#fic: everything comes out teenage petulance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lcvclywon · 7 months ago

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teaser 𓍯𓂃 SO HIGHSCHOOL | ot7 series

back to masterlist

taglist ── open! until 29/5/2924 send an ask or comment to be added! | @floweryang @cupidhoons @ak-aaa-li @yvjw @xiaoderrrr @jlheon @junislqve @roastandtoast @un06 @lilyuwon @bywons @venn-ie @yongbokified @jwsdoll @tobiosbbyghorl @laurradoesloveu @chaehyunloveeee @shawnyle @en-gelic @hwangism143 @bbinwrld @deffnotnia @belovedsthings @honeywonuu @k1ttylvr @dimplewonie @llvrhee @fateenthisast @sasfransisco @tokkisann @jaklvbub @nazwrites-2002 @sseishiross @nshmrarki

DISCLAIMERS! i'm not trying to sexualize enhypen nor any other idols, this is a work of fiction. I do not actually view them like this in real life. Please do not copy nor plagarise.

thoughts frm yuya 💭 ack !!! blurb + announcement post finally out hehe >< each fic will be realllyyyy long so please do be patient with the posts TT Jay one will prob release first! I'll be releasing them throughout June + July so make sure to stay tuned for each post !! I will not be making separate taglists for each story unfortunately. Also huge huge HUGE thanks to my pookies @cupidhoons @bywons and @wonfilms for all the help on this, they legit helped me develop so many of the stories so i'm so grateful for that ^^ anw hope u guys are excited as I am about this !! (also apologies the header pics look so ass....all my design ideas were gone)

You know how to ball I know Aristotle | LEE HEESEUNG

READ HERE

where...

You hate heeseung. You hate his toothy grin, you hate his obnoxiously loud laugh, you hate his roaring athleticism, and you've hated his guts ever since he dropped you in grade 7 for those stupid basketballers. Ever since then Lee Heeseung has never held a place in your heart, every waking moment you spent in the same building with him you were filled with sheer pettiness. But when your broadcasting club leader hands you an offer you can't refuse, can you put aside your differences for once and work with him?

pairing ── heeseung x female reader

genre ── forced proximity, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, popular basketball player x broadcasting club

wc ── est 12k or more

warnings ── cursing, heeseung lwk a dickhead, kissing, alcohol, underage drinking, fighting, they're both kinda evil

release date ── tba

So tell me, who else is gonna know me? | PARK JONGSEONG

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where...

Park Jongseong and Baek Y/N: the two biggest names in Decelis and two richest. Jay knew he would be bringing a date to his brothers wedding at the end of the school year, but he didn't expect that partner to be you of all people. After a small white lie Jay finds himself entangled in a rouse to fool his parents that you and him are now dating. This however seems to be a bigger blessing than you realise. While both using each other as pawns you find yourself "dating" Jay until the wedding; but as a four day trip ensues feelings change, lines get crossed, and walls come down.

pairing ── Jay x female reader

genre ── fake dating, childhood connection, rich kid au, one bed trope, slight angst

wc ── est 17k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, slight suggestiveness if you squint?, both of them are lwk nepo babies, slight familial issues, mentions of food, mentions of weddings, pet names

release date ── tba - maybe sometime this month ?

Everything comes out of teenage petulance | SIM JAEYUN

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where...

Sixth grade, that was when you first laid eyes on Jake Sim and you swore in that moment were what the poets called: lovestruck. Ever since that day you've been harbouring a massive crush on your older brothers best friend, a crush that would never be reciprocated unfortunately. However this was a fact you've learned to come to terms with. But in the midst of Junior year, when your physics grades are at the cusp of failure, your parents suggest Jake to help tutor you. When your repressed crush seems to resurface, you may not be as hopeless as you seem.

pairing ── Jake x female reader

genre ── brothers best friend x reader, forbidden romance, tutor x tutee, obvious x oblivious

wc ── est 11k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, age gap of like 1 year (jake is a senior and YN is a junior I SWEAR ITS NOT WEIRD), taesan as the older brother and hes protective as shit please bear with that, inspired by hidden love obv

release date ── tba

I died on the altar waiting for the proof | PARK SUNGHOON

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where...

Following your parents death you abruptly are forced to move to Jinhae to live with your aunt. You love your life in Jinhae working in your aunts cafe, your life was quiet. However that was all until Park Sunghoon showed up one day, out of the blue, completely unannounced. To make matters worse he ends up having to work with you at your aunts cafe. Everything resurfaces: both the fond memories and nasty ones. Can you manage to work peacefully with each other both at work and school, or will your unresolved feelings threaten to strain your already troubled relationship.

pairing ── Sunghoon x female reader

genre ── exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, workplace romance (? kinda), forced proximity, misunderstandings, angst, small town romance

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, sunghoon and yn being at each others throats, they're both kinda evil to each other, a lot of misunderstandings, pet names, parents death, mentions of grief

release date ── tba - maybe early next month or late this month

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh | KIM SUNOO

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where...

Sunoo and YN. Everyone knew both your names went hand in hand with each other since preschool. Sunoo always made it clear how much he liked you, that perhaps might've been the downfall of your relationship in highschool. After his incessant confessions you learned to grow indifferent to his quick pickup lines between lessons. You don't like Sunoo like that, you'll never be able to see him like that. But when he suddenly starts dating Seol Yoona, you can't help but feel a pang of jealousy strike your heart. However with the help of Jungwon you hope to solve the conflicts straining your relationship.

pairing ── Sunoo x female reader

genre ── soulmates au, grumpy x sunshine, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, second lead syndrome

wc ── est 11k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, yn is kinda evil and sunoo is way better than me fr i would have dropped her, sunoo also kinda desperate tho, kinda ? using jungwon as a pawn, fighting, slight angst, pet names

release date ── tba

You gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? | YANG JUNGWON

READ HERE

where...

1st rank: Choi YN. You could always trust that your name would be top of the list all. the. time. That was until highschool at least when you transferred to Decelis for higher academic challenge. However what you didn't expect was for said higher academic challenge to come in a teenage boy with annoyingly deep dimples. Yang Jungwon. Student council president and your sworn rival since the moment you stepped into Decelis. With you two being top students, president and vice president, and not to mention the two top debaters in school, it was safe to say almost every aspect of your highschool life revolved around beating Jungwon. But when you are forced to work with him in debate for nationals, you find yourself truly questioning why you hated him to begin with.

pairing ── Jungwon x female reader

genre ── academic rivals to lovers, forced proximity, top student x student council president

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, loosely based off of Ann Liangs 'If you could see the sun', some fighting, yn and jungwon at each others throats all the time, theyre kinda hella mean to each other, mentions of anxiety, academic pressure

release date ── tba - mid of june maybe?

Fuck it if I can't have him | NISHIMURA RIKI

READ HERE

where...

Riki Nishimura had a reputation: an all round bad influence, bottom of his class, and had more absences than presences flooding his attendance card; everyone believed he was a lost cause. So imagine your surprise when you and and him were sitting side by side at the principals office while he explained the new tutoring program that would be set in place for him. Well now there was another thing to add to his reputation: YN's student. Reluctantly accepting the proposal you find yourself entangled in RIki's complicated life. While getting to know each other more and more, you realise there's more to Riki than meets the eye.

pairing ── Niki x female reader

genre ── trouble maker x goody two shoes, tutor x tutee, obvious x oblivious, student council president x bad boy, he falls first you fall harder

wc ── est 16k or more

warnings ── cursing, kissing, smoking, drinking, fighting, mentions of injury and cuts, riki lwk being a little shit at the start, teacher involvement/meddling, YN under a LOT of pressure

release date ── tba

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petals2fish · 3 months ago

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Down Bad

Notes: Petals' jilytober shuffle fic fest #6 "Down Bad" by Taylor Swift READ on A03

Did their relationship ever truly exist, or had it been some elaborate illusion? She remembered how he'd taken her hand and led her into a world she barely understood, as if she were an outsider, a foreign creature he was eager to play with. He’d been fascinated by her, treating her body and soul like some kind of experiment. There had been magic in the air, swirling around them like stardust. In a moment of perfect stillness, their souls had brushed against each other. His patronus had stood nose to nose with hers, a reflection of their connection.

He had told her he loved her.

That she was his chosen one.

They were destined for something greater.

But now, it was summer, and she was back home, far from him, far from that otherworldly magic. For a fleeting moment, she had had cosmic love, a love that felt like it was written in the stars. James had adored her, showered her with affection, kissed her in both shadowed corners and fields drenched in sunlight. His excitement had been palpable the day they realized their souls mirrored each other, as though they were cosmic twins bound by fate.

Now, she was left with an aching emptiness, crying at the gym, her body betraying her emotions as she ran herself into the ground. Everything she said came out laced with teenage petulance, like a sharp edge she couldn’t control. She snapped at her friend Mary as they jogged along the blacktop track, “What if I can’t have him? I swear, I might just die, and it wouldn��t even matter.”

Mary glanced at her with a shrug, her voice steady and grounded. “Run it off, girl. No guy is worth this. Not even one with a matching patronus.”

But she couldn’t shake the despair. She was spiraling, imagining James waking up covered in blood, the world punishing him for loving someone like her. No one wanted to see someone like him, with all his pure blood and perfection, tangled up in someone like her. She ran harder, until her knees hit the pavement, her legs giving out beneath her. The sting of scraped skin didn’t register, overshadowed by the heaviness in her heart.

Every night, she found herself staring at the sky, whispering into the vastness, hoping the universe would hear her quiet plea. “Come back,” she whispered. “Pick me up. Take me back.”

After a week of radio silence, she decides maybe she just won’t get up. Why bother? If she can’t have him, what’s the point? She lies in bed, her body heavy with the weight of missing him. Everything feels like an effort.

Fuck it.

Eventually, she forces herself up, pacing around her room before heading outside to her truck, nervously rummaging through every compartment. She’s looking for her favorite underwear, hoping to wear it out to the bar with Mary and Marlene later. But as she turns the truck upside down, checking every corner and crevice, she comes up empty.

Where is it? Her mind races, and a ridiculous thought crosses her mind: Did he take it? Did he take the clothes they’d ripped off each other, just to leave her like this, naked and alone?

The night doesn’t get any better.

A few drinks in, and the alcohol isn’t helping. She’s standing in a field now, in the same small town she’s always known, but it feels different—hollow, as if everything’s lost its meaning. Mary and Marlene are nearby, probably whispering about her, telling her she’s crazy for still talking about him. But they don’t get it.

They never will.

For a moment, she had been heaven-struck, caught in a whirlwind of love that felt bigger than the world. Now, she’s down bad, really down. She’s crying on some stranger’s lawn, her tears staining the grass. Everything she says sounds broken, every word a jagged shard of her heart. “What if I can’t have him?” she wonders aloud, the question hanging in the air. “What if this soulmate thing was just a joke? A sick prank?”

The thought of it not being real—of it all being some cosmic joke—rips through her, leaving her more shattered than before. If that’s the case, she thinks, she might actually die. The heartbreak would be unbearable. She’s tired of crying, tired of waiting.

Down bad.

Fuck it.

She’s done wasting her nights staring at the sky, hoping for answers. She grips her wand tightly, closing her eyes and praying for the magic to work. If she can just apparate, maybe she can make it all go away.

“Lily.”

Her heart stops. The sound of his voice is so clear, it feels like a dream. Slowly, she turns, her skirt snagging on the wildflowers. And there he is. James. He’s standing there, real and solid, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, his smile warm, familiar, full of the same affection she’d come to know so well.

Her throat tightens, tears threatening to spill over again, but this time for an entirely different reason. “James,” she breathes, barely able to say his name without breaking.

“I heard you were wondering if I forgot about you,” he says with a soft laugh, the kind she could never get enough of. His laugh was like home to her. “I didn’t. I just thought I’d give you a little space.”

“I didn’t want space,” she shoots back, her voice soft but insistent. “I loved your hostile takeovers. I just want us to be closer and closer, for us to never be over.”

He raises an eyebrow, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Even with our indecent exposures? I was trying to play it safe so your dad wouldn’t actually murder me if he found me in your bed.” His grin widens, mischief dancing in his gaze. “Besides, Sirius convinced me it’d be more romantic if we pined for each other a little this summer. Thought you’d appreciate the suspense.”

She rolls her eyes, but inside, a part of her melts. She’d dreamed of building a life together, a place just for the two of them, away from the others who would never understand the depth of their love. Away from the whispers, the judging eyes, and the laughter that always seemed so distant from their reality.

She longed for a place where they could simply be.

“How dare you think that’s romantic?” she challenges, grabbing a fistful of his cloak, pulling him close. “Leaving me safe and stranded while I’m out here losing my mind? Cause fuck it, James, I’m in love.”

His grin only grows as he leans in, his forehead resting against hers. “Then fuck it,” he says, his voice low. “We’re in love.”

And she’s down bad.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic #jily fanfiction #down bad taylor swift

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jenniejjun · 7 months ago

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pairing.: art donaldson x leitora!fem x tashi duncan x patrick zweig

sinopse.: olivia miller era tudo o que tashi duncan não era. e tudo o que ela era ao mesmo tempo. uma força a ser reconhecida. não foi uma surpresa quando elas se tornaram parceiras de tênis. elas eram lendas. nada nem ninguém poderia mexer com elas. exceto art donaldson e patrick zweig.

warnings.: esta história foi avaliada como +18. incluirá uso de cigarro, consumo de álcool, temas sexuais e linguagem forte. aconselha-se a opinião do autor, caso você se sinta desconfortável com alguma das citações anteriores priorize sua saúde evitando a leitura. não possuo nenhum desses personagens, exceto os millers e justine bonsoir. todos os direitos vão para MGM e Guadagnino. fora isso, isso aqui é apenas eu cedendo à minha necessidade bissexual de ter os três, não sei o que dizer.

notas da autora.: olha só ela continuando uma sérieeeee! iai galera, acharam que eu não ia mais atualizar né? ganharam até banner novo, coisa que o site ao lado não ganhou! brinks kkkkkkkkkkkkk (anyways, vocês acharam que eu ia fazer um ctrl+c ctrl+v do filme é? nananinanão, rapaziada. a história se passa post-challengers, no canon daqui o trisal maravilha se comeu horrores depois do final do filme. o que não significa final conto de fadas e que eles se amam incondicionalmente, obv. esses malucos precisam de uns três anos de terapia pra, de fato, engatar numa relação saudável mas digamos que o casamento do art e da tashi esteja aberto caso o patrick e a olivia queiram entrar hihihi. btw, sei que meu blog foca em conteúdo erótico e adulto e prometo que esse tá vindo mas eu já deixei claro nas minhas regrinhas do blog o quanto gosto de escrever histórias e dar profundidade pra elas que, de vez em quando, fica difícil numa fic de um capítulo só. espero que vocês tenham paciência, mas é isso! um beijo e um cheiro!

elenco.: jennie kim como olivia miller, kim see-hun como aira choi, jeremy strong como oliver miller, zendaya como tashi duncan, josh o'connor como patrick zweig, mike faist como art donaldson, swann arlaud como justine bonsoir.

ESCUTE A TRILHA SONORA AQUI.

LEIA A PARTE UM AQUI.

II. EVERYTHING COMES OUT OF TEENAGE PETULANCE

2024

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎O AR DE PARIS acertou-a bem na cara enquanto o som do Eurosport tocava ao fundo. Canal de esportes, é claro. Como ela não poderia? Olivia Miller precisava estar em dia com tudo relacionado ao tênis ou pelo menos era o que sua mãe diria. Mas ao olhar diretamente para a TV do hotel, Olivia ponderou o quanto essas meninas realmente treinaram para isso. Suas posturas estavam todas erradas, os saques eram, na melhor das hipóteses, medíocres e não havia nada mais lamentável do que uma falta. E elas tinham muitas faltas.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Para ela era um mistério como essas meninas competiam nos Jogos Olímpicos de Verão. Contra ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Não.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Isso não era típico dela. Ela não deveria pensar nessas coisas. Olivia Miller foi simples e educada. Ela era o tipo de garota que dava autógrafos para meninas que diziam ser seu modelo, ela era o tipo de pessoa que sorria para elas e bagunçava seus cabelos. Olivia Miller nunca zombou dos colegas de equipe e foi perfeitamente educada quando eles perderam, parabenizando pela participação. Sua bravura. Essa era ela agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Um molde perfeito para sua família. Uma embarcação para a filha de Oliver Miller, o maior tenista do mundo. Que era ela agora. O orgulho que assumiu o legado do pai, tudo o que sempre sonharam e esperaram. Ela era tudo isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Pensamentos como esse eram egocêntricos e cruéis. Não é a imagem que os Millers venderam. Pensamentos como esse a lembravam do passado. Dela. Cabelo e pele castanhos logo inundaram sua mente como uma onda, atingindo seus pulmões e quase tornando-a incapaz de respirar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia Miller não pensava mais nela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ou neles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Ela golpeia e depois match!” O locutor do jogo soa pela sala, trazendo Olivia de volta à vida. O suco verde ainda está na frente dela, intocado. A fisioterapeuta dela, preparando alguns aquecimentos na lateral da sala. “Anna Muller, senhoras e senhores!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A menção desse nome faz Olivia suspirar, desligando o aparelho eletrônico. Isso chama a atenção dos olhos cansados da mãe. Ela decide ignorar isso por enquanto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Seria possível que seu passado a assombrasse tanto? Ela deve controlar seus sentimentos todas as vezes? Olivia Miller não acreditava em superstições, mas em momentos como esse ela só pensava na coincidência de acontecimentos. Memórias a assombrando a ponto de se materializarem e tropeçarem diante de seus olhos para lembrá-la de que não estava tudo em sua cabeça. Ela viveu tudo isso.

“É bom para você assistir outras partidas. Isso aumenta suas habilidades”, diz Aira Choi de sua cadeira. Olivia fica inexpressiva enquanto bebe seu suco, obedientemente. É claro que seria ingênuo da parte dela pensar que sua mãe teria ficado quieta. “Isso ajuda você a vencer.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eu não perco”, ela responde.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você não perde porque assiste a outras partidas de tênis”, sua mãe tenta novamente, levantando-se. Aproximando-se da filha, a mulher liga novamente a TV. Olivia suspirou ao ver Anna Muller gritar na quadra após vencer um set. “Você conhece o processo. Isto é o que seu pai lhe ensinou."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ah, ela sabia bem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Seu pai era obsessivo quando se tratava de tênis. Quando ele se tornou seu treinador? Ela entendeu por que as pessoas o chamavam de o maior tenista do mundo. Ela também achou que ele estava maluco. Só um louco seguiria sua rotina. Como sua própria filha.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia não conseguia se lembrar da última vez em que relaxou genuinamente. Ela não teve tempo para relaxar na rotina do pai. Não era nada parecido com a rotina que ela seguia quando era adolescente. Esta foi muito mais desgastante.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Incluía muitas coisas, como assistir repetidamente às partidas de tênis de seus rivais para que ela pudesse aprender suas fraquezas e usá-las contra eles na quadra de tênis. Às vezes, durava a manhã inteira.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia não estava preparada para isso hoje.

“Só estou dizendo que isso não afetará minhas habilidades no tênis se eu não assistir a uma partida só porque quero tomar meu café da manhã em paz”, protestou Miller. A garota estava se sentindo bastante cansada, sem vontade de brigar com a matriarca. Ela não venceria de qualquer maneira.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Honestamente, Olivia, eu não entendo você. Você estava sendo desleixada antes de se classificar para as Olimpíadas e agora quer perder o treino do dia a dia”, zombou Aira, olhando para a filha enquanto ela arrumava o cabelo. Olivia desviou de sua mão. “É como se você quisesse perder.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez ela quisesse.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez ela estivesse com medo de seguir em frente e testemunhar algo que pensava ter esquecido. Mas ela não podia contar isso à mãe.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Território proibido.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Enquanto ela pensava em inventar uma desculpa, a porta do quarto do hotel se abriu revelando ninguém menos que sua noivo. Justine Bonsoir movia-se elegantemente entre os tapetes e pesos em seu caminho, ignorando o cheiro fedorento de seu suco verde e o estado deplorável de sua cama. Da cama deles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele trazia consigo a loção hidratante para os pés dela. Eles estavam doendo sem parar ultimamente, por pularem e pousarem com muita força. Olivia quase se sentiu mal por estar tão acabada com ele por perto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Quando ele se inclinou para beijá-la, Aira mudou completamente seu comportamento. Típico.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eles só tinham Eucerin, espero que você não se importe,” ele sussurrou contra seus lábios, sentando-se ao lado dela enquanto ela sorria.

“Sem problemas,” Olivia forçou uma risada. Aira levantou-se de repente, tão suavemente que Olivia não teria suspeitado do porquê, se não fosse por ela ser sua mãe. Aira tinha essa obsessão para que o relacionamento deles desse certo. Nunca era sutil ao deixá-los em paz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Vou deixar vocês dois pombinhos sozinhos!” Ela riu, caminhando até a porta. “Cuide da nossa garota, Justine.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Pode deixar, Aira.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele sempre fazia isso, não? Assim como os que vieram antes dele, que sempre ouviam exatamente a mesma coisa dela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O restaurante do hotel estava vazio. O que significava privacidade para Justine e Olivia, exatamente como eles gostavam. Olivia não era muito fã de exibições públicas agora, isso a irritava profundamente. Então foi um conforto sentar-se em silêncio com o noivo e saborear uma boa lagosta sem ter que dar autógrafos para todos os lados com um sorriso falso no rosto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Existiam milhares de prós por se estar ali. Mas apenas um contra. O que devia ser o pior de tudo, certamente. Porque Olivia Miller não conseguia paz, aparentemente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine Bonsoir era um homem curioso e sábio. Os homens sábios geralmente gostavam de dar conselhos gratuitos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ele não era diferente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Do que sua mãe estava falando antes de eu chegar lá? Vocês duas pareciam bastante exaltadas”, disse ele, tomando um gole de vinho. Em tempos como estes, Olivia sabia por que o escolheu. A luz que iluminava seus cabelos grisalhos fazia sobressair suas linhas de expressão… Ele era lindo assim.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela poderia facilmente dizer a si mesma que o amava daquele jeito.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você ouviu?” Ela disse envergonhada, não tão boa quanto ele para manter o álcool sob controle. Depois de revirar os olhos afetuosamente para o sorriso conhecedor de Justine, ela suspirou. “Ela estava me incomodando por não querer ver os jogos hoje.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E por que você não quis ver os jogos?”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Eu só não estava com vontade.” A resposta dela foi definitiva, mas Olivia nunca foi muito boa em impor sua assertividade. O olhar de Justine a fez olhar para sua taça de vinho.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Anna Muller jogou hoje”, disse o francês, pegando a mão dela. Brincando com os nós dos dedos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia fechou os olhos, respirando fundo. Ela sabia onde isso estava indo, infelizmente. Da mesma forma que Justine Bonsoir podia ser uma presença calma e monotonamente indiferente, o homem também era capaz de ser irritantemente observador. Desde a forma como Olivia mordeu o lábio até a forma como estalou os dedos de vez em quando ao olhar para ele, ficou claro para ele que a jovem estava escondendo alguma coisa. Será que isso contava como disfarce se ele a conhecia bem o suficiente para saber o que a incomodava?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O vinho não pareceu atrapalhar seu julgamento, então Olivia largou sua taça. Não querendo revelar mais do que já estava sobre a mesa. A questão é que ela nunca tinha feito isso, revelado nada, claro. Mas Justine conseguiu juntar as peças do quebra-cabeça quebrado nas poucas vezes em que seus pais a repreenderam por sequer mencionar os nomes deles. No entanto, não era sua vontade relembrar isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Essa história estava enterrada há muito tempo, Olivia não queria revivê-la. Portanto, ela preferiu fazer o que fazia de melhor quando se tratava de Justine e seus comentários espertinhos. Fazer-se de boba. Mudar o rumo da conversa.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E daí?” Ela disse, erguendo as sobrancelhas como se não se importasse com a pergunta que acabara de ser feita.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você não acha um pouco suspeito você perder o interesse em assistir às partidas no mesmo dia em que Anna Muller está jogando?” Justine inclinou a cabeça.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “É apenas um jogo, Justine. Nada muito grande nisso,” Olivia revirou os olhos. Foda-se isso de não beber vinho, ela precisava disso para suportar essa conversa. Seu estômago estava revirando dentro dela, em antecipação às implicações que ali estavam.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Exatamente.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia bateu o copo na mesa, irritada. Isso chamou a atenção de um dos garçons de lá, ela deu-lhes um breve sorriso como pedido de desculpas antes de se virar novamente para o homem à sua frente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Que diabos? Ele estava realmente tentando irritá-la? Miller não conseguiu entender.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Não tenho certeza do que você está tentando insinuar aqui,” ela zombou, encostando-se na cadeira.

"Tudo o que estou dizendo é que talvez você se sentiu desconfortável assistindo Anna hoje porque ela te lembra do passado", Justine encolheu os ombros, suspirando ao ver Olivia revirar os olhos novamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia debocha. Obviamente, ela sabia onde Justine Bonsoir estava tentando mirar com essas idas e vindas. Tinha que ser em um dia como hoje? Quem diria que o francês poderia ser tão insuportável.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ De qualquer forma, ela não desistiria tão cedo. Então bufou, irritada.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “E como Anna Muller e meu passado se conectam, exatamente?” Ela brincou.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Um momento de silêncio caiu sobre eles. Para quem estivesse de fora, pareceriam um casal almoçando normalmente, mas o que aconteceu ali foi muito mais do que isso. Foi a sua convivência com Justine na sua forma mais pura. A batalha pelo domínio nas discussões, mesmo que fossem pequenas discussões como esta.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine sempre gostou de agir de forma inteligente porque era mais velho, e na maioria das vezes ele poderia ser, mas se houvesse uma pessoa em sua nova vida que ainda trouxesse a velha Olivia Miller , era Justine Bonsoir. A necessidade de ter a última palavra era incessantemente dela quando se tratava de suas discussões.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ E Justine odiava quando Olivia bancava a teimosa.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Assim como ela odiava quando ele bancava o espertinho.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Com um sorriso irônico e um arqueamento de sobrancelhas, Bonsoir cruzou os braços encarando sua futura noiva. “Ela jogou nos Challengers.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Isso não tem nada a ver com os Challangers”, Olivia respondeu secamente, exausta pela insistência do homem. Ela olhou para o lado, pensando se poderia ignorar até que aquele assunto deixasse de existir.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Olivia, ouvi sua mãe. Eles estão começando a perceber que alguma coisa nesse lugar está te incomodando”, falou, pontualmente. Como sempre, Justine Bonsoir tinha razão e Olivia teve vontade de gritar. “E quando eles descobrirem o quê, eles vão tornar sua vida um inferno. Estou tentando te ajudar”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Ah, então você está tentando me ajudar a esquecer meus ex?” A resposta foi imediata, a falta de paciência evidente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Foi a vez de Justine bufar.

"Você sabe que não é isso que quero dizer, mas se quiser colocar dessa forma", respondeu o homem, desinteressado no joguinho de culpa que Olivia havia armado para ele. Inclinando a cabeça de um lado para o outro, o francês sorriu para ela. Olivia não retribuiu. “Escute, vou ser honesto com você.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Por favor, faça isso. Estamos chegando a um lugar maravilhoso com sua honestidade!”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Justine optou por ignorar a zombaria. “Você vai competir contra Art Donaldson e Patrick Zweig e vai ver Tashi Duncan. Quanto mais cedo você arrancar o band-aid, mais cedo você superará isso. Aí você se aposenta e seguimos em frente com nossas vidas.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ E nos casamos. Ele esqueceu de acrescentar, mas estava na atmosfera. Olivia podia sentir isso porque era verdade. Ela jogaria nos Jogos Olímpicos de Verão, se aposentaria aos trinta e quatro anos e se casaria. Esse foi o plano assim que ele propôs.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela respirou fundo. Inferno, ela precisava de mais vinho. Como se pudesse sentir isso, Justine pediu outra garrafa com um pequeno sorriso. Ela sorriu de volta em gratidão.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Sim, eu sei.” Silenciosamente, Olivia respondeu de volta.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Aliviado, era assim que ele parecia. Olivia olhou para ele vendo o jeito que ele balançou a cabeça tentando esconder o riso. Ela revirou os olhos permitindo que um sorriso preguiçoso tomasse conta de suas feições.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Bom. Então assista a porra da partida e não dê motivos para seus pais meterem o nariz na gente”, brincou, servindo vinho nas taças. Olivia jogou o guardanapo nele, ouvindo sua risada. “Deus, você é difícil.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Zombando em estado de choque, Olivia revidou. “E você é mandão.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Mas vale a pena.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “É, até que d�� pro gasto.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Roupas. Roupas por toda parte. Foi tudo o que Olivia Miller pôde ver do sofá da loja Adidas. Aparentemente, ela não tinha roupas suficientes para as Olimpíadas de Verão. Mesmo sendo patrocinada por inúmeras marcas, a mãe da mulher fez questão de lembrá-la que era hora de fazer compras.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Talvez esse não fosse exatamente o dia dela, mas ela sempre poderia contar com sua própria mãe para encontrar uma maneira de piorar a situação. Depois da manhã turbulenta que teve e do almoço desagradável partilhado com Justine, tudo o que Olivia queria era deitar-se na cama e apodrecer ali. Ou pelo menos descansar até criar vergonha na cara para abrir Cincinnati para assistir aos jogos que ela estava tão desesperada para evitar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ No entanto, lá estava ela sentada entre tantas caixas de sapatos e roupas descartadas. Uma das atendentes ficou ao lado dela no grande sofá branco da loja, inquieta e até um pouco incomodada com as exigências incessantes de Aira Choi quando o assunto era a aparição da filha na quadra de tênis.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Louca, isso é o que a mãe dela era. Olivia deslizou entediada pelo estofamento de couro branco, olhando para os pés e se perdendo nos detalhes dos pequenos saltos que usava. Ela sorriu se desculpando para a atendente ao ver a mãe voltando com mais seis pares de saias e tops, todos juntos para combinar com os demais pares de tênis já escolhidos.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Vamos, você tem que experimentar isso”, disse a matriarca, aproximando-se. Em sua expressão não havia espaço para discordância, o que enviou uma onda de derrota pelo corpo de Olivia Miller. A jovem apenas suspirou, olhando para a atendente, que naquele exato momento segurava nas prateleiras mais próximas as roupas novas que sua mãe havia trazido.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Tenho certeza que não vou precisar de todas essas roupas, mãe. Não há nem tantos jogos assim," Ela tentou argumentar, jogando a cabeça para trás contra o estofamento do sofá.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Claro que vai. Você é a estrela deste evento, você sabe disso. Você tem ideia de quantas fotos terá que tirar?" A mulher jogou as roupas no colo, libertando novamente o atendente. "De quantas sessões de fotos você terá que participar? Muitas, Olivia. Muitas."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Achei que era apenas uma questão de ganhar jogos, e não dar muita importância a isso", respondeu Olivia, levantando-se. Assim, ela era um pouco mais alta que a mãe. Mas Aira Choi era tão intimidante que a sua altura não importava.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Que parte de 'você é a estrela deste evento' você não entende? Tudo que você fizer será maior do que deveria ser," A mulher continuou, aproximando-se. "Seu pai está aqui. As pessoas pararam para ver o que vai acontecer naquela quadra. Você realmente não acha que vai entrar lá e jogar seu jogo e depois ir embora, não é? Lembre-se de quem você é , Olivia. E o que você queria pra chegar aqui."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia engoliu em seco, movendo-se. Ela não queria que a atendente da loja soubesse de mais nada e muito menos que isso acabasse na mídia. Bastavam as especulações sobre seu relacionamento com Justine Bonsoir. Olivia não tinha mentalidade para isso agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Portanto, ela continuou seu caminho para os vestiários. E colocando as roupas em um balcão em frente ao provador ela achou que eram peças lindas. Isso ela tinha que admitir. Ela poderia imaginar usá-los mais tarde. Em conferências, em sessões de fotos, em treinamentos. Sua mãe realmente teria pensado em tudo.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ou talvez o crédito devesse ir para o pai dela, provavelmente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela teria se perdido na onda de pensamentos que passavam por ela, mas foi então que sentiu pequenas mãos agarrando o tecido de seda de seu vestido. Olivia estava acostumada com esse tipo de contato, não precisou se virar para ver que era um ser humano três vezes menor que ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Miller sorriu educadamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Você é Olivia Miller?" A criança perguntou, ela tinha traços lindos. O cabelo castanho encaracolado mais exuberante que ela já tinha visto, suas feições tão delicadas que Olivia lembrava uma princesa. Havia algo semelhante nela que Olivia não conseguia identificar. ‎"Você joga igual ao meu pai!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia Miller deu mais uma olhada naquela criança. Obviamente, filha de algum tenista que ela teria conhecido. Mas quem?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A mulher teria respondido pela jovem que a encarava com adoração se não fosse a voz extremamente familiar que se aproximava, ganhando um rosto barbudo e cachos castanhos tão escuros que poderiam ser confundido com preto.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia conhecia aquele sorriso presunçoso em qualquer lugar, não importa quanto tempo tivesse passado.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Patrick Zweig estava bem na frente dela, usando shorts de linóleo macios o suficiente para mostrar suas coxas, moldadas por anos de tênis. Ele parecia muito mais limpo do que há seis anos, considerando a mudança de vida que sofreu depois daquele jogo. A postura parecia a mesma de anos antes, uma reminiscência dos primeiros anos de juventude que compartilharam.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ O pensamento a deixou com uma sensação calorosa. Ela não podia fazer isso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Lily, sua mãe já lhe disse para não abordar pessoas assim. Por que você não vai escolher seus sapatos?" Ele pergunta, sem desviar o olhar dela. Se a criança, Lily, percebe alguma coisa, ela não diz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Mas eu quero um autógrafo!" Ela bateu o pé.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Vou pegar para você."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎A resposta parece definitiva e Patrick não mostra disposição para discussão ao ver a garota saltando em direção a outro dos atendentes, voltando imediatamente os olhos para a figura de Olivia Miller.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Há quanto tempo, hein?" Zweig pergunta com uma pitada de diversão nos olhos, mas algo nele diz que está tão sem palavras quanto ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Era estranho pensar que a pessoa bem na frente dela já havia sido outra coisa senão um estranho. Que eles teriam compartilhado segredos juntos, antes de tudo virar uma grande bola de merda.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ela passou tanto tempo andando pelo mundo com o coração partido que mal se lembrava de como se sentia quando Patrick estava por perto. A sensação em seu peito era insuportável. Quase fez parecer que ela não conseguia respirar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Reagir assim era como um hábito difícil de quebrar para ela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Não importava quanto tempo ela passasse livre deles, ao vê-lo ali, Olivia queria se intoxicar com a fumaça dele novamente. Rir com ele. Mesmo que isso terminasse com seu coração partido mais uma vez.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Você parece bem", ela apontou educadamente, já que tinha ouvido rumores sobre a vida que Patrick Zweig levava antes de retornar aos holofotes. Honestamente? Ela esperava que ele continuasse na merda se isso o mantivesse longe dela.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Maldoso, ela sabia. Mas Olivia não conseguia viver de acordo com o fato de que Patrick tinha uma vida feliz sem ela. Que qualquer um deles o fazia. Ela até se recusou a reconhecer a existência disso em sua mente. De preferência, referindo-se aos outros dois apenas como ‘eles’.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎O que não existia não poderia machucá-la. Exceto que o garoto bem na frente dela existia.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Vamos competir um contra o outro, você sabia disso?" O sorriso de Patrick só cresceu ao notar a mudança na linguagem corporal de Olivia. Ele olhou descaradamente para a mulher brincando com o tecido da saia do seu vestido lilás. Olivia sentia calor por dentro, sua nuca suava.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Seu sorriso era puro pecado.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Se você não for eliminado, claro."

"Você costumava ter mais fé em mim." O homem de aparência jovial se aproximou, Olivia deu dois passos para trás. "E no Art."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Miller decidiu ignorar a menção por enquanto.

“Estou sendo realista”, informou ela, encerrando a conversa. Como se Patrick realmente fosse deixá-la ir embora daquele jeito. Ela deveria saber. Olivia olhou para a mão que segurava seu pulso quando ela tentou sair dali. "O que você pensa que está fazendo?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Por que você está fugindo?"

"Não estou fugindo de nada, Patrick. Estou experimentando roupas, minha mãe está me esperando", Olivia forçou os dois a se afastarem. Olhando para seus orbes magnificamente azuis. "E meu noivo."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Patrick riu, como se houvesse humor no que acabara de ouvir.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Ah, é? Aquele vovô que você arranjou? Corta essa, Liv."

"Não me chame assim," ela rosnou, olhando em volta rapidamente para ter certeza de que não havia olhos curiosos nela. Ou os furiosos da mãe se a visse ali com o menino Zweig.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Uma risada baixa chamou sua atenção novamente, quando ela virou a cabeça seus narizes se tocaram devido à extrema proximidade. Ele sorriu, mordendo o lábio.

"Você adorava quando eu te chamava de Liv", ele sugeriu, com pura zombaria em sua voz.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Já se passaram anos, Patrick. Cresça."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Qual é, não seja tão rude. Nós temos história."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Olivia o ignorou novamente.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Vamos lá, você vai me dizer que não está nada feliz em me ver? Que você não vai ficar feliz em ver todos nós?" Ele tentou.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Farta de tudo isso, Olivia Miller pegou um conjunto no balcão de vidro que continha as peças escolhidas por sua mãe. Se ele entrasse no camarim com ela, Olivia poderia gritar.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ �� ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Mesmo que fosse patético.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Você não sente falta? Você acha que não pensamos sobre isso?" Sua voz sussurrou em seu ouvido, Olivia engoliu em seco. "Jogar juntos? Como nos velhos tempos."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Para ser honesta, ela pensou sobre isso. Muito.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Na calada da noite, quando ninguém poderia questioná-la sobre as doces façanhas de suas expressões ou seu sorriso bobo e apaixonado, Olivia Miller relembrou os momentos de adolescência que ela compartilhou com os três.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ As lembranças que ela mais guardava eram as tardes passadas na quadra de tênis, duplas formadas e horas perdidas com gritos entusiasmados e tensão incomum.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela se lembrava muito bem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A tal ponto que a dor era terrivelmente evasiva em seu coração, tanto que fez Olivia preferir sucumbir à falsa segurança de fingir que nunca havia experimentado tais coisas.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Exatamente como ela estava fazendo agora.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Lembrar era doloroso, não só pelo tênis, como dizia o pai, mas porque era uma distração que ela sempre desfrutaria se não se podasse. As memórias também pinicavam seu núcleo. Olivia preferiu fingir que isso não a afetava. Porque não poderia.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Olivia Miller estava determinada quando pensou no que responder, sua postura sendo fixada perfeitamente enquanto ela olhava para o garoto de olhos azuis à sua frente. Patrick Zweig parecia uma visão na casa dos trinta, mas Olivia não se deixava enganar por isso. De novo não.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “Você sabe o que eu penso, Patrick?” Sua voz sensual respondeu, a expressão em seu rosto, estóica. “Penso sobre ganhar os jogos. Receber medalhas só porque respiro. Ter uma legião de fãs que estão dispostos a fazer qualquer coisa por mim. Você sabe no que eu não penso? Você. Ou eles, aliás. Esses dias não passam de pontos insignificantes na história da minha vida e não me importo se você está jogando contra mim. Ou se ele está jogando contra mim. Vou vencer porque é isso que eu faço. E depois vou me aposentar e me casar, vou seguir em frente com minha vida e hoje também se tornará um ponto insignificante no futuro.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ela desejou poder esquecer a forma como a expressão dele caiu enquanto continuava ouvindo, mas logo Olivia Miller aprenderia que era impossível esquecer qualquer coisa que os envolvesse.

©️ jenniejjun. todos os trabalhos postados aqui pertencem a mim e não devem ser repostados sem meu consentimento de maneira alguma.

#₊‧ ˖ ࣪ ་ 🐇 works by vivi #challengers #challengers movie #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers smut #mike faist smut #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan smut #zendaya x reader

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sillygoofyqueer · 3 months ago

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*checks phone*

*sees new chapter of Three Blades*

*falls out of chair before clicking as fast as possible*

Where do I even begin?? Everything is perfect!! I’ll start from the beginning and work my way through.

Hua cheng and E-Ming have The Best sibling relationship and I love every second of their interactions. Love how they playfully argue. It’s clear they know each other very well. I also love how seamlessly they switch dynamics from a petulant 8 year old to a calm teen assessing the situation.

Speaking of relationships, it’s interesting how seamlessly Hua Cheng and Luo Binghe work together. I guess that comes with the territory of knowing each other for decades if not centuries. The concern they have for WWX immediately after seeing him is so cute. I hope you know I am squealing SO HARD over here.

Hua cheng after learning Wwx is the wielder of the 3rd blade: *shocked pikachu*

Once again I am left wondering why WWX is in a graveyard because, well, yeah. Also still wondering what Wwx gave up but I’m assuming that will eventually be answered. Right??

Yin yu being the only one with enough sense to not only have them set up a medical room but also manage finances is amazing. I am curious how much he pays himself. Part of me is like, ‘he probably cares for them a lot and it’s probably not that much.’ And the other part of my brain is like ‘he has to deal with all their BS. He is paying himself handsomely.’

I hope you know I was cackling throughout the ENTIRE Chenqing and Suibian interaction. They are absolutely insufferable around each other and it’s amazing. Part of me wants to see them united against a common enemy (*cough* the ones who buried Wwx *cough*) because they both care a lot for Wwx so I kinda wanna see them go feral on whoever hurt him. In the meantime I will enjoy whenever they get reunited with wwx and them fighting the urge to kill each other.

Xin Mo is Tired™️ and I feel a little bad but also he had to know something like this would happen with Suibian.

Speaking of Suibian, she had a different name??? Did Xin Mo and E-Ming??? Or is that just a suibian thing?

Wwx waking up like “am I dead? I was supposed to be dead. Why am I alive and in a bed???” Is priceless. Even more priceless is Wwx thinking E-Ming is HC’s child.

Was that a Shen yuan mention I saw?? I heard they were friends but it’d be funny if they were roommates. Like, Shen yuan barely leaves his room and if he does it’s for food, forced human exposure or to rant At Length about novels. So for weeks WWX has LBH and HC going in and out of an apartment they share until Shen yuan is randomly eating in the living room and Binghe walks in and promptly trips over his own feet. Cue later interrogation of WWX by LBH. Idk, just thoughts.

I feel like the fact that WWX’s spiritual veins being reconstructed is important but I can’t tell how just yet. Maybe having to do with his golden core and all that? Idk. Too early to tell.

Love how wwx is nonplussed by literally waking up 4 days after being buried alive and his only comment is ‘guess I missed lunch with my friends :/‘

As always Four, I wish I could give more kudos because your fics always make me ~feel things~. Please remember to take care of yourself and take breaks.

Luna, you make me go feral. Hey. Hey honey bun (/p). Let's start blabbing. Hua Cheng and E'ming are the most sibling siblings out of the siblings. If that makes sense. However, sometimes E'ming says the most in depth things in his eight year old form and Hua Cheng will bully him instantly by being like "oooh, little baby trying to be smart?? Shut up." And just shoves him from any elevated space possible. I link it back to whenever my youngest brother tries to argue with me and I'm just like "You can't talk back to me, you're like..five." (he isn't). When E'ming is in teenager form, Hua Cheng is more likely to pick him up and dangle him around a bit, before dropping him in a general direction and seeing what he does. Luo Binghe and Hua Cheng have spent centuries upon centuries practically living together, of course they bond and are such close besties (family) that their swords (who expected to have to sort of manipulate the bond to make them feel like family ((like the previous god trio))) kind of watch in relief and awe as they do. When Wei Wuxian comes in, he's obviously in a dangerous situation and it's like...an almost instantaneous Protective™ reaction because oh my god tiny little teenager (not a teenager) is our missing friend (brother) and is bonded to our swords' missing partner (sister). They'll be even more Protective™ friends (older brothers) as they get to know the baby through his personality and are like..."ohh yeah, baby brother." Hua Cheng learning that this almost-fully dead teenager (young adult) is the third wielder: Somebody come pick up their definitely traumatised son before I adopt him into my not family- I dunno what you're talking about, Wei Wuxian's just chilling...in a graveyard....after almost being buried alive........usual stuff for a guy like him!! And, I swear on all that is holy (my life), you will learn what he sacrificed. Eventually. I've had threats (/j) of people coming to my house so they can find out what it is. You'll find out in due time. There are clues, alright? I swear. I prommy. There's a clue right from the first chapter. I pwomise. When I get to Yin Yu's perspective, it's going to be the most underpaid yet overpaid worker dealing with his maddeningly rich bosses having insane problems that he shouldn't be dealing with but is because he loves those guys. Until the new 'boss' comes in, causing a brawl between spiritual weapons and is the most rabid "working-class guy who's out of his depth in this new role" ever. I can't wait to explain it more. The way he pays himself varies wildly depending on how he's feeling: "Oh, I don't want to take advantage of their kindness, I love it here" *watches Hua Cheng sob violently into a portable Dianxia statue as he tries to sign off on the taxes agreement because there was another unsuccessful search* "...I'm giving myself a raise." Suibian and Chenqing are like two cats who hate each other, hissing and scratching - however, the moment Wei Wuxian is in view they're like little angels, kicking each other whenever he turns away. They actively curse each other out, even in weapon form, just having constant back and forths whenever Wei Wuxian's even lightly distracted. Xin Mo finally understands what headaches are and is constantly suffering trying to keep the two under control like the good older sibling that they are - they do understand that Suibian is Like That™ because they're certainly...interesting - while E'ming watches them all end up brawling because of course Xin Mo resorts to fighting to fix things as a former war god's sword.

I like to think of Shen Yuan's friendship with Wei Wuxian as 'this guy I tried to give money because I thought he was homeless is actually pretty cool and I let him stay at my apartment occasionally. We go to cafés together and he enjoys my bitching.' But I will not rest until I have Luo Binghe tripping over his own feet at the sight of this ragged nerd.

Wei Wuxian has woken up in this strange room and he is this close to losing his mind, but he falls back on COMEDY when he's confused. He isn't usually this trusting but Hua Cheng has answers and a son sword child thing that Wei Wuxian can respect. And hey, all I'm gonna say is that he's used to being in precarious situations. He's more worried about disappointing his friends than himself. He's also secretly extremely worried about another person (**cough cough** foreshadowing **cough cough**)

#three blades au #tgcf #mdzs #svsss #luo binghe #wei wuxian #wei ying #hua cheng

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occasionaloneshots · 2 months ago

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Okay so when I'm working on a long fic and I don't have time to get into it but i get an idea (like at work or things of that nature) I have a bad habit of adding it in the most confusing way but the least amount of words I can to a section of my outline titled "Notes app shit" and it helps me remember but is actually insane and makes zero sense to it's actual context to anyone else.

Anyway, here's the top hits that helped me make my outline for the Monty Foster Mom who was a dog fic (it has a title but idk if I wanna keep it, and I'm annoying and want to have it done so I just have to edit as I post it, it will come out eventually) If you don’t know my blog, it's referring to this post (Also trigger warning for abuse and gore mentions)

Monty candle panic (vague mentions that TCK fucks with wax play I fucking guess?)

Magic collar fuck shit

“Baby come on, I know I sold your soul to make you semi-immortal but look at how charming I am. Why would you want me to have to spend 7 lives without you?” Immediately loses a life

“From Mama’s toy to Momma’s boy. What a sad husband you’d make”

“I am so irrevocably in love with you, my sun rises for you. You could beat me to my last life and in my weakest state I’d still curl up in your arms just to feel your love” “you were literally trying to fuck that ghost last month” “okay and? This isn’t about that”

I don’t want your boy, please come get him. He’s reeking up my store with all his internalized hatred

“You’re exhausting. You’re all teenage petulance until she comes around then suddenly you’re all ‘Mommy let me read you your birth chart and can you play with my hair’ like a toddler showing her a painting. No wonder you don’t have friends your age.”

Monty breaks a cup, literally prepares to die

“You’re laughing? I tell you that both of your mothers beat me to death and you’re laughing?” “Well, did you deserve it?” “Only the first time, I ate that shit the second time”

Not close, not enemies, some secret third thing (Lots of respect but no love)

they’re family, they’re lovers, they’re enemies, they’re everything and nothing all at once “I’m not the step-dad, I’m the dad who stepped up” “You’re neither actually”

Siblings who hate each other but would jump in front of a bus for each other. One time his ass brought her a glass of ice and told her to wait for it when she asked for water.

“There’s a bird boy in my house and idk where the cannibalism line is there”

I can forgive her for what she did to me, but with how fucked up he is? If that witch was still here I’d use her entrails as a jump rope

Drags Monty bird to the store, he has a thing for sunflower seeds which she finds very cute

Seneca scented mother fucker stinking her place up with his smell and his vibes, god damn (This one was personal due to a man at work's whole damn aura smelling like a seneca)

Yeah I have an ex who did some major supernatural fuck shit to me too

TCK saves her from a creepy customer by pretending to be her man, he instantly becomes the creepy customer

Shout out cat king magic, less of a shout out to those bloody teeth marks in her shoulder

Anyway, to the few people who said they wanted it, it'll be here eventually. IDK starting it is really hard when the idea stemmed from a scene from chapters 2, 3, 6, and 8 I'm working very sporadically rn

#dbda #dead boy detectives #monty the crow #the cat king #jenny green

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 4 months ago

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"(Everything Comes Out) Teenage Petulance" (14.3k)

I have – finally – succumbed to the alluring pull of a Taylor Swift-inspired fic title.

A decades-old rivalry, a miserable game of Monopoly, the saddest meal in recent memory, and the band practice session from Hell. Three months after losing his Linda, Paul is still wallowing in grief, all the while running low on ways to distract himself – especially with the memorial now behind him and at the weekends, which he can’t fill with work. Fortunately or not, he opens the door one Saturday morning to two of the last people he wants to be helped by: John Lennon accompanied by his ex-bandmate-turned-boyfriend Stuart Sutcliffe.

READ HERE

#go read!!! it's funny and sad and (intentionally) cringe and heartfelt!! :)#fic #fiona.docx

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littlest-w01f · 8 months ago

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Down Bad

Feyre x Tamlin

For @feylinweek

Music fic Masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST

Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Feyre and Tamlin fell for each other faster than they wanted to

Cw: Amarantha (Also I forgot how to add Cws... is that a Cw...?)

A/N: Trying to get back into writing but exams are close so will probably not post much anytime soon, really wanted to do something for Feylin week since I couldn't for Tamlin and Nesta ones. Also trying out this new thing I'm gonna name "Music fic" so do let me know if you like this :)

Tell me I was the chosen one

Feyre sighed, pressing her hands in her face as the carriage moved, she was fighting tears when he yelled his love for her. Her heart racing faster than the horses pulling the carriage. She wanted to yell back she loved him, that she'd never felt love quite like she had with him, that she'd never felt loved before him. But the words got caught in her throat, eyes getting teary.

Tamlin watched her go, put her above him, she would be safe in the mortal realm, he'd never thought he could feel so strongly for a human, that it was strong enough to abandon his mission to save his people. Tamlin put the life of the mortal he loved before his entire court, before the entirety of Prythian.

Showed me that this world is bigger than us

Then sent me back where I came from

Feyre passed out from her tears, waking up while the carriage crossed the wall, she kept looking back, hoping Tamlin had changed his mind and was behind her. She called out his name, but he didn't show. He'd let her go.

A new place that she would now call her house came into view, because she had left her home back in Spring.

For a moment, I knew cosmic love

Tamlin would've laughed at himself, had he known he would be in his mother's garden, crying over a human girl, shoulders shaking as his tears nourished the soil where the roses blossomed brighter. The Tamlin that cursed and berated Amarantha would've laughed at him for falling for a girl who killed his friend. He was meant to make her fall in love with him, not fall for her himself.

But he had fallen, and fallen hard, more than he'd ever loved any female, he had loved this one human girl. He didn't hear Lucien approach him carefully till he was in his friend's arms, fist tightening around a rose hard enough to make him bleed from the thorns and for the stem to break.

Feyre was numb as Elain hugged her tight, asking her all kinds of questions about their aunt, a lie Tamlin had them all believing, she gave her quick answers, eyes unfocused. Though she didn't miss the look that Nesta was giving her, it wasn't the usual look she had seen many times, she was sure this was the first time she had seen concern from her eldest sister.

She was numb as she asked to be excused and made her way to her new room, way less grand than it had been in the Spring manor, her face unable to even crack a smile at the canvases and paints that were set on the corner of her room.

Everything comes out teenage petulance

"Feyre, you need to eat something." Nesta sighed from the doorway to her room as she walked in, eyes on the plate of food that one of the maids had left for Feyre, the food completely untouched.

Feyre was lying on her side, her back away from Nesta, "I'm not hungry..." She barely whispered.

"You haven't been hungry for almost 12 hours." Nesta pointed out, sitting on the bed beside her sister.

The sisters sat in silence, for the first time in their lives the silence between them was comforting. But Feyre didn't reply, didn't talk.

"I might just die, it would make no difference"

Tamlin groaned, forced to kneel before Amarantha, head bowed, cringing at the way she felt his hair, trying to not show it.

"Rhysand told me you found a human..." Amarantha tutted, nails scratching his shoulder, "What a dumb girl you must have found, which one of your males did she kill...?" She mocked him with her questions.

"Where is she?" Tamlin gasped as in a second, Amarantha gripped his throat tight, anger in her eyes, "Where is Clare Beddor?"

Tamlin didn't let himself seem relaxed, Feyre hadn't told Rhysand her real name, he wouldn't tell her a thing, not speak, or make a sound.

"Beat him till he talks." Amarantha threw him to her guards, and walked out of the dungeon she kept him in.

Down bad, wakin' up in blood

Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up

Tamlin woke up covered in bruises, broken bones healing slow, he was on his back, his body in pain. He hadn't broken, hadn't given her the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

He wouldn't, for Feyre, he would be strong. He could find a way to still keep her safe, knowing Amarantha's forces were out in the mortal lands searching for a girl named Clare Beddor. He'd never tell them a thing. They'd have to kill him for it.

Fuck it if I can't have us

I might just not get up, I might stay

Feyre lay in Elain's gardens, every flower seemed to remind her of Tamlin, feeling closer to him near the fauna. She couldn't help but wonder what might happen to her Tamlin under the blight, how he might be suffering. Her hand trailed one of Elain's roses, "I love you, thorns and all." Tamlin's voice echoed in her head.

A tear fell from her eye, she missed him too much, and her heart ached for him. She had to go back to Spring, go back in his arms.

They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about

The existence of you

Feyre kept the life she lived with Tamlin to herself, there was no one she could tell who might understand. She was meant to hate Faeries, but she fell in love with one. Her human heart had loved Tamlin with every inch of it.

Who could she tell? That her heart belonged to a Fae, that even if she was back in with her family she missed the two Fae she had lived with for the past months terribly.

She hadn't said a word till Nesta had revealed she knew of what actually happened to her. Feyre had unveiled everything to her in an instant. Every feeling she had in her heart, she had spilled.

For a moment, I was heavenstruck

Tamlin held his breath as Feyre stood before him, before Amarantha, in front of everyone Under the Mountian, declaring her love for him. Feyre had come to save the male she loved.

Their eyes met and Tamlin hid every emotion that came across his face, he wanted to beg her to run away, to not fall into Amarantha's trap and save herself.

But Feyre was adamant about saving Tamlin, like he had her. She would take on anything that was in store for her.

How dare you think it's romantic

Leaving me safe and stranded

They were finally alone after months, just the two of them, holding their breath, there was so much they wanted to ask each other, 'Why did you try to save me?' 'Why are you here to save me?'.

But neither asked a thing as they melted in a kiss, if this was their only moment, they would spend it close, in each other's warmth, in love.

'Cause fuck it, I was in love

{General taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

#feylinweek2024 #feylin #pro feylin #acotar #acotar series #acosf #acomaf #acowar #feyre x tamlin #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feyre acotar #pro feyre #tamlin acotar #tamlin #high lord of spring #Spotify

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cocoscurios · 2 months ago

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For the first official post here, it seemed appropriate to fulfill a request from AO3: a list of song lyrics I've used for chapter/story titles.

Many, many thanks to Rhi, for the heavy lifting.

The list is alphabetized by lyric, with work name in parentheses, followed by the song name and artist. The Hour, the Spot, the Look, the Words has been abbreviated to HSLW. For some unknown reason, I included all the Christmas stuff (sorry, Rhi). The list is up-to-date through 10-23-24; I will (make an attempt to) keep it current going forward.

- All I Want for Christmas (fic of the same name) - All I Want for Christmas is You, Mariah Carey

- All is Calm, All is Bright (fic of the same name) - Silent Night

- All's Well That Ends Well to End Up With You (HSLW) - Lover, Taylor Swift

- And I Will Sing a Lullaby (Pride, fic of the same name) - Golden Slumbers, The Beatles

- And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (Honorable Toils and Just Rewards) - Peace, Taylor Swift

- And I'll Write Your Name (Pleasant Days and Painful Moments) - Blank Space, Taylor Swift

- And Meanwhile, I'm Loving You So Much (But I Was Not Blind) - Rack of His, Fiona Apple

- And the Sinking Feeling Starts (Admired and Pitied) - The Moment I Knew, Taylor Swift

- And You Know For Me, It's Always You (HSLW) - I Know Places, Taylor Swift

- At Teatime, Everybody Agrees (fic of the same name) - Anti-Hero, Taylor Swift

- Bad Moon Rising (Ungovernable) - Bad Moon Rising, Creedence Clearwater Revival

- Be of Good Cheer (Only Anne) - It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

- Be Our Guest (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Be Our Guest, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Before I Learned Civility (But I Was Not Blind) - Seven, Taylor Swift

- A Belly Full of Wine (Pride) - Her Majesty, The Beatles

- Beneath the Milky Twilight (HSLW) - Kiss Me, Sixpence None the Richer

- Best of Wives and Best of Women (HSLW) - Best of Wives and Best of Women, Lin-Manuel Miranda

- Breakaway (Her Improvement Was Great) - Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson

- Bringing Good Cheer (fic of the same name) - Carol of the Bells

- A Careless Man's Careful Daughter (Only Anne) - Mine, Taylor Swift

- Certain as the Sun (HSLW) - Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Changing Faster Than the Weather (Her Improvement Was Great) - Old Brown Shoe, The Beatles

- Cheeks Pink in the Twinkling Lights (HSLW) - So High School, Taylor Swift

- Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire (fic of the same name) - The Christmas Song

- Cursed the Moment That He Kissed Us (fic of the same name) - Newspaper, Fiona Apple

- The Delicate Beginning Rush (HSLW) - Come Back... Be Here, Taylor Swift

- Did the Love Affair Maim You Too? (Sensibility) - All Too Well [10 Minute Version], Taylor Swift

- Dream Sweet Dreams for Me (HSLW) - Good Night, The Beatles

- Electing Stange Perfections (My Courage Rises) - Something New, Hozier

- Every Day Like the One Before (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Belle, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Everything Comes Out Teenage Petulance (Admired and Pitied) - Down Bad, Taylor Swift

- Faithful Friends Who Are Dear to Us (fic of the same name) - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

- A Feeling So Peculiar (Dearest Jane) - Evermore, Taylor Swift

- Fractured Moonlight on the Sea (Never Inconstant) - Never Let Me Go, Florence + the Machine

- A Fragile Little Flame (The Only Plain One) - I Know Places, Taylor Swift

- A Garden You Never Get to See (Gentleman) - The World Was Wide Enough, Lin-Manuel Miranda

- Get the Fiancee Out of the Way (Mistress of Herself) - Fixer-Upper, Frozen soundtrack

- The Gray of my Day-Old Tea (Admired and Pitied) - Gold Rush, Taylor Swift

- The Happiest Season of All (fic of the same name) - It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

- Happy Golden Days of Yore (fic of the same name) - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

- Hearts Will Be Glowing (fic of the same name) - It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

- Heaven Help Me for the Way I Am (No Hope of a Cure) - Criminal, Fiona Apple

- Heavy as Empty (Honorable Toils and Just Rewards) - The First Taste, Fiona Apple

- Hoping It Gets to You (HSLW) - Message in a Bottle, Taylor Swift

- I Do Not Struggle in Your Web (A Most Extraordinary Genius) - The First Taste, Fiona Apple

- I Don't Know How It Gets Better Than This (Her Improvement Was Great) - Fearless, Taylor Swift

- I Knew You Were Trouble (Guilt, Misery, and Tolerable Comfort) - I Knew You Were Trouble, Taylor Swift

- I Wake Up Screaming From Dreaming (Handsome, Clever, and Rich) - Anti-Hero, Taylor Swift

- I Want to Hold Your Hand (HSLW) - I Want to Hold Your Hand, The Beatles

- I Watch You Live to Have My Fun (Ungovernable) - Valentine, Fiona Apple

- I'd Be Smart to Walk Away (HSLW) - Treacherous, Taylor Swift

- I'm the Problem, It's Me (Handsome, Clever, and Rich) - Anti-Hero, Taylor Swift

- If You Really Hold Me Tight (fic of the same name) - Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

- Illicit Affairs (Ungovernable) - Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift

- In the Great Wide Somewhere (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Belle [Reprise], Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- It Could Stay This Simple (Just Like One Reads About) - Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift

- It's Nice to Have a Friend (Admired and Pitied) - It's Nice to Have a Friend, Taylor Swift

- Just Because She Can (No Hope of a Cure) - Criminal, Fiona Apple

- Just Stay This Little (Dearest Jane) - Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift

- Lately, I've Been Dressing for Revenge (fic of the same name) - Vigilante Shit, Taylor Swift

- Laughing at My Sister as She's Dazzling the Room (Dearest Jane) - Helpless, Lin-Manuel Miranda

- Lavender Haze (HSLW) - Lavender Haze, Taylor Swift

- Lean Your Ear This Way ( fic of the same name) - Jolly Old Saint Nicholas

- Let it Snow (fic of the same name) - Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

- Let the Games Begin (No Hope of a Cure) - ...Ready For It?, Taylor Swift)

- Let's Take the Road Before Us (fic of the same name) - Sleigh Ride

- Like a Restless Wind (Mistress of Herself) - Across the Universe, The Beatles

- Like We're Made of Starlight (Admired and Pitied) - Starlight, Taylor Swift

- Like You'd Run from the Law (Ungovernable) - Run, Taylor Swift

- A Long, Cold, Lonely Winter (Dearest Jane) - Here Comes the Sun, The Beatles

- The Look of Mischief in Your Eyes (HSLW) - Dinner & Diatribes, Hozier

- Make Me Thrill As Only You Know How (HSLW) - Sway, Bobby Rydell

- Make the Season Bright (fic of the same name) - The Christmas Song

- Merry and Bright (fic of the same name) - White Christmas

- Merry Christmas to You (fic of the same name) - The Christmas Song

- A Merry Little Christmas (fic of the same name) - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

- A Midnight Clear (fic of the same name) - It's Came Upon a Midnight Clear)

- A Million Little Times (A Very Quiet Set of People) - Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift

- The Most Wonderful Time of the Year (fic of the same name) - It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

- Muddy and Foxgloved (Mistress of Herself) - As it Was, Hozier

- My Fingers Turn to Fists (But I Was Not Blind) - Limp, Fiona Apple

- My Hands are Shaking From Holding Back From You (HSLW) - Dress, Taylor Swift

- My Head is Filled with Things to Say (A Most Extraordinary Genius) - I Want to Tell You, The Beatles

- My Voice Comes Out Begging (Honorable Toils and Just Rewards) - Forever Winter, Taylor Swift

- Neither One Prepared (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Never Called it What it Was (Sensibility) - All Too Well, Taylor Swift

- New and a Bit Alarming (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Something There, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Now Go and Get Her (HSLW) - Hey Jude, The Beatles

- Ocean Blue Eyes (Only Anne) - Gorgeous, Taylor Swift

- Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful (fic of the same name) - Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow

- On Our Way Home (HSLW) - Two of Us, The Beatles

- One Bright Morning (HSLW) - First Light, Hozier

- Only a Kiss (Ungovernable) - Mr. Brightside, The Killers

- Only in My Mind (HSLW) - Guilty as Sin?, Taylor Swift

- Picture Me in the Trees (HSLW) - Seven, Taylor Swift

- Pining and Anticipation (HSLW) - Dress, Taylor Swift

- Pulled Apart Against My Will (Dearest Jane) - Caught, Florence + the Machine

- Purple-Pink Skies (HSLW) - Invisible String, Taylor Swift

- A Quiet Village (Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Belle, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Really Something (Her Improvement Was Great) - Fearless, Taylor Swift

- Scarcely Can Speak for My Thinking (HSLW) - Dinner & Diatribes, Hozier

- A Shame to Make it a Competition (Pleasant Days and Painful Moments) - Ladies, Fiona Apple

- She'll Patch Up Your Tapestry That I Shred (No Hope of a Cure) - Champagne Problems, Taylor Swift

- She's Leaving Home (My Courage Rises) - She's Leaving Home, The Beatles

- Since We've No Place to Go (fic of the same name) - Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

- A Slow Climb (The Only Plain One) - Extraordinary Machine, Fiona Apple

- Smiles Await You When You Rise (Dearest Jane) - Golden Slumbers, The Beatles

- Someday Soon We All Will Be Together (fic of the same name) - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

- Something in the Way She Moves (HSLW) - Something, The Beatles

- Something There That Wasn't There Before (HSLW and Sweetbrier and Thistle) - Something There, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Song as Old as Rhyme (HSLW) - Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- Soon We'll Be Away From Here (Ungovernable) - You Never Give Me Your Money, The Beatles

- Soon You'll Get Better (HSLW) - Soon You'll Get Better, Taylor Swift

- Staring at the Ceiling (HSLW) - Unwell, Matchbox 20

- Stay Here, Honey, I Don't Want to Share (Handsome, Clever, and Rich) - Delicate, Taylor Swift

- Sun King (Her Improvement Was Great) - Sun King, The Beatles

- Swear to Be Overdramatic and True (HSLW) - Lover, Taylor Swift

- Tale as Old as Time (HSLW and Sweetbrier and Thistle), Beauty and the Beast, Beauty and the Beast soundtrack

- This House is a Circus (Guilt, Misery, and Tolerable Comfort) - This House is a Circus, Arctic Monkeys

- This is Me Trying (Pride) - This is Me Trying, Taylor Swift

- This Love is Worth the Fight (Gentleman) - This Love, Taylor Swift

- This Night is Sparkling (Heroine) - Enchanted, Taylor Swift

- A Thousand Pages, Give or Take a Few (Heroine) - Paperback Writer, The Beatles

- Till I Lose Count (Guilt, Misery, and Tolerable Comfort) - Chandelier, Sia

- Till It Hurts or Bleeds or Fades in Time (Sport for Our Neighbors) - State of Grace, Taylor Swift

- Tiny Tots With Their Eyes All Aglow (fic of the same name) - The Christmas Song

- To Be Alone (HSLW) - To Be Alone, Hozier

- To Face Unafraid (fic of the same name) - Winter Wonderland

- Truth Hurts (No Hope of a Cure) - Truth Hurts, Lizzo

- Twenty Seconds, Twenty Years (HSLW) - Lover, Taylor Swift

- Up in Your Room and Our Slates are Clean (HSLW) - State of Grace, Taylor Swift

- A Well-Made Mistake (Honorable Toils and Just Rewards) - A Mistake, Fiona Apple

- What a Lovely Way to Burn (HSLW) - Fever, Little Willie John

- When I Feel That Something (HSLW) - I Want to Hold Your Hand, The Beatles

- When It Rains and Shines (HSLW) - Rain, The Beatles

- A White Christmas (fic of the same name) - White Christmas

- Why Do You Make Me Blue? (Just Like One Reads About) - Please Please Me, The Beatles

- Wildest Dreams (But I Was Not Blind) - Wildest Dreams, Taylor Swift

- Winter Wonderland (fic of the same name) - Winter Wonderland

- Wishing You Weren't So Far Away (Admired and Pitied) - Things We Said Today, The Beatles

- With Somebody Who Loves Me (HSLW) - I Wanna Dance With Somebody, Whitney Houston

- With Someone at Your Level (HSLW) - Satisfied, Lin-Manuel Miranda

- A Wonderland of Snow (fic of the same name) - Sleigh Ride

- Wouldn't it Be Nice (Heroine) - Wouldn't it Be Nice, The Beach Boys

- Your Hand in Mine, We Walk the Miles (HSLW) - Thank You, Led Zeppelin

#quite a lot of taylor swift here ngl

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 2 years ago

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So, just for schedule-wise, I'm hoping to have lightning!fic ready by Saturday, in preparation for Monday. It's been really fun to write and I gave myself an excuse to write a scene I've been REALLY wanting to for the Drama of It All, but had no reason to. Here's a clipboard snippet, after the lighthearted scene with socks and clipboards, it gets dramatic real fast 💖

“—I’m just saying, I’m starting to not be able to feel my feet.” Buck is saying. “Maybe we should start packing extra socks in the rig for moments like this. We would all benefit.”

“Yeah, why don’t you just write that on your clipboard I know you always have hidden under your seat.” Hen offers, clearly unimpressed but more than amused. “I don’t know why you bother to hide it, we all know it’s there.”

Buck glowers at her, eyes narrowing. Hen returns the gaze and after five seconds of unrelenting eye contact, Buck crumbles in the way they all expect. He lets out a dramatic sigh and reaches underneath his seat, unearthing a clipboard. Eddie was certain he got rid of them all, so it’s unnerving that Hen knew before he did, but that really was the way things were these days. He tells himself he isn’t jealous, but it’s been a while since Eddie wasn’t able to immediately read everything from a single expression from Buck, and he decidedly does not care for that shit at all.

“We all benefit from dry socks.” Buck mumbles just on the funny side of petulance, Eddie leaning over to see him quickly write ‘extra socks in rig’ in his chicken scrawl that typically requires a symbologist to decipher. He smirks at other notes, which include ‘snack box 4 chim’ and ‘book 4 kids’ among other things. Eddie knows his face is twisted into something almost painfully fond – something Chris has ceremoniously decided to call his ‘lame dad heart eyes,’ oh how Eddie loves this transition to teenage behavior – but it’s the quiet moments like this where Eddie lets himself feel things that he doesn’t want to put a name to.

It isn’t until he notices Hen sitting across from him in the rig, a knowing smirk growing on her face in a way that feels like one of those lesbian goddess of knowledge things that she always jokes about, but Eddie isn’t sure it’s even a joke anymore. There’s something about the way that it’s coming from Hen, a private moment that she’s allowing him to feel safe when he isn’t sure his own head is, like she is saying I get it without mortifyingly saying the words out loud. Eddie guesses if anyone would get it, it would be her, but it still doesn’t mean that he’s quite ready for that realization.

“I thought I took all your clipboards away.” Eddie chides when he can’t bare to keep eye contact with Hen any longer. “You’re a menace to society with them.”

“He’s a menace to society when he steps out of his apartment.” Chimney snorts. “The greater city of L.A. is actively in danger when you get a clipboard.”

Buck gives them all an unimpressed look. “You may have taken the clipboards you know about, but I am a man of means, as Hen puts it. I can buy socks and clipboards.”

“Wow, socks and clipboards, you’re really ballin’ out of control.”

#lindsey writes #911 #911 fanfic #6b spec #lightning fic #buddie #buddie fanfiction #fire fam #pre-lightning rig convos

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lumen-tellus · 5 months ago

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thinking about those old longfics that i rambled about in the tags that ive dropped but still really, really want to write.......................... yknow, i honest to god dont know when ill ever actually write them so maybe i Should just drop some notes on what was supposed to happen in them lmao lmao

(and it will help if i do end up coming back to them to fully write out some day. lol. maybe. probably. i hope loooool)

a room by the ocean

-> endgoal is for Yumeno and Ouma to say "sayonara biches!!" to the town they're staying in currently and move to some other place. a titular room by the ocean.

how do we get there tho? god i wish i knew man beats me

-> also along the way, Friendship(TM) happens!!!!!!!!

-> and some backstory stuff; how both of their "past selves" aka pre-show attitudes and circumstances still linger and affect them:

Yumeno coping with her history as being the child of two former show participants, essentially repeating history with herself and both sympathizing and rejecting her mother.

Ouma having to deal with the semi-clashing personality he has now and deciding who exactly he wants to be, and by extension, what he wants his life to be now in light of everything past and present.

-> ofc some conflict in the form of asshole reporters and fans finding out and following after them like creeps + both yumeno and ouma were still fans of the show once upon a time even if they both really detest it now, so trying to deal with that in perhaps each other is going to be a whole rip fiasco in some sense (also theyre like, living reminders of the show just by being next to each other so lmao for them).

-> i WILL get my saiouma happening here too. also just in general friendshippy with the trio will happen somewhere!!!!!!

genometrics

-> oh yeah i also had a platonic shirogane-ouma spaceship au fic that i forgot about too. whoops

-> i have even less of an idea how i was supposed to make them friends but that was the endgoal of the fic lmaooooo

-> fic would be loosely structured like its source inspiration - a genometrics/cosmosphere dive, except without the whack brain surrealism lol. it's real life, and each chapter would "progress" their friendship much like progressing a level.

-> probably another place where i would slip in worldbuilding for the au lmao lmao

home, riding home

-> i said time travel mystery fic ft. zhongli and tartaglia but its not time travel and tartie isnt childe either

-> anyway im just going to drop the reveal lmao: the tartie is tonitoni

wow gasp shock woooooowww who couldve eveeeeeer guessed that The tonitoni writer is actually writing the suspiciously teenaged girl tartaglia to actually be tonitoni!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /sarcasm

-> also zhongli didnt time travel, he timelined traveled - he wakes up in a timeline/alternate history teyvat thats lagging behind just a bit temporally, where the tartie is tonitoni and where the rite of descension has yet to take place.

to specific, he wakes up in the body of his other self there

he doesnt realise this bc well it's his exact same body + he mistakes the potent geo energies within him - which is actually the soul of his other self, forced into slumber bc of the timeline jumping antics - for his gnosis

-> the other funny mystery beat i was going for - tonitoni has the gnosis. she just grabbed it right out of her zhongli in a petulant, violently arguing fit by accident and the sheer, sudden force of taking it from him rendered him briefly unconscious.

she panicked tho and thought she killed him tho lmao rip tonitoni is such a funny little silly meowmeow <3

anyway bc of this, she basically yelled at the leylines to grab his soul before it disappears into the ether - and bc she wasnt thinking straight, she didnt notice that he isnt really dead and his soul hasnt moved on from the material plane

the leylines also meanly did not correct her on this, mostly bc thats not really their job, and simply dutifully complied with her garbled command to go grab a zhongli from the leylines. hey, conveniently, theres a zhongli in a domain close to the leylines in another timeline, that should do!

so yeah this technically means she also knows zhongli is rex lapis and not just a regular consultant at this point, which goes halfway unnoticed bc half the time theyre in public anyway so she cant actually go around addressing him as an archon lol

-> besides all this plot, there was gonna be a fair bit of chara rumination!!

it would heavily feature zhongli debating his future post-archonhood, what he wants to do in life and what he wants from life both. primarily the grappling of moving on from centuries of duty to a more self-centered, human existence.

on tonitoni's side, it would be the exploration of a friendly, almost mentor-like, almost parental relationship between her and zhongli.

-> childe will show up eventually and oh boy hes going to look at tonitoni and it will immediately become a disaster im tellinggggg you

also there will be chili endgame. there will be. that is the point of retirement u old noodle!!!!!!!!!!

-> fic ending is that tonitoni uses her free tree privileges to send zhongli and childe back after all the mysteries are sorted out (and just in time for the rite and the farce of a plan to proceed) ft. some emotional moments bc tonitoni is going to be super intensely staring at her brother in the head the whole time otherwise lol

sun in retrograde

-> aka noah "celestia" ebalon gets a field trip in retrospection at how much his childhood sucked ASS!!!!!! ft. worldbuilding

celestia gets to happily hate on his shitty parents, encourage his younger self to be more confident, and feel both appreciative and sad with more mature nuance over his brother

he will also ruminate a fair bit on how the past is like and what it will become from here on, knowing what he does from the future and the secret things going on (like the machinations of the cult of henir and such)

the worldbuilding will focus on magic systems, family dynamics, and elrianode nobility and customs

-> as for the actual plot-to-plot beats: good question!!!!!!!!!

well i know he'll stick around in the manor as a supposed expert magic tutor for harque, probably - celestia thinks this is both incredibly funny and also kinda whack honest to god

harque is also probs just going to wave him off like "i can tell you're not that interested like sure i'll take some tips but please do as you like ^^"

which celestia btw happily accepts so he can research how to go back to his own time and also maybe not worry too much about fucking up the timelines with his own meddling. epitome of "whatever happens will happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in his head as he psyches himself through his research

he takes breaks in between of course though, accompanying harque or his younger self - who he definitely imparts more actual magical teaching to - and bonding with them, while internally musing about the outsider pov of seeing his own childhood self and brother with fresh eyes.

clamor btw is going to take one look at younger noah and be like "i understand so much about why you were like That now. also im going to squish his cheeks even more"

also at some point younger noah falls sick and misty shows up to care for him and celestia is simultaneously "idc my revenge plot was a whole life/timeline ago" and "you canNot be standing in front of me and pretend that you dont know whats up heLLO?!?!?!?!?!??" inside his head, which is otherwise politely smiling at her.

also "misty is an ebalon cousin" hc in full force here; shes from a branch family of the ebalons, i swear if the game canon itself doesnt prove me right i KNOW im right anyway SOMEWHERE

the final plot-plot beat is that harque figures out what celestia's magic research is really about (time travel) and while he doesnt press for anything from him (probably), he does comment about how such magic might help him actually win the nominations for moon master - this gets celestia thinking about the pendant trinket, and how he doesnt know where harque actually got the thing nor figured out how to supposedly use its magic anyway.

which leads to celestia being the one to craft the pendant and hand it over to harque, along with potentially cryptic words hinting at the future to come. maybe idk itd funny tho. (it'd also be funny if harque lowkey figures out who celestia actually is after this but lmao dont look at me)

ofc the ending has celestia eventually use his reversed time travel spell to go back to his own time, where hes like "well that sure was something!" sits there for a while just staring at the ceiling, then is like "hey, clamor, do you want to investigate henir's order? im suddenly realising that theres some loose ends i never figured out" and heading to elrianode for their delayed meetup with the ESP in the demon world lol maybeeee

#harmonics.txt #rp stuff #literally giant spoiler dump for my own unwritten fics that i will likely never continue lmaooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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dangerpronebuddie · 5 months ago

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday!!

Tagged by @tizniz @daffi-990 who both shared AMAZING stuff y'all should show some love!! 🩵💚

The writing beans just aren't here right now. I have a lot of asks for the Make Me Write game and I am so grateful for y'all, I promise I'll answer them as soon as the beans return... Whenever that may be. I don't know if I've shared this snippet before, and even if I have, I am again because it's one of my favorite parts. So, have some of Madney and Buck's conversation from Everything Comes Out Teenage Petulance:

“So there's a mistake you need to correct,” Chim says. “What do you keep doing that makes the week reset?” “I don't know,” Buck exclaims in frustration. “If I fix an earlier mistake, does it make the week reset? If I fix the one mistake that hasn't happened yet, does it do anything?” “Wait,” Maddie says, holding up a hand. “What mistake hasn't happened yet?” Oh shit. She's going to kill him. She'd have every right to. “Each Thursday I've been through, there's this basketball game I talk Chim into going to with me because Eddie has been going with Tommy,” Buck begins. “Every time I… end up hurting Eddie.” Chim frowns, wide eyed, like it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard (which is impressive considering he just learned time loops exist). Maddie's brows draw together. “But… it's an accident on a basketball court. It happens,” she shrugs. He ducks his head. “Evan,” she says in the same way she used to when he was a kid and did something spectacularly stupid. “You didn't mean to hurt him, did you?” Buck shrugs helplessly. “I don't know.” She blinks and the beginnings of a scowl take over her expression. Buck scrambles to explain himself. “I was pissed, you know? Seeing him and Tommy being such good friends after only two weeks, I felt left out.” She half tilts her head, her eyes wide and horrified. Buck might just puke. “And I guess I was trying to get his attention,” he adds feebly. “Well that's not how you get someone's attention,” she snips. “You clear your throat, you tap them on the shoulder, you don't hurt them.” “I know,” Buck says, “Maddie, trust me, I feel awful.” “Good. Don't do it again.” She gets up to refill her coffee. “In this loop or any other one you end up in, Evan.”

(tags below the cut! As always, please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@lover-of-mine @loveyouanyway @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @diazsdimples

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @actuallyitsellie @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny

@misshiss727 @lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92

@thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter

@tofanasmuse @gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @lasagnatheory @aroqueerfandoms and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @traumabuddies @epicbuddieficrecs @disasterbuck

#Maggie writes #911 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #fanfic #buddie wip #911 wip #fic: everything comes out teenage petulance #time loop fic #9-1-1 #tease tidbit tuesday

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petals2fish · 8 months ago

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1. Fortnight - functioning alcoholic 🥲 YOUR QUIET TREASON. All my mornings are Monday stuck in an endless February. POSTIC GENIUS. Magical move on drug YIKES. I love you you tis ruining my life. I touched you for only a fortnight but I touched you. “My husband is cheating I want to kill him.” MOOD. I love you it’s ruining my life. I’m calling ya but you won’t pick up. Went to Florida?!?! 🫡🫡🫡 thank you post Malone for your service.

2. The tortured poets department: “I’ve seen this episode but still loved the show.” Aka I THINK IVE SEEN THIS FILM BEFORE AND I DIDNT LIKE THE ENDING. “Who’s gonna love you if not me.” Lol “We’re modern idiots!!!!” JUSTICE FOR CHARLIE PUTH!!!! “A tattooed golden retriever” made me laugh out loud. “I chose this cyclone with you.” Is so Jily plz. “You’re not Dillion Thomas and I’m not patting smith.” Okay Tay. NO FUCKING BODY: 👍🏼 “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll screw this up with me.” Spoiler ‼️ he did. “Everyone we know understands why it’s meant to be.” I didn’t thanks. “Because we’re crazy.” Okay mood. HE PUT THE RING IN HER RING FINGER?!?! “CLOSEST IVE COME TO MY HEART EXPLODING?!?!” PLEASE?!?! “You left your typewriter at my apartment straight from the tortured poets department.” Five stars!!

3. My boy only breaks his favorite toys: ‘I’m queen of sandcastles he destroys.’ Jumps out at me. “Cause I knew too much.” WHAT DO YIU KNOW TAYLOR. “Should have known it was a matter of time.” Taylor is the queen of ignoring red flags. 🚩 This is a fun beat though besties. “Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me.” YEAH. TELL EM BESTIE. “Stole my tortured heart and left all these broken parts. Told me I’m better off.” Sorry Taylor you were better off babes.

4. Down bad: NICER BEAT OKAY. “Dawn bad crying at the gym.” Mood. “Fuck it if I can’t have him I might just die.” No why is this so FUNNY. Like this is Matty we’re talking about for sure. “Everything forms out teenage petulance.” I mean yeah cause you were still developing a prefrontal cortex when you met him. “So fuck you if I can’t have us.” HAHAHAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS PART. Honestly I feel you Taylor, I’ve been dumb for a dumb boy before too. It’s okay.

5. So long London: EXCISE ME OPENING WITH A CHORAl. THESE KYRICS WHATLFHAKRHS FUCKKKKK. How much sad did you think I had??? Oh the tragedy?! So long London, you’ll find some one???? “You left me at the house by the heath.” “I stopped CPR”?!?! 😿😿 “YOU LET Me give all that you for free?!?!” SHE GAVE YOU A FUCKING GRAMMY YOGURT BOY AND YOU DIDNT EVEN WANT IT. “too graves, one gun?!” Good for you baby girl. “I’ll find someone” SHUT THE FUCK UP. I’m gonna throw up. Fuck fuck fuck. Taylor 😿😿😿😿 “I DIED ON THE ALTER” ALDBSKAHDBSJSKS NOOOOO. I’m crying. My Shakespeare queen. You’ll find someone RIPS at my heart.

6. But daddy I love him: “bedroom eyes like a remedy.” Fuck how many matty songs are we getting. This reminds me so much of a faith hill song. No I will not elaborate right now. Very country narrative. This one will be fun to scream in concert just for the “I’m having his baby…no I’m not!!!” Very chaotic. 4/5 stars.

7. Fresh out of the slammer: daily disappearing just to see him smile?!?! Girlie pop you really do lie to yourself don’t you??? “He was with her in dreams” I mean it’s really joeover. This song is fun, I like it, very chaotic as well. 5/5 stars.

8. Florida!!!: Florence my queen you make this song beautiful, I need more listens to deconstruct it though:

9. Guilty as skin: girl just write self insert fanfic if you want to fuck someone this badly (can’t wait to write and read fics based off this one hahahaha) 5/5 stars 🌟

10. Who’s afraid of little old me?: shit I’m crying. Fuck fuck fuck. She truly hates most of the new fans huh. Lmaooo SHE SINGS THIS IN ALL HER REGISTERS OMGGGG. It’s all her past selves screaming at us!!! Aldhaksjdka she’s so fucking clever

11. I can fix him no really I can: AHAHA THE ENDING KF THE SONG ALDBSKAHDKAJDHAKDHW SHE REALLY SAID “OH SHIT DAMN I FUCKED UP DIDNT I” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

12. Loml: Joe Alwyn you need witness protection

13. I can do it with a broken heart: oh god this was hurts me more than so long London because it hits home for every damn time I had to preform on stage and then go cry in the shower between shows 🥲

14. The smallest man who ever lived: 🚨🚨🚨 found at the scene of the crime: Joe Alwyn's Small Dick

15. The alchemy: AHHHHHHH!!! HOLY FUCK WE GOT A TRAVIS SONG ALDBSLAHDBSKSJDBWKEHDBAKWJD HE GOT A SONG FUCK YESSSSS

16. CLARA BOW: the outro. The OUTRO. THE FUCKING OUTRO. I’m dead. 😵

Overall: I love it. I love it. I love it SO DAMN MICH. you can tell how much time and effort she put into production and story telling. FUCK. I love this album as much as I loved Folklore the first time I heard it!!

#petals talks #taylor swift #petals liveblogs ttpd #ttpd era #ttpd spoilers

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years ago

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I wish you would write a fic where Xue Yang went to the Burial Mounds to learn from the Yiling Laozu when he was young and he grew up decent and with a baby brother (Lan Sizhui) but then everything happens and he and Sizhui end up with Lan Wangji anyway. And he doesn't usually go for help when he's in trouble, but Lan Wangji manages to gain his trust enough that he starts to go after him for help, in a shy and maybe even petulant way and Lan Wangji starts to smile like the snow is melting to him and Yue Yang it's kinda thrown off by that smile because the only other person who would smile like that to him was Wei Wuxian and he misses his gege so much. And they start to really really bond, and when he's like 18 he's glued to Lan Wangji and whenever Lan Wangji has to go out, he goes with him, unless he has classes because then Lan Wangji is not that cool to let him skip classes.

[OoOoO. This made a little scene pop into my head, so here's part of the first meeting. No promises to continue but this has intrigued me as an idea, so who's to say! I've obviously played with the ages since in either canon, Xue Yang is at the very least a late teenager when Wei Wuxian is known as the Yiling Patriarch. You know me, I look canon in the eye and backflip out the window, that’s just how it is. Xue Yang doesn’t know exactly how old he is and he looks younger because he’s all malnourished and stuff, so he’s anywhere from 8 to 13, here.]

"Gongzi. There's someone watching us."

Wei Wuxian cracked an eye, wincing at the stab of sunlight that had apparently peaked above the roof behind them since he had closed his eyes. Raising his arm against it, he rolled his head to follow Wen Ning's gaze.

Down the street, a boy stood at the mouth of an alley, feet planted, openly staring. He looked somewhere around...ugh, Wuxian was horrible with kids ages. 9? 11? He was skinny and short, as many street kids were--which he unquestionably was. His clothes were several inches too short and of that indeterminate color that meant years of dirt and grime that would never completely wash out. His hair was unkempt and half balled up on the top of his head in a ratty topknot. And it was something in the eyes. Too old and too sharp for such a young face. You could always tell by the eyes.

"Hey. What?" Wuxian called without sitting up.

The boy said nothing, unmoving.

"I see you just standing over there like a weird little goblin. Are you trying to hide? You're doing a terrible job, you're literally out in the open. What? Do you want a radish? We're selling them. Do you have money?"

The boy was still silent.

"Do you...we have lots of them, do you want one?" Wen Ning called hesitantly, holding out the vegetable he had been waggling hopefully at passerby's.

Wei Wuxian tapped Wen Ning's wrist with the ChenQing. "Don't give him the huge one, he'll make himself sick trying to eat it all at once. Give him a smaller one." As Wen Ning turned and fumbled in their sack, Wuxian sat up. "Hey. Come here, you can have a radish, if you want. Just don't tell your friends, we're trying to make a living, here."

The strange kid tilted his head, eyes narrowing, focused on Wuxian.

"You're a creepy little thing, aren't you? Fine. No radishes for you. If you learn some manners and come over here to talk properly, then you'll get one." With that, he turned so most of his back faced the kid and bellowed, “RADISHES! FRESH, AMAZING RADISHES!”

When he glanced back over his shoulder, the mouth of the alleyway was empty.

“You know, if we grew potatoes, we would have sold so much more. Why does your sister undermine my economic prowess? Why--what?” He stopped, catching ChenQing mid-spin between his fingers as he felt Wen Ning stop behind him, the squeaky wagon wheel going silent.

“I think he’s back, gongzi.”

“Who?”

“That boy. I think he’s followed us.”

Wuxian turned and peered around, but couldn’t see anyone in the gloom under the trees. “Why?”

“I keep--I keep hearing footsteps behind us, but...but they’re very light.”

Shrugging, Wuxian leaned down and scooped up an apple off of the pile of offerings people kept leaving on the giant stone that marked the beginning of the wards to the Burial Mounds. “He’s probably just seeing if he can catch us alone to rob us or something. Whatever. He’ll probably just take the food here and leave,” he raised his voice so it echoed off the trees. “‘Cause he won’t be able to get past the wards and I don’t suggest he try. Though it would be hilarious, so what do I care.” Crunching into the apple definitively, he set off again, trusting that Wen Ning would follow him up.

“What the fuck,” Wuxian growled groggily, swaying upright.

The scroll he had fallen asleep reading slid down his chest and clattered to the floor beside his nest of blankets. It was dark, the candle he’d lit on his bedside rock burned down to a cold stub. And someone was trying to mess with the wards on the mountain. They weren’t very good at it and they were absolutely nowhere near successful. But it was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear, a little zing in his spiritual awareness that had him scratching at his scalp like a louse-ridden mutt. It was probably that damn waif from town.

Wei Wuxian had sympathy for him, as a former street rat from that city himself. It was a fucking horrible and hard life he wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone a kid. But he was definitely less sympathetic at--he squinted out the little sky light for a clue, but it was cloudy, obscuring the moon and stars. He grumbled again, scrubbing his face--at stupid-middle-of-the-night-o’clock. He was the fucking Yiling Laozu, dammit, and that should at least gain him enough terror-induced respect to not have to deal with rude little punks in the wee hours of the morning.

If he was still there in the morning, Wuxian would go down and give him what for. But right now, he could fuck right off. Turning over, he yanked the blanket over his head and grumpily clawed after sleep.

“Whoever he is, I’m going to drop kick him back down the mountain,” Wei Wuxian groused over breakfast, pinching A-Yuan’s cheeks as he sat in his lap and clumsily fed them both congee.

Both Wen siblings traded an annoyingly knowing look with each other and ignored him, Wen Ning turning away with the empty congee bowls and Wen Qing sipping her water.

“What?”

Wen Qing pulled an innocent face and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You think I won’t? That little asshole was there all night--”

“What asshole?” A-Yuan repeated curiously in his lap.

“Hey, never you mind, potty mouth, don’t say that, who do you think you are?” Wuxian demanded, as if appalled, covering the whole of the child’s face with his hand.

A-Yuan squirmed and pawed at it, giggling. Wen Qing rolled her eyes and sighed. When A-Yuan managed to peel his palm away, Wei Wuxian curled his lip at the boy as if disgusted until he offered up another spoonful of congee, which he faux-reluctantly stooped down to eat. “I’m ‘onna ‘o ‘own vere an’ deach ‘im a resson,” he warned Wen Qing around his mouthful.

“Then go,” she put her chin in her hand, watching him with bored eyes. “Tell me how it goes.”

“I will!”

“Mmhmm.”

“Hey!”

There was no one, his voice echoing impotently off the spindly, bare trees. Except there fucking wasn’t, the little pest, and they both knew it. “Hey, get out here.”

Nothing.

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms and glared down at the pile of offering food--it was definitely about half gone, the buns and fruit and even some of the spices gone. “You little twerp, I know you’re out there. You either come here right now, get lost, or get cursed. I have powers beyond your mortal comprehension and I’ll turn every one of your bloodline into a newt.”

Nothing but the wind whistling through the trees. Until, “Yeah?”

The tone wasn’t scared or pitiably thin or even cowed. It was one of interest and it came from above his head. Wuxian left his arms crossed and looked up to see the boy squatting on a thick tree branch, peering down at him with bird-bright eyes and the ghost of an insolent smirk. Stepping back so he didn’t have to crane his neck, Wuxian scowled up at him. “Yeah. What do you want?”

“Can you really?”

“Can I what, you impertinent little shit--I asked you a question! Respect your elders!”

“Turn people into things.”

“I can turn them into corpses just fine, so don’t test me. What is your deal?”

“So. You’re the Yiling Laozu.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Are you?”

Wuxian snorted. “You don’t get an answer until I do, little man, I don’t just give away information.”

Those eyes slowly scanned down the length of him, that smirk widening. “You don’t look like much. But I guess you must be.”

“And why is that?”

He raised the hand that wasn’t steadying himself on the trunk and pointed to Wuxian’s waist. “Flute.”

Despite himself, he automatically gripped ChenQing, then snorted, twirling the end of her tassel. “Lots of people have flutes. Ever seen a Lan? They’re practically bristling with instruments.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“I’ve never seen a Lan. What’s a Lan?”

“It’s a cultivation sect. Don’t you know anything? Who raised you?”

Slowly, the kid tilted his head. “No one.”

Aha. They were getting somewhere. Wuxian kept up his aggrieved frown. “Well then you’ve never heard of Hanguang-jun, which is a shame, because he’d probably have a lot more patience for a little delinquent like you. Why are you looking for the Yiling Laozu?”

He blinked slowly, like a lizard, that little smirk still on his lips. “To teach me.”

“You really don’t know anything--everyone knows he doesn’t take disciples.”

The kid rested his chin on the heel of his palm, his elbow on his knee, hooding his eyes as if bored. “If you’re really half as dumb as you’re pretending to be, maybe I don’t want you to be. There’s a banner people put here, all fancy and black and red. Offerings everywhere. Wards on the mountain he lives on. Who else would you be?”

“Maybe I just live here, you punk. You can’t even read.”

He shrugged. “Don’t have to. Pretty obvious. Teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“Demonic Cultivation.”

Wuxian threw back his head and laughed derisively for far too long. When he petered off, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, the brazen smugness was gone from the kid’s smile, leaving it cold and more of a sneer. But his eyes were narrowed and burning. Aha. A little shit with pride and spice. “Like I said, little brat--I don’t take disciples. And you have a lot of audacity to think that you could handle it.”

At this, his eyes lit, the sullen danger bleeding from his face into intent and he leaned so far forward on the branch, Wei Wuxian’s arms immediately unfolded and began to raise to catch him before he stopped himself. “I knew it! It is you! Teach me. I’ll do anything you ask--I’ll dig up corpses, I’ll kill your enemies--”

“Good gods, you just jump straight to murder! Do you think that’s all I do? You saw me selling radishes on the side of the road and think that my top priority is hiring a 5 year old assassin? What do you want to learn this for, anyway?”

The boy eagerly swung down, dropping to the ground before him with a thunk that made Wei Wuxian wince in sympathy for his ankles. “Destroy my enemies. Make them wish they had never met me--like you.”

“That’s hilarious. What kind of enemies would a toddler even have, anyway?”

That flash of anger came into the kids eyes again and he bared his teeth. “I’m not a toddler.”

“How old are you, then?”

He shrugged--and Wei Wuxian could see he was missing the pinky finger on his left hand, leaving a gnarled scar. In fact, all the fingers on his left hand were slightly misshapen, some joints overlarge, some digits crooked at the end. Wuxian’s stomach twisted slightly. It was old. It happened when he was a much younger child. “Dunno. Does it matter?”

Kneading his temple, Wei Wuxian let out an annoyed sigh. “What is your name, twerp?”

This time, his face split into a wide grin, eyes burning and intent. “Does that mean you will?”

Wuxian glared down at him, hands on his hips. “It means I want to know who the hell kept me up all last night so I can spell your name correctly in my curses.”

Not looking in the least bit worried, the kid mirrored him, hands on his hips. “Xue Yang.”

“Xue Yang, you are nosey and obnoxious.”

With a grin, Xue Yang came forward and grabbed the cuff of Wuxian’s sleeve, tugging. “Yiling Laozu, shifu, gongzi, teach me to make them die screaming. I’ll do all your dirty work. I’ll never complain. Teach me, make me your disciple.”

Wuxian pursed his lips down at him, wrinkling his nose. “No.”

That smile widened, sharpened, and he tugged hard, once. Then, his hand darted out and before Wei Wuxian could stop him, Xue Yang yelped and reeled back a few steps, cradling it to his gut, his sharp little face hard and set.

Snatching ChenQing from his belt, Wuxian brandished it at the kid and bellowed, “You little idiot! What did you think was going to happen?! ChenQing is a first class spiritual tool, of course she’s going to fucking bite you if you try to steal her! Why would I take on a thief who doesn’t know the first thing about cultivation in the first place?!”

Xue Yang’s nostrils flared and he stayed where he was, still holding his chastened hand. “I’ll learn. Teach me.”

“No!”

“I’ll do anything you ask.”

Wei Wuxian threw his hands in the air and turned his back on him. “Anything like steal my flute? Get lost.”

He hadn’t taken 2 steps when the kid yelled at the top of his lungs, “Teach me! I’ll do anything! Anything at all!” His voice was raw and strained with the edge of a crazed laugh. “I’m not leaving! I’ll test your wards all night, every night! I’ll spoil all the food offerings! I’ll--I’ll shoot anyone who leaves this mountain! You’ll have to kill me!”

Geez, this kid was obnoxious! Scowling, Wei Wuxian whirled around. “You think I won’t?”

Breathing hard, his eyes alight, Xue Yang grinned with all his teeth. “Then do it. You’ll never get rid of me, otherwise. I’ll make your life a nightmare. I’ll find a way to get in and steal your secrets and kill you.”

Wuxian rolled his eyes. “Wow, that’s a super compelling argument to make me want to live with you. I’m sure you have many friends.”

Xue Yang’s jaw worked as he panted, his hands both fists. Then, he said in a tightly controlled, trembling voice, “I’ll do anything. I’ll listen to your every order. I’ll follow every rule. I’ll never question you.”

Coolly, Wuxian raised an eyebrow. “Anything? Dig latrine holes and grind my ink for hours? Stoke the kitchen fires and launder clothes? Babysit A-Yuan and sell radishes with Wen Ning?” he demanded dryly. “You have a really specific and grandiose view of my life, kid. I live in a cave on a mountain of corpses with 50 disgraced cultivators the world wants dead. It’s not a luxurious castle of malevolence. It’s all chores, up there. I don’t have work for you to do because I work alone. You’ll be my servant.”

“I don’t care,” he said, immediately. “I’ll do it. I’ll prove it to you.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Wuxian tilted his head back, fist on his hip. It was silent for a long while, just the moan of the wind up the mountain and Xue Yang’s harsh, slowing breath. There was a scuff and Wuxian tensed, ready for this kid to try stabbing him or something equally as “convincing” but he had simply dropped to his knees, looking up at him with a falsely beatific smile, all teeth and shining youth. “Please. Shifu. Gongzi.” He thought a second, then his smile widened and he tilted his head, all cutesy. “Gege.”

Wei Wuxian snorted, twirling ChenQing expertly between his fingers. “You’re way too old for that to work properly. You have to be A-Yuan’s age.” There was something when all that cunning and watchful tension was gone from his face, though, however insincerely. He really wasn’t very old. He was just a kid with nowhere to go, if his desperation was to be believed.

Ugh.

“Ugh. Get over here.”

Xue Yang scrambled to his feet, face eager. Wei Wuxian pulled out a talisman, bit his thumb to bleeding, sketched out a rough entry pass and shoved it into the kid’s dirty lapel. “You’re on probation. You step out of line, you’re out. You do something to endanger us, you’re out. You annoy me too much, you’re out. If I’m in a really bad mood, I’ll plant you in ground so you can feed our radishes. I’m not teaching you.” He added, forcefully as Xue Yang’s grin came back in full, triumphant force. “A kid your age has no business learning things like that. But you can have a roof over your head at night.”

“Sure, gege,” he answered, slyly. “Whatever you say.”

With a noise of aggravated disgust, Wei Wuxian spun on his heel and stalked back up the mountain, trusting him to follow. This little shit was going to try to steal his notes and spy on him for sure. What a hassle.

#[sighs heavily] this is going to be a 'verse isn't it?#my fic #my stuff #xy #wwx #au party #ask #I haven't written much of Xue Yang this was interesting #Wei Wuxian is a softie and everyone but him knows it

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avocado-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Cut You A Piece Of Me

Part 2, Winter

| Beetlejuice x GN!Reader

| 5k

| Rated: E. MINORS DNI

| Summary:

A college student finds a cheap room in an old house, and soon finds out why the rent is so low.

Part 1 here

a/n: i believe beetlejuice is jewish in the original show, so there’s mention of that in the end as this fic takes place around the holidays - however people mostly say ‘happy holidays’ to keep everything inclusive! Also, reader is gn but afab, so they have vagina for the smut

The cold begins to trickle even further past autumn. Nights get longer and earlier, you have to wear more layers to even brave going outside. Uni drudges on.

Things stay about the same in the house. About the same. You and Lydia and the Maitlands all get on well, but there’s something weird happening between you and Beetlejuice. He’s being… nice. In that he’s not stealing entire boxes of cigarettes and flushing them down the toilet in front of you.

He is still stealing your cigarettes but, hey, at least he isn’t showing off about it.

You hate it. You preferred when he was an asshole. At least you knew how to deal with that, you could give it as good as you got it. This is just… weird.

You were going to say something. You were. But every time you turned to talk to him when he was, fucking, holding a door open for you or some shit, he got this look of just absolute innocence on his face. As if he didn’t think what he was doing was out of the ordinary at all.

Things are going to come to a head. Something will click and this whole thing will shatter, like ice over a frozen pond. And someone will be the skater who caused it, who ends up drowned in the freezing water.

Is this a good metaphor? You don’t know. Probably not. You’re a photography student after all, not an English student.

All you know is something has to give.

It’s November and you come down to Lydia disagreeing with her father in the kitchen.

It’s happened a couple of times so usually you just skirt around it, sticking to a wall while you grab some toast and get out of there as soon as possible.

“Come on! It’s once a year and you’re gonna make me miss it! Don’t you want me to have friends?! Who aren’t dead!?” she asks. It’s the most petulant you’ve ever heard her sound. She’s almost speaking like… an average teenager.

“I know it’s once a year. But Delia and I are busy and we can’t take you, and you’re too young to stay out that late without a chaperone.”

“Too young? I’m almost seventeen!”

“Almost seventeen is still sixteen, Lydia,” Charles says. He’s being incredibly stern. Even you are a little bit scared.

Lydia desperately looks around and her eyes fall on you. You have the feeling you’re about to be dragged into something.

“They can chaperone!” she says, pointing towards you. Charles looks surprised, as if he didn’t even realise you were in the room.

“Oh, good morning,” he says with a smile, “I didn’t hear you come down. Did you sleep well?”

Before you can answer Lydia storms across the kitchen and grabs your hands, pleading.

“Please take me! The fireworks are only once a year and my friends from school are going.”

You stifle a sigh. You don’t really want to get into the middle of a family argument, but at the same time you were a teenager once too. You have to have some compassion.

“When is it?”

“Friday.”

You turn to Charles.

“I’ll be happy to do it, if you’re happy to let me,” you tell him.

Lydia fucking beams. It’s disconcerting.

“Are you sure? It’s a big ask…” Charles begins but you wave it away.

“It’s fine. I’d kinda like to see the fireworks anyway.”

Charles forces a smile. At least he’s happy there’s a compromise, you suppose.

“Well, count yourself lucky, Lydia,” he tells his daughter before heading out for the day.

“Thanks,” she tells you when he’s left.

“It’s okay. I was young once too you know,” you tell her.

“Hard to believe,” a voice says, cutting through the happy atmosphere in the kitchen. Beetlejuice is sitting on the counter, tying your Marlboros into knots and flicking them at Lydia. The insult makes you smile and you hope there’s about to be some semblance of normalcy between you again. “What are you nerds talking about?”

“The fireworks on Friday. You coming?” Lydia asks.

“Fireworks? Fuck yeah, I fucking love shit that explodes!”

Oh god. Things are going to come to a head.

The week hurtles towards Friday before you really have a plan.

You want to say something to him, anything, but every time the words get stuck in your throat whenever you try to speak to him seriously. So, like an adult, you spend most of the week hiding from him until Friday rears its head.

It’s evening and you’ve just gotten in from uni. You’re tired and really you don’t want to go out again, but you’re met at the kitchen with Lydia’s eager face, all bundled up in her winter coat. You haven’t got the heart to tell her that you’ve been dreading this evening. So you send Delia a text to let her know you’ll be back by 11pm latest and head back towards your car.

For a moment, it looks like he might not follow you. Maybe you can get out before he realises, slip away and not have to deal with this -

“I call shotgun!”

He manifests by your car door. Your heart sinks.

“No fair,” Lydia pouts, but relents and sits in the back anyway. You climb into the driver’s seat and he grins at you.

“Can I pick the music?” he asks.

“No, you can sit there and be quiet,” you reply. He huffs and sits back in the seat, making you crack a smile. Maybe this can be okay after all.

The ride there is fine, the three of you talking and mostly letting Lydia share her excitement, but you still have an uneasy feeling. It’s only amplified when you park up and Lydia sees her friends and starts rushing over to them. (They’re the gang of teens all also dressed entirely in black. You aren’t surprised.)

“Hey!” you call after her, “meet me back at the car at ten forty okay?”

“Okay!” she calls back, the most gleeful you’ve seen her since… well, ever.

And just like that you’re left alone.

With Beetlejuice.

Fuck.

Luckily, if the waves of tension are as palpable as you think they are, he seems to ignore them.

“So when do these fuckin’ fireworks start?” he asks, looking up at the sky and squinting.

“Uh, in a while I think. There’s like a bonfire and food and stuff too.”

“You wanna eat?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The whole thing’s been set up in a park. There’s a pretty tall bonfire going, at least three metres tall, and it chugs smoke up into the inky night sky. A few little stalls are set up around where people are getting warm drinks and snacks. You pick up a hot chocolate to share. It has little marshmallows in it.

“So can people like, see you?” you ask as you step away from the crowd, taking a swig of the cocoa.

“Nah, not unless you say my name three times…?” he says it hopefully, like a question, but you fix him a stare that suggests that will never happen. He blows a raspberry.

“Worth a try,” he says with a shrug. At some point you’ve handed him the hot chocolate and he’s taken a glug too. He goes to hand it back to you, but then you decide maybe it’s best not to actually share a drink with him because you don’t know where he’s been. You wave off the offer and he shrugs and downs some more.

“So do people just like… see a floating cup right now?”

“Breathers see what they wanna see. Which is probably you talking to yourself,” he tells you. He’s taken the lid off the cocoa and fished out one of the little marshmallows, throwing it up in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. It misses and bounces off his nose. You laugh and for the first time all night he looks at you properly with a huge smile on his face.

“Oh, you got something right there,” he says, reaching out his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. It’s as if neither of you quite realise he was doing it and you both freeze when it sinks in.

Something’s giving.

And just like that you’re on the lake.

The ice splinters out from under you in beautiful fractals.

“Beetlejuice, do you think we’re on a date?”

He’s thrown another marshmallow. When the words leave your mouth his gaze snaps towards you and it hits him on the head.

He makes an ‘I don’t know’ noise. “Are we?”

“I’m not… sure,” you answer honestly. Because you aren’t. If you are on a date it’s the weirdest one you’ve been on for a while. Then you consider that guy you dated back during undergrad whose idea of a date was making you watch his band perform in a shit bar all night and not even buying you a drink and you think hey, maybe fireworks with a demon isn’t so bad.

He has some whipped cream on his nose. Quite without thinking, in a mirror of his action earlier, you wipe your thumb over it to clean the spot.

Unlike earlier, though, he grabs your hand and licks it off your thumb.

There’s… something in the air. He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead looking up into your eyes. It’s the most intense moment you’ve had together. God, in the low light, he really is fucking handsome. Plus points for the bold move. He’s probably fifty-fifty if you’d be into it or slap him.

You’re into it.

You open your mouth to say something when there’s a loud bang and you’re both shocked out of the moment. Colour lights up the sky and you both look up to see the extinguishing remains of the sky’s first firework.

He stands next to you. Close. Your arms are touching. You don’t mind.

You watch the fireworks together.

You get another hot chocolate at some point, making sure to drink at least half before you give the rest for him to finish off. It’s really fucking nice.

His hand reaches out and entwines with yours. You think your heart might explode.

The fireworks slow to a stop. It was actually a pretty good show. You wish you could have dwelt in the moment longer, standing next to each other and just... being there. But that’s not how the world works.

“We should go find Lydia,” you say, with a heavy heart.

“Yeah,” he mutters. You go to walk off.

“Babes-”

“Hmm?”

You turn, watching him struggle with what he’s trying to say. His hair changes colour in the low light. You can’t quite make out what hue it is.

“...Nothing.”

He follows you to the car where Lydia is dutifully waiting.

“Thank you so much,” she tells you again, face full of glee. It’s a bit unsettling. But you’re happy to see it nonetheless.

“It’s fine, kiddo.”

“Hope you didn’t have too much of an awful time stuck with this one,” she says, cocking her thumb at the demon who flips her the bird. Before you can answer she shouts “shotgun!” and scoots inside.

“Beej you coming?” you ask.

“I uh, I’ll catch up,” he tells you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I gotta, you know. Think and stuff.”

You furrow your brow, shrug, and get into the car.

You drive away and watch him disappear in the rearview mirror. He watches you leave.

It’s a long couple of days after. Beetlejuice doesn’t come back on the first night, nor on the next. You’re kind of worried. You ask the Maitlands if this is normal behaviour, if anything by him can be classified as ‘normal’, but they’re just as lost as you are.

“He’ll be back,” Barbara tells you, going to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but instead passing through you. A chill goes down your spine.

“Thanks,” you say, quickly disappearing before they read too much into your concern.

But life goes on. You have uni, you have to work. And then there are...

Other things. Things you’d shoved into the corner of your mind for the time you’ve been here. You’re so fucking horny. You figured it was probably impolite to jerk off in a stranger’s house but everyone alive is out and you have to do something about it.

You bring your wand out of your suitcase you’ve stashed under the bed and pull your jeans down. You turn it on and lie back.

God it feels good. That familiar vibration between your legs. Your body reacts immediately and you keen into it, muttering a moan. You can feel the wetness pooling at your sex-thirsty cunt.

And then you feel… something. A change in the air. Like someone’s watching you. You furrow your brow. But you don’t stop.

“Beetlejuice?”

The tension gets thicker, palpable.

“Are you watching me?” you call out. No reply, but the taste of ozone in the air.

“Look, if you don’t come out, I’m gonna stop. And that’ll suck for both of us.”

He manifests at the end of the bed. He’s obviously been watching you. His pupils are blown wide and rather than that smirk you’re used to, his face has a strange intensity etched on it. His eyes rake over your body, pause on where you’ve thrown your pants down to your knees, then up to meet your gaze.

There’s something between the two of you. Saturating the air. Something that’s been dwelling. You want to ask him where he disappeared to but you don’t. Instead what leaves your mouth is:

“You know how to use one of these?”

You hold the wand out to him. He reaches out, tentatively, and takes it from you.

“Yeah. I have an idea.” His voice is lower than usual, more gravelly. It goes through your spine and straight to your already wet cunt.

“Then use it.”

He shucks off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves on his shirt. It’s fucking hot. Slowly he kneels on the bed and comes over to you, planting himself between your spread legs, cracking his knuckles as he goes. You furrow your brow.

“Are your nails painted black or rotting?” you ask, snapping you out of the moment somewhat and back into the usual banter you have.

“Which answer will let me put my fingers inside of you?” he asks, deadpan. You roll your eyes and kick him playfully but he catches your foot in a surprisingly strong hand. He gives you this look like he’s going to fucking devour you. You can’t bring yourself to make some snide comment about it. In fact you find it pretty fucking sexy.

The mood is now back to something… heavier. He switches on the wand and watches it vibrate in his hand. He touches the tip of it to his tongue. You’re not thrilled by that, you’d really rather he used some mouthwash first, but then you realise it’s so he can taste you and fuck. You let out a little noise and there’s that smile.

It’s annoying. You don’t want him to think he has any power over you but if he doesn’t touch your pussy in the next half minute you’re going to fucking explode.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long. He doesn’t tease you with it. He just brings it straight down and presses it into your clit.

Ah man it’s good. It’s kind of better than when you were using it yourself even though he isn’t actually doing anything different. He moves it down further into that most sensitive area of you and you let out a little sound. He clearly likes what he hears because he presses it harder, rubbing the head up and down your lips as if he was using his own cock. You grind up against it and, as you do, his leg.

His breathing is heavy. You don’t know if he needs to breathe but he’s certainly panting now. He rearranges how he’s kneeling so he can push his dick up against the wand too, get some of the feeling from it. Your eyes dart down and you see he’s fully hard in his pants, bulge straining against the fabric. You smile. You like knowing you’re the one causing it.

He presses in further, shoving the vibrator as hard as it will go against you while still moving. Your head lolls back as you feel him grind on it trying to get as much stimulation as he can. You can feel the pressure building at your core, curling up like a spring ready to be snapped —

You moan as you come, reaching up to grab him by the lapels and hang on for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. From the look on his face he isn’t far after, his hips involuntarily jutting forwards as he releases in his pants.

He falls down next to you. You’re both breathing heavily, coming down from the high and to terms with the fact your relationship won’t ever be the same again.

There's silence for a moment. You break it.

“If we’re gonna do this again, you have to take a shower,” you say, turning to look at him. You don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise.

“Again?” he asks.

“Shower,” you double down on, “especially because you just jizzed in your pants like a teenager.”

He makes a flourish with his hand and suddenly his suit is clean. Well, cleaner. Well. Doesn’t have jizz on it.

You hitch your pants up, reach over the side of your bed for your backpack and fish around for your cigarettes. He glares at you as you light up.

“Come on. It’s after sex, let me have this,” you beg.

“That was barely sex. That wasn’t even second base,” he tells you, harrumphing.

“Why are you so up at me about smoking anyway? What’s the big deal?”

“Because,” he says, “every time you smoke one of those things you make your life a little bit shorter. That much closer to being dead. And speaking as someone who has first hand experience you do not want to be dead sooner than you gotta, babes.”

You consider this. You don’t like to admit it but he might actually be coming from a place of… reason. With a sigh you hand over the cigarette. He puts it out on his tongue again.

“And you’re definitely brushing your teeth,” you say with a grimace. A beat. “Would it be better if I got a vape?”

“I will eat a vape. And that is not something you want to see,” he deadpans. It’s quite a surprise but you find yourself laughing out loud. He grins at the reaction.

“So that happened,” you sigh, eventually.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he boasts.

“Dude, you were the one spying on me.”

“Hmm, not how I recall events,” he tells you, feigning innocence. You roll your eyes. Of course his pillowtalk is cocky. It’s how he always is, huh.

“You wanna go again?”

“No, I’m taking a shower. Something which, as discussed, you also need to do,” you snatch the wand from his hand (where it’s still been vibrating quietly) and poke it at him like an interrogation tool. He stifles his laugh with a huff.

“Fine, be a buzzkill,” he says, then waits with an open-mouthed smile for you to cotton onto the vibrator joke he just made. You roll your eyes again and bop him on the head with it.

“Get a job,” you call over your shoulder as you walk into the bathroom.

“A BLOWJO-”

You slam the door shut before he can finish.

And that’s how it starts.

It… doesn’t stop.

You’re happy it doesn’t change the relationship the two of you have. The banter is still there but now it just also includes mentions of his dick. (And he likes to talk about his dick). The two of you aren’t fucking, not really - nothing ever goes further than a handjob. Well, apart from the time you do get out of the shower and find him perched on the toilet cistern with his feet up on the seat, grinning at you naked and dripping with water.

“What do you want?” you’d snapped.

“Eh, I think you can guess, doll.”

He’d held you against the bathroom wall and eaten you out like his life depended on it. Well, death depended on it. You didn’t want to admit it but the things he could do with his tongue were… well.

You’d buried your hands in his hair and hung on for dear life, feeling him smiling in smugness against your cunt.

Lydia cottons on pretty quickly. Well, then again, it can’t really be called ‘cottoning on’ if when she asked you and him if you were having sex you’d shouted “I’m not answering that” while he grinned “fuck yeah!”

Everyone else seems oblivious. Well the Deetz parents do, maybe the Maitlands know but they respectfully choose not to ask. Probably just as well. You really don’t want Beetlejuice to boast about all of your sexcapades.

The end of the year hurtles towards you before you really have any idea what’s coming. Suddenly all the shops have their Christmas decorations up and the nights have become longer than days. You can’t leave the house for even five minutes without bundling yourself up like you’re going to the arctic. That’s not what you’re worried about though. You’re sort of worried about presents.

You hand make stuff, it’s a good way to make presents and it also shows you actually thought about the person you’ve gifted to. But you’re not sure what to make Beetlejuice. You’re not sure how to handle the holiday season with him at all, actually. Because you’re not sure what the two of you are. Just fucking? More than that? Will giving him a gift make it more than that? It’s something you can’t get out of your head and more to the point he’s beginning to notice.

He gets up off of you one night, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as you come down from the third orgasm he’s given you with his tongue. God he’s good at that. You try not to let him know too much because he’s already cocky enough as it is but in the height of passion sometimes you can get a bit… out of control.

“What’s up babes? You didn’t look like you were as into it as usual,” he tells you, making an extravagance of picking a pube out his mouth. You fake-retch and kick him.

“It’s nothing, Beej,” you tell him because you know he’ll rip the shit out of you if you tell him you don’t know what to get him for fucking holidays. He’d probably just be happy with you sucking his cock. Something you still refuse to do until he showers. He’s not particularly amenable to bathing. But you want to do more than that.

“Come on, talk to me. I want to know what’s up.” He rolls over onto his front and puts his head in his hands, swinging his legs upwards, like a teen girl on the phone.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my -”

You look at him as you wait for him to finish that sentence. His mouth clicks shut. He doesn’t know what to say next either. He’s sort of dug himself into a hole where whatever he says has the potential to be very bad.

So he disappears into thin air. Just like that you’re left alone with soaked sheets and no more answers than you’d started this whole thing with.

He hides from you for the next couple of days. Which is fine. You’re sort of hiding from him too. Because while the Deetzes have kindly offered for you to stay at theirs over Christmas, you’re going home for the holidays. Another thing you don’t really want to breach with Beetlejuice. Your next term doesn’t start until the beginning of February, so you won’t be back for a couple of months. You’re not quite sure what it’ll mean for your… arrangement, so you simply don’t address it.

The day you’re leaving is looming. You’re still sort of hiding from each other. It’s a mirror of after Halloween all over again. You’re so fucking pathetic.

At least the Deetzes are thrilled with the bespoke modern art tree ornament you made them, as are the Maitlands with their ‘attic sweet attic’ embroidery. It’s nice to see your gifts are appreciated.

“I think Christmas is over-commercialised,” Lydia sniffs as she looks at the ten-foot tree Delia erected in the living room. It did have live candles on it but after about five minutes she realised it was a bad idea and replaced them with plastic ones. There’s still a burn mark on one of the branches.

“Oh really? Then you probably won’t want this…” you say, flourishing a present from out under your jumper. Her eyes light up and she lets out a laugh when she sees the spider-web scarf you’ve knitted her. She puts it on, thinks about it, and hugs you before running off.

You like Lydia, you think with a smile. You like everyone in this house.

It’s December 22nd. You say a quiet goodbye to Lydia and the Maitlands and try to sneak out the front door into the cold night. You haven’t seen Beetlejuice really since he disappeared after he ate you out. Maybe you’ll get away scott free.

“You thought you were gonna slip away without saying goodbye?”

He’s waiting by your car, one eyebrow cocked. He has an overcoat on. You’re not sure why. You’re not sure if he can even feel the cold. Maybe it’s just for the aesthetic.

You sigh and a little puff of frost escapes you.

“Uh yeah. Sort of, actually.”

“Too bad, sugar.”

“You were hiding too!”

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking at the ground sheepishly. At least you’re both in the same boat.

You put your suitcase down and breathe into your hands to warm your face up. You want to look at him but at the same time you feel a bit awkward. You really don’t have an idea of how to interact with him. You feel a bit shitty that you tried to just run away.

“If it helps, I did make you this,” you say.

You hold out a little present towards him. His eyebrows skyrocket. He takes it from you with uncertain hands, as if he thinks it might be some sort of trick, shakes it against his ear, and tears it open.

“You made these?” he asks, tugging on the pair of black and white striped gloves he finds there. He seems to be in awe. Any irritation of you trying to slip away before has gone completely from him.

“Yeah. They’re not great.”

“Nobody’s ever given me anything before,” he says. There’s a note of pure honesty in his voice you aren’t used to.

“I figured I should get you something. It’s the holidays, after all. You don’t have to get me anything, it’s chill.”

“Hey, remember how you haven’t touched a cigarette in months? Happy Holidays, babes.”

You open your mouth to object but then you realise… fuck, you haven’t. Not only haven’t you had a cigarette for ages you haven’t felt like you needed one.

The demon helped you fucking quit smoking. You let out a little ‘hah’ of surprise and he grins.

“And you say you don’t need me.”

“I never said that.”

The conversation lulls as the two of you meet eyes. There’s something you can’t quite make out about the way he’s looking at you. A way you’ve never seen him look at anyone before.

He breaks the silence, walking over to you and taking your hands in his, warming them up. You make a little noise.

“You made gloves for me but not yourself?” he asks, a hint of mockery in his voice. You roll your eyes.

“It slipped my mind, okay? I’ve been busy.”

“Mm-hm, sure,” he chuckles. It’s a nice sound, you think. It’s grown on you. Like moss grows on him. But saying that, his face looks remarkably… clean today, actually.

“Sorry,” you say. Because you are. It was kind of petty to try and run away. Whatever this thing is, it's gonna have to be addressed sometime.

“Me too. I get it. I’m not great with the personal stuff either.”

He hasn’t let go of your hands. He looks up. You follow his gaze. There’s mistletoe hanging above you.

“Good grief…” you mutter and he grins.

“Come on. It’s the holidays.”

“Do demons celebrate those?”

“Well, I’m specifically a Hanukkah guy myself. But the celebrating part is about to be down to you, babes.”

You kick yourself for not knowing that - next year, you promise, next year you’ll make it up to him (don’t think too hard about the fact your lease is for a year only) - and you move your hands out of his and up to his collar, smoothing it out and then pressing gently into his chest.

“Close your eyes then.”

He does. You hesitate for just a moment, then do the same.

Come on. The worst thing he can taste of is dirt.

And, because you actually want to, you reach over and kiss him.

It’s… okay. Soft. You can tell he wants to kiss you a lot harder than you’re kissing him, but he holds back. A hand on each of your arms. Slipping round to your back to hold you closer. The press of his lips into yours, moving gently. A small clack of teeth together. A tiny brush of tongues.

He doesn’t taste as bad as you worried.

You pull back after a moment. He opens his eyes, slowly, heavy-lidded. He’s got a little smile on his face.

“Well, that’s going in the spank bank until you get back.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. He grins at you as you pick your things back up and head to your car.

“Babes?”

“Yeah?” you pause, opening your car door.

“Happy Holidays.”

“Happy Holidays, Beej.”

He watches you as you drive away, standing at the end of the drive, hands tucked into his pockets. He looks a bit sad but it’s hard to tell in the darkness.

You feel a bit sad.

#beetlejuice x reader #Beetlejuice x you

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