 months

Text

la playa - jude bellingham x reader

" yo te lo hice a ti en la playa / justo al frente de la orilla / ella y yo no somo' nada pero solo entre comilla "

pairing: jude bellingham x latina!reader

summary: situationship!jude asked to spend the summer vacations with you. he's been looking at you with something other than his hungry eyes for some time now.

wc: 2.0k

warnings: really short instagram aus at both the beginning and the end, situationship where they both clearly fell for each other but won't discuss it, pet names in spanish, NSFW, semi-public sex, soft dom!jude if you squint, teasing, p in v, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all), creampie, cockwarming, fluff (aka two big goofs in love).

A/N: i haven't written a fic in more than a year but i'm on break from uni and this man has been plaguing my every thought UGHH i'm also tired of january, it should be spring break already so i'm manifesting that energy into both this fic and the new year !! reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :>

now playing... la playa by myke towers

yourusername verano contigo 🤍

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, settling your phone down after the content had been uploaded.

You met Jude by spare chance. You’d been living in Madrid for a bit more than a year, occupied with your studies by the time the star boy reached the promised land. Jogging in Valdebebas at six thirty in the morning and having a black car pull up next to you was the way you were sure you were leaving this earth, instead finding a footballer asking for directions at the other side of the rolled-down window.

You easily discover the real reason later on. He was not lost, but had seen you around the residential complex; he’d only gotten the courage to talk to you after taking a big jug of coffee that morning, or so he claimed.

You’d noticed he had been staring at your glistening skin as you tanned your backside, but decided against commenting until the cheeky smile started to blossom. “Nothin’ “ He shook his head, but a tiny smile was half hidden behind his plush lips, giving away other intentions. The sun was so bright it was dazing, you’d sat under it for a while now hoping to darken your skin. The heat felt funny inside your tummy, similar to how Jude made your guts churn whenever he hooked your legs over his shoulders. “You’re sitting too far. C’mere.”

“Jude, mi rey, we’ve been holding hands the whole time I’ve been tanning.” You replied shortly, looking at him from behind your shades.

“Not close enough.” He practically whined, tugging at your arm with need, coercing you to get up and sit on his lap under the shade.

“Better?” You asked from your newfound place in his crotch, warm bodies coming in contact as you settled. You noticed him nod, his arm wrapping your waist in a way his forearm rested against your bare abdomen covering your belly button.

“Why won’t you post me?” His lower lip puckered out, eliciting a laugh out of you as you turned to face him briefly before turning towards the vast ocean in front of you. A small groan left his lips at the innocent movement.

After analyzing the vivid memory of his face, and thinking through your words, you spoke up. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Once again, got comfortable in his lap. A sigh followed, coming from the man behind you.

“Have I ever told you how much I like that bikini on you?” Jude spoke after a minute or so of comfortable silence. You felt him toying with the drawstring of the bottoms. You could also feel something poking at your bare ass. “But not as much as I like you…”

“I think you’ve mentioned how you wanted to take it off.” Your voice barely came out; a mumble almost, ignoring the last sentence. Your heart thud against your chest, louder than it had done before when he questioned his presence— or lack thereof— in your vacation post. You peered around the area, only to find the waves crashing close to your beach beds’ location, and pearl-ish white sand spread for miles on end— just the two of you.

You felt him nod again, his chin brushing against your shoulder. Though he confirmed your suspicions of his true intentions, Jude’s hand didn’t undo the strap that held together the skimpy bikini. Instead, his fingers trailed the hem of the swimsuit, barely touching the warm skin. “Can I?”

The tone of his voice was low, the manner only brought goosebumps down your spine. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being eager, or at least the stupor of the hot day didn’t allow you to nod fast enough for you to look desperate. “You don’t know how happy I am to get you like this…” His hand sneaked under the piece at a painfully slow pace. Even though you knew what was going to happen, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“You always get me like this whenever you please.” It could be a complaint coming from anyone else, but it was just the reality of the situation. The relationship between you and Jude was… unclear. Feelings had been owned up to, but a title hadn’t been discussed. In fact, this was the first trip you tagged along; he asked you personally to do so. But you still decided against reading too much into it.

“You were saying, love?” Jude chuckled with malice, smirking at the way your skin prickled up at his touch applied to the bundle of nerves between your legs— which also spread involuntarily to give him better access. The way your words morphed with the moans and delirious sighs brought only further satisfaction to the British national.

“Don’t get all sassy with me.” You complained through a breathy laugh, eyes falling shut. His other hand trailed upwards your torso, to rest against your breasts and get straight into the task of cupping the left one first. The circles to your clit were steady, too steady for your liking. But still good enough to enjoy, and your moans let him know he was doing a stellar job. As per usual.

“What do you want, amor?” You managed to ask. Jude could’ve internally cursed, you knew him too well. A little too well for his liking. Instead of providing an answer, he pressed harder against your clit, the pressure catching you off guard, doubling down the attitude too.

“You,” Jude replied after what seemed years after he couldn’t take any more of your squirming. “Just you, all for me.” You could feel his stubble brushing against your shoulder before his lips pressed onto the length of your neck. It was all too much for you; the heat, the bright sun, the dryness settling in your tongue, his hands touching your body, his hard, clothed cock pressing against your backside, and the coil tightening in your lower stomach.

But he stopped.

Almost bewildered, you gasped, at the same time he undid the bunny ears that kept your swimsuit together. A smile crept onto your face as you turned to face him, thighs on either side of his hips. “You’re looking at me like that again.” You noted humbly, undoing the string of your bra. He couldn’t even formulate a response at the sight of your bare body, eyes scanning every inch, adoring the fresh tan lines.

“How could I not? You’re perfect.” Jude breathed out, leaning forward to catch his lips in yours. It was slow, but oozing with need and passion. You felt a pressure built up in your stomach, sparks, but you hesitated if he ever felt those around you.

“My perfect girl.” He breathed against your lips, hands holding onto your hips as he watched you undo the string that held his swimsuit tighter to his waist. He helped you pull the item down, barely resting at his upper thighs.

He leaned forward once again to catch your lips on his, letting out a tiny groan as you leaned further, just to tease him. “Kiss me,” Jude whined, stomach tightening at the firm grip around his shaft.

“Tranquilo, mi rey.” You cooed, working him up by rubbing his swollen tip on the warm and wet hole before finally sinking down his length. A pair of harmonious groans left both of your lips once you sat in his lap again, hips circling to get accustomed to the stretch.

“I can’t calm down when I’m obsessed with you.” Jude breathed out, large hands helping you steady the pace of your hips. He watched hypnotized by the way his cock disappeared in and out of your warm walls. His eyes were set, as though he wanted to train them to imprint the image in the back of his mind.

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “Eyes up here, big boy.” The friendly banter defined your relationship; you often wondered if putting a label on things would make that disappear. But it was all just a wall to hide behind the adoration you felt for him, using it to dodge every compliment, in fear that none of his words were sincere. You could tell he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest when meeting your eyes, and the look you couldn’t pinpoint for the whole afternoon reappeared as he tangled his fingers in your hair and drew you right in for a kiss.

A kiss fierce enough to make you weak in the knees.

It was the perfect opportunity for Jude to accommodate his stance to start thrusting upwards, the sweetest noise he managed to squeeze out from the back of your throat was worth the tension in his core. Instantly, your back arched to give him the perfect angle. “I want you like this all the time…” He moaned into your mouth, hands on your hips to pin you down.

“Jude…” You mewled, the sound of skin coming into contact filling the empty air, harmonizing with the waves crashing near the beach spot you both occupied. You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, and Jude wasn’t foreign to the squeezing that built-up with every frantic thrust.

“C’mere doll, you’re doing so good f’me. Cum all over my cock, c’mon.” His voice was soft, the encouragement overlapping with his own groans of pleasure. He drew you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. Jude resisted the usual drawn-out teasing and mocking, now finding satisfaction in babying you as he slammed deep into you.

The string of incoherent babbles left your mouth shortly after his praises reached your ears. Jude closed his eyes to both contain himself from releasing at the way your pulsating walls were milking him so deliciously, but to also cherish the way your moans turned up the octave, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his bicep. Yet again, the heat you’ve been withstanding for the entirety of that morning hazed you, making a fantastic team with the warmth of Jude’s strong arms and the faded smell of his cologne mixed in with the salty air.

But all it took to push you right off the edge was a kiss. A single kiss pressed to your shoulder.

Your release consisted of a cocktail of your orgasm and a wave of realization crashing over you. You were head over heels with the man who was currently squishing your face against his buff chest, strong arms wrapped around your waist as he held you down. Groans and chants of your name replaced your meek moans and sighs, his cum filling you up. You allowed him the luxury of doing so every once in a while, and the dream-like stupor that enveloped your mind currently created the desire for him to do so.

The sounds of waves crashing filled the air once more, overshadowing the heavy breathing you shared. You stayed put, even cuddling closer to him as soon as the tremor left your legs. Time seemed to slow down, and you wondered how difficult the task of pulling away from him would soon be.

“Can I post you?”

Jude broke the silence, he’d been busy brushing your hair strands back into place upon the comfortable silence you’d set on. There was an arm still wrapped along the width of your waist. You pulled back to look him in the eyes, expecting to see playfulness in them, but finding a completely serious stare in return. “Since a certain someone won’t post me…”

“Oh, stop it!” You laughed, cheeks flushed at the idea. “If you think it's that great on an idea…” You puckered your lips while replicating his tone, cupping his face and planting a peck on his lips.

Jude smirked, licking his lips to chase the taste of you. But his eyes were soft, full of adoration. That look. It would blossom by just admiring your presence, or during one of his favorite activities– making you happy. “All I have are great ideas. Amazing, even.” He stole a peck off from you. You giggled, and a smile subconsciously peaked from behind his lips.

His heart flipped in his chest for the hundredth time that trip.

Jude, lost for words, just shook his head and reached for his phone. He started to wonder how a person could compete so easily with the grandiose, warmth and shine of the sun above.

But one peek down at you, snuggled up against him, answered all his questions.

judebellingham summer with you 🤍

A/N: used @ keilanilizbeth on instagram as the fc

and that pic on the left has me wishing i could match sambas with jude 😞😞

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham smut #football smut #football fic #𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !

1K notes · View notes

rylem33 · 12 days

Text

The Root of Malice

Here's a new one from me. I hope you enjoy! I've updated my blog homepage as there were some of my posts not showing. So head over there if you want to read any of my 100+ stories. And, as always, feedback is welcome. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ella sat comfortably in the campus library, nestled in a cozy corner. The scent of books lingered in the air as she flipped through another dusty find.

Across from her, Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning as he scrolled through his phone. They had spent the last half hour quietly teasing each other, their occasional laughter breaking the usual silence of the library. Sam, ever patient with her whims, loved these little moments with Ella, even if they were spent surrounded by piles of books.

“Still looking through dusty old books, huh?” Sam teased, leaning over to glance at the weathered pages she was studying. “You sure you’re not secretly a witch?”

Ella smirked, gently nudging him with her foot under the table. “Maybe I am, and you should be careful—might turn you into a frog or something.”

“Good luck with that,” Sam chuckled, reaching across the table to give her hand a playful squeeze. “If I turn into a frog, you’ll be the one kissing me to break the curse, remember?”

Ella laughed, her soft blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she shot him a playful look. “I’d rather keep you as a frog. You’d make a cute one.”

He leaned forward with a grin. “You’d miss me too much.”

“Maybe,” she replied, her smile widening as their banter continued.

After a few more playful jabs, Sam finally set his phone down and leaned on his elbow, watching her with that familiar, affectionate gaze. “So, what are we thinking? Should we hit up the party soon? Some of the guys from class are already there. I promised we’d at least make an appearance.”

Ella glanced down at the open book in front of her—a curious old thing she had found tucked away in the back of a shelf. Something about it had caught her attention. The strange, faded symbols on the cover seemed to pull her in.

She looked back at Sam with an apologetic smile. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up. I need to finish up some research for my project.” She gestured at the book.

Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. “More research, huh? Only you would choose an old book over a party.” He leaned across the table, lowering his voice. “You sure it’s not a spellbook?”

She rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “Fine, fine. Go to your party before I put a hex on you.”

He laughed, standing up and reaching down to ruffle her hair. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But don’t take too long. You owe me a dance, witch.”

Ella looked up at him, her expression softening. “I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Sam paused, then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It was sweet and tender, lingering for just a moment as his hand rested on her shoulder. “I love you, El.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, her heart warm as she gazed up at him.

With one last smile, Sam turned and headed toward the library door, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway. Ella watched him go, her fingers absentmindedly running through her hair before turning her attention back to the book that lay open in front of her.

She had been working on a research project for her psychology class—human behavior, specifically what drove people to be cruel. It was a fascinating, albeit dark, topic that had captured her interest for weeks. Ella had already sifted through academic papers and case studies, searching for answers to the age-old question of what made some people malicious while others leaned toward kindness.

Her project had been focused on clinical explanations, theories of aggression, and the societal factors that could lead to cruelty, but in her search through the library’s shelves, she stumbled upon this peculiar book, tucked away in the farthest corner of the psychology section. Its worn cover had no title, and its pages were brittle. But the strange thing was its content—a brief mention of something called the Root of Malice, an idea that didn’t quite fit with the modern research she’d been reading. It intrigued her, and though she had no real reason to follow this particular lead, curiosity had taken hold.

Ella flipped through the delicate pages, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the odd, archaic language scrawled across the parchment. Some of the text was faded and difficult to decipher, but every so often a word would leap out at her—malice, cruelty, darkness.

The further she read, the more she could feel something… off. The air around her seemed to grow heavier. Her fingers seemed to tingle as they brushed over the worn pages.

As she reached the middle of the book, her breath caught in her throat. There, filling an entire page, were strange symbols around an elaborate picture. They weren’t like anything she’d seen before.

Ella whispered the unfamiliar words aloud, struggling to pronounce the strange syllables. “Anhar oza seltor…”

The moment the last word left her lips, a sudden heaviness descended upon her. The air around her seemed to thicken, pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her vision blurred as a wave of dizziness washed over her, the room tilting slightly as if the very ground beneath her had shifted.

She tried to stand, her legs trembling beneath her, but the heaviness intensified. Her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the table for support, the world spinning too quickly for her to make sense of it. Every movement felt slow and labored, like she was moving underwater.

And then… everything went dark.

Ella’s body slumped in the chair, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

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

When she awoke, it was as if no time had passed at all. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, everything felt disjointed. She blinked, disoriented, the blurry outlines of bookshelves and the faint hum of fluorescent lights slowly coming into focus. The library was quiet.

The heaviness was gone.

Ella sat up slowly, her hands gripping the arms of the chair for balance as she took a deep breath. Her head no longer spun, and the crushing weight that had overtaken her just moments before had vanished entirely, replaced by an odd sense of calm. She felt… fine. Completely fine, actually.

Had she fainted? She didn’t feel weak or sick.

She glanced down at the book, its pages still open to the strange symbols she had tried to read aloud. An odd shiver went down her spine.

The clock on the wall caught her eye. I should just call it a night.

She let out a shaky breath, the unease in her chest slowly subsiding as she closed the book with a soft thud. Sam would be waiting for her at the party, and the thought of seeing him was a welcome distraction after… whatever that was.

“I’ll come back to this later,” she muttered to herself, sliding the book to the edge of the table, feeling more relieved than she cared to admit. Research could wait. She needed to shake this off, clear her head, and enjoy herself tonight.

Ella grabbed her bag and stood up, the usual lightness returning to her steps as she headed for the library exit. Everything felt normal again, but a small voice in the back of her mind wondered why she had fainted at all.

She pushed the thought away, forcing a smile as she stepped into the cool evening air. It’s fine. I’m fine. Sam would laugh at her when she told him about her strange experience, and that was exactly what she needed right now—just a fun night to forget about the bizarre pull of that book.

As she walked toward the party, the memory of the symbols started to fade, and with it, the heaviness that had briefly weighed her down. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

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

Ella left the library feeling oddly energized. By the time she arrived at the party, she was in high spirits. She moved through the crowded house, smiling at familiar faces, her attention focused on finding Sam. She scanned the room but couldn’t spot him immediately.

It’s fine. I’ll find him eventually, she thought, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Normally, she’d feel nervous or self-conscious, but tonight was different.

A girl she recognized from one of her classes waved at her. “Hey, Ella!” she called out with a warm smile. Ella returned the wave, moving to approach her, but the moment she did, a sharp, searing pain shot through her head. She gasped, clutching her temple.

What the hell?

The pain faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She tried to ignore it, taking another step toward the girl to say hello, but the stabbing pain returned, worse this time, as if something was trying to force her away from doing it.

She stopped, panting softly, the pain slowly subsiding. What’s going on?

But then, as she turned away from the friendly girl and bumped into a guy who accidentally spilled his drink on her arm, a flash of anger surged through her. “Watch where you’re going, asshole,” she snapped, pushing him back slightly.

And then it hit—a wave of pleasure so intense it made her shiver. Her whole body tingled as a warm, satisfying sensation flowed through her. It felt… incredible.

She blinked in shock, standing still as the rush of pleasure slowly ebbed. That felt… good.

Her fingers brushed against the spot on her arm where the drink had spilled. Normally, she would have apologized or brushed off the situation entirely. But being rude—no, cruel—had felt amazing, like she had tapped into something new. Her lips curled into a small smile as the realization sunk in. When I’m nice, it hurts. When I’m not… it feels so damn good.

She moved through the party, her mind racing. Every time she considered doing something kind or polite, like offering someone a smile or holding the door, that sharp, throbbing pain returned. But when she deliberately knocked into someone, or made a snide comment under her breath, the pleasure would return, flooding her senses. She couldn’t help but want more.

Finally, she saw Sam across the room, talking to a group of people by the bar. Her heart should have leapt at the sight of him, but instead, a cold detachment settled over her. She strode over, her steps confident and purposeful, feeling a thrill building inside her.

“Hey, babe,” she said casually, sliding up next to him. Sam turned to greet her, but as soon as he saw her, his face froze.

“Ella? What happened to your hair?” he asked, confusion lacing his voice.

Her hand instinctively went up to touch her hair. “What?” she asked, more out of annoyance than confusion. But the second she tried to explain or reassure him, a sharp pain spiked in her temple. She winced, her teeth gritting against the sensation.

“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, frustration building inside her as the pain pulsed.

Sam’s concern deepened. “Are you okay? You’re acting really weird.”

“I’m fine, okay?” she snapped, and just like that, the pain disappeared, replaced by another surge of pleasure. It was intoxicating, almost euphoric.

Sam blinked, surprised by her sudden outburst. “Ella, I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your help!” she spat, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. The pleasure hit her again, hard, coursing through her veins like a drug. Her pulse quickened, and she realized she wanted more. Being cruel… felt good.

Sam stepped back, his face hardening. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice cold. “I’ll give you space.”

Ella’s chest tightened, the remnants of the old her stirring within, urging her to say something, to explain. Tell him it’s the spell. But she couldn’t. The moment she tried, the searing pain would shut her down.

Instead, she stood there, feeling the thrill of power and control surge through her as Sam walked away. Her hand trembled slightly as she ran it through her hair again, the unfamiliar black strands slipping between her fingers.

Ella watched Sam walk away, her chest heaving as the anger bubbled beneath the surface. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, but instead of the sorrow she expected to feel, there was only a hollow coldness. The part of her that used to care felt distant, almost unreachable. All she could focus on now was the raw energy surging inside her, the anger swirling.

Her fists clenched at her sides, the pleasure from snapping at Sam still pulsing in her veins like a warm, addictive buzz. Why did it feel so good to push him away? That thought should have terrified her, but it didn’t.

“Ella? Hey, Ella!” A familiar voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to see Claire, one of her oldest friends, weaving through the crowd toward her. Claire’s face was creased with concern, her eyes darting nervously between Ella and the direction Sam had gone. “I just saw you with Sam… Are you okay? You look upset.”

Ella blinked, the remnants of her old self stirring beneath the surface. Claire had always been a good friend, someone who cared. Ella knew she should be thankful—she should be kind, explain things, apologize for how she was acting.

But as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, the pain struck again. Hard. A white-hot spike of agony shot through her skull, forcing her to grit her teeth and clutch her head. The kindness she’d tried to summon was immediately snuffed out, replaced by the growing rage that had been festering since she arrived at the party.

The pain vanished, and in its place, a surge of blissful pleasure rolled through her body. The sharpness of it nearly made her gasp. She lowered her hand slowly, her dark eyes narrowing as she looked at Claire.

“Am I okay?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

Claire blinked, taken aback by the venom in Ella’s voice. “I just… you seemed upset with Sam, and I—”

“What? You think I can’t handle my own shit?” Ella snapped, her voice louder now, catching the attention of a few nearby partygoers. “I don’t need you, or anyone else, swooping in like I’m some pathetic damsel who needs rescuing.”

Claire’s eyes widened, her expression quickly shifting from concern to confusion. “Ella, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

“Shut up, Claire,” Ella cut her off sharply, the pleasure now a steady hum beneath her skin, fueling her words. It felt incredible. With each cruel comment, the pain in her head lessened, and the rush of power intensified. “Do me a favor and mind your own business for once. Maybe that’s why you’re always clinging to me like some desperate little puppy—because you can’t even keep your own life together.”

The hurt that flashed across Claire’s face was immediate, her eyes going glassy as she struggled to comprehend the sudden cruelty. “Ella… what’s going on with you? This isn’t like you.”

Ella tilted her head, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips. “Just fuck off,” she said, her voice almost electric. The thrill of seeing Claire’s discomfort—the way she was shrinking back—sent another wave of pleasure through Ella, and she felt herself reveling in it. Why had she spent so much time being nice when this felt so damn good?

Claire took a step back, clearly shaken. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I’m not sticking around to find out,” she muttered, her voice trembling before she turned and hurried away, glancing back only once with a look of both fear and sadness.

As Claire disappeared into the crowd, Ella’s body hummed with satisfaction. She stood there, feeling a strange mix of triumph and hunger. She had liked that. The power. The control. Watching someone crumble under her words had been exhilarating.

She glanced around the party, her mind still buzzing, her body craving more.

Ella’s pulse quickened as she watched Claire disappear into the crowd, the rush of power still humming beneath her skin. She had never felt this way before—so alive, so charged with energy. She didn’t want it to stop.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for her next outlet. That’s when she noticed him—a guy standing against the far wall, staring at her. He looked like he was trying to play it cool, but his gaze lingered a little too long, and Ella could feel the pull of his attention. He was tall, with dark hair and a cocky grin that seemed to falter when she locked eyes with him.

A smirk curled on her lips as she started walking toward him, her hips swaying with purpose. He straightened up, watching her approach, clearly not expecting her boldness.

Without a word, Ella reached him and, with no hesitation, she raised her hand and smacked him hard across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the small space, and the guy’s head snapped to the side. A murmur of shock rippled through a few people nearby who had seen the sudden act, but Ella didn’t care. She felt a surge of pleasure—intense and almost dizzying—pulse through her at the sight of his stunned expression.

He blinked, his hand flying to his cheek as he looked back at her, confusion and a strange mix of attraction swirling in his eyes. “What the hell?” he started, his voice low, but before he could say anything else, Ella stepped in close, her body pressing against his.

“Shut up,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Then she kissed him. Hard. Her mouth crashed against his, open and aggressive, her tongue forcing its way past his lips as she took complete control. He hesitated for a split second before kissing her back, clearly turned on by her wildness, though completely unsure of what had just happened. His hands hovered near her waist, unsure whether to touch her or not.

Ella bit down on his bottom lip as she pulled away, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a sting. He winced, a small groan escaping his mouth as his eyes met hers, filled with a mix of desire and bewilderment.

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. “Don’t stare at what you can’t handle,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with menace. She stepped back, licking the taste of his blood from her lips as she watched him, still dazed and turned on, staring at her like he didn’t know whether to run or beg for more.

With a final, cold smile, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the guy standing there, clutching his lip, his eyes wide with confusion and raw lust.

Ella laughed softly, a dark, twisted sound that sent shivers down her spine. The pleasure coursing through her was like nothing she had ever felt before, and she wanted more. More of the power. More of the control. More of this dark, intoxicating version of herself that had been hidden for so long.

But then she saw him. Sam.

He was standing near the bar, his eyes locked onto her from across the room. His eyes looked hurt, wet, heartbroken

For a split second, something in her chest tightened. I should explain… I should—

The thought barely formed in her mind before an intense bolt of pain ripped through her skull, so sharp and sudden that it nearly knocked her off balance. She gasped, clutching her head as the pain shot through her temples, worse than before. It felt like her mind was being torn apart. Every attempt to reach out to Sam, every impulse to apologize or explain, was met with a violent surge of agony that made her stomach twist.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, biting down hard to suppress a scream. The pain throbbed, forcing her to let go of any thought of being kind or soft. No. Not kind. Not good.

The pain was too much.

So instead, Ella sneered, her lips curling into a wicked smirk as she slowly raised her hand. Without breaking eye contact, she flipped him off, her middle finger raised high, a silent, defiant message of finality. The action sent a new wave of satisfaction coursing through her, the pleasure intoxicating and powerful.

He didn’t deserve an explanation. Not anymore.

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the party, her pulse pounding in her ears. As the night air hit her face, a slow, dark grin spread across her lips.

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

Ella walked through the empty streets, her mind flush with anger, desire, power. The rush from flipping Sam off, the look on his face as she left him standing there, confused and heartbroken… it felt so right, so thrilling.

Her feet carried her to the library before she even realized where she was headed. It was late now, long after closing time, the large wooden doors locked tight, the building dark. But Ella didn’t care. She felt a pull—a strange connection to the book she had found earlier, the one that had started all of this. She needed to get back to it. She had to.

Approaching the front entrance, she tested the doors, rattling the handles, but they didn’t budge. She could see the book in her mind, calling to her, and the locked doors only fueled her frustration. The sharp pang of disappointment flared briefly in her chest, but then a thought—no, an urge—took over. Why follow the rules? Being bad had felt good so far, hadn’t it?

Without hesitation, she picked up a heavy stone from the nearby garden bed and hurled it at one of the tall windows. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the empty streets, and the thrill that followed was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure rippling through her body. Yes.

She climbed through the broken window, not caring if she cut herself on the shards as she dropped onto the cold floor inside. The thrill of destruction pulsed through her, making her heart race with excitement. The more she disobeyed, the stronger she felt. It was exhilarating.

The library was dark and still, the only sound the faint echo of her footsteps on the old wooden floors. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light as she made her way back to the nook piled with her books.

There it was, lying exactly where she’d left it on the table, almost as if it had been waiting for her. She reached out and picked it up, the leather-bound cover cool against her skin. As soon as her fingers touched it, she felt a surge of energy.

She turned to a page, as if on auto-pilot. It was covered with strange symbols that seemed to glow in her eyesight. Though they were still foreign to her, she understood them instinctively. The spell on the page hummed with power, and it seemed to call to her, as if it had been waiting for her to store enough of dark energy to unlock its potential.

Ella’s heart raced. She knew what to do. She had enough—enough anger, enough cruelty, enough bad energy stored within her. And now, she was ready. Ready to unleash it.

She took a deep breath and began to whisper the words on the page, her voice low and steady. As the words left her lips, the energy inside her shifted, swirling and building into something more, something darker.

The symbols on the page glowed brighter, their light wrapping around her like tendrils of shadow, weaving through her fingers and up her arms. Ella’s body tingled, her heart pounding as the spell consumed her. She could feel the darkness pooling inside her, growing stronger with every word she spoke.

And then, with a final, whispered phrase, the energy exploded outward.

A violent surge of energy erupted from within her, enveloping her in a cocoon of dark, swirling shadows.

Her body trembled as the energy coursed through her veins, reshaping her from the inside out. Her soft, delicate features contorted, hardening with sharp edges as her skin began to glow with an unnatural hue. The sensation was both painful and intoxicating, like every nerve in her body was on fire, but the pleasure of it was overwhelming. She welcomed it—craved it.

Her hair, once a shimmering black, lengthened, flowing in dark, glossy waves down her back like a river of shadow. It thickened and twisted with a life of its own, framing her face as if the darkness itself was molding her into something more than human. She could feel her body shifting, her curves becoming more exaggerated, more seductive, every inch of her screaming power and allure. Her waist narrowed, her hips flared, and her breasts swelled, the intricate black lace-like designs crawling up her skin, wrapping around her like living tattoos. They moved, shifting and changing, merging with her skin in beautiful, haunting patterns.

Her hands flexed, the delicate fingers elongating, nails sharpening into blackened claws, gleaming with a predatory sheen. The feeling of control, of sheer dominance, flooded her senses. Her eyes, once wide and soft, darkened into pools of shadow, glowing with an inner crimson fire that burned with malevolent intent.

As her transformation reached its peak, two large, obsidian horns erupted from her skull, curving upward like a crown of dark power. They were sharp and imposing, exuding a terrifying majesty that made her feel like a queen—no, a goddess of the damned. A mask, forged from the very darkness surrounding her, materialized over her face, intricately designed with a skeletal, demonic beauty, making her look like a nightmare made flesh. The cold metal pressed against her skin, but instead of discomfort, it brought her more pleasure—more power.

And there she stood—no longer Ella, the sweet, quirky girl who once cared for kindness and love. She was now the embodiment of cruelty, of power, of unstoppable evil. Every ounce of the “bad” energy she had absorbed had transformed her into this—into a being of sheer dominance and destruction, a force that would be unleashed upon the world.

Ella looked down at her new form, feeling the raw power surging through her with every breath. The pain, the confusion—it was all gone, replaced by an unrelenting hunger for chaos, for cruelty, for conquest.

She smiled, her fanged teeth glinting in the dim light. She was Malice and the world had no idea what was coming.

#f2f transformation #personality change #f2f corruption #f2f

45 notes · View notes

an0ther1 · 5 months

Text

Untitled

Leah x OC

This is the start of something Im playing around with. Feedback is appreciated, or ideas/suggestions.

She took one last look in the mirror. It was just dinner with a friend, but being a public figure meant more eyes were usually on her than most. A pair of comfortable designer jeans she had gotten from a photo shoot and a maroon fitted jumper made it look like she wasn’t trying too hard without looking like she didn’t care at all.

She tousled her hair one more time before grabbing her phone and heading to the door to grab her black winter coat and purse. The restaurant was only a few blocks from her place so it wasn’t worth the bother to drive. She didn’t mind the walk either, some of the houses on her street always went all out with their light displays and holiday decorations. Tonight was the first chance she got to walk by and enjoy them.

She was around the corner from the restaurant when her phone went off with a text notification. Even before she pulled it out of her pocket she knew what it was going to be.

Lessi: So sorry Lee, can’t make it tonight. Can we reschedule for later this week?

“Really Russo.” Leah said under her breath as she continued walking. She should have known Alessia was going to cancel. United was in town, which meant Ella was in town, and Alessia always ditched plans with others to hang out with her best friend instead. At least the last time this happened she gave a few hours advance notice. Not 5 minutes before they were supposed to meet.

Lee: Yeah, that’s fine. Tell Tooney I said hello, and I would appreciate it if she could put a few in against Chelsea tomorrow.

Leah stepped into the restaurant and headed for the bar. If she was going to be dining solo, there was no need to get a table. At least at the bar top her back was to the other patrons and she could enjoy a meal in relative peace.

The restaurant wasn’t terribly busy, but there was only one open seat at the bar. Thankfully it was at the end so she would only be sitting next to one stranger instead of being sandwiched between two. Leah crossed her fingers that the guy she was about to sit next to didn’t try and hit on her all night.

“This seat taken?” She asked politely walking up behind the seat.

“Nope. You’re more than welcome to it. Let me scoot over and give you a bit more room.” The person replied in a very obvious American accent and a deep but distinctly feminine voice.

“Oh.” Leah was caught off guard by her incorrect assumption. “I appreciate that, thank you.” She told the person as she took off her coat and placed it on the back of the chair.

After she was settled, a waiter behind the bar walked up. “Ms. Williamson, pleasure to see you again.” They said as they handed her a menu. “Start you with a drink?”

“Thank you. Glass of chardonnay, please.”

“Sure thing.” They said and then headed back down the bar.

“Regular here, huh?” The person next to her asked as they took a sip of their drink without looking in her direction.

“Not really. Only been in a few times.” She replied quietly, not really wanting to drawn much attention to herself.

“Ah, then clearly they watch women's football. As they should.”

And clearly this person knew who she was too.

“Mmm, yeah, I guess.” Was all Leah said in response.

There was silence after that, the stranger going back to their drink. They had their phone propped up on the bar watching what Leah guessed was a replay of the U.S. game against China PR from the week prior.

Leah couldn’t help herself. “What do you think of the Emma Hayes move?”

The stranger turned and faced her for the first time and Leah was struck by piercing blue eyes. Their hair was light brown and cut in a more masculine style, buzzed on the sides with the top longer and brushed back and towards one side. They had a strong jawline, but the rest of their features were what Leah would describe as soft almost. The perfect balance of masculine and feminine. Definitely not Leah’s type, but she wasn’t blind, they were very attractive.

“I think we’ll finally start utilizing the talent we have properly and stop banging our head against a wall repeatedly doing the same thing when it obviously doesn’t work. And I’m not naive, things aren’t going to change overnight. We have a young group we’re still trying to get together on the same page, but maybe they’ll all start going in the same direction at least.” The stranger finished.

“So you weren’t a fan of Vlatko I’m guessing?”

“Absolutely not. He was boring, soft, his lineups and tactics were questionable at best. I didn’t like the hire from the get go and I think he was there too long.” The stranger took a sip of their drink. “I think the powers that be got a much needed reality check. We can’t accept mediocrity and still expect to win. The women’s game has changed. Other countries are finally starting to invest in their women’s programs and youth levels bit by bit, and they are coming for the US, Germany. Being a top 5 team in the world doesn’t mean your success is a guarantee like it might have in the past.”

The waiter walked over then with Leah’s wine. She gave him her order, not bothering to even open the menu, just ordering the same chicken dish had gotten the last time she was there.

“What do you think of the move? Has a bit of an impact on league and country. Her leaving one rival and going to another so to speak.” The stranger asked over her glass before taking another sip.

“Oh, umm. It is quite the shake up. I admit I’m curious who will fill her role at Chelsea. But I’m not sure I have much to say about her taking over the U.S. team. At least not at the moment.” Leah really wasn’t looking to get into any type of potential disagreement or the like with an American about their countries football team. Keeping neutral was best.

“Fair enough.” The stranger gave a slow head nod and turned back to the game on her phone.

Leah took a sip of her wine and watched the game over the strangers shoulder. They must of had a 6th sense because they moved their phone in between the two of them without a word.

“They’re definitely disjointed. Struggling to connect between the defense and the attackers. And they can’t seem to string more than 3 passes together before they lose it.” Leah let her thoughts roll out.

“Like I said, not on the same page. There are a lot of fresh faces, which I love. But they need more time together for sure. That would help with the fluidity issue. They still need to get used to Sonnett playing the 6. I think her energy in the middle still catches some of them off guard. The speed of Thompson is hard for some to keep up with and anticipate what she’s trying to do. There is just a lot of change.” The stranger replied without so much as a glance in Leah’s direction.

It was oddly comfortable talking to a stranger about football as if Leah wasn’t really a part of that world. This person wasn’t asking her about her injury recovery, wasn’t asking or saying anything that actually had to do with Leah in any way. It was a rather nice change from her usual encounters with strangers who knew who she was and what she did for a living.

They continued watching the game in relative silence, just throwing out random comments about a play or player sporadically until Leah’s order arrived.

The waiter placed the plate in front of Leah on the bar. “Anything else I can get ya?” He asked.

“No, I think I’m alright for the time being. Thank you.” Leah gave him a polite smile.

The waiter turned to the stranger. “Another round RJ?”

“Nah, I think I’m good Colin.” The stranger pulled out their wallet and laid a bill on the bar top. “You know the drill.”

Colin, the waiter, let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Keep the change. You keep tipping me like this I’m going to have to start buying your rounds.” He waved the bill at her. A £50 note.

“I might let you do that. Once. But we’ll see.” The stranger, or well, RJ as the waiter had called them, got up from their chair and began putting on a camel hair coat that had been laying over the chair.

As they buttoned up their coat, Leah could help but notice how tall they were. The waiter looked to be about 6 foot, and RJ didn’t seem too far off in comparison.

“Ms. Williamson,” RJ broke Leah out of her mental calculation on their height. “It was very nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see each other around sometime.”

“Oh, yes. It was nice to meet you as well, umm RJ?” Leah questioned. Not sure if she was to call them that or not.

“Enjoy your meal.” RJ bowed their head slightly, turned and walked away.

“RJ’s an interesting one.” The waiter said as they picked up the empty glass and wiped down the surface where RJ had been seated.

“How’d ya mean?”

“They have a drink or two, and then always hand over a £50 note. Won’t accept change even though the tab is usually less than £20.” He shook his head.

“Are they a regular?” Leah asked.

“Not sure if I would call them a regular just yet. They only moved from America about a month and a half ago, they said. Some digital job of some sort.” He shrugged. “Just holler if you need anything else.” He turned and headed back down the bar.

#woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer #leah williamson #arsenal

48 notes · View notes

cockslutpadalecki · 2 years

Text

All For You

Summary: You’ll never be able to tell Jake just how broken you truly are without him. Just how much you still love him. And the constant cycle of pushing him away before begging for his touch at 2am will never end until you can.

Characters: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader.

Words: 2.4K.

Warnings: heavy angst, smangst, lots of sexual tension, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Only six months late to the Jake bandwagon, but here we are. Based off song of the same name by Cian Ducrot Ft. Ella Henderson (definitely worth giving it a listen). Jake’s POV is in first person. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

You know it’s a mistake the moment he picks up. His familiar deep husk that’s indicative of waking from a deep sleep. It stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in so long that you almost hang up without a word.

“Hello?” he repeats drowsily, frustration already heavy in his tone.

“Jake,” you finally respond and you swear you can hear the breath catch in his throat.

“Hey.” The word is only three innocuous letters but it hurts as if it’s a breakup speech and you regret being so hasty to call. There’s a brief silence broken by the muffled sound of him grunting, and you know from memory he’s stretching across his bed to glance at the clock.

You swallow deeply, trying to block out the mental images of those taut abs tensing and contracting. Rippling as he fucks you long and hard in missionary—

“Y’know it’s 2am, right?” His voice interrupts your thoughts.

You know what time it is without needing to look at a clock. Like when your body is so in tune to waking up at the same time every morning, yours is programmed to reach out to Jake at 2am.

“Mhm.”

He sighs softly. “What’s happened?”

You don’t expect the question even though he always asks. Oh how you wish he’d get angry and hang up. It would certainly make these exchanges easier to deal with, but he never does.

I felt a moment of you in him.

You can’t tell Jake you missed his voice. Missed him. You’re too afraid to tell him anything.

“It’s not important,” you brush off, quickly changing the subject, “so, how you been?”

Jake coughs, clearing his throat. “Are you drunk again?”

“No,” you say, but the wine on your breath tells a different story. In reality, you’ve been drinking since you got home an hour ago, cutting short your date with Ben by feigning a stomachache. You did— do— feel sick, your gut twisting and turning as you try your best to wash down the memory of Jake on your skin, but it has done nothing except exacerbate your thoughts.

“You always were a bad liar,” he chuckles softly and the sound splits you down the middle before his tone changes. “Look, you should get some sleep. I’ll call when you’ve sobered up.”

“I can’t talk to you when I’m sober.”

“Why not?”

Because I’ll say all the things I should’ve said a year ago.

“This was a bad idea,” you backtrack hurriedly.

“D’you need me to come over?”

You shake your head vigorously, momentarily forgetting he can’t see you before you manage to choke out a solitary, “No.”

You can’t have him in your apartment. The last time it happened, all of the hard work you did to move on unraveled like a spool of thread in a matter of heated seconds.

As soon as he stepped inside, Jake was on you. Lips covering yours, hands in your hair— on the fastenings of your clothes as he rushed to free you from them. You mirrored his actions, tearing into his jeans as you kissed away the taste of bourbon from his tongue. He moaned into your mouth, a blissed out version of your name that you swear in the moment you’d have memorised for life. You stepped out of your yoga pants and jumped into Jake’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His cock was hot and wet as it notched at your entrance, teasing your pussy lips apart before he slid his way home—

“Hey, you still there?” Jake sounds panicked.

Your voice is thick as you reply, “‘m here.”

“Just say the word.”

No. No. No.

But that’s not the word that ends up slipping out.

I know I shouldn’t have offered. Yet I find myself bolting out of bed the second she whispers, “yes,” despite the reluctance in her tone that doesn’t fool me for a second. The entire ride over to her apartment, I can feel the deep tremble in my bones, the anticipation of seeing her again setting me on edge. And when I pull up in the parking lot, it takes all of my strength to drag myself from the car.

From the outside, I look like I have my shit together. A line of women queue up around the block to spend the night with me, and while I might indulge a couple when I’ve stumbled home from a bar, nobody can come close to her.

It’s simple. I didn’t do enough. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve fought for what we had. But I had my chance and I lost it. She’s moved on, yet there’s a still part of me that can’t help but grasp at these lifelines— these little glimmers of the good times, and hope that maybe we can figure out a way to make it work.

It never goes any further than a quick hook up in the dead of night. And while I still want— need— her in every capacity, those moments hold me together like loose stitches, just waiting until they break apart and dissolve.

Apprehension takes hold as I step up to the door, lifting my fist high in preparation to knock. I hesitate for a moment, heart thudding against my rib cage. I could turn and walk away now, let us both move on like we should do, instead of suffocating beneath feelings I can’t verbalise. But as I fly blind into a cloud of denial, I always accept the lifeline she throws me, and I hold onto it like it’s saving me from plummeting to the ground from 30,000ft.

I knock and wait for her footsteps. When I finally hear them, my breath stalls in my throat.

You pause at the door, hand grasped loosely around the handle as you try to summon up the courage to open it. After all the time you’ve spent trying to create a void between you, it seems equally pointless as it is gut wrenching that he’s merely only a door’s width away from you now.

Eventually you suck in a deep breath and pull it open, feeling like your heart is on pause inside your chest as you wait for your eyes to land on Jake, like you expect the time and distance spent apart to have altered his appearance into something ghastly and hideous.

He hasn’t changed from the memory your mind has preserved, and that notion alone has enough weight behind it to make your whole body ache. Your gaze finally meets his and you stand there frozen, still remembering the way his touch felt against your skin the last time you stood in this very spot.

I never should’ve said yes.

Jake hovers in the doorway as if he’s waiting for your permission, and you hesitate in giving it to him before slowly moving out of his way to let him pass. He crosses the threshold in silence, sliding past you as his hypnotizing aftershave follows behind. Just the slightest inhale of it is enough to send you spiraling.

He turns to face you, brows furrowed in concern. “I can go.”

You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to act aloof. “If that’s what you want?”

“I wouldn’t have come if it was.”

Please don’t say that. Instead what comes out is, “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I don’t know, okay?” you rush out a little sharply, using the sudden burst of ire to slam the door shut. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he says, “how about the truth?”

You stare each other down for a moment before you storm past him, only making it as far as the kitchen until Jake is reaching for you. With his hand around your bicep, he spins you around to face him.

You pull your arm free of his grip and hiss, “Don’t touch me.”

He looks hurt. “Why?”

“If you start, I won’t want you to stop,” you break down, virgin tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Jake regards you like you’re the most fragile thing on earth with clear hurt in his eyes and you feel your heart crumpling at the sight. Quickly, he closes the gap between you and you put your hand up to his chest to stop him, but it falters the minute your fingers skim over the material of his t-shirt, and the hard steel of his chest beneath. You begin to pull away, but Jake grabs your hand before you have a chance.

His skin is hot on yours despite the cold outside and it sets your entire body alight.

“What if I don’t want you to stop me?” he whispers, his spare hand sliding around the nape of your neck to pull you against him.

“Then we’re on the same page,” you breath out before pressing your lips roughly to Jake’s.

The kiss is hasty and messy. All tongue and heated moans between frenetic scrambling to free yourself of enough clothes to get to what you want. Jake tugs at your skirt, lifting it higher and higher until it sits bunched around your waist, just as you reach into his jeans to pull out his cock.

With a husky grunt, he turns you around, forcing you over the edge of the counter. You both frantically tug down your underwear, allowing him enough access to your cunt to slide himself inside you.

There’s a sudden bout of silence between you— like a second to reflect that you shouldn’t be doing this and stop, but neither of you do. Jake tenderly kisses your shoulder, and you turn your head to capture his lips within yours once more. Slowly, he starts to rock back and forth, pulling out with sloppy wet sucks as he retreats and brings back with him deep, thick moans when he fills you back up.

You lift your arm, wrapping it around the back of Jake’s head to keep him close, not wanting to be given the chance to speak for fear of coming to your senses. It’s better this way— losing yourselves in the moment rather than blaming each other for how your relationship failed. Yet stray words still manage to slip free— hushed expletives and blasphemous grunts, amidst praising moans telling one another how good it feels.

Jake knows your body as if it were his own. Fucking you like he never left. And when you come, you wish he never had.

The early morning sun prickles against your naked back, warming your skin until it wakes you. Sleepily, you stretch out, fingertips meeting cold sheets. For a minute it feels like any other morning, until you remember…

Jake.

You sit up fast, grabbing the t-shirt you normally sleep in and roughly pull it over your head before rushing out of bed. The pile of his clothes you had both thrown onto the floor in a fervoured frenzy are long gone. The sheets where he slept are smooth. There’s no trace that he was ever even here.

Except between your legs.

Your heart drops as your body sags, the ache in your chest like a gaping wound, ripped open and raw. You feel so stupid, so gullible. How could you be so blind? And even though you were the one to call— knowing it would end up like this, you’re still somehow surprised that things haven’t changed.

Ben crosses your mind for the first time since last night and remorse hits you like a ten tonne truck. It doesn’t matter that you’ve only been seeing him for the past two months or so— you aren’t even necessarily exclusive— it’s still a betrayal of trust. One you won’t be able to earn back.

Tears ravage your body, huge sobs that echo around the room like a haunting symphony. You fall back onto your bed, curling up into a ball as you hold a hand to your chest in an attempt to keep your heart from bleeding through it. It takes everything in you to remember how to breathe through your cries, the anguish stealing away all cohesive thought as misery consumes you.

You don’t hear the footsteps outside your room, or the creak of the door opening. You don’t realise Jake is standing next to you until he appears in your tear-streaked periphery, looking terrified.

He places something on your nightstand before rushing to his knees beside you, reaching out to stroke your forehead. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“Thought… you… left,” you manage to choke out through a fresh wave of tears.

“I just went to get us breakfast.” He glances at your nightstand and you follow his gaze— two coffee cups along with a brown paper bag sit there innocently.

You want to cry all over again, but for an entirely new set of reasons. Embarrassment blooms beneath your skin— white hot shame at allowing Jake to see you. The real you. The one buried beneath your grief.

Pushing yourself up, you keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact. You chide and vilify yourself internally, wishing you could take back the last twelve hours.

“Did you really think I’d leave without saying goodbye?”

With a sniff, you mutter, “You’ve done it before.”

Jake scoffs. “Only because you force me too.”

Now you look up, staring him down through wet eyelashes and the elysium— the brief period of jubilation in his company all but melts away. He’s right and it stings. You create this shield— this barrier so he can’t do it to you first.

You clam up like every other time before— the words on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to vocalise them and the constant lie you tell yourself finally becomes apparent.

It doesn’t matter if you’re sober or not, you’ll never be able to tell Jake just how broken you truly are without him. Just how much you still love him. And the constant cycle of pushing him away before begging for his touch at 2am will never end until you can.

“I never want to leave,” Jake confesses, “but you push and push until I believe that leaving is what you really want. If it’s not,” he takes the deepest of breaths, eyes pleading, but his jaw is set tight as if he’s expecting a blow to the face, “if you want me to stay, if you want me, I need to hear it.”

You feel the solitary word in your throat. Can sense it teasing along the seam of your lips until it spills over like blood seeping from a wound. “Stay.”

***

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2writes @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @roxyfan14-blog @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @simpformarvelmenandwoman @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #glen powell fanfiction

542 notes · View notes

geminimoonmadness · 1 year

Text

ASTEROIDS ☄️

♡♡ Part 4 ♡♡

Copywrites Reserved ©️Gemini Moon Madness

──────────────────

CONJUNCT JUPITER EDITION

The conjunctions of these asteroids to your natal Jupiter should be within an orb of 0°-5°, the tighter the degree the more prominent it will be in your life.

──────────────────

☄️☄️✨

Alexandrinus 8969 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You have a love for warm weather, birds & beaches. You’re bold, courageous & brave, So a tendency to protect and defend others is seen.

Arabella 841 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You follow your heart often though these emotional desires may conflict with social expectations.

Brenda 1609 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Similar to Alexandrinus, gives you a bold and courageous character.

Caesar 18458 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You may have a strong desire for political power and possess military & strategic talents.

Edisona 742 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Gives you an ingenious mechanical & creative ability. You may have an interest in working on new technology or making important scientific discoveries that may have long lasting effects on civilisation/society.

Ella 435 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

This may draw attention to womanhood & the concept of the Divine Feminine.

Manuela 576 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Emphasises the importance of friendship in your life. You may also have a connection to divinity.

Eurydike 75 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You may tend to have strong emotional attachments to romantic relationships. You have a beautiful, caring, fair & moral nature. Music plays an important part in you life.

Fraternitas 309 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Gives you the ability to form mutually benefical bonds with peers. You are a kind, trusting and supportive person.

Hagar 682 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

May have to go through rejection, injustice or ingratitude in their life. This placement indicates that hardships will be experience yet survived.

Hathor 2340 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Gives you the ability to help others through difficult transitions in their lives. You have a gentle, caring cheerful & optimistic personality. You may also have musical talent or interest.

Hilburg 684 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You may have defensive, guarded, suspicious, fierce and self-protecting qualities.

Ireland 5029 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Gives you a fascination to the place Ireland itself. You may have an interest in the culture, lifestyle, food, scenery, etc.

Mechthild 873 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

You are interested in mystical, visionary and spiritual pursuits. Indication that you may become a writer on extramundane subjects of enjoy reading about these topics.

Neverland 5405 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

These are the adults that cling to childhood. There’s a desire to escape mundane reality or avoid adult responsibility which may effect your life.

Penelope 201 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Gives you a patient, loyal, friendly and committed nature.

Skuld 1130 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

This may emphasze themes of fate, destiny, time & the future in your life.

Urda 167 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

This may emphasise themes of fate, destiny, time & circumstance of ones ‘fortune’ in life. You may have eccentric or unusual/weird traits. Groups of 3 may be essential in your life.. keep note!

Ursina 860 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

strength, willpower, courage, combativness, assertiness, fortitude & ability to defy danger.

Werdandi 621 Conjunct Jupiter ✨

Emphasises themes of fate, destiny, time & one's immediate exstence. You are blessed with the ability to live in the present moment.

Asteroid list:

8969,841,1609,18458,742,435,576,75,309,682,2340,684,5029,873,5405,201,1130,167,860,621

✎ I appreciate interactions & feedback of all kind. Let me know if you have any of these conjunctions in your placements!

301 notes · View notes

ineffabildaddy · 9 months

Text

I’m Beginning to See the Light - human AU Ineffable Husbands Christmas fic

part 1/2 is up now!!! be warned, it is intensely quiet, gentle and romantic (and aziraphale’s trans. why? bc i said so).

secret santa, ella fitzgerald, it’s a wonderful life, kissing, light jiggery pokery… what’s not to like?

summary:

There was Crowley - the paragon of cool, the overlord of apathy, breezing easily through each and every one of their exchanges and giving no fucks while doing so; then there was the anachronistic, cloying Aziraphale, trying and failing not to live life like a Thomas Hardy protagonist, and giving many fucks indeed.

Or: Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

6,761 words

pls enjoy and let me know what u think!! feedback keep me writing<3 reblogs are always very much appreciated

this fic was a gift for the lovely @sad-chaos-goblin!!!

tagging (no pressure to read uwu): @raining-stars-somewhere-else @bowtiepastabitch @sentientsky @ineffable-rohese @foolishlovers @celestialcrowley @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @sabotage-on-mercury @createserenity @quoththemaiden @iammyownproblematicfave @and-his-hands-were-24-crows

#good omens #fanfic #ineffabildaddy

68 notes · View notes

wosomarvel · 11 months

Text

communication - 04

alrighty, here it is. definitely not my best work, but i wanted to get something out before the second round of midterms starts.

i also got tickets to sinc's last international game so i am in a great mood and managed to write this in the span of an hour.

enjoy!! as always, i am open to feedback <3

this one is very angsty but with a nice dose of comfort as well.

-----

leah was worried. very worried.

the last time she'd heard from sim was over a week ago when she'd texted her a "got home safe" after camp was over. it didn't help that sim had been closed off since the conversation leah had overheard.

at first, leah thought that maybe she was just overreacting. that was before alessia had approached the captain, asking if she knew why sim was suddenly avoiding everyone after having been so joyous after the match.

leah thought she'd give the younger girl some space after everyone went back to their clubs, but on the third day after their return, leah had had enough. she'd gone to sim's apartment with two coffees from the cafe they frequented.

she gave up knocking on sim's door after the ice in her cold brew melted.

it didn't come as a surprise to leah that sim had shut down. she'd always been resistant to talking about her feelings, but leah hadn't expected her to just vanish. leah had spoken to beth, ella, alessia, and even sarina, hoping that sim had reached out to one of them.

her attempts were fruitless. it was during this time that it dawned on leah how little she actually knew about her friend. she had no idea where to look for her, or who else might have a clue where to start. she didn't even know if sim had any family.

logically, leah knew that this was by design. it wasn't that leah hadn't tried. in fact, it often frustrated leah that sim was so good at avoiding talking about anything from before they had met. and it wasn't that leah didn't know sim that well. she just didn't know about sim. she knew her favourite colour, knew how to read her emotions, how she liked her coffee, how kind she was even when she pretended not to care.

that didn't stop the pit of guilt that settled in leah's stomach like a 50lb dumbell she couldn't shake.

"still haven't heard from her?" viv asked, bringing leah back to her surroundings.

leah shook her head in response as she changed out of her training kit. "obviously, i want her to talk to me, but i'd honestly just settle for knowing that she's safe."

viv placed a hand on leah's hunched shoulder, taking a seat beside the english captain as alessia rushed into the dressing room.

"leah!" she panted, holding out her phone. leah took a look at the screen. all she saw was a pin on a map of north london.

"what am i supposed to be looking at?"

"it's sim, i sent her a voice note before training, just asking if she could please just let me know she's alright and she sent me her location and leah-"

"alessia," leah said, standing up and grabbing the girl by her shoulders, "breathe."

alessia took a deep, grounding breath as prompted, before continuing in a much less frantic tone: "she sent me her location. she's really close with you and i want you to come with me to go get her."

leah nodded before pulling alessia in for a quick hug, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "get changed and meet me by my car. i'll drive."

-----

no sound is as annoying as the shrill voice of an overbearing parent at a kids' sporting event. at least, not to sim. a small voice in sim's head was genuinely impressed with how the sound carried from beside the pitch, all the way up to where she was sitting in the highest row of the bleachers.

she could hear it over the rushing wind in her ears and it made her sad to think that one of those kids on the pitch was going home with parents that cared more about winning than having fun. she wished she could rush down there and give those parents a piece of her mind.

then she remembered that she shouldn't even be here.

the last week had been a blur. sim knew it wasn't healthy to shut down the way she had, but she feared that if she didn't, she would break down. she felt pathetic. one conversation with her old uni rugby coach shouldn't have her spiraling like this.

somewhere between pretending that she was fine and missing her sport so much, sim had found herself itching to be near the game again. sat there at a random children's recreation league rugby game, she could hear the voice of her own parents in her head.

weak.

pathetic.

embarrassing.

she should never have come here. she was only hurting herself more.

it's just a stupid game. get over yourself.

caught up in her own head, sim barely registered the two women that moved to sit on either side of her. it wasn't until she felt a hand settle on her knee that sim came back to the moment.

she wasn't surprised at their presence. as much as she tried to convince herself that the only reason she had sent alessia her location was to put a stop to all the frantic messages, a small part of her secretly yearned for the comfort of her presence.

"we were worried about you, y'know," leah spoke softly.

sim shook leah's hand off her knee. "you shouldn't have been."

alessia's heart broke at the hoarseness of sim's voice and the way the younger girl seemed to shrink into herself. she wished she could show sim that she deserved to have people care about her.

she reached over and took sim's hand into her lap, intertwining their fingers before squeezing gently.

"we worry because we care about you, love," alessia spoke, voice gentle. sim ignored the way the term of endearment felt like a warm blanket of security. she refused to let herself feel anything, not wanting to break down in front of the two women she considered her closest friends.

"you don't have to talk about whatever is bothering you, but just let us be here for you," leah pleaded.

as much as sim wanted to keep her friends at a distance, she so badly craved the comfort she knew they could provide. it was something she'd always struggled with.

growing up, sim had learned very quickly to make herself as small as possible, to never be a bother or a burden. she'd learned to make herself easy to be around, easy to love.

"i don't want to bother you," sim murmured, trying her best to keep her voice level.

"babe, you could never bother me. don't know about leah, though. she's like a universal older sister. anything anyone does might annoy her," alessia said with a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the way the corners of sim's mouth turned up.

"hey!" the skipper retorted as she reached across sim's body to smack alessia's chest.

there was a beat of silence in which sim tried to muster up the courage to actually say something. she tried to ground herself in the pressure and warmth of alessia's hand in her own, focusing on the sensation of the pad of alessia's thumb rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand.

"it was my safe space," sim finally let out.

"sorry?" leah's soft voice questioned.

"the pitch. it was my safe space," sim repeated. "it didn't matter what was going on at home, at school, or at work. when i was on the pitch, i was... free, i guess," she stated, though it came out as more of a question. she'd never tried putting it in words before, never tried to vocalize exactly how much rugby meant to her.

"when i was playing, it was like i could fly. i was good, too. i played on the youth teams for the red roses a few times. i went down two days after my first senior call up."

the confession seemed to take the wind out of sim. the hunch of her shoulders and way she couldn't seem to even lift her head up was almost pitiful.

alessia removed her hand from sim's grip, instead choosing to wrap an arm around her shoulder. alessia pulled sim into her side and squeezed, hoping to provide as much comfort as she could. she knew her words would do little to help.

alessia settled on a simple "i'm sorry, love."

"what's done is done," sim answered with a shrug.

leah's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned quizzically. "can i ask why the injury is permanent? surely they could have at least helped you walk again?"

sim sighed and leah's heart broke at the defeat painted clearly in her features.

"leah... football is your job. i know there's still a long way to go in terms of investment in the women's game, but you have to understand that the resources you have are not the same as what i had. when i got hurt, i wasn't just in school. i was working and i couldn't afford to just take time off and heal.

"i didn't even get a scan on my knee until i showed up to the next practice a week later and my coach drove me herself. i wasn't resting either. i probably made the injury worse because i had to go to work and class, so i was just taking painkillers and walking my way through things like normal. i couldn't afford to stop. and when i was waiting for surgery after the scans, i was still working. you got your surgery from a top surgeon relatively quickly. i didn't have that same luxury.

"after surgery, i didn't have time to go to all the physical therapy appointments. i was fitting in sessions at the university when i had time but it wasn't enough. i still had to go to work. between my job, the wait time for the surgery, and my non-existent rehab, i was never going to make a full recovery."

leah felt a surge of guilt after hearing sim's explanation. she had always been humble and made it a point to never take her situation for granted, but sometimes she forgot her own privilege.

"i'm sorry. i didn't-"

"you have nothing to be sorry for. it's not your fault you had better access than i did. just the way things go," sim cut her off, shrugging alessia's arm off her shoulder.

sim didn't want their pity. she didn't want them to feel bad for her.

"i know that it's been a long time now and i should be over it, i know that but-" sim cut herself off, carding a shaking hand through her hair, pulling on the strands in an attempt to ground herself.

"it's just that rugby was everything to me. it's all i had. it was the one thing i was good at, and without it i'm lost, y'know? i don't know who i am if i'm not an athlete. i'm not good for anything anymore."

sim's voice cracked on the last word, the sound like ice being dropped into hot water. it brought tears to leah's eyes to see how much sim had been struggling, how she thought so little of herself.

she gently caught hold of sim's hand, flattening it against her own thigh to stop the girl from hurting herself.

"that's not true," alessia said firmly, once again wrapping her arm around sim. "you are so much more than your injury. you're quiet, but you light up every room you walk into. you are so kind and you make everyone around you feel safe. you're funny, and thoughtful, and smart, and i think you get the point now but you're wrong if you think you're not worth anything if you can't play," alessia rambled, red rushing up her cheeks.

sim shook her head almost imperceptibly. it's not that she thought alessia was lying. that wasn't it.

how could alessia be so sure about her when she didn't even know who she was?

leah squeezed the hand still pressed against her thigh. "sweetheart, look at me," she prompted softly.

again, sim shook her head.

leah let go of sim's hand, instead placing it at the back of sim's head and using a thumb to angle it towards her own. she didn't miss the way sim's brown eyes bounced around their surroundings, refusing to land on hers for more than a second at a time.

she decided to let it slide for fear of pushing sim too hard. she'd only just gotten the younger girl to open up and was reluctant to risk another shutdown.

"it doesn't matter that you got hurt a while ago. you're allowed to feel however you feel about it. when i tore my ACL, i was a mess. i held it together on the pitch, but i was inconsolable. i was in a really dark place for quite a while. i know our situations aren't the same, but i felt lost, too. i realized that my identity as a person was tied to my performance as an athlete and it wasn't healthy. but i had beth and viv to help me out of it and i want you to let me do the same for you. less is right. you are so much more than what you can do on the pitch. and it's okay that you're feeling lost and you don't know who you are. we can find out together, yeah?"

a choked sob escaped sim's mouth, causing leah to immediately stand up in front of her, carefully pulling her head into her body.

leah didn't care that her shirt above her stomach was slowly becoming soaked with sim's tears. she let her fingers scratch gently at sim's scalp, relieved that the girl was finally letting it out.

as alessia kept a firm grip on sim's shoulder, she made eye contact with leah standing above her. a silent sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two lionesses.

they were prepared to do anything to make sure sim didn't carry her emotions on her own again. the pain they felt at seeing their friend so broken wasn't something they wanted to feel again, but they would do it over and over a million times just to make sure she wasn't alone.

-----

"so she lives!"

it was katie's turn to host the rest of the gunners for dinner this week. sim's absence from the last two team events hadn't gone unnoticed.

though sim wasn't a part of the team, they had all quickly grown accustomed to her appearance at the side of alessia, leah, and recently beth. she might not have played for the team, or even worked for them in any official capacity, but they had taken her in all the same.

sim would never be able to articulate just how much that meant to her. she went from not having any family to having found her place in two: the lionesses, and now arsenal as well.

"so where'd you run off to, anyway?" steph questioned.

"your mum's house. she says hi, by the way," sim quipped.

there was a beat of silence before a burst of raucous laughter took over katie's living room.

a playful scowl took over steph's face. "you've been spending too much time with mccabe."

#alessia russo #engwnt #leah williamson #lionesses #woso #arsenal wfc

57 notes · View notes

futbol16 · 2 years

Text

Rio Manuela ・ England Lionesses/Barcelona Femení

This is a platonic story with the England lionesses and the Barcelona Femení girls. The character has a given name, but the story is written in second person. I was also bored enough to make an edit so hope you like that as well.

Id love any feedback you guys could give me! English is also not my first language so excuse me if anything is incorrect. Enjoy!

Word count: 3,7k words

It’s been a month since you and your team have won the 2022 EURO’s and to say team spirit was still high would be an understatement. It was one of the many reasons why your team felt like a big family, especially with being one of the younger ones.

You were an incredibly successful player at the ripe age of 24 and by many fans' requests, you had been working on a biography. Although you had been keeping it on the down low, it was no secret.

That is exactly why the team was buzzing today as it was the release day of the movie. You on the other hand weren’t only excited but anxious as well. You didn’t have the best upbringing and you were scared of how the world would react to this side of your story. Moreover you were nervous about the team’s reaction, only a handful of people knew and even they only knew what you let them know.

“IT’S MOVIE NIGHT TONIIIIIGHT!” - Ella screamed as she ran around the pitch as training started. A few of the girls laughed at her excited antics, they too couldn’t wait.

You laughed even bigger as you felt her jump on your back, screeching in your ear when you nearly dropped her.

“All right girls, gather around. We’ll do skill exercises today and a bit of strength training, I need all of you to be ready for the match that’s in two days.”-Sarina called you guys over.

Warming up in pairs you stood in line with the rest as you started training.

You looked up from your feet as you spotted Hempo getting ready to cross the ball. Picking up your speed you jumped into the air hitting a perfect header to the back of the net. Despite it only being a scrimmage in training you ran to the blonde smiling at her and celebrating.

“This is why they call you Barcelona’s bird.”- she grinned, making you chuckle.

“I think it’s also the name, you know, Rio and the movie with those blue birds?”- Rachel spoke up from behind the two of you, most of the team heading for their water bottles as training came to an end.

“Oh, yeah i guess that makes a bit more sense”-You laughed as a look of embarrassment washed over Lauren’s face, nudging her in the shoulder.

“Maybe, but I’m only Barcelona’s bird when I play for them, here, with the national team, I'm England’s lioness just like you guys.”- you smiled at the two then shrieked as they both squeezed the water from their bottles at you. Running away, the other two laughed loudly as they chased you around.

Lucy grinned as she watched the three of you. Turning to the other two as they waited for you.

“Her biography is out today, right?” - Keira asked with a hopeful expression.

“Yeah, god the kid’s so young and she’s got a movie done for her, makes me feel old.”- Lucy chuckled, though with a proud smile on her face.

“Mhmm, the younger ones are really excited to watch it tonight.”- Leah continued.

“Pretty sure the whole world is. I mean she’s one of the best players in the world, it’ll be interesting to see her journey throughout her younger years.”- Leah’s smile faded a bit at that, she was one of the few people that knew, knew the little you shared.

Sitting in the relaxation room of the national team’s facility, all 23 of you got yourselves comfortable. Carrying three bowls of popcorn you thanked Leah and Alessia as they each took one and handed them to a group of girls allowing you to sit down between Lucy and Ella.

“WHO’S READY TO GET STARTED??”- Ella once again shouted forcing you to cover your ears with a smile as the others cheered.

“Okay I was thinking about first watching the trailer and then we can start the movie.” - the others voiced their agreements as one of the girls started the trailer. Sitting back comfortably you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited patiently, this would also be your first time seeing the finished product, seeing the story of your football career.

The opening scene flashed across the screen showing you sitting in your cubby in a locker room, your England jersey proudly hanging behind you, the number 10 and Manuela printed onto it.

"All my life I had to fight, no one believed in me, so I had to believe in myself.”

Your back was to the camera as you walked through the tunnel leading you to the stadium’s football pitch. “To all of you, I have one thing to say. I’m not like you, because I’m not you. I am Rio Manuela.”

As the trailer finished, the girls seemed even more interested in your biography than before. Glancing around you took in some of their expressions before your gaze landed on Leah who smiled at you reassuringly and nodded her head. Smiling back at her softly you turned back around as the movie started.

1998, 𝖣𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 10, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Soft cries indicated your arrival into the world, the nurse handing you to your father as he looked down at you with tear filled eyes.

“She’s so beautiful.”- he looked up at your mother, a tear running down his face.

“Have you got a name ready for her?”- one of the nurses asked with a polite smile turning towards your parents.

“Marcia Rio Manuela” - your mother answered, watching as your father placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead, your soft cries subsiding.

2002, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Age 4

“Come on Marcia”- your father extended his arms as he scooped you up, turning back towards the reporter as she asked him something in Portuguese. Quickly getting bored, you got distracted with the short curls on his head, reaching up playing with them as he smiled at you.

Giggling at him you snuggled into his neck as the reporter decided to wrap up with her questions.

You smiled as a few other happy clips were seen playing on the screen. Willing yourself to not tear up, you felt Lucy wrap an arm around your shoulders from your right, allowing you to lean into her.

2007, 𝖲𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 21, 𝖱𝗂𝗈 𝖽𝖾 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈

Age 9

Your little feet hurried towards the ball as you played with a few of your team mates. Hearing your coach call you over, you picked the ball up trying to put it under your arm as you walked towards him.

“Listen Marcia, mom is here to pick you up, she said you needed to go somewhere. Go get your stuff, she’s waiting for you.” the smile fell from your lips as you took in what he was saying.

“But coach practice is not over yet, I wanna play.” - you all but whined, not happy with having been interrupted while you were so close to scoring a goal.

“I know amada (sweetheart), but your mom is waiting for you.” - he smiled at you sadly, confusing you but you blamed it on him also being sad about you having to leave.

Nodding your head you took off towards your mother who didn't spear you a glance as she opened the car door for herself, waiting on you as you got in too.

You didn’t dare ask questions after getting a harsh ‘quiet’ after your first two.

The car pulled into the driveway of the familiar family house, getting out and into the house, you watched as your mom pulled out suitcases throwing different articles of clothing into them.

“I wasn’t told until after we landed in England that my father had died during one of his missions at the Navy. I remember I was in such despair as the words slipped out of my mother’s mouth. But I know I was also upset that she took me away from home, from all that I knew.”

You spoke into the camera, sitting on a chair with a gray background behind you. Your face showed one of sorrow as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I decided to go by my middle name after that, Rio, in honor of my dad. He and I both were born in Rio de Janeiro and he always told me his happiest memories were from growing up there, he loved Brazil, it was his home” a small smile made its way onto your face

2010, 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

Age 12

“Go Rio, drive forwards, come on!”- your academy coach shouted at you as he saw your hesitation. Nodding to yourself you sped up coming face to face with one of your opponents, making eye contact with her you sent her a devious look before megging her and running around her to collect the ball.

Moving past her you skillfully dribbled past four other opponents, looking up you saw you were one on one with the goal keeper. Pulling your leg back you aimed and then watched as the ball soared through the air and hit the back of the net. Your teammates screamed as they piled on top of you, the whistle being blown signaling the end of the match.

The camera zoomed in on your face as you grinned, your coach sending you a proud thumbs up.

2012, 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇, 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

Age 14

“Good job girls, practice is done for the day. Go home and rest alright?”- your coach smiled at the young girls as they ran off towards the locker room. Hanging back a bit you took your time getting to the changing room.

Entering you were met with one of the taller girls on the team, a red head. Her name was Grace and she really had it out for you. “You could’ve passed more today.”

A few of the others looked up from their own chatter, now paying attention to what was about to go down in front of them.

“You weren’t open, you can’t expect me to pass to a player that’s clearly being marked.”- you answered her with an unimpressed look, this wasn’t the first time she came for you.

“Oh shut it Manu, we both know it’s only because of your huge ego.”- she seethed her palms pressing onto your shoulders as she tried to shove you back, but you didn't budge.

Raising an eyebrow at her, a small smirk made itself present on your face.

“That’s all you can do? Come on, I thought you wanted that ball.”- you commented with a smug look. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the short blonde girl stand up about to intervene before this would go the wrong way, but you gently shook your head. She sat back down with a worried look on her face.

Focusing back on the redhead in front of you, you barely dodged her hit as her fist grazed your cheek. A collective intake of breath was heard throughout the locker room as she tried again, this time you ducked before hitting your elbow to the back of her knee. You watched as her knee buckled and she fell on her bum. Deciding that you’ve had enough, you made your way out of the locker room.

It was half an hour after practice, all of the girls had been picked up already. You sat against the wall as you seemed to zone out staring at the ball in your hands. The sound of boots hitting the ground woke you out of your trance, looking up at your coach as he exhaled.

“Has she not come yet?”- you shook your head at his question, though you thought the answer was obvious enough. - “I’ll be back in 15 minutes, if you’re still here I’m taking you home myself.”

With that you stood up making your way back onto the pitch which by now was lit up by the big lights. Fooling around with the ball at your feet, you already knew you would have to walk home alone.

Entering the apartment you shrugged your coat off as you chucked your training bag onto your bed. Making your way into the living room you spotted her figure hunched over what you assumed to be paperwork.

“Where were you? My practice ended an hour ago.”- you asked her, rightfully upset as she barely acknowledged you.- “You were supposed to pick me up.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” - you scoffed at that.- “Eat whatever you find and then go to your room, I’ve got work to do.”

“Diane failed to act like a mother, I could count on one hand the amount of times she’s cared enough to show up for her daughter.”- your academy coach spoke as he looked back on those times. He sat in front of a maroon background as he scratched his chin.- “I’m glad Rio had the academy, she had us and we supported her through everything.”

You felt a few of the girls glance towards your way, Lucy squeezed your shoulder as she sensed your discomfort.

2014, 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝖾 6, 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇’𝗌 𝖭𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖳𝖾𝖺𝗆

Age 16

“We both made our debut for the national team in 2014. She was one hell of a player, I think that’s why many didn’t like her at first. Even when we were younger and in the academy, if she wasn’t looking for trouble, trouble found her. People always looked down on her. And then she’d step out onto the field and prove them wrong.”- Leah Williamson spoke as she chuckled at the childhood memories you shared.

A few videos were shown of your debut, your first goals and first assists for the national team.

The girls’ eyes widened as one of the clips showed you jumping over a defender trying to slide tackle you, the ball held firmly between your ankles before you landed at the other side of her and ran towards the goal.

2016, 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆

Age 18

Hey Rio, why are you still here”- a young Leah Williamson appeared on the screen. You were still in your training gear as you smiled at her sheepishly.

“Well..you know.”- you pulled your lips into a tight smile.

“She didn’t come to the game?”

“She doesn’t come to any of them, never has, said she’s got more important things to do”-you looked at the blonde with a confused expression she dragged you towards the stands where her mother and brother stood.

“Rio sweety, come here.”- her mother wrapped you up in a hug as you reached over and ruffled Jacob’s hair who only groaned at your actions. - “Come on, you’re having dinner over at ours.”

You and Leah grinned as you swung an arm around each other, walking out the stadium.

Behind you Leah smiled fondly at the memories grabbing ahold of your hand as you reached it out to her and squeezed it.

2017, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖥𝗎𝗍𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝖥𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇í

Age 19

“I met Rio this year actually. She amazed us all right in her first training session. We quickly became friends, because we both were the rookies of the team.”- Maria Leon, Mapi laughed into the camera. - “She’s got this amazing personality too. I remember this one time -it was actually when she got her nickname- I remember she scored a banger of a goal with an assist from me and I was so happy I just ran through her legs and lifted her onto my neck”- she laughed out loud, her voice fading as the clip played on the screen, both of your younger selves laughing loudly at each other as someone - you assumed Leila Ouhabi- filmed the two of you, laughing along before speaking up.- “And there goes Barca’s bird”

2020, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖥𝗎𝗍𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖢𝗅𝗎𝖻 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺 𝖥𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇í

Age 22

“What was your favorite goal of the season so far?”- the interviewer asked you in a post match interview, your hair still damp with sweat and a bit out of breath.

“That absolute rocket I just scored!”- you exclaimed happily, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the win as you pointed your thumb behind you to the pitch. The rest of your team was seen dancing around and celebrating.

“How does it feel to score a winning goal in the Copa de la Reina?”- she asked you as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“Absolutely fucking amazing!”- you screamed into the camera as you got up close. The camera man and the interviewer laughed out loud as you got swept off your feet and onto the shoulders of your captain.

Mapi ran up behind you as you were seen waving at the camera while Alexia walked you back to your team to celebrate with you. - “That bicycle kick was one for the history books!”

“Bar-celo-na’s li-ttle bird, Rio,Rio! Our goal scoring hero,hero!”- your chants were screamed by the fans in the stadium.

Watching your bicycle kick being played on the screen a sense of pride filled your chest again as you heard not only the fans in the stadium screaming for you but your national team mates sitting around you as well, a few of them leaning over to pat you on the head or shoulders.

It definitely was still one of your favorite goals.

2021, 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖺, 𝖲𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇

Age 23

Another interview was shown on the screen. It was one with a few of your Barcelona teammates, some of your trophies laid out on the ground.

“OH, MIS BEBÉS!”- you shouted as you hugged the two Ballon D’ors close to you. Alexia and Jenni laughed loudly at you as you grinned back at them.

“Those are definitely her favorite trophies.”- Alexia turned towards the camera.

“Are you kidding me? They’d be my favorite trophies too.”- Jenni jokes.

“Don’t worry Jenni, you’ll get your own.”

2022, 𝖴𝖤𝖥𝖠 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖶𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇’𝗌 𝖥𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉

Age 24

England vs Germany

“Germany has always been a great threat to any country they’ve played against. Today the England Lionesses face them at home grounds, at Wembley Stadium.” - the commentators were heard as your team lined up for the anthems.

“Yeah I think this team has really shown just how good they are. They’ve got great quality and obviously a good mix of experienced and inexperienced players. Every single one of them has great potential, and you know, working together and cooperating, the sky has no limits, this team has no limits and hopefully we get to show that to the world at the final match.”- Sarina Weigman spoke at the press conference.

Dropping to your knees you allowed the tears to fall freely as the final whistle was blown. Looking up at the sky you placed a kiss on your pointer finger before pointing upwards.

Soon you felt a body colliding with you, Leah’s familiar blonde hair clouding your sight as the two of you hugged.

“We fucking did it!”- she all but sobbed, holding you tighter by the back of your head. You laughed in glee, pulling back you wiped her tears.

“We fucking did! My captain, my Leah, we did it!” - you told her proudly as her tears kept flowing down her face. Pulling her up you gave her another squeeze before she sent you towards Lucy.

Falling into the arms of who you considered to be your big sister she spun you around before inviting you to slide into the confetti pooling on the pitch.

2022, 𝖲𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 21, 𝖴𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆

“Who do you think you can thank your success to?”- you were asked. Leaning back in your chair you briefly glanced at the dark blue background behind you.

“I’d rather answer another question first.”- you lightly laughed as the person behind the camera nodded.

“What do you think your greatest trait as a player is?”

“Hmm, I’d have to say my drive to succeed for not only myself but for the club, the country and most importantly my teammates.”- you answered with a thoughtful look on your face.

“Oh it’s definitely her passion for the sport. I have met many great players, myself being one of them, she’s one of the players with the greatest passion towards football. I really do admire that about her.”- Lucy answered halfheartedly in a separate interview, sitting in front of the blue background.

“The strength she has, not only as a player but as a person as well. Her mother sort of..abandoning her…in some sense, obviously hurt her a lot, it would hurt anyone, but not everyone would be able to fight in spite of that. To continuously show up and prove others wrong.” - Alexia answered the same question with a sad smile on her face but a proud look by the end.

“Her love for the sport and for the people around her. She has such a loud and fun energy to her, on and off the pitch. She’s hard to forget.”- Leah smiled with a chuckle.

“Well I mean if nothing else works then she’s got a real good death stare. Like you can see the opposition back down from her…but most of the time I guess her skills are good enough”- Ella laughed as Allessia sent a jab at her ribs, laughing as well before answering. - “Yeah, she’s got it all.”

“Back to the first question, why do you think you succeed and continue to succeed in football?”

“My family.”- you answered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Your family?”- she asked with a somewhat confused face.

“Yeah, it’s thanks to them that I’m still here. I’ve learnt everything from them and they continue to make me not only a better player but a better person as well.”- you smiled big with a light blush coating your cheeks.

“By family, do you mean your parents?”

“No, I mean I know my dad’s watching me from up there and I know he’s proud of me, that’s more than enough for me. But my family is my club team and national team. All 46 of them have my back and I have every single one of theirs.”- you answered truthfully. - “And I absolutely adore every one of them.”

The girls cheered as your biography ended, some with tearful looks on their faces, others with big smiles but all of them with a proud glint in their eyes.

Your mother might have not cared enough, that redhead at the academy might have caused you more trouble than you would’ve liked and yeah, your abilities were definitely doubted by many at the start of your career, but you knew you were right where you belonged.

In the arms of your teammates, your best friends and sisters. And when you’d be back for preseason at Barcelona, you’d be with the other half of your family.

Football gave you a home.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #leah williamson x reader #barca femení x reader #england lionesses x reader #mapi leon x reader

470 notes · View notes

ellatholmes · 8 months

Text

Do you have short stories in need of a critical eye 👁 and some detailed feedback? Do you have questions about whether your story is functioning the way you want it to, if your plot is solid, if your jokes are landing?

Well, with this one simple trick—

☝️🤓 I offer writing critiques!

Price: $0.01 per word / $10 per 1000 words

My credentials: I have qualifications in marketing and communication, as well as editing and publishing. I have participated in and facilitated over 100 writing workshops, and provided critiques and feedback to writers here on tumblr of the past year. I also have several short stories published in literary journals.

But Ella, what is it like working with you?: When I give feedback and critiques, I begin by speaking to you about how to deliver feedback that is most useful to you. If you need it framed in a gentle way, bluntly, or with an equal dose of compliments--I do it all. Next, I start by reading the story all the way through, making notes along the way. I then go back to the beginning and do a re-read with hindsight in mind, making more notes and comments. I correct spelling and grammar, offer suggestions for strengthening vocabulary and prose, as well as plot. I will also answer any questions you may have about my feedback.

I accept payment through PayPal before I complete the critique.

I'm interested! How do I take advantage of this service? Easy peasy, just send me a message! 💖

See my website for other services I offer, including novel beta reading, sensitivity reading, cover design, and social media marketing material.

#writerblr #writing critique

27 notes · View notes

junkdrawernoggin · 1 month

Text

SPOILERS for CINDERELLA'S CASTLE

Wanted to put a warning because if you can see it you should, and for all the folks who are going to wait for the YouTube release. There are also critiques in here, so if you don't want to see that, pass on by and have a good day!

I really really enjoyed it! I have a couple issues with it so I'll get those out of the way first. I mean these with all respect and kindness to the cast and crew.

Main Issue: You can tell who is an old Starkid member

This distracted me a lot. In this production there are only 3 original members on stage (I'm counting anyone who did AVPMs). That's Jeff Blim, Lauren Lopez, and Joey Richter. They are obviously all very talented. However

My critique for Lauren is that she did the same voice for Rancilda that she did for Ruth, and I wasn't a fan when she did it then. I haven't loved any of her sniveling loser roles, finding them far too annoying to enjoy. Emma and Zazzalil were fantastic, as well as her Tin Can roles. Please let her do that instead.

Edit: The Rancilda voice is actually not Ruth's. There is another character she does that has this exact same shrill thing going on, but for the life of me I cannot recall who it is.

Jeff is a great song writer, but he consistently writes himself parts that are out of his comfortable range. That or his vocal health is in serious disrepair by performance time. The "Castle on a Hill" demo sounds great, but in the DT performance I can almost feel the strain. I miss his lower range.

Joey did amazing puppet work; I especially enjoyed the parts where he was the old dwarf. The problem comes with the singing. NPMD I enjoyed his singing, and he's been good in the Tin Can productions. But you can hear him straining in the background which I felt hindered some of the ensemble parts.

I LOVE the old cast. They all bring unique skills to the table. But I think they are very comfortable now, and also sometimes make choices they think are good but in actuality hinder themselves. I'd love if a different writer came on board to mix things up. They need to be unafraid of giving honest feedback.

Now to the good!

The "new" cast members are so incredible!

Bryce rocked it, and I'm glad to see her highlighted after how well she did in NPMD. She sold every emotion, and her mix of wit and despair was heartcrushing. I would watch a 10 hour version of this production just to see more of her.

James was great. I don't find overly sexual humor that funny, but he did very well keeping a straight face and being utterly sincere with it all.

I will fully admit I have a crush on Kim and Curt, which colors my perspective of them a bit. Kim is such an incredible singer, I could listen to her all day. She's only the Fairy Queen for like...10ish minutes but she absolutely and utterly steals the show. No one else could've sold me that hard on how ethereal she was. Curt impossibly has chemistry with literally every person he's paired with. From the previews I was hoping Tadius and Ella would be paired up, so I am peachy pleased it turned out that way!

Jon was great, his role was clearly inspired by Septimus from Labyrinth and I love how hard he leaned into that.

I also adore Mariah, and I really loved this for her. She has had a pretty wild amount of diversity in all of her roles for Starkid. I was happy to see her really lean into the comedy and shenanigans of it all.

And the cherry on top, ANGELA!!!! I will admit, in Black Friday i wasn't her biggest fan. Mostly because I was so disappointed Mariah was unable to be in that production. However, she utterly shocked me in NPMD, that girl is MADE to play villains!!! I was a bit confused on why Angela was chosen for the stepmother and not Lauren, but oh boy when she came on stage I was HOOKED! She was fantastic. Is she a great singer? In my personal opinion, no not really. Do I really care? NOT AT ALL!! Highlight of the show 10/10

Also the set design was fucking incredible!! I like that they downsized (or at least it looked like they downsized) from the NPMD stage. It looked empty all the time. This time it felt so full and high budget. The lighting was phenomenal, the first time I've ever noticed lighting in a show and not for a bad reason.

The band was great, they always are!

The songs were...iffy. They didn't stick with me the way the NPMD ones did, certainly not like Black Friday or TGWDLM did. I'm a big music fan (I trained professionally to sing as well), so songs stick with me a lot even on a first listen. I know the opening "There's a castle on a hill as the story goes..." because I've watched the announcements so many times. Other than that, I really cannot tell you a single lyric from most of the songs in this show. Very odd for me.

Okay, going in for another watch. Maybe I'll have other opinions after.

#starkid #cinderella's castle

14 notes · View notes

selfproclaimedunicorn · 5 months

Note

I would like more cousin duo factoids and tidbits

The Roycegaryen/Targtower Daddy Issues Havers Cousin Duos are so dear to me, thank you for this opportunity to scream about it

Ella & Aemond

This shit is built on mutual "my mental health is everyone else's problem" bullshittery. They are a constant feedback loop of "catharsis is arson & soul rendering screams into the void & property damage," both equally explosive but subdued in the areas where the other isn't. They are also definitely profiting from Ella being way more socially well adjusted & friendly than Aemond; she's basically his emotional support sister-figure (not that he doesn't have older sisters, but Ella's way older than him while actually being willing to be his friend/mentor without being a second mom bc he would never replace Alicent like that!)

Absolutely chaotic son-coded oldest daughter/daughter-coded second son solidarity. When the Targtowers visit Runestone she takes him joyriding on Vermithor & then sends him to go play with her comedically serious son. 16/10 experience, bb!Aemond would do it again & she is his favorite cousin. They definitely set a tree on fire during that flying session.

Yorick & Aegon

My boys elbow deep in the daddy issues muck. The traumatized little boy who hates his shitty dad & just wants his mommy to hold him in Yorick recognizes the traumatized little boy in Aegon. They're friends, they're brothers, they're father & son; they hug each other & cry at least once.

Yorick is, for Aegon, an older male figure who cares about him without worrying about how that benefits him & is safe--he's dad shaped & tells him he can do/be better because he's worth that effort, not because the realm needs it but because he deserves it personally. And then for Yorick, Aegon is finally seeing to fruition the reason he was in King’s Landing & enduring All That for years: being the older brother figure of the king's son. There's just the extra bonus of them being able to commiserate over just fucking hating Viserys.

Aegon is a shivering cat that Yorick found in the dumpster that immediately imprinted on him when he figured out "I like soft touch." Meanwhile, Aegon bonding with Weird Scary Mountain Man is a fucking mirror of Yorick claiming his nasty as hell dragon. Also, Yorick has definitely threatened Otto Hightower in defense of His Boy™ & I feel like that level of care had Aegon stunlocked for several minutes. 100/10, he's never leaving Yorick’s side again.

Aemon & Helaena

Weird quiet isolated kid who gets easily overwhelmed solidarity, right there. Aemon sees the potential to get/be as bad as he was isolation wise, & he wants better than that for whoever he sees that kind of "I'm weird, I'm a weirdo. I don't fit in." energy in, so it starts with him going out of his way to make sure she doesn't slip through the cracks & then blossoms into something really sweet & mutual from there. He'll happily sit there in silence when she needs it & listen to her when she has something to say; like, just generally he isn't treating Helaena like she's fragile or has something wrong with her. His concern is just not wanting her to be lonely.

They respect each other as Socially Just A Little Off & they're mutually safe to be around when the social battery is running on empty. "Your thought processes & need to be alone sometimes are totally normal. Everyone else is wrong." Also, in a modern AU she's who is going up to the counter at the burger place to say Aemon asked for no pickles. Please know that is real & true.

Aemon is also close enough to her age (like, I think he was 5 when she was born?) that he can kind of easily & comfortably fit within her life while still being Large Older Rleative To Be Safe Around If I Need Protection. When he comes home from fostering for his 16th nameday & gets to be in a tourney to celebrate his getting knighted, he asks Helaena for her favor because that's his friend & she said she wanted to give him one. The tourney was loud, but she had fun & Aemon made sure she had both hiding spots & other kids to play with, 12/10 that's her cousin. Also Aemon is one of the most exciting parts of getting betrothed to Yorick's son/Stannis during the course of the fic (Stannis knows he is the second favorite cousin & he's okay with this)

#asks #nat tag #oc: yorick royce #oc: ella royce #oc: aemon royce

11 notes · View notes

leafkingofbirds · 6 months

Text

Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!

In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄

**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰

***

Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.

Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.

But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.

He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber.

Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.

His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.

Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.

Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt.

“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again.

The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.

As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him.

“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.

“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.

Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.

A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!”

It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.

Here Rests the Most Honorable

Sir Montgomery Snow

Who Gave His Mortal Life

In Service to the Moon Court

For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry.

Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.

Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.

“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”

Kieran can only glare at him.

Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.”

There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point?

“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”

“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.

“Yes.”

Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”

Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.

“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”

“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.

Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed. “I…yes.”

Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that.

Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”

“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.

“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”

Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”

“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters.

“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”

Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it. His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.

What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt.

An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.

I would fall on my sword for my failure.

Some things I can't fix.

Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.

Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.

Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”

“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.

“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.

Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”

The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.

His laugh turns into a sob.

His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.

But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead.

Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.

11 notes · View notes

missellaneousworks · 11 months

Text

Enough - A SDJ Shaun x OC Drabble

I missed that it was Shaun's birthday a couple of weeks ago. And it's a crime how little I've written about our favorite cat-man since he's one of my fav boys. Let's change that.

Context: Takes place shortly after Ian moves away, but before the break-up. Contains some one-sided pining.

Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack is a +18 ONLY series. MINORS DNI.

"How 'bout this one?" Shaun flipped yet another horror DVD in front of Ella's face. The title was one that she heard of before, but not one she had seen yet.

"Sure, if you want to," she attempted to smile cooly, attempting to mask the anxiety in her voice. Shaun took her a moment to study here before he placed it back down with an unconvinced sigh.

"C'mon, Els, that's the third time you've agreed to a movie without really meaning it," Shaun gave a long, exasperated sigh at his dear friend.

"It's your Birthday, ya goober," Ella playfully shoved his arm. "You should pick out the movie!"

"Pfft, my birthday was two weeks ago, Els. Though, I appreciate you trying to make it up to me." That earned her a flippant wave of his hand. "I've already watched all of these. Unlike you, my little scardey cat."

"Heeeeey," Ella protested. "I can handle scary movies--"

"Uh-huh."

"--I can handle scary movies a lot better now than at the beginning of college!!"

"Suuuuure you can, Els."

"Heeeey!" Ella gripped the small, panda-printed couch pillow and proceeded to thwack Shaun in the arm.

"What, I'm just agreeing with you~!" Shaun snickered, blocking Ella's blows from her plushy blunt trauma weapon. "The mighty Ella has conquered her fears and now thirsts for blood! Nooooo!"

Ella gave one final, soft smack with her weapon of choice before Shaun dramatically collapsed on the ground, defeated and unmoving. Ella gave a long sigh before she finally made her decision. "Okay, okay! Let's waaaaatch... this one!" Ella chose a movie that piqued her interest. She had heard good things about the film's special effects and main monster, and according to Shaun, it would be a good watch.

Like the proverbial Dracula rising from his coffin, Shaun sat up with a toothy triumphant grin. "See? Was that so hard?"

Ella gave a half-hearted shrug, turning to check the connection of the tiny digital camera and setting up the waiting room on their streaming platform. "It's our last movie stream together, so... I sort of got stuck on trying to pick a good one. Thought it'd be more meaningful if it were up to you."

That caused Shaun to pause for a moment after he inserted the DVD. He had wondered why Ella had been a little more quiet than usual. He thought it was because she was missing her boyfriend, Ian, but then it occurred to him...

With Ian leaving for school to become an actor just a few months ago and Shaun leaving in a few days to start shooting his new film, Ella would be all alone. It didn't take a mind reader to tell Shaun that she was sad over it. To be honest, despite the new opportunity he was about to receive, Shaun was going to miss Ella. A lot. Ever since college, she was a huge supporter of his work and often volunteered to give feedback on his scripts, including bits and pieces of his newest flick. She often half-joked that Shaun made her a little more brave by exposing her to horror films.

But Ella? Ella gave Shaun more than she could possibly ever know. She gave him advice when he needed it, support when he was stuck on writing a script, and unconditional kindness. It showed when she invited him to stay at her folks' place during Thanksgiving after he... separated from his only remaining family. Ella's folks had invited him in with open arms, showing the same warmth Ella had given him countless times. She gave Shaun boundless inspiration -- it was a crime how unaware Ella remained regarding her infectious creativity. Shaun would shout it to the rooftops if he could. But the most important thing Ella had given Shaun throughout the years... was her friendship.

And that... was enough for Shaun. More than enough, but he didn't want to say it out loud, worried that it would make it weird for some reason. Ella was very dear to him. In truth, he was attracted to her nearly from the get-go. And that affection grew over time. But this was enough, their friendship was enough. And as long as Ella was happy with Ian, Shaun was happy for her. She deserved it.

Shaun reached out in an attempt to offer Ella some small comfort, he wanted to touch her face and tell her it was going to be okay but... he hesitated. That wouldn't be appropriate, would it? Even if they were both physically affectionate with one another. Pausing, his hand landed on her shoulder, which caused Ella's chocolate-brown eyes to meet his.

'C'mon, Shaun... say something to make her feel better!'

"Els, you know we can still do our weekly movie streams even though we'll be apart, right?" Shaun kept a light smirk on his face but cringed cringed internally. That wasn't as emotionally impactful as he was going for. But before he could reiterate, Ella gave him a confused look.

"Yes, it is? I mean, we only have one camera and one mic. We can't exactly do this again until you come back."

"Sure we can!" Shaun's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "You can keep the camera and the mic, and I'll buy a new one when I'm moved into my apartment."

Ella guffawed at Shaun's suggestion. "Shaun, sweetie, I can't do that! That will be expensive!"

"I've got some money leftover from purchasing the new place," he stated nonchalantly. "I'm good for it, Els!"

"B-but you're going to be busy filming and script writing, and directing and--"

"We'll drop the movie streams to once every two weeks! Just because I'm working doesn't mean I shouldn't take breaks."

"That's a lie and you know it," Ella challenged him. "I remember you cramming during finals. You were awake for a solid twenty-four hours!"

"Twenty-six, but who's counting?" He joked as Ella rolled her eyes.

Ella was running out of ammo, causing her to stutter over her words. "I-I can't just accept this, Shaun. It's sweet, b-b-but--"

"Then think of it as an early birthday present!" Shaun kneeled next to where Ella sat on the worn couch. "C'mon, Ella...! Ella-ella-ella. Ella-Banana. Ella-Banano-Fo-Fana-Fe-Fi Bananza-Ellllllllaaaaaaaaa~!"

"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?" She resided.

"Nope! Except your faaaate~! MWA HA HA HA HA--!" Shaun sinisterly laughed before he began coughing in his over-exuberance. Luckily, Ella wholeheartedly laughed at his antics, causing her to lurch over, clutching her stomach in a joyous fit of giggles.

"All right, all right! You have bested me this time, Kitty-man. But I'll get you back one day!"

Shaun rose to his feet and bent over in a regal bow before his friend. "I look forward to the day, but until then," he unceremoniously flopped on the couch next to her. "MOVIE TIME!"

"HELL YEAH, MOVIE TIME!" Ella cheered as she set the laptop down and began to run the stream for their beloved audience, the mood lifted, and happy once more, just as Shaun wanted it.

As long as he could make Ella happy in some small way, to see her innocently sweet smile, to hear her laugh around him... it was enough.

#Sunny Day Jack #something is wrong with sunny day jack #sdj #sdj oc #sunny day jack oc #sdj shaun #MissElla's Works

24 notes · View notes

bigskyandthecoldgun · 1 year

Text

1 2 3

ao3

“This is…not what I signed up for, Eddie,” Steve says, carding his fingers through his hair and repeating the motion to set it back into place.

“This is actually insane,” Eddie agrees, voice fluctuating in volume slightly, and Steve can see his silhouette pacing back and forth behind the tinted window of the booth.

Steve wishes there were a seat closer to him, but the only decent one in the room is the couch by the booth window. He’s sure there’s a second seat in Eddie’s booth, the one that Robin typically sits on; maybe he’ll ask for it later. “Was Joyce serious when she said it’d take her four hours to get help?” he asks, and he watches Eddie nod. Eddie’s got really long hair for a guy—curly, too—and it bounces in sync with his head. Steve groans. “This guy’s gonna kill half the town in four hours!”

Eddie’s pacing abruptly stops, and he grabs the mic. Steve’s headphones squeak with the feedback. “Steve, that is not helpful,” he says.

Shit, yeah. Especially not when Eddie’s doing most of the phone stuff. All Steve has to do is answer the calls and…maybe save somebody’s life. “I know, I know, I just—ugh,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Who is this Whistling Man dude anyway?”

He watches Eddie’s silhouette plop back down in his chair. Must be nice. “He was this serial killer back in the sixties. Henry Creel. Went around in a freaky mask whistling that one song—Ella Fitzgerald, Dream-something—”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me, yeah, I know the one,” Steve says. That must’ve been the song they’d heard before.

“Well, he killed about a dozen people in Hawkins. Mostly teenagers. He had no reason for it—no motive, he just…did,” Eddie explains.

Jesus, that’s dark. “So…what happened to him?” Steve asks. The most he knows is that the guy died at some point. In a town like Hawkins, a serial killer seems so…out of place. On the outside, the town seems like a run-of-the-mill, middle-of-nowhere, normal place. Steve would’ve never guessed it had such a horrifying history.

Eddie’s sigh is crackly over the speakers. “Well…cops chased him over to the abandoned lab, up to Ellis Point. We call it Whistling Point now. And it was—shit, it was on the—it happened on this night, actually,” he says. So…maybe a copycat? “The cops cornered him, and he jumped into the river. His body was never found.”

“Wait, if his body was never found, is he—is he alive? Dead? What’s the story?” Steve asks.

“Story is, he’s biding his time. Waiting to take revenge on the town,” Eddie says in a low, theatrical voice, and Steve rolls his eyes, fighting a smile.

“Okay, okay, that’s the story,” he says. “What’s the truth?”

Because old Henry Creel is probably, like, sixty, seventy years old by now—unless he’d been, like, a teenager killing teenagers—which means that even if he were still alive, revenge-seeking would probably be out of the question. “Other than we have a whistling killer on our hands tonight?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods. “Shit, Steve, I got no idea.”

Steve shifts, uneasy. “Well, I guess we’ll have to end up finding out what we’re dealing with, whether we like it or not,” he mutters. “But—y’know, chin up, man, we’ll do our best.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “I guess so.”

“At least we got the word out,” Steve says, though that raises another question. “”What kind of listening figures do we get around this time?”

Eddie gives him a snort-laugh. It’s a nice sound, compared to the literal mortal-peril shouts of Joyce from earlier. “On a Thursday? After midnight? Could be…around thirty-five?” he says, and, huh, that’s not bad.

“Thirty-five, as in thirty-five hundred? I didn’t realize Hawkins had that many people,” Steve says, pleasantly surprised.

“No, thirty-five people,” Eddie clarifies. “At best.”

Yeah, that makes a lot more sense.

“Are you serious? We only have thirty-five listeners?” Steve asks, trying to hold back his laughter. It’s absurd, really, just how far he’s fallen. But it’s his own fault, truly. That disaster back in Chicago…God, it’s a wonder he still has any semblance of a career.

“Yep. Thirty-five. It’s a school night,” Eddie tells him, like that makes it any better.

Steve bites back a smile and pinches the bridge of his nose. “And, uh…what’s the population of Hawkins?” he asks.

Eddie makes an uncertain sort of sound. “I dunno exactly. I’m not secretly an encyclopedia, Steve, but it’s…a little over a thousand, I wanna say,” he says. Steve hums. “How many did you get before your fall from grace, my liege?”

“Oh, you mean before my career exploded and I ended up on a midnight hour talk show in a town of a thousand people?” Steve shoots back, easily playful even though it’s still painful to talk about, a little bit.

Snickering, Eddie toys with something behind the tinted window. “Yeah. Before that.”

That’s a hell of a question. Steve blows out a long breath. “Around five for most shows on the low end, I think. Big guests could pump that up to ten, fifteen, easy,” he recalls. It’s not necessarily that Steve had lived for the attention—although that hadn’t hurt—but it had been nice, honestly, to know that people really enjoyed what he has to say, that people would listen to his ideas and opinions and take them as something with worth.

Eddie lets out a bewildered laugh. “Holy shit, Steve, five thousand on the low end?! We could only dream of that!”

Ah.

“Five million,” Steve corrects.

An unholy noise passes through his headphones, and Steve almost chucks them right off his head, but it stops just as soon as it had started. “Mill-i-on?!” Eddie squawks, pronouncing each syllable like a separate word.

It makes Steve feel a little sheepish. “Yeah, y’know, that’s—sometimes, that’s just the way that it goes,” he murmurs. “At least The Whistling Man hasn’t killed me yet…I guess.”

“I never did ask you—oh, shit, hang on, switch the songs,” Eddie tells him, and Steve watches the ‘on air’ sign flicker back to life as the music fades out.

“Alright, folks, that was Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive,” Steve says smoothly, switching out the records. “This next song is Asia’s Heat Of The Moment.”

The sign flickers off. “Nice work,” Eddie commends.

Steve mimes tipping an imaginary hat in Eddie’s direction. He clears his throat. “Uh, you were saying something about—were you gonna ask me something?”

“Yeah, um—I was just gonna say, I never did ask about how that whole thing went down. The Chicago thing,” Eddie says. Steve feels his gut churn with nerves. He doesn’t like talking about this. It’s one thing to know that the person he’s talking to knows about the biggest screw-up of his career, that they had heard the broadcast, but it’s another to explain it himself. “So…are you gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s not as if Eddie’s an asshole. Sure, he can be kind of a dick, and he certainly knows how to take a bit to the worse end of ‘too far,’ but he’s not, like, awful. Steve sighs. “Okay, so…I was interviewing this politician, right?” he starts, and he sees Eddie’s silhouette nod. “And, uh, he was a contributor at the station. Big-wig type deal, y’know? So, I—the PR people working for the people I interview usually give me a list of stuff that’s off the table, a list of topics that they require I bring up, stuff like that, and—anyway, I’m supposed to ask this guy about the platform he’s running on, his policies, whatever.”

Eddie chuckles. “What, you disagreed with your guest? That’s it?”

Steve takes a deep breath. It’s not like he has issues keeping his temper in check, most of the time; he’d used to, when he’d been in high school, but a career in entertainment has really hammered the value of patience into him. “We’re talking about this guy’s campaign. And he starts going on about how his platform is around family values,” he tells Eddie, running a hand through his hair nervously. “So, now he’s talking shit about the ‘dangers of homosexuality,’ and my blood’s starting to boil.”

“He sounds like a douche,” Eddie says, so quiet that Steve almost misses it.

He nods. “Yeah, he is. I try and steer the conversation away, because I’m a professional, and that’s just what you do when there’s some stupid shit happening on your show, but he won’t stop. He won’t shut up about it,” Steve grits out. It still gets him worked up, thinking about what had happened that day. “Next thing I know, I’m coming out on live radio to fifteen million listeners and yelling at some jackass for ruining my show.”

The silence that stretches after he says it makes Steve tense. For the most part, no one in Hawkins has given him shit for what had happened—not directly, anyway. Steve’s still amazed he’d managed to get hired. He thought he’d be blacklisted. For all intents and purposes, he might as well be, but Owens had given him a job here, and that’s more than anyone in Steve’s position could’ve reasonably hoped for.

It’s why he and Robin had become such quick, close friends. The relief that comes with knowing someone else on his show is queer is indescribable. Chicago—his whole career—had been fantastic, he’d done so well, but it had been really isolating. He couldn’t risk his career, which meant he couldn’t go out and meet people, make meaningful connections, without chancing that they’d go to the tabloids if they were to ever break things off with him.

But, hey, at least he’s got nothing to lose now.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes at last, but the song’s coming to an end.

The sign flickers on, and Steve swaps out the records again. “Our next song comes to us from our intern’s friend—this one’s for you. Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill,” he announces, the sign turning off once the music starts up. Steve clears his throat, an all-too-familiar sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “So…do you totally hate me?”

There’s a half-aborted mix of a squawk and a shriek, and he watches Eddie’s silhouette nearly topple out of his chair. “What?! No! No! Jesus—I wouldn’t—I’m—that’s awful, Steve, I’m…I am so sorry,” Eddie says. “Shit. Shit, it’s so not funny to make fun of your career falling apart, then, oh, Jesus H. Christ.”

Steve lets out a nervous little laugh. “I mean—why did you even make fun of me in the first place?” he asks, because he is kind of curious.

Eddie’s silhouette flaps around in an indecipherable series of gestures. “I thought you were, like, just another radio douchebag! But you’re not! You’re actually a really good dude, and now I feel really bad for making fun of you,” he groans, and Steve smiles at him.

“Well, in your defense, it’s not like I was eager to make the reason why I was fired known,” Steve says. “It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t know why it happened. It was kinda nice, in a weird way…? To get treated like just some guy.”

“Be still, my beating heart! Handsome, charming, and a down-to-earth, good guy? I never stood a chance,” Eddie mock-swoons, and Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, Hawkins is kind of a tiny town, but it’s not, like, awful. I wanna get out of here as much as the next guy, don’t get me wrong, but don’t beat yourself up for ending up here.”

A small smile worming its way onto his face, Steve nods. “Yeah, it’s not half bad. Gotten a couple dirty looks, but you get that anywhere, being queer,” he says, and Eddie inhales sharply. And that…sucks. “I, uh—sorry, I know some people aren’t really cool with just bringing it up casually—”

“No, no, I’m not—I just—I get that,” Eddie tells him gently. “The, um—the dirty looks. I know what that’s like, that’s all.”

Something warm lodges itself into Steve’s chest. “Oh,” he says, “um, cool. Is that because of…?”

“I mean, kind of. I’m—a lot of people assume things, whether or not they have even a grain of truth to them. But they mostly give me dirty looks because they think I’m a satanist,” Eddie snickers. “I mean, I’m not, but—with the way I look, the conclusions people jump to are…definitely understandable.”

Steve tilts his head. “I’ve still never seen what you look like, y’know,” he says, and Eddie’s silhouette tenses a little in the window. “I mean—I’m sure you look—”

“Oh, shit, we’ve got another call coming in,” Eddie tells him, just as Running Up That Hill is beginning to fade into its outro, and Steve clears his throat. “Take it when you’re ready.”

Steve adjusts the volume slider to fade the song out before stopping it completely, watching the ‘on air’ sign flicker back to life as he presses the first phone line button to accept the call. “Hello, caller, you’re live on 189.16—The Scream,” he says smoothly. Then, recalling that this could very well be a 911 call, he winces. “Is everything, uh…alright?”

Heavy breathing is the only thing that he’s met with.

Steve’s brows furrow. “Okay…? Who is this? Are you—hello? Hello?” he tries, because maybe it’s someone that’s been hurt. He hopes it isn’t. Not because he wouldn’t have to deal with the situation, but because he isn’t really sure how efficient Hawkins General’s ambulances are.

There’s just more heavy breathing from the other end.

“Okay, what’s your name, and why are you calling in?” Steve tries, because he can’t help if he doesn’t have any information.

Some whistling comes through the speakers of his headphones, but it’s shaky. The tune isn’t right. “You know my name,” the caller says with a clearly put-on, gravelly voice. “I’ve come back from the dead to kill again! No one is safe!”

Oh, great, some bored dickhead has decided to make light of a murder. “Do you accept requests?” Steve asks, one hip cocked as he crosses his arms. “I’ve got a list of names I’d love to see in the obituaries.”

The caller makes a couple of half-choked noises in confusion. “Uh…maybe,” they say uncertainly. “You must—um—you must make a sacrifice to us—oh, shit—I mean, me! Dude—dude, what do you want? We want cheese dusted pretzels. I mean—! I want cheese dusted pretzels! Or I’ll…cut your face off!”

Eddie groans. “Goddamn kids! I’m cutting them off,” he huffs. He does, and the dial tone is actually a pretty welcome sound this time around. “Sorry, Stevie, I know you’re not big on pranks.”

A small smile makes its way onto Steve’s face in spite of his annoyance. “Needless to say, I won’t be going out to buy anything for these kids, and none of you should be going out tonight, either,” he says. He swaps out the records again. “We’ve got an actual killer out there. Anyway, this next one’s dedicated to all of you staying inside with your doors and windows locked. This is Never Let Me Down Again —Depeche Mode.”

The ‘on air’ sign flickers off. “Hey, Robin just paged. She’s calling in, but she doesn’t want it on air. You good?” Eddie asks, and Steve nods. “Hey, Rob. You’re on with both of us.”

“Guys!” Robin near-shouts, and Steve winces. “Oh my God, okay—Chrissy isn’t home yet. Her jogs never last this long. And I was listening to the show in the car—holy shit, by the way—and now I’m starting to get paranoid, because there’s a killer on the loose, and I just keep thinking about all the different things that could’ve happened, and she took her cell phone, but the thing is huge and clunky, so what if she dropped it while she was getting chased or something? She drives her car all the way out by—”

“Robin, hey, calm down,” Steve says, as soothing as he can make himself sound. “I’m sure she’s okay. Her jogging route goes off Coal Mill, right? That’s so far from the station, and we don’t even know if that whistling asshole is still conscious. Joyce got him pretty good with her taser.”

Robin takes a deep breath. Steve kind of hates that he knows Hawkins’ layout enough to reassure her like this, but how can he really hate it when he hears her quietly laughing in relief on the other end of the line. “Right. You’re right. I’m being—ugh. Sorry, you know how anxious I get sometimes,” she sighs, and Steve hums. “She’s probably just fine. Thanks, Steve. I’ll keep the radio on just in case something does happen, but I won’t go anywhere, don’t worry.”

“You’ll page me if—you’ll page when Chrissy gets home, right?” Eddie asks, and, shit, Steve can’t believe he’d forgotten how close Eddie and Chrissy are.

“Yeah, ’course I will, Eddie,” Robin says, and her voice is soft. “You guys just…keep your heads up, okay? I believe in you. Talk to you soon.”

The dial tone sounds again, and Steve sighs. “Hey, Eddie?” he asks, and Eddie hums. “What the hell was that? Not—not the thing with Robin, the whole…kids pretending to be a killer, who, right now, is stalking the town…thing.”

Eddie groans. “It’s…a thing.”

“A thing?” Steve repeats, incredulous.

“Kids around here, they pull pranks pretending to be The Whistling Man. They think it’s funny! But it’s not. It’s not funny at all,” Eddie mutters darkly.

Steve stews in his own nerves. “So there’s no chance that our Whistling Man was just a prank, right? That Joyce…”

He can hear Eddie swallow. “No, that…that was real,” he says, and Steve swears under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He watches Eddie’s silhouette sit up a little straighter behind the tinted glass. “Let’s stay positive! We still have a show to do.”

“I’m gonna need a seat that isn’t halfway across the universe if I’m gonna get through the rest of this,” Steve tells him, gesturing over at the couch. “You got a spare in the booth?”

There’s a long pause.

Steve calls Eddie’s name after a solid thirty seconds of silence. “Yes, I—yeah, I do. Give me a second to put it outside the door,” Eddie says.

“I’ll just come grab it from you,” Steve tells him, “no big deal.”

“No, no, it’s okay, really, I—I’ll just put it out there. Just wait.”

He watches Eddie’s silhouette move towards the corner of the booth, and Steve makes his way over to the door. They’ve got, like, a little over a minute left until the song’s done and they’re left with dead air, so he might as well save them some time. The hall’s wide and warm, and Steve waits outside the door to the sound engineer’s booth, hands in his pockets. The door swings open, and he’s face-to-face with Eddie Munson for the first time since he’d arrived in Hawkins.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with surprise, big and brown under the curly bangs of his hair, the rest of the curls cascading down just past his shoulders. He’s pale, with a light line of freckles right under his eyes, going across his nose, and his plush, pink lips are parted in a perfect ‘o.’ He stands up straight—he’s about Steve’s height, maybe a little shorter—and brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, ringed fingers catching slightly on the dark curl. Steve follows the line of his arm, scans over the tattoos there, and he registers the giant letters of some heavy metal band sprawled across Eddie’s shirt, right over his chest. His eyes drag back up to Eddie’s face, a pretty pink color slowly spreading over his cheeks as Steve looks at him.

He’s kind of gorgeous.

Oh.

Oh, no.

#it's starting to get a little gay in the KFAM building #disgusting /j #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #cross posted on ao3 #robin buckley #minor buckingham

24 notes · View notes