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alias-levi · 4 years ago

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flash fic friday #7

for @liz-pooh . in celebration of the exams you passed. i got you and i love you 💙

i also want to say that I'm not 100% happy with what I'm written but I'm quite happy with how my initial draft of this turned out in the end.

i appreciate very much every interaction with this post! 💙

fandom: twilight word count: abt. 1,500 words pairing: Felix/fem!oc topics (and warnings): teasing, fluff, domestic!Felix, i gotta admit Demetri is only mentioned like twice, dancing salsa

summary: Liza, Felix and Demetri have been sent to Galicia, Spain to find out more about an old vampire. But it’s late summer and the days are sheer endless - and so is the time that has to pass before they can leave the house. Time to learn some salsa.

[ID: They learned how to salsa on a Friday night in the dim light of the kitchen.]

source: this prompt is from @poison-prompts (it's also #66 if anyone wanted to know) and the only thing that is different, is that it's not dim haha

thank you and the text is below the cut :) enjoy!

Spain is a beautiful country - especially in late summer. The mostly dry air makes it rather easy to breathe in the heat. The seemingly endless masses of tourists are finally travelling home and there are a few quieter weeks before the first winter tourists arrive, looking for a place to stay warm and cozy while their home countries drown in rain and snow. They come to Spain to escape the depressing grey sky, the short days and long nights. In late summer, the nights are still warm enough to even go swimming in the ocean - not that the temperature would have been a big concern for three vampires anyways.

Liza, Felix and Demitri have been sent to Galicia by Aro. Their order is to find out more about a male vampire that’s supposed to be in the area. He is rumored to be several hundred years old and to have explicit information on the Spanish royals. Aro has also heard that this vampire is not too friendly towards strangers and - that’s where Liza’s power comes into picture - is said to be one of the last dozen people who still speak an old Galician dialect.

Aro is not taking any chances.

So, he sent Liza.

Because that’s what she does: Whenever Liza talks, the recipient will, without a doubt, hear her words in their mother tongue. No matter how ancient, how rare, how complicated or hard to pronounce the language is. While Liza always speaks her own first language, German, the received sound will differ. This has caused quite some surprised reactions so far and Liza loves seeing people get excited and emotional about hearing the language their mother once spoke. Especially older vampires.

Aro had provided the trio with a nice small finca near Oia, on Spain’s north-west coast. It’s not exactly a tourist hotspot like other Spanish cities, so their area is rather quiet. Just like the long days in the finca.

With a sigh Liza turns yet another page in the book she is reading. Demetri had retreated to his room just after noon, leaving Liza and Felix alone in the living area. The dining table somewhere behind Liza is cluttered with files and documents that Felix needs to examine to make sure they did not overlook anything.

Another dramatic sigh leaves the female vampire’s lips. Liza throws her book next to her onto the cushions and dramatically turns her head to look out of the window front. From the terrace, through the garden and beyond the fence a narrow path winds down just to the coast. Their own private beach.

Still, there’s hours to pass for the sun to set eventually.

Liza listens to Felix drop his file onto the table. His chair gets pushed back. Only a bit, though. She can hear it scratching over the wooden floor. He doesn’t stand up.

“Querida, have you ever danced salsa before?”

Liza snorts. “No, I can’t dance anyways.”

“You could learn it. You've got a lot of time now.”

“And who’s going to show me? You?”

There’s a challenge in her voice and Liza turns just enough to be able to look over the back of the sofa. Felix is staring at her, his elbows resting on his knees, hands together, head slightly tilted. He looks intimidating. Like a predator preparing to attack his prey.

“Querida you forget where I’m from. I’ve been dancing salsa before I could even walk.”

“How come I’ve never seen you dance before then?”

“Well, I’ve been lacking the right... partner for that. Come here, let me show you.”

“No, thank you. As I said, I can’t dance.” Liza laughs and turns back around.

“Oh come on! This is going to be fun!”

“Make me!”

Liza’s book gets ripped out of her hands and hits the wall with a thud before falling to the floor. Still sitting on the sofa, Felix is towering above her. He leans down, one hand on either side of her. Felix’ face is so close, Liza can see her reflection in his dark red eyes and ever so often she can’t help but look down onto his lips. But she doesn’t get to do anything about it.

Felix winks at Liza.

Taking her hands he pulls her up and away from the sofa. Felix doesn’t let go of her hands when he takes another step back and turns serious again.

“Basic steps, querida. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

Liza rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

“Good. Now mirror me. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Do it again.”

“Easy. That’s it?”

Felix smiles at her, “oh no. These are the basic steps that will stay the same all the time. Oh and you need to move your hips more.”

Liza’s eyes shoot up to look at Felix. A smug grin on his face.

“If you wanna see me shake my booty, you just had to ask, boy.”

Felix moves to stand behind his girlfriend and his sudden closure makes it surprisingly hard to concentrate. His lips are at her ear, softly touching it as he speaks quietly.

“Again, querida. Left, right, left. Right, left, right. Left-”

The vampire’s hands have been sitting loosely on Liza’s hips. Guiding them, his body as close as possible but still leaving her enough space. When she missteps, Liza rests her head on her boyfriend, groaning. Felix chuckles softly into her ear.

“Am I making you nervous, querida?”

“Nervous is not what I would call it,” she turns around in his arms. There’s an expression flickering through her eyes that causes Felix to swallow hard. “Let’s just say you distract me... Anyways, what’s next?”

Felix watches Liza bat her eyelashes innocently at him and it takes clearing his throat for him to find his words again.

“Right, right. So next we do this together. Come here.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Liza. He pulls her back in, probably a bit too far, but that is not the point. Liza laughs briefly and takes Felix’ hand. After making sure she’s good with the basic steps, Felix starts rotating them. Slowly but surely they make one round, and it is really coming together.

It’s cute how concentrated Liza stares at their feet, Felix finds, so he decides to spice things up by telling her to do a double step. Though neither vampire stops in their movements, Liza looks at Felix in disbelief.

“A double step?”

“Yes,” he smiles at her encouragingly, “I’ll count you in twice then we actually do it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her answer is breathless but her eyes never leave Felix’. After a couple more minutes Liza gets the hang of it and feels safe enough to look at Felix again. He looks utterly happy and relaxed. She smiles.

Felix looks at his girlfriend with a proud face. “Close your eyes,” he tells her. “Keep the steps the same, that’s the only thing you need to concentrate on. I’ll do the rest. Trust me.”

And Liza does. Closing her eyes, she rolls her shoulders one last time and relaxes her hands. She can feel Felix move them around again, slow circles but not on the spot anymore. Felix leads them in bigger circles through the area. Once he feels sure enough that Liza will keep the steps, he starts moving faster. He watches her frown.

“You’re getting faster.”

“Correcto, querida. You’re doing great so far.”

Liza smiles and suddenly Felix’ hand leaves her hip. His other keeps holding hers and her free hand just hovers in the air. For three steps they stay like this, then Liza feels Felix’ chest under her fingertips again. She opens her eyes and takes the look in.

Smiling brightly Felix’ eyes never leave her face. His dark, usually very neat hair, looks a bit disheveled and his black silky dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned.

Quite a look, Liza thinks to herself.

But the female vampire doesn’t look less alluring. Tight black control leggings are hugging her curves and her white sheer cotton blouse has been unbuttoned a while ago. Underneath, a white crop top holds everything in place and covers about as much as it reveals.

Felix can’t take his eyes off her as they dance. Dancing salsa again after all this time brings back some memories he usually keeps locked away. But the woman in his hands keeps his brain routed in the present. By now, she is taking some initiative. Liza is putting more power into her steps and swings her hips just a bit more. When Felix’ eyes return to Liza’s face he watches her tip her head back and laugh. Freely. Happily.

In a swift motion, he brings their bodies together. He doesn’t need to tell her that they are no longer doing double steps. By now hours must have passed and their bodies are synced oh so well.

Reflexively Liza gasps for air. She raises her arms to lock her hands in his neck. Her eyes wide open as Felix’ hands cup her side firmly. She knows what’s about to come.

Then Felix kisses her.

#twilight #prompt #writeblr #felix x oc #felix volturi #oc: liza #ps i love queue #flash fic friday #levi wrote stuff #teasing #fluff #domestic!felix #demetri is only mentioned i'm sorry

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mrsrhys23 · 5 years ago

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Be alright (chapter five)

Paring: Colt x MC

A/N: All characters belong to Pixelberry. Thank you so much @desireepow-1986 for Helping me!

“So that’s it?” You’re really doing this?”

“That’s it,” she shrugged. “We’re over.”

The pair of them stood in shocked silence. Ellie could hear her heart thudding in her rib cage, like it was going to burst right out of it. Colt prayed that he’d just misheard her. Yes, he was a prick, he’d made an unbelievable amount of dick moves but...he loved her. More than he’d ever loved anyone.

Colt looked up from the floor to her. “You’re really doing this then?” He asked, tears glistening in his eyes. Colt rarely cried over anything, that was just his hard, bad boy facade.

For a long sickening moment she thought that she was making a mistake but...it was the right thing to do. Deep down she knew that. Ellie shook her head, banishing the thought as she gathered enough strength, enough resolve to lock eyes with him. “That’s it,” her voice was quiet, maybe a little defeated as she spoke. “Now get out.”

Colt stayed fixed in place. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it and shut it again. Ellie looked back up from the floor seeing he’d made no attempt to move whatsoever.

“GET OUT!” She screamed at him, any sense of vulnerability that was laced there when she had just spoken was gone, not a trace left. He- they had both royally fucked up and any hope of recovering from this was gone. “Just get out,” she said, quietly this time but still loud enough for Colt to still be able to hear.

Colt unexpectedly decided not to fight back Ellie's decision and left without another word.

********

It had been three weeks, three agonisingly long weeks without each other. It was funny now Ellie thought about it, they hadn't spent a day without each other for a year. He was just always there, someone she could rely on, someone to lean on when things got hard...he was her crutch when her world felt like it was crumbling, but now he wasn’t there anymore.

It was almost like a piece of her was missing, like a chasm in her chest that she knew only he could seemingly fill.

“Get up!” Riya ordered, pushing into Ellie’s room, avoiding the clothes, used plates and other random items that lay scattered across her bedroom floor. Riya opened the curtains with a flourish letting that harsh light pour in, temporarily blinding her and just earning a lazy groan from Ellie as she retreated further under her blankets, shielding the light completely.

“Ellie,” Riya said, Ellie not missing the frustration laced in her voice as her covers was yanked off of her. Ellie let out an aggravated groan as she curled herself into a ball, putting her hands over her closed eyes to further shield them from the blinding sunlight.

She felt the bed dip as Riya took a seat beside her, leaning against the headboard. “You can’t hide from the world forever.”

“I can and I will,” she insisted.

“Ellie....He’s one boy in a whole world of others. There’s other fish in the sea as they say. Maybe you should get yourself back out there?” Ellie sat up slightly, leaning on her elbows to give her best friend a death glare. “...Maybe not then. You can’t just stay cooped up in here all day, you look awful-”

“Thanks,” Ellie mumbled.

“Seriously when was the last time you showered?” Riya continued.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?” Ellie snapped.

“El-”

“No,” she interrupted, “I- I don’t want to ‘get myself back out there’, it hasn't even crossed my mind. I don't need the break up speech where you say it’s gonna get better or i’m gonna find someone else, okay? I’d rather just stay here and wallow in my own self pity, okay?”

Riya sighed, climbing off of her bed and turning to look down at her, “Ellie...you need to move on, sooner or later, it’s been three weeks.”

“I know,” she shrugged, “Can you pass me back my blanket on your way out, please?”

Riya scoffed, making her disapproval known as she sauntered toward the door, throwing Ellie back her blanket before leaving, closing the door more harshly than she originally intended to.

Ellie turned over onto her side and grabbed her phone from her bedside table. She brought it to her face, pressing the home button to illuminate the screen. She felt her heart pang when she saw the photo of herself and Colt.

She felt her heart pang with...something, this was a feeling she had never felt before. She felt almost...empty, lost. Colt for her was the glimmer of light at the end of the long dark tunnel, guiding her safely out from it when the darkness threatened to drown her, but now there was no light at the end, nothing to anchor her down when her mind began to run with the hard thoughts, nothing to help fight off her demons and so the darkness could finally get its claws in.

**********

He sat in a bar...again. He’d been at the garage all day, the one place that once granted him tranquillity no longer did, because it reminded him of her. Everything did. She was a constant thought in his mind and it was driving him insane. She wasn’t his anymore, she was...nothing to him now. Just somebody he used to know.

He sat on a stool by the bar, a pint clutched in his hand, a wave of emotion washed over him but receded.

It had been a couple weeks now and he wasn’t over it. He doubted he ever would be.

Something in his peripheral vision caught his attention, he turned to see a blonde woman, wearing a tight black dress, now standing beside him.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked. There was no preamble, no niceties of an introduction, just went straight in.

Colt opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. She was looking at him quizzically so he just answered. “I-no. No, I don’t,” Colt stuttered. It felt like someone had struck him in the chest with a dagger and was twisting it. Just another reminder that he had lost they only thing that he ever really loved.

“What’s your name?” She asked. It was an innocent question but Colt had an inkling that somehow it was more than that.

“I’m interested,” Colt insisted and he truly wasn’t. She was pretty, he wouldn't deny that.

“Fine,” She shrugged. He expected her to...fight him on this somehow, to object, maybe she was playing a mind game, trying to make him drop his guard ever so slightly so he’d give in. She was the type of girl Colt was certain that even if he had said he had a girlfriend she just would’ve carried on. “But tell me your name.”

“Colt. What’s yours?” Why are you humouring her?

“Carrie,” she said, biting at the bottom of her lip. She pulled up a stool to sit beside him.

It was going to be a long night and frankly he couldn't be bothered to head to another bar, he liked this one, he was content and some random girl wasnt going to change that.

“So are you from LA?” She asked, sipping at her drink that Colt hadn't noticed she had ordered. Some people just don’t understand no, do they?

“Yeah,” Colt mumbled. “You?” he asked, purely out of politeness.

“I’m actually from Brooklyn. I moved here a few years ago…” For god's sake, he didn't need her life story but he had a sneaking suspicion that even if he objected to hearing it, she’d continue. “I’m trying to become a model, I can act too. My dad-”

Rich dad, called it- he thought. He drowned the rest of it out.

She's annoying. You know when you want the ground to just open up and swallow you whole? Yeah, that’s how Colt felt. It was getting hard to drown her whiny- and it was whiny, voice out.

************

Riya somehow had managed to get Ellie out of bed after once again stealing her blankets. She climbed out, her bare feet meeting the plush cream carpet beneath her. A piece of hair had seemed to become a permanent fixture to the side of her cheek, stuck on by whether sweat or drool. She gingerly ripped it off and headed to the bathroom.

After she had done her business, Ellie headed into the kitchen to see Riya making them both a drink. She leaned against the countertop, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You know I care about you, right?” Riya asked, placing Ellie’s coffee down beside her and then sat down on a stool against the breakfast counter.

“I never said you didn't,” Ellie mumbled, picking up her mug, blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip.

Riya did the same, then looked up from her mug to her best friend. “Break-ups… suck there’s no other way to put it but-”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Riya nodded. She knew Ellie well enough to know when to drop something. Even though she knew they needed to have this conversation sooner or later. “I was gonna order a pizza, do you want some?” Ellie shook her head as she sipped at her drink. “Don’t do that control thing you do when-”

“I’m not and I broke up with him. I dumped Colt.”

“And you know you made a mistake. Having second thoughts?” Riya asked, sipping her own drink.

Ellie hesitated then shook her head, “No. No, I'm not having second thoughts. I broke up with him, I made that decision because it was the best one.”

“Of course,” Riya nodded.

“Are you trying to piss me off right now?”

She looked up to Ellie, “I want you to talk to me. I’m your friend, I'm here for you, you’ve just need to let me in.”

“Let’s go to a bar, “Ellie suggested, pushing herself off the counter.

What?” Riya asked, eyebrows raised and her arms crossed over her chest. “We’re not old enough to drink, do you forget that?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “I have a fake ID. It’s fine,” she insisted. Riya looked unsure which caused Ellie to become frustrated. “Fine, i’ll go by myself,” she decided and headed off toward Riya's spare bedroom to change.

A few minutes later she left the bedroom now wearing a pair of black jeans, matching crop top and a denim jacket since all her nice clothes were at Colt's apartment.

“You’re really going?”

“Yes, I’m really going,” Ellie answered, exasperated as she retrieved her purse off the kitchen countertop. “I need to just get out for a bit,” she explained as she headed towards the door, “I’ll be back later!” she called as Riya heard the door open and close.

******

Ellie entered the bar with very little trouble; it was surprisingly not all that busy , which meant as soon as she came in the doorway she caught sight of a familiar black, leather jacket and the back of a head of someone she didn’t want to see. Colt. She’d recognize him anywhere- she knew him so, so well. He’s the reason that she’s in this bar to begin with to drown away her sorrows.

She felt a little bit of bile rise up her throat as a blonde woman sat beside him leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. Without thinking, Ellie turned on her heel and walked out, not sticking around long enough to see Colt pull away from the mysterious woman.

She kept walking when she felt, she didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away. Get away and pretend she didn’t see that. How could he move on so quickly? Did she mean so little to him?

Ellie was in such a state of shock that she hadn’t noticed somebody behind her as she continued along the dark streets of LA. After she had calmed down somewhat, she could hear another set of footsteps, however, she didn't have time to turn around to see who it was before something struck her around the back of the head and the world fell black.

********

The first thing Ellie felt as she clawed her way back to consciousness was the throbbing in the back of her head, like somebody had hit her with a bat or something...someone probably had the more she thought about it.

She tried to flutter her eyes open but the bright light that was pointing at the young woman only made her headache worse. She lifted her head up- feeling the ache in her neck since her chin had been resting against her chest when she was out. Her mouth was dry...How long had she been here? She tried to move her arms but the thick leather straps around her wrists bound tightly to the chair stopped her from doing that. She tried moving her legs but they were bound to the chair too.

She had some questions.

Where was she? How did she get there?

To be frank, she had more questions than that but they were the main one. The ones she really wanted to be answered that and why somebody fucking kidnapped her. Ellie grudgingly peeked her eyes back open giving them both time to adjust to the light.

She turned her head when she heard footsteps, heels clicking against the concrete as the woman made her way towards Ellie.

“Oh good you’re awake,” the mysterious woman rejoiced. She was way too happy for Ellie’s liking.

The woman crouched in front of Ellie’s chair. Ellie’s eyebrow’s wrinkled in confusion- she had seen this woman before. She was sure of it.

“Hello Ellie,” the woman said, giving her a small smile, “I know you’re probably confused and angry...but i promise it’ll all make sense soon.”

“Who are you?” Ellie asked, her normally strong voice now timid.

The woman got back to her feet, smoothing down her red dress. “As i said...it’ll make sense soon.”

#choices: stories you play #rod #colt x ellie #rod fanfic #colt x mc #choices fanfiction

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spookyspaghettisundae · 5 years ago

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Finders Keepers

On my way home, walking down another lonesome street, I found something. A wallet. Black leather, simple, not very worn at all—more like it was pretty new. I caught myself standing there like a deer in headlights. Just frozen in place, staring at the object and wondering what to do with it.

Decision paralysis had set in. My mind bounced back and forth between taking it or leaving it. If I took it, I would have to go through the hassle of bringing it somewhere. If I left it, I’d just be another person in the mass of uncaring people who were too chicken to act when they witnessed something going wrong.

Then again, I could just take any money inside the wallet and leave it there for someone else to worry about. Or bring it to its rightful owner, but keep the money and pretend it had been taken before I found it. Or I might even get a reward if I brought it back, all fair and honest.

No matter the thought, something in the back of my head kept tapping away. Like a little hand, knocking at a hidden door, trying to grab my attention. Some feeling, deep down, that was telling me to just walk on and forget about this. A tiny voice, telling me that this particular wallet was trouble—urging me to leave it.

I should have listened to that voice in my head.

The sun was setting and the street was empty of people. It was a calm neighborhood like any other, so I wondered if anybody was standing by their window and watching me loiter about, staring at the ground like a dope.

I snatched the wallet off the ground before I could dither any longer about this. A sigh escaped me when my conscience got the best of me, and I decided that I would do the right thing.

If anybody found my purse or wallet, I’d be happy if they brought it back with all the money inside. There was no reason to take part in an endless cycle of greedy selfish jerks who essentially always took from each other without ever giving back.

I continued walking while I flipped the wallet open and looked through it. To my surprise, it was pretty barren. I had expected to find more cards in it—ID cards, credit cards, business cards, maybe even punch cards from food chains or stores. It contained some cash in form of bills but no change—and a single driver’s license.

The face on the card stared back at me through empty, hollow eyes; that same vacant stare you always see from people when they go take these photos in some random booth for legal documents. You know the deal: stare straight into the camera, don’t make any faces, don’t cover up anything. As devoid of personality as possible.

It belonged to some man named “Daniel Burke.” Short red hair, mid-thirties, and he didn’t even live too far from here.

I made a stop at home since I was already so close, where I dropped off some things and headed right back out. I didn’t mind taking a walk of fifteen minutes, and that was about what it was going to take me to reach Daniel Burke’s address.

This led me to an apartment building. The front door was open and the place looked rather old and shabby. I guessed the rent was pretty low here and that this Daniel Burke probably wasn’t the wealthiest person on the planet, so I felt better about myself for bringing back the wallet with all the cash inside. But the same sense also dashed any hope of mine of getting any kind of reward like a finder’s fee.

After ascending a few flights of stairs up to the third floor, I found the corners in the building to be caked with dust and grime. Some of the apartment doors featured doormats, most of them a doorbell with a name plate beside them. The place was definitely not abandoned or anything, but the sunset’s light dimming through tiny windows and the poor condition this place was in left me with an uneasy feeling in my gut.

I reached a door with a name plate reading “Daniel Burke” and pressed the adjacent yellowed button to ring the bell. I could hear some jingling sound through the door, then nothing. I think I just stood there for almost a minute.

No answer.

I rang the bell again and waited some more, then rang it another time. I figured nobody was home and almost swore out loud, thinking this was my punishment for trying to do the right thing. Then I figured I could just dump the wallet in the right mailbox and its owner would find it in there.

Right when I turned, the door to the apartment on the opposite side opened up a crack. Brass chain prevented the door from opening up any more. A bloodshot eye stared at me and I froze, staring right back into it. Some guy in his late forties or fifties with wrinkled clothing. The smell of booze hit my nose after a few seconds of standing there.

“I don’t think that guy really lives there,” he said. He sounded like he smoked three packs of cigarettes a day and drowned his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey every night.

The name plate next to his door read “George Hudson.”

“What?” I asked, though I think it just croaked out of my throat and died midway, making me sound more like a nervous toad.

“I said, I don’t think that guy’s for real.”

I blinked and shook my head and just kept growing more confused with each word this Hudson fellow said.

“I mean—I think that name’s an alias. He’s a criminal, or something,” Hudson added, likely reacting to the bemusement in my face. “When he moved in, he brought no furniture in. Almost never stayed here. But one time, he brought someone home. Some girl. Watched it through my spy-hole here, and while I saw him come out some time later, I never saw her leave.”

I swallowed a big lump of nothing but it felt like gravel in my throat. Then my mind started processing the things he had told me.

My common sense kicked in and I asked, “But you didn’t call the police?”

“Fuck no.”

“Why the hell not?”

Nothing. Hudson stared at me with that burning, unblinking gaze of his. Couldn’t see the rest of his face, but he didn’t look pretty. He sported the stubble of a badly-shaven man, and the smell wafting out of his door got worse—not just strong alcohol hung in the air, but stale sweat and something else. Something I didn’t really want to identify.

“I don’t know. What the fuck would the cops do? Nobody fucking believes me. Fuck you,” Hudson said. Then he slammed the door shut.

Just then I realized I had been holding my breath the whole time, exhaling sharply and then inhaling in the same fashion. Thoroughly weirded out, I took off, leaving the building quickly. The sound of my sneakers tapping their way down the stairs still echoed in my mind for the first steps outside of the building, as I emerged back into a world of fresh air and a soft orange sky.

Halfway back home, I realized I had forgotten to throw the wallet into Daniel Burke’s mailbox. Now I swore out loud, and stopped, unable to decide for several moments whether I should double back and do what I had intended to do—or just go home and worry about this later. Or tomorrow.

Or never.

The temperature dropped and the breeze started cutting into the skin of my face and my hands. I swiveled and spun a few times in indecision until I buried my fists in my pockets in frustration, and then I had made up my mind and walked straight back home.

Nothing else happened that night. Just another lame evening alone and I didn’t feel like cooking, so I crunched down on some cereal while watching some videos on my tablet.

The videos were boring—or at least more boring than the wallet. It rested on my kitchen counter and I realized how I shot glances at it every now and then, as if it would suddenly move of its own volition or something would magically change about it.

But the brown leather wallet just sat there in silence. Mocking me somehow.

I went to bed and told myself that I’d deliver it to Burke’s mailbox the next day. But I ended up working overtime, getting distracted with messages from friends, and pursuing other things that I had been putting off for far too long. So I totally forgot about it.

It took me another couple of days until I actually noticed the wallet still resting there. It wasn’t on the kitchen counter anymore, but on the couch now. No idea how it got there—I didn’t recall moving it at all. I uttered some profanities and tossed it onto the coffee table, promising to myself that I’d take care of it tomorrow.

I overslept and rushed to work the next day. Of course I totally forgot about Burke’s wallet all over again, even though it surfaced on the ocean of my mind during a break. The fog of business returned right after and blotted it out entirely.

I got home late again and was already brushing my teeth when my doorbell rang. For some reason, it startled me so badly that I nearly choked on the toothpaste foam. I spat it out and coughed and wiped my mouth. That doorbell had sent a jolt through my body that left the sound of the bell echoing in my mind.

With a glance to a nearby clock, I wondered who the hell would be at my door at half past eleven at night. My instinct to go see my visitor shriveled up and died on the way over. I started getting really nervous and I wondered about something I had not wondered about in a long time.

Would anybody get to me in time if I screamed for my life?

I slowed down more and more until I was several steps away from my front door. I don’t know why, but I looked to the stand where I always left my shoes and keys, right underneath my coat. And sitting right there was that brown leather wallet. The one that belonged to Daniel Burke.

I didn’t remember putting it there, but it also made sense. Kind of. I wanted to get rid of that thing, because it kept creeping up on me and I kept forgetting to dump it in Burke’s mailbox.

And now I dreaded the thought that this Burke might be at my door.

It didn’t even make sense for him to be here. That weirdo, Hudson, had no way of knowing who I was or where I lived. So how, by extension, would Burke know?

I jumped an inch off the ground when the doorbell rang again, ripping me right out of my runaway train of thoughts, reminding me of how long I must have been standing there, deliberating in silence to finally check who was at my doorstep.

My heart pounded with the fury and dread of a thousand drums, and I simply didn’t want to open up. But then the doorbell rang. Yet again.

I considered calling the police, but I didn’t want to get in trouble over a pointless call. For all I knew, it could just as well have been a neighbor in need of help.

I sidled up to the door and bit my lip, for the first time realizing just how great a peephole would actually be.

At this point, my heart was threatening to beat its way right out of my chest. Touching the doorknob and making sure the safety chain was still in place, I noticed that my hands were icy cold, because the cold surface of the metal felt warmer than my fingers and palms.

I opened the door a crack and my heart skipped a beat. I felt like I was falling and it took me several seconds of staring into this stranger’s dark eyes to register how dizzy this was making me.

Looking back at me was Daniel Burke. He brandished a toothy smile, though I could have sworn he ground his teeth for a split second in doing so. And the smile never reached his eyes, despite the hints of crow’s feet around the corners giving him a distantly jovial air.

“Hello, I think you have something of mine?”

His voice rolled out like butter. Or music. Smooth and soft, pleasant and melodic.

I swallowed, and again it was like downing a handful of gravel.

“Uh, one sec,” I stammered, shutting the door in between us. I shook my head in disbelief and my mind wasn’t quite catching up. Seconds ago I had somehow understood that there was no way of him knowing where I lived, yet here he was. I grabbed the wallet from the stand and opened the door a crack again.

He was still there—some part of me had expected him to have vanished into thin air, or transformed into a werewolf, or something.

I stuck the wallet through the crack and Daniel took it and opened it up in one fluid motion. He looked inside, flipping through the flaps and finding the cash as well as the driver’s license inside. He then slapped it shut and stuck the wallet into a back pocket of his jeans.

With a curt nod, he said, “Thanks. It’s really good to know that there are some honest, hard-working, helpful people out there. Oh, and, uh, sorry to disturb you this late.”

The dizziness was making the world spin around me, faster and faster. That, paired with how off-guard I felt by this strange exchange, it all robbed me of any coherent thought.

“No problem,” I squeaked out with feeble volume.

He gave me that fake smile again and raised a hand to show me an open palm before saying, “Have a nice night!” And with that, he turned and left.

I shut the door behind him, locked it completely, and then walked away from the door. It took me minutes—way too long—wandering aimlessly through my place, until I realized everything that was wrong about this.

Sitting down helped against the dizziness, and calling the emergency hot-line helped me calm down. The responder on the phone talked me through everything and told me to call again if anything alarmed me again. She took me seriously—or at least sounded so, convincingly enough.

If this Daniel Burke was some sort of stalker or psycho, at least someone knew now. It didn’t really dispel the sinking dread that had taken root in my bones, but it did ground me a little bit. I didn’t feel completely helpless now.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, though. I was beyond tired when I must have passed out, and I overslept again. Rushing out the door and hurrying off to work once more, it only dawned on me during my shift that I should have been much more worried.

I started looking over my shoulder a lot when I was walking outside and hated the thought of being alone at night.

This “Daniel Burke” might be out there, watching me. Stalking me. There was no rational explanation of him knowing where I lived outside of following me home on that day when I had gone to the address on that driver’s license.

Why the hell did he take so long to visit me, though? Did he get off on watching me?

I found myself staring out my windows a lot more often. I sometimes thought I saw someone in the darkness outside, but always convinced myself that anything I thought I had seen was just my mind playing tricks on me.

It lessened over the next weeks but never went away.

What really made it worse was when I was watching a documentary show about—you know, those true crime sorts—and there I saw a sketch of a man that looked exactly like this “Daniel Burke.” A suspect in a serial killer case.

He had stalked and murdered complete strangers in homes that he had rented under false identities.

The killer was still at large.

I gasped out loud when I thought I saw something outside my window.

But there was nobody there.

—Submitted by Wratts

7 notes · View notes

moonlit-seren · 5 years ago

Text

Reasons To Stay || Jung Yunho x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Y/n’s been working for one of the biggest news companies in Seoul for five years now, and like many others she/he wants a change in scenery. However, there are a handful of things keeping her/him from leaving, and one of them came in the form of an accidental blind date.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: SOFTNESS OVERDOSE- None

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: I’m posting my very first Ateez imagine on my two week anniversary as a new Atiny. I’m so psyched to be a part of this growing family and I’d like to thank @every1studio for welcoming me into it UwU. The main character’s best friend was inspired by this ray of sunshine right here @rubyyong, I wanted to show her a little appreciation for being one of the many writers who influence me to become better and let her know that I’m here supporting her from afar. So yeah, happy reading. <3

꧁Masterlist꧂

I sighed, glancing through one of the floor length windows adjacent to my desk. It was a particularly nice day outside, the fluffy clouds casting dark shadows on the world while the sun lit it up with a brilliant glow. The contrast was nearly eerie, like yin and yang, both the sun and the clouds out of our reach yet seemingly tangible if you lay on your back and reach your hands for the sky.

The streets below seemed busier than usual, the already terrible traffic appeared far more congested than normal. Due to the lack of movement in the streets, the multitude of car horns blared in a messy diarray with one another, the loud sounds varying in pitch but all sharing one thing in common. They wouldn’t stop.

Looking down at the vehicles made me glad that the office’s walls were soundproof, otherwise everyone in the building would have gone deaf by now. However, there were a few unlucky people on the street who had to endure cacophony of car horns as their speed quickened while walking to whatever destination they had in mind.

“It’s terrible isn’t it?” asked one of my coworkers, the newly promoted intern seeming to appear out of the blue. Her name was Chloe and she was one of the few reasons why I hadn’t quit my job yet in this suffocating office building. We worked for one of Seoul’s biggest news companies, her in the creative department and me in the editorial department.

Our departments were located on different floors, so it surprised me to see her standing here, one hand fiddling with her ID badge and the other resting on her hip. Her eyes were trained on the streets below like mine were, before fluttering up to meet mine while waiting for my response.

I simply nodded as my eyebrows furrowed, hoping that the traffic wouldn’t be this bad when I had to drive back to my apartment in the evening. It already took a solid half an hour to drive back home without any traffic jams, and just imagining trying to get back while moving at a snail’s pace… Well, I honestly didn’t even want to imagine that.

“I heard someone in the elevator say that the city closed a few roads to repair them, so that must be the reason why there’s so much traffic,” I stated, eyebrows arched and lips pursed in an expression that read ‘I don’t really know’ while I shrugged to emphasize my lack of knowledge over the situation.

Chloe nodded as if to show that she’d agreed with my thoughts, her sleek high ponytail bouncing with the movement. She was wearing a knee length, peach colored sundress today, with soft magenta roses littering the garment like powdered sugar on freshly baked cupcakes. Her excellent sense of fashion always brought a bright burst of liveliness into the office, regardless of whether she was in a black, leather jacket or a pastel blue sweater top.

The comparison I always made, much to her distaste, was a small, yet thriving plant amidst a world of manmade objects and other inanimate items. I thought it was fitting. She just found it cliché.

It was a little off how we ended up as friends. Originally I thought that it’d be best to keep my distance, as bubbly people tend to get annoying after a while. Although, when I was asked to show her around the building, I realized that her perkiness was a breath of fresh air compared to the droopy gazes of the sleepy workers mulling about on my floor.

She was a ray of sunshine that lit my dim world and inspired me to let loose and remember what it’s like seeing things from an optimistic point of view. To put it simply, she helped me learn to live again, something I had forgotten when I reached adulthood.

Suddenly seeming to remember why she was up here, Chloe let out a small “Oh, right” while snapping her fingers before turning her body away from the window to face me instead. “I just wanted to inform you that it was lunch break, since you tend to forget while you’re immersed in the fancy world of grammar and punctuation.”

Her wild hand gestures accompanying the last three words of her sentence had me rolling my eyes. It was a known fact that no one on my floor, except for me, actually enjoyed correcting the numerous grammatical errors of others.

I couldn’t blame them though, since most of us were just here to make a living. Which brings me to my second reason for tolerating my job. I used to love the idea of doing something in this field for a living, words always had a way to entrance me in them which explains why I practically lived in libraries growing up.

I practically jumped at the opportunity when I was offered this job, but after five years of being stuck here, the magic of it all faded away into oblivion. Originally I was only working part time, since I was in my second year of college, but when I graduated I was given a full time job.

Of course, when I entered the company, I started at the very bottom of the corporate ladder. My main job was to be an errand girl like Chloe was before her promotion. I won’t even lie, it was absolutely horrible, and I know the girl in front of me would agree.

I can’t even recall how many cups of coffee just a single worker needed, as they would all fall asleep otherwise. In the first few hours of the morning, the demand for coffee was so great that I had petitioned for there to be five coffee machines rather than the two that we had.

Needless to say, I went home everyday with at least one new burn from the boiling hot liquid I had to carry around, and my hands really weren’t a pretty sight due to them. Thankfully I learned my lesson after the first week, opting to buy gloves that would help protect my hands and a bright red stop sign I attached to my tray so that people would stop running into me.

It was quite the sight, and really just a mortifying memory I have ingrained in the back of my head. Though Chloe didn’t have it as bad, shortly after I was promoted the company bought three more coffee machines as requested and hired more people so that there were more sets of hands dealing everyone their daily doses of caffeine.

Which brings me back to present day, as a 22 year old who seemed to age mentally far beyond my actual years living on this earth.

“Yeah, I didn’t notice the time. Do you want to go get a drink with me? I heard a new cafe opened up a few blocks down and so far there have only been positive reviews from the people I’ve asked about it,” I asked, kind of hoping that Chloe would agree to go, because who wouldn’t want some company?

However, I could see her response before she verbalized it in the way that she furrowed her eyebrows with a slight pout. “I can’t, there’s a new batch of interns that came in just yesterday, and for some reason none of them know how to work a coffee machine.”

I laughed at her predicament, imagining Chloe surrounded by a small group of college students too used to buying an overpriced coffee at a local cafe than to make their own brews with a machine.

“Okay, have fun,” I teased, standing up to stretch my back and roll a few cricks out of my neck. Chloe cringed at the little pops and cracks, reaching behind me to help pick up my bag that strewn across the back of my chair. It was pretty warm outside still, being in the early months of fall, which is why I didn’t have a coat with me.

I thanked her as I slipped the bag over my shoulder, before walking away with a slight wave. Since Chloe wouldn’t be going with me today, I decided to get her something at the cafe since I knew her taste in pastries and drinks quite well.

The elevator ride was pretty quick, albeit rather crowded as large groups of people were also on their way out to enjoy their break somewhere else.

The company was rather generous with its workers, allowing them a full hour long break before returning back to their 9-5 schedule. Maybe that was my third reason for staying at the company despite being sick of the mountain of words I had to go through daily.

The elevator reached the lobby floor with a small ding, the door nearly closing on me as everyone shuffled out of the metal box. I had allowed myself to get trapped near the back of the elevator as people piled in, which was why I had been the last to leave.

The front lobby was rather big, with a fancy granite front desk with gold accenting, and several marble columns spread around the floor to support the high ceiling.

To the right of the front desk was a small sitting area marked by a sprawling beige rug, dark leather couches, and a bamboo table resting in the middle. To the left of the front desk was a small water fountain with a family of koi fish lazily swimming about the bed of pennies and nickels thrown in.

I never really understood the point of throwing coins into fountains. People were basically wasting change, poisoning the fish, and drowning their elusive dreams in a supposed wishing well.

Still, I never voiced my thoughts out loud. After all, I didn’t want to crush the pure wishes of the children begging for coins from their parents in order to perform the simple act of hoping.

Not to mention that I had also fit into that crowd as a young girl, making desperate wishes to get the boy I liked to like me back. Of course, they were all left unheard, or maybe even ignored, which only served to fuel my distaste for making wishes on copper coins.

I’d much rather save my change to tip baristas, as I finally understood their struggle after having made hundreds of cups of coffee myself. It was a grueling task and I couldn’t help but sympathize with anyone who had to do what I did as an intern for a living.

Speaking of which, I made my way out of the front door of the office building, immediately cringing at the racket of noise that met my ears. Much to my bittersweet relief, the cars seemed to be moving a tad bit faster than earlier.

Albeit, the new set of cars didn’t sound any different from the last set, with their loud beeping at the mini traffic jams that hadn’t quite thinned out yet.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my earbuds, skilled fingers working quickly to untangle the messy knots the cord had fallen into. There had never been a day where I found them neatly folded like I had left them, so untangling them had become a regular part of my daily routine.

It didn’t take very long, and soon enough I had them plugged into my phone and placed in my ears. Going to my usual playlist, a slow smile spread across my face at the song that had arisen first by chance.

The noise of the car horns completely drowned out with the melody playing in my ears, and I happily mouthed along to the lyrics when the sidewalk before me cleared of any prying eyes as I walked down it.

The only people who could see me making a slight fool out of myself was the people in the cars adjacent to me, nevertheless, they all seemed far too preoccupied with their own lives to notice. Some were on their madly typing away at their phones, others messing with toys they had received with their fast food, and in the driver’s case: vigorously slamming their fists on their horns as if it would help resolve the situation.

“Snapping, snapping,” I whispered softly, eyes taking on a playful lilt as I fell into step with the beat of the song. Despite wanting to burst out dancing, I restrained myself as my mouth snapped closed with an audible click when a figure appeared several feet in front of me.

I wasn’t quite ready to let go of my dignity to the extent of having a little dance break in the middle of the sidewalk of a bustling city. I could practically see steam coming out of the nose of the young woman in front of me, so I popped out an earbud wondering what she could be fuming about.

“Stupid date left me waiting there… Screw men… If I ever get my hands on him… He’ll be dead meat…”

The rest of her words faded with the growing distance between us, having already passed by her as she was walking off in the opposite direction.

“She must’ve been stood up,” I thought, almost pitying her if not for her horrid attitude and snobby scowl. Her date might of had a reason for not showing up, who knows?

Realizing that I had reached my destination, I looked up to check the name of the cafe to be sure. The sign was done in a beautiful gradient with a faint blush pink fading into a vibrant fuchsia. Looking out front, there were bright posters taped to the windows advertising popular drinks and desserts.

Just from the prices on the posters, I could this was a higher class joint, as there was even a small seating area outside with large, turquoise blue umbrellas shielding the tables from the sun. Not to mention that the place also offered breakfast and lunch despite just being a cafe.

In spite of the high prices, I stepped through the door, taking notice of the white daisies growing in the pastel green window boxes. The golden bells above the door chimed, notifying my entrance.

Like always, I was instantly hit with the heavenly scent of freshly ground cinnamon and coffee beans that most cafes seemed to boost.

After becoming employed, I never really had to worry about spending a little extra on a higher quality drink everyday. The high paycheck was the fourth reason why I found the idea of leaving my job so difficult. Besides, It never hurt to have a little extra cash in my bank account in case of a financial emergency.

Slowly making my way to a booth, I took in the interior of the cafe. The walls of the joint were painted the same color as the window boxes, with accenting lining the corners of the spacy room matched the color of the umbrellas outside. The round tables had a translucent glass top with black metal legs, and the chairs sitting around them were made of the same black metal twisted into an intricate design.

I highly doubted the large jewels in the back of the chairs were made of real glass, though they shone the same way a real gem would in the soft lighting coming from the beautiful light fixtures dangling from the ceiling.

There was a marble front desk where the cashier was incase someone just wanted to grab a takeout coffee and/or pastry. Speaking of which, there were numerous display cases lining the marble counters filled with various treats ranging from rainbow colored macarons to cream filled mochi.

Although, there were waiters and waitresses that came to you if you get their attention, in case you have the time to sit about, which is what I choose to do. Standing in line in front of the cashier just seemed like far too much work today, so I decided to just skip the wait.

I sat down in one of the empty booths lining the wall of the cafe. They also had glass table tops, however they were rectangular and the seats were made of artificial black leather the same shade as the chairs in the center of the room.

Suddenly a tall figure burst through the front door, the bells in front of the door crashing together rather harshly unlike the gentle tingle they let out when I walked through.

The male seemed to be around my age, though it was rather hard to tell if he was older or younger considering how his youthful face was paired with a ridiculously tall stature.

The straps of his beige jacket fluttered behind him in the small gust of his abrupt entrance, nearly getting caught in the closing door. His almost puppy like features were framed was light blue hair that looked softer than the clouds I had been admiring in the morning.

I was suddenly struck with the creeping urge to run my hands through the strands, causing an immediate flush to race up my neck as I averted my gaze.

“What am I thinking?” I thought, embarrassment and guilt coursing through my veins. This was precisely why I avoided attractive men like my life depended on it, because I knew as a matter of fact that my dignity did.

The moment my eyes settled on someone who was remotely handsome, my heart raced so quickly that I felt a love struck school girl all over again. Nonetheless, I could never keep my eyes off beautiful specimen for long, hence why my gaze subconsciously traveled back to the male standing at the doorway.

His eyes had been roaming the room, his shoulders sinking dejectedly as he didn’t seem to see who or what he was looking for. However, when he continued to look around his eyes met mine, much to my horror.

His eyes lit up, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ shape, as my eyes snapped back to my lap. A string of curses flew across the forefront of my mind at getting caught staring, as I desperately hoped with all of my being that he wouldn’t walk over.

Of course the heavens ignored my plead.

The cute male slid into the seat across from mine with an apologetic smile. Which struck me as odd as I should have been the apologetic one. Yet the words that slipped out of his lips were far odder, in my opinion.

“I’m so sorry for being late, the traffic today truly was horrible and I ended up stuck in this one traffic jam for…” he started, trailing off as he lifted his wrist to check his watch for the time. “An hour.”

“Huh?” I asked, completely confused. An extremely attractive stranger suddenly appeared out of nowhere, approached me out of all the pretty girls sitting alone in this cafe, and started apologizing when we had never met each other before?

I was about as lost as the person across from me was hot. Like dang, his visuals really attracted the curious gaze of all the aforementioned ladies sitting around the room.

Suddenly something nagged at the back of my mind, the vivid image of the woman from early resurfacing from my memories.

Oh.

He must have thought that I was his blind date.

I opened my mouth to explain the situation, but before I had the chance to collect my thoughts, the guy started talking once again. He had been taking off his coat so he didn’t see the way I had been gaping while pondering how to tell him he had mistaken me for someone else.

He looked up at me, eyes widening when he realized that he never introduced himself. A spellbinding smile spreading across his soft features as he held his hand across the table for a handshake. “Right, my name is Yunho, it’s nice to meet you.”

I hesitantly took his hand, introducing myself with a shaky smile. One look into his warm eyes and I knew that I couldn’t break it to him that his real date had left like a fiery hurricane while spitting out curses like a tasteless rapper.

Yunho repeated my name slowly, as if the savor each and every syllable with a thoughtful smile. It was clear that he was about to drop a cliché pickup line from the way his eyes sparkled mischievously, however, that didn’t soften the impact as my cheeks flushed red. “What a beautiful name.”

What he did next completely caught me off guard as he started mumbling to himself with a sly smile. “I wonder what our ship name would be…”

Deciding that my heart wouldn’t be able to take anymore of his cheesiness, I waved one of the waiters over.

“Ready to order?” Asked the waiter, his ears tinting red when I directed my gaze at him. His grip tightened a little on his mini clipboard and pen, eyes averting to Yunho instead.

“How cute,” I thought, slightly flattered over his actions. Although I never really dated before, I could recognize that smitten expression anywhere. It was then that I recalled that I never actually looked at the small menu, however, that didn’t turn out to be a problem as Yunho ordered for the both of us.

“Have you been here before?” I asked, surprised because I never saw him look at the menu either before the waiter walked away. The cafe opened a few days ago, so it wasn’t entirely unbelievable that he had gone before, though I didn’t think that was the case.

“No, I just ordered the special today if that’s okay with you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. His shy smile was a stark contrast to the confident front he had thrown up while flirting with me.

I smiled, nodding to assure that I didn’t mind as I would’ve done the same thing. From his timid gaze, I could tell that he never really went out on dates, which greatly relieved me as I hadn’t either.

The waiter came back around again in a few minutes with two plates of omelets with hot cheese oozing out of the seams and juicy, cubed tomatoes peeking through pale yellow egg. On the side of both plates were small bowls of freshly cut fruit topped with little mint sprigs.

It gave off a very insta worthy aesthetic, so I fished out my phone before taking a bite, raising the camera. A smile unknowingly spread across my face at how at peace Yunho looked with the warm afternoon sun perfectly catching the soft curves of his full cheeks while simultaneously dusting golden flakes into his umber eyes.

I lifted my camera a little further, so that it still captured the plate before me but also included Yunho’s adorably focused face. His eyes snapped up at the sound of the camera clicking, fork dangling an inch away from his mouth as I had caught him midbite.

I put my phone away, bashfully mumbling that he looked like an angel glowing in the sunlight like that and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to capture the moment. He blinked a few times in surprise, before laughing softly.

“You should’ve told me beforehand, I could’ve posed,” he teased, cheekily wiggling two peace signs in front of his eyes before drawing up two finger hearts.

I blushed, internally cooing at how cute he looked with such an innocent sparkle in his eye that I thought only existed in children. He was everything he looked like at that moment. A complete and utter angel who radiated purity under the glimmering sun.

Deciding to get something to drink, we called the waiter over once more, who whipped out his mini notepad habitually. And like earlier, he refused to meet my gaze for long, something both Yunho and I noticed.

Yunho flashed me a wink, nudging his head subtly at the waiter as if we weren’t on a date ourselves. I hid a giggle behind my hand at his goofy antics, quickly returning my arm back to the table when the waiter glanced up at me for a second.

“I’ll take two bubble teas with normal tapioca,” I requested, biting back a smile at the bewildered look Yunho shot me. He asked for an iced latte, eyes never leaving mine as the waiter walked away.

“Do you really like bubble tea that much?” He asked, a little awestruck. It wouldn’t have been all that surprising if I did, since everyone on Earth had one big craving they could never get enough of. So, I nodded firmly, looking him dead in the eye with a stoic “yes”.

He looked scared for a moment as if worried he said something wrong and at that I couldn’t hide my snicker.

“I do, but the second cup isn’t for me. I promised a friend that I’d bring her back something since she couldn’t go out for her break,” I explained, smiling cordially as his expression melted back into its usual peaceful bliss.

“How thoughtful,” he whispered, but I heard his sweet words as my disappearing blush suddenly bloomed all over again. I chose to ignore his comment, eyes flashing up to the waiter who reappeared once more with our drinks and a plate of bite size sugar cookies.

He placed all three cups down before putting down the plate with a quiet clinking sound. “Here’s a complimentary plate of sugar cookies for all customers who come during our opening week. Enjoy.”

And with that, he was gone again, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get away.

“Does he think I have the bubonic plague?” I wondered aloud, despite knowing why he was in such a rush. It was written all over the back of his neck and the tips of his ears in various hues of red.

“Maybe you should ask for his number,” mused Yunho, still very clearly amused over the waiter’s crush on me. I narorred my eyes at him, normally if a date encouraged you to pick up someone else then that’s a telltale sign that they’re obviously not interested in a relationship with you.

However, I could tell that Yunho meant everything that he was saying lightheartedly, so I decided to tease him back. “No thanks, I’d rather have yours.”

I could tell the unexpected flirt stunned Yunho, as his jaw dropped. I winked at him the same way he winked at me when the waiter came over, enjoying his flustered reaction. Despite the fact that Yunho would tower over me if we both stood up, he looked no bigger than a child at the moment shrinking into himself with a fiery blush. “Oh.”

I loved how table had turned, with how many times he caused my cheeks to tint pink. It was a small stroke of success, but I didn’t have the heart to continue. Taking the initiative, I asked him about himself, wanting to spend the time we had together developing a close friendship since he seemed to be a fun person to have around.

It wasn’t long before we fell into a deep conversation about ourselves. I learned that he was indeed younger than me by two years, and managed to convince him to call me noona but drop all other honorifics.

Honestly if anyone had told me that I’d end up on a date with someone younger than me, I wouldn’t have believed them. It was always a condition on my ideal type list that the male had to be older. Yet the ridiculous list completely faded away into nothingness in the back of my mind the longer I talked to Yunho.

Instead a new list wrote itself with only two conditions on it: His eyes had to sparkle like a galaxy of stars being reflected on a still lake and his smile had to hold the same warmth as a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

In other words it was describing the person sitting right in front of me, as he threw his head back, laughing at one of the many comical stories I told him about my fanatical college days.

He was currently in college right now, majoring in the same subject that I majored in. It was nice having someone relate so hard to my past struggles, as he was going through the same things I had gone through with crazy strict teachers and boisterous students marching down the halls like they owned the school.

In return I told him about how I worked as an editor, along with a few facts about me that few people knew or cared to ask about, such as my lowkey love for the artist Chungha.

Yunho said that he had heard a few of her songs before too, leading us down another conversation about our tastes in music and other pop culture.

Sometime during the conversation, Yunho’s phone started to ring as he excused himself from the table. I called the waiter over again during that time, asking for a small takeout bag.

I stuffed the rest of the cookies into it, deciding to take them back to Chloe along with the drink. Pausing for a bit, I pulled out one cookie and placed it back onto the plate incase Yunho wanted one more.

It wasn’t long before he came back, brushing off the topic when I asked him if the call was important. I didn’t want to invade his privacy, hence why I didn’t push the topic. In fact, I only asked because I didn’t want to keep him if there was some sort of emergency.

We picked up on the tail of our last conversation, reengaging in a passionate debate over which Harry Potter book was the best and other things of the sort.

Before I knew it, half an hour past and my break was about to end in twenty minutes. As much as I enjoyed learning about Yunho’s love for sports, fascination over the Harry Potter, and sweet but wild group of friends, I didn’t even want to think about how my manager would breath down my back if I came back late.

Looking down to see my empty cup, I realized with a start that my hand had somehow ended up in Yunho’s. During our conversation his hand had gotten closer and closer to mine, as I had left it lying on the table. I didn’t remember when that had changed, from the tips of his fingers brushing mine to slipping his hand on top of my own.

I wasn’t sure if he noticed this, but when I tried to remove my hand back from his grip, his hold only tightened as his thumb brushed the back of my hand. It became clear that it had been quite intentional.

“Hey, Yunho?” I asked, eyes lifting from our hands up to his face.

“Yeah?” He asked, sweet smile never leaving his lips before the corner of his lips quirked up into a small smirk. It was clear that he was only teasing me by not letting go, as I uncomfortably shifted in my chair.

Deciding not to mention it to save a little bit of my pride, I glanced over at the antique clock on the opposite wall. “My lunch break is nearly over, I have to go.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of my statement, reaching over with his free hand to sling his coat over his arm. “Is it close to here?”

“Yeah, just a ten minute walk away.”

He got up, pulling me up with my hand in his. Before I could comprehend what he was doing, he intertwined our fingers, taking the last sugar cookie off the plate and stuffing it in my mouth to muffle my protests.

My ears were burning scarlet as he led me out of the cafe, pouting slightly as I chewed. This guy seriously… A question floated up, bubbling through my mouth as I looked up at Yunho with furrowed eyebrows. “Did we just dine and dash?”

Yunho shook his head with a little laugh, eyes shifting down to meet mine before looking forward again. “No, I covered the bill earlier.”

That had me pause in my step, causing Yunho to come to a stop too since our hands were intertwined. I don’t recall ever receiving the bill at our table, nor did I hear Yunho say that he was going up front to pay, otherwise I would’ve forced him to split the bill. Although, there was that one time he left to take a call…

That was when the realization of what had happened dawned on me and from Yunho’s knowing smile he could tell that I had figured it out. “You didn’t.”

“But, I did.” he chuckled once more, pulling me forward as he began to walk again. It was clear that he didn’t actually know where we were going, so I widened my stride a little so that we would be walking side by side. It was rather sweet how he intended to walk me back to my office, the same way a guy would take a date home.

Before we got far, my phone went off, the familiar tune of Chungha’s debut song filling the silence between us. My cheeks flushed pink at Yunho’s teasing gaze, deepening as he teased, “Didn’t you say you were just a minor fan?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I brushed him off, excusing myself to take the call. The caller ID read ‘Chlo~’ with a couple of red hearts after it.

“Where are you? You’re usually back by now!” Exclaimed Chloe from the other side of the line, the faint bubbling in the background signifying that she was currently in the lobby near the fountain.

“Sorry, I lost track of time,” I apologized, smiling sheepishly despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. I heard Chloe sigh, telling me to hurry up and get back because ‘she missed me’ before hanging up.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, before swiftly making my way back to Yunho. “Sorry about that, my coworker was fretting over the fact that I wasn’t back yet.”

Yunho shook his head to dismiss my apology, saying not to worry about it since he was the one taking up my time.

Suddenly, a familiar voice could be heard from the distance coming closer and closer. “Stupid day… No, stupid date… Ditched by a guy now ditched by my clutch… I must have left if in that stupid cafe.”

The girl from earlier appeared in front of us as she rounded the corner, with her head down as she appeared to be typing away angrily on her phone. Pure and sheer panic coursed through my veins at the sight of her. If she was indeed who I thought she was, then the moment she opened her mouth, I’d be exposed.

However, before I could do anything, she slammed in Yunho’s chest due to not watching where she was going. Yunho’s hands flew to her shoulders to steady her, wincing at how he hadn’t seen her coming either since he had been looking at me.

“Watch where you’re- Oh,” she trailed off, eyes widening when she lifted her head up and saw Yunho’s face for the first time. It was almost comical how Yunho could attract the interest of everyone around him without even trying, me being included.

Her hands slowly slipped up to his arms, squeezing lightly while a flirtatious smile replaced her scowl. Since she was so close to Yunho, her back was to me and couldn’t see what I was doing.

Despite being wary of the situation, I couldn’t help but let out an over exaggerated, but silent, gagging noise. I muffled my own laughter at the act with the palm of my hand, however, Yunho didn’t have the liberty to, which was why he couldn’t hide his chuckle.

The girl clinging onto him was confused, but somehow took that as a positive sign as she started to bat her freakishly long eyelashes at him. “Hey, aren’t you Yunho? My name is Hayoung, I’m pretty sure a guy from my class set us up on a date. What was his name again… Junhao?”

I felt like my heart had stopped at her words, hands becoming cold and clammy as I looked at Yunho. Would he get mad at me? Maybe even leave and go on the date that he missed with Hayoung? In my defense I had tried to tell him that I wasn’t his date, though to be fair I really could have tried harder.

Still, Yunho didn’t notice my terrified gaze, instead looking at Hayoung’s hands which were shamelessly feeling up his biceps. He reached up to pry her hands off of him, stepping back to put some distance between the two of them.

“Yeah, that’s me, though I don’t think it’s appropriate to hang off a guy in front of his date,” he commented, shocking me to my core. Yunho finally looked at me with a soft smile, taking one of my hands in his once more.

Hayoung’s wide eyes weren’t nearly as large as mine as we were both baffled over what had just happened. My eyes kept scanning over Yunho’s face to see if I could get a read over his thoughts, yet all I could see in his eyes was the same warmth they always held.

He squeezed my hand in response, assuring me that he didn’t regret his actions as he turned back to look at a gaping Hayoung.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we really need to go,” Yunho stated, quickly leading us away from the fuming girl.

Once we reached my office building, I stopped in front of it, saying that this was me. I gently pulled my hand out of his, shyly brushing a stray strand of hair out of my eyes.

Yunho, tucked both of his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of me, not quite wanting to leave, yet not having a valid reason to stay.

I took that as my que to ask the question burning in the back of my mind. “You didn’t seem very surprised at Hayoung’s appearance, did you know I wasn’t your date?”

Yunho nodded with a guilty smile, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, the call I took earlier was from my friend Jongho, saying that Hayoung called chewing his ear off. I also may or may not have known what she looked like beforehand…”

My jaw dropped at his confession, and to think that I had worried over nothing. “You knew and yet you approached me out of the blue? Why in the world would you do something like that? Not saying that I didn’t enjoy your company, but that’s kinda creepy you know…”

“Sorry, you were just the most attractive person I’ve ever seen in my life. Not to mention the fact that you seemed to be alone in the cafe,” Yunho apologized, eyes dropping to the floor as he was unable to meet my gaze in fear of being scolded. I was stunned into silence. That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me, especially from someone so good looking.

Shoving down the reprimand I had in mind, I jokingly nudged Yunho in the ribs to get him to look at me again. “Well she didn’t really seem to be your type anyways.”

Yunho laughed at this, wholeheartedly agreeing with me. “It seems you know my type better than my own friends. Though to be honest, I’m pretty sure Jongho knew that I would never approach a girl like Hayoung and was only trying to get me back for finishing the last bottle of Sprite from his secret collection. We’re housemates.”

I laughed at his in depth explanation, relating to his struggles. Chloe moved in with me in the summer, a few months after we met. The air conditioning unit in her run down apartment kept breaking down and was twice the distance from the company than mine.

It was far more convenient with her as a housemate as we had more spare change to spend on the money we saved on rent with a split bill. However, with every housemate comes the temptation of stealing their things.

Just recalling that one time I finished the last slice of the cake Chloe bought… She deemed it fair play to sprinkle a few pinches of flour in our shared hairdryer while I was in the shower. Though I couldn’t get mad at her for it though, because she apologized immediately after, while laughing her head off. It was extremely fortunate for her that I loved her, otherwise she would have been in for it.

“Hey, you said you were an editor, but you never mentioned the fact that you worked for this particular company,” mused Yunho, drawing me back from the mini memory lane my mind had skipped down.

“Oh I must’ve forgotten to mention it,” I said, arching an eyebrow at Yunho who’s smile spread impossibly wider. I was curious as to why me working at this company sparked his interest so much.

“You know, I just passed my interview here a few months ago?” asked Yunho casually, eyes gleaming playfully at the way my eyes widened at his words.

“Holy spades, though why weren’t you with the other interns today?” I asked, recalling the reason why Chloe couldn’t join me today.

“Well we were toured around the company earlier this morning but when my group was handed off to this other woman I turned out to be the only person who knew how to work the coffee machine. I used to work part time as a barista,” he explained with a mirthful tone of voice.

“That’s explains it,” I thought, nodding at his words. As much as I loved talking to Yunho today, I knew my break was drawing to a close and that I needed to leave soon.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often then,” I smiled at him bashfully, already visualizing what it would be like seeing him around at the office in the future.

“Yeah,” he agreed, hesitating a little with his next actions before stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on my cheek.

He pulled away with a burning red blush crawling up his neck as he waved goodbye and walked off, back in the direction of the cafe and what I assumed was his car.

I shoved down my own blush, trying to recollect myself as I stepped back into the front lobby of my apartment building.

Chloe was sitting on the rim of the fountain, seemingly preoccupied with her phone. It was clear that she hadn’t seen what went down outside, otherwise she would’ve pounced on me right then and there with a mountain of questions.

Sneaking up beside her, I dangled the paper bag of sugar cookies in front of her face with a small “tada”. Chloe looked up from her phone, smiling at the bag. “Ah, you’re back. Thanks.”

I also handed her the sealed takeout cup of bubble tea and a plastic straw that I had kept hidden inside of my bag. Miraculously there was still a few ice cubes left, as the cafe had its air conditioner turned pretty high to combat the early fall heat. Or maybe it was just that my bag had some sort of secret insulation tech embedded into the interior pouch. Who knows?

She accepted it with yet another “thanks” and popped the straw through the plastic covering. Taking a small sip, she hummed in content with the sweet drink. I grinned at her as she looked down at the sweet drink as if she was trying to see a visible difference between this mixture and every other milk tea she’s tried.

The cafe really did the name of bubble tea justice, with chewy tapioca pearls of a perfect consistency and a tea base with just the right amount of sugar and flavouring. It was a little pricier as expected, however the extra dollar was definitely worth it.

“It’s good isn’t it?” I asked, as she nodded without an ounce of hesitation much like I did at Yunho when he inquired about my love for bubble tea.

We made our way to the elevator arm in arm, with Chloe asking me why I had been gone for so long.

“Were you with a guy?” Chloe asked teasingly, expecting my usual mundane response of “no”. After all, dates were never my thing and she knew that quite well. I glanced at the bright red numbers flashing in the elevator’s screen, noticing that it had reached my floor.

“Actually, yes I was,” I stated mischievously, stepping out of the elevator when the door opened. I spun around, watching as Chloe’s eyes widened.

“What?!” she exclaimed, watching in horror as the door started closing before she could ask anymore questions. I knew that she wouldn’t risk angering her manager by going back late as she certainly would if she ran out of the elevator after me.

I waved at her as the door shut, laughing a little. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get away from her later when we got home, however, I was too giddy to really think about how I’d suffer her wrath for dropping a bomb like that and just leaving.

Making my way back to my own desk, I plopped down in the spinning chair with a soft smile at everything that had occurred today. Sure, the traffic I’d have to deal with later might put a damper on my mood, and sure, I’d have to deal with Chloe’s inevitable interrogation but the carefree giddiness I felt at that moment felt like it would last forever.

When tomorrow comes, the internships will officially start and with them will come the one blue haired male that captured my attention today and heck, maybe he’ll be my fifth and final reason to stay.

#ateez #yunho #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #romance #fluff #ateez yunho imagine #ateez yunho oneshot #ateez yunho fanfic

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hypnoidvoid · 6 years ago

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UhHhHHH platonic or romantic stozier finding a hurt bird on a bike ride

A/N: Okay so this deadass turned into a oneshot. Stozier is my fuckin’ brotp so here I come with the FEELS. Also, for those of you that read my Reddie fic Key to the Jungle, I wrote this to be an additional out of storyline excerpt/blippet of the highschool versions of Stan and Richie in their junior year. Ecologist!Richie and Ornithologist!Stan are best friends and have been forever and now I’m crying, thank you and have a kickass day. I love adding on to this universe.

[Title: Neapolitan Bird Bath]

[Friday, April 16, 2010]

The sun, as much life as it nourished with its light and warmth, disappeared behind thick clouds as only a disfigured apparition. Rays reflected, yearned to bust through, but could only try its best to light the naturally shadowed town of Derry, Maine.

Rain collided with the glass from outside of the classroom. It pounded hard, making music of its own along with the monotone voice of their AP biology teacher lecturing about the differences in photosystems. Richie half listened, and half paid attention to different couplets of raindrops, making bets in his head as to which one would run faster down the glass. The one he always bet on seemed to be the losing raindrop unfortunately; good thing he didn’t wager any money. It was also a good thing he sat pretty far back in the classroom, otherwise the teacher may have heard his quietted hums of the Speed Racer theme song.

Richie knew every detail the teacher was talking about. Transcription blah blah, NADPH+ blah fucking blah, cytochrome this electron flow that, more blah blah. Not even with cockiness, he just already knew the information from reading as much as he did. He’d probably be able to teach the material better than the teacher, even at seventeen years of age.

“Why the fuck would they keep it photosystem I, if photosystem II comes first. Just rename that shit,” Richie whispered with annoyance after leaning into Stan’s ear, who sat in front of him.

Instead of verbally responding, Stan tore a piece of paper out of his spiralled notebook and wrote in masterful cursive ‘to make us miserable’, and indiscreetly passed it to Richie behind his back.

Richie took the pencil resting atop his ear, twirled it twice in his fingers and scribbled back, ‘must have been the same dude that took Pluto away from us. i fucking miss Pluto’.

Stan snorted, and wrote ‘don’t we all’.

Doodling a frightening sad face next to Stan’s response, he continued on the next line, ‘id rather die than have to spend more time listening to this george bush lookin motherfucker. me tHinKs we know more than he does’.

Stan admitted in his delicate text, ‘even you probably have more brain cells than he does’.

Richie muffled a snigger, writing back ‘you wrote that on paper staniel, im going to get it published. you dun fucked up’.

In big, bubble letters where he used a yellow highlighter to perfectly color in the lines, Stan admired his work that depicted ‘FUCK YOU’.

As he passed the piece of paper back to Richie, their teacher became aware of their note passing. He scowled, clipped his lazer pointer pen back into the stained pocket of his button up shirt, and slowly stomped towards the two.

“Boys, would you like to share with the rest of the class? These notes must be much more important than paying attention to my lecture.”

Nervously speaking up, Stan panicked, “It was about homework, sir.”

Looking between Stan’s jittery composure and Richie’s smug smile, he was unconvinced by the lie.

“Is that so gentlemen. Well let me see then, hand it over-”

Richie quickly crumpled and shoved the scrap piece of paper into his mouth. The class burst into laughter, as well as Stan. He chewed the awful tasting inked paper quickly and swallowed, bearing a guiltless smile at the teacher without another word. That infamous, toothy, Tozier smile flashed that his father also sported on occasion.

The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose and wagged a reprimanding finger in Richie’s face, “You’re lucky you have the highest grade in the class, Tozier. Another stunt like that and it’s detention,” then craned his neck to meet Stan’s anxious gaze, “You too, Mr. Uris.”

“You got it, teach’a man,” and Richie used two fingers to salute him. Exhaustedly rolling his eyes, the teacher returned to the front of the class and lectured for the remainder of the period, which was only about fifteen minutes. Before the bell signalled dismissal into the weekend, all of the students were promptly packed and itching to flee the classroom. They sat on the edges of their seats buzzing with excitement.

*BIIIIIING*DING*BIIIIIIIIING*

“Don’t forget to read chapters seven through-” But the teacher’s demands were drowned out by shuffling feet and giddied shrieks as the class stormed out into the swollen mist of rain.

Swinging his patched backpack over one shoulder, Richie threw the hood of his rain jacket over his head and turned to Stan on their way out with a devilish grin, “You’re welcome.”

Stan blankly positioned his folded bag over the front of his body, “Yeah, okay. Deal’s a deal, what flavor you want this time?”

Richie looked into the sky letting droplets hit his freckled face, and pondered for a moment, “Neapolitan.”

“Neapolitan it is then.”

“With sprinkles. And fudge. And Oreo bits.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Stan chided, briskly shoving Richie’s shoulder. They unlatched their bikes that had been chained next to each other from the bike rack and peddled south of town.

They had this agreement that if one of them ever got the other, or both, out of trouble (detention, arrested, whatever) then they owed a serving of ice cream. It’s a simple enough compromise. Stan religiously ordered butter pecan, but Richie’s choice was always a gamble. Detention was a waste of fucking time, even for Richie who had spent more than enough hours there, and if they could avoid sitting in silence without doing anything for god knows how long, they rewarded each other. It’s what best friends did.

Pumping hard with his feet, Richie swiveled up on his bike alongside Stan and exclaimed, “Did you know kangaroos have two uteruses?”

Stan chuckled and shook the rain off of the top of his curls with a jolt, “You reading animal porn now?”

“The males even have two dicks to match, can ya believe that? Nature is fuckin’ craz-”

Stan abruptly yanked the brakes of his bike with enough force to slide and create a minor tire mark in the middle of the street, where Richie shut his trap and followed Stan’s lead. He was wildly confused, but mirrored him nonetheless, for Stan always had reason behind his actions. Always. Richie would never admit, but he believed Stan to be wise beyond his years, and when Stan did something unusual it was best to pay attention. Richie was smart, brilliant even, but Stan possessed a superpower of intuitive awareness.

Face stern and focused with calculation, Stan tipped his hooded head in different directions to pick up on a sound Richie failed to initially acknowledge. All Richie heard was rain.

He pushed midnight curls aside to frame his thick glasses, “Stan?”

Pressing a strict finger to his lips, Stan shot him sharp eyes, “Shhhhh.” They listened.

Then he heard it. Little chirps echoed off of the asphalt; a peculiar place for bird noises to be coming from, especially during a storm of this severity. How Stan was able to pick up on the muted cries flashing by on a bicycle astonished Richie. It was indeed a superpower.

Zeroing in on the location of the bird, Stan hopped off his bike and propped it gently against a tree to stay upright. Richie carelessly threw his bike down on the soaked grass lining the sidewalk.

“That’s a black-capped chickadee. A distress call,” Stan informed with concern, Richie trailing close behind.

“Gotcha.”

Stan strutted to a close American elm tree, scaled his eyes up the trunk, and saw a nest. It didn’t titter, make noise, it only rustled with the passing winds of the storm under its protective canopy of leaves. He circles the tree’s trunk and on the other side, in the unmowed grass, a petit bird hobbled, desperately alerting for help.

Richie’s expression was one of bewilderment, “Holy shit, how’d you-”

Bringing his knees to the ground without care of getting grass stains on his khakis, Stan expertly picked the chick up and evaluated it. He stretched out its wings, made sure there was a healthy pulse, and strategically bent certain limbs to check for breaks. Richie just watched with magnified eyes.

Grunting, Stan seemed to have found his answer, “Rich, got anything hard and flat?”

As much as Richie wanted to make a disastrous joke, he refrained.

With Stan gingerly holding the young chickadee’s foot cradled in his palm, Richie innately understood his inquiry. Chucking off his backpack, Richie found a popsicle stick that he had neglected to throw away days ago and snapped it in thirds. He offered a piece of it to Stan’s free hand.

Stan continued, “Get the bandaids out of the front button in my bag too.”

The chickadee had a broken foot. It was nearly shattered from presumably falling out of the tree, needing adjustment and splinting to heal properly. Correcting the bird’s mangled digits, Stan flattened out its foot (even though it nipped his hands and drew blood in places), and used the bandaids to wrap the appendage atop the piece of popsicle stick to keep it straight. While the bird seemed angry with him in the process, it eventually relaxed, and cooed chirps of comfort rather than distress as it was being wrapped. It realized it was being helped and not under siege by a predator. This was a friend.

Richie admiringly observed, sitting cross-legged next to his best friend with a warm smile, “That was amazing, buddy. You’re going to make a great ornithologist some day. I know it.”

Stan only responded with a creviced, dimpled smile. He shed the sweater under his raincoat and made a ‘nest’ in his bag to transfer the chickadee safely. Instead of heading for the ice cream parlor, they rode their bikes back to Richie’s house to care for the young bird and make it a temporary home until it was healthy enough to release back into the wild.

Ice cream could always wait.

Tags (for Key to the Jungle):

@noahschnapp @speakslowtellmelove @richiefuckfacetozier@notsugarandspice @ellomello16 @neonohe @chairsocks @was-i-even-reddie@addimagination @guacfinn @skeletonscribbles @reddies-spaghetti@iamworried7 @reddietogiveup @yes-dillman-yes @jazzydork @liliemm @notfergusmom @beepbeepdickie @kaspwitch @im-alover @youtubequeens@spotted-plant @loser-hobbs @eds-kas @tozier-boy @thatgazebobullshit@honeybeehanlon @richietoaster @edstozler @bitchbrak

Permatags:

@edstozler @kaspbrak-eddie @noahschnapp @richiefuckfacetozier @reddies-spaghetti @tozier-boy @eds-kas @thatgazebobullshit @honeybeehanlon @constantreaderfool @reddie-for-anything @s-tanleyuris

#reddie #my writing #key to the jungle #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #prompts #drabbles #it fanfiction #it 2017 #it fandom #it stephen king #it au #stanley uris #hannah writes #hans writes #brotp

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echoingarmy · 6 years ago

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the death of a bottle of cheap, pink wine every friday because tomorrow’s finally saturday, so nobody cares and i can just lay in bed and wallow in self-hate. and the odd dancing until i cant feel anything but music, even though ive always hated dancing. still do.

the piano recordings of my favourite band’s songs because i need time to think, i need space for my own thoughts and lyrics are distracting but i cant stand the silence, i need background noise every second of my life because even when there’s time for some thinking i can’t live with just myself. and always somehow accompanied by the bitter desire to play the piano, the thing that i never got the chance to learn even though its my favourite sound in the universe.

the endless list of things to watch, read, listen to, find out more about, learn. the list i never actually wirte up, just keep bookmarked in the browser or sadly shoved in the corner of my mind. things that im excited and curious about, things i know i want to do. but never actually get around to them because im never in the right mood, am too tired, it would require too much attention and energy that i dont have. id rather watch the thing ive watched four times already. forget about the fact that my memory is shit and im basically incapable of memorizing new things currently and with a sense of accomplished, assured success.

the frustration of my own indecisiveness, no ability whatsoever to make a decision. or making a decision - seeing it didn’t turn out bad, im having a good time actually. but id still rather be home, alone, in front of my laptop and just not with you. or anyone else, its not personal, baby, i just hate everyone. or maybe i hate myself so much that i cant imagine anyone ever possibly wanting to spend time with me, so i always feel like an uncomfortable burden and i dont want to subject anyone to that.

the line i just read on a blog i havent visited for months ‘fight or flight, but nobody ever talks about just freeze‘ and the realization that for me it’s barely ever fight or flight, it’s either flight or freeze. and in most cases i freeze. freeze instead of making a dream come true, freeze instead of eating, freeze instead of watering my plants, freeze freeze freeze. i could still technically simply do those things, but i choose not to. i leave myself hanging in the lack of decision, waiting - never knowing for what.

not saving any money, spending what i have on useless things that maybe very temporarily make me faux-happy because whats the point in saving, really? its not like i have that much of a future to make it count.

the unhealthy realtionship with death that is the most resonating remainder of years of depression. the im not actively suicidal anymore, dont worry thats not entirely true because yes, i dont take two steps closer to the railways every time i see a train coming. yes, this is probably the happiest ive ever been in my life. yes, i am excited for many things that are going to happen sometime soonish. but im also desperate for an end, im desperate to know how long ill have to keep all of this up.

the repetitive is it worth it, constantly in my head, the ugly awareness that there are so little things that make me happy for long enough. waiting for the best day of my life? what if it’s already happened? what if what i got so far was the peak, what if.

the almost ten hours every day - going to work. a good job, an easy one, fitted to my abilities and limitations. somewhat challenging but managable for someone like me. but what about those almost ten hours of i dont want to be here. what about the 8-8-8 system thats supposedly eight hours of work, eight hours of social life and eight hours of sleep? thats all bullshit. eight hours of work actually mean i have to get up at 6, spend an hour on getting ready for work and then commuting for almost another hour. and after work i still have to go back home, i cant just teleport and be free. social life requires too much - energy, awareness, emotions - so i stay home, get online and drown in things that arent real in the context of my eistence. yes, theyre very real as lifes separate to mine, but the correlation is broken here. they affect my entire being, but i have no bearing on anything outside my screen. i cut on sleep to stay in the cyber-reality, countless words seeping through my tired brain, sounds, notes and screams filling my head.

the imperative to call my father because if i dont he will get pissy again and nobody wants that. i suffer every time i even think about him, talking to him is excrutiating because every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, a skewed piece of reality that is all in his brain. gaslighting, abuse and drunken guilt-tripping all veiled under a murmured i will always love you and your sister no matter what. fuck you.

him. being nice to me for some reason, maybe genuinely liking me, probably just needing me for that one thing and then ready to throw me away. i can see how different we are, how much our lives dont meet in almost any aspect of what matters. and thats okay, its alright to have different opinions and interests and personalities - its what makes us human and interesting. but how do i tell you i can never see myself with you? how do i tell you i already know we dont fit? youll laugh it off, youll call me out on my pessimism, youll say you cant know unless you try. but baby, i have already tried. not with you, with other people. and it always ends the same way. alone. how do i tell you i still want you to kiss me, regardless of all that.

#personal #like very personal #sasha rambles #god i dont know what this is but its been floating around my head for so long #all those insane thoughts that need to be somehow voiced or ill go crazy #i dont know what to do with this #probably delete later #or keep editing it #keep adding things because there is so much more #some of it real some not #just keep talking

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hxmmatron · 7 years ago

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Hireath -part 5 (Epilogue/Valentine special):

Daddy!CEO!Luke

A/N: Here it is :’) the last last part. *sigh* this took a while, it was actually supposed to be for last year’s Valentine but life just had other plans :’) um, I guess this is a thank you to anyone who has ever read the story, anyone who has ever liked it or reblogged or left a comment. I can’t ever begin to express how thankful I am for that. I am so so grateful for the time I spent here,and the community that surrounded my blog. Thank you for all the love, and for all those lovely people who still cared about the story and asked about it.

Here it is.

Thank you.

Word count: 3.2k

Plot: A divorce is not so easy to go through when your lingering feels and son keep getting in the way.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

The tentative rays of sunlight peeked through the colossal windows taking up the whole walls, falling smoothly against the desks and chairs lettering the office in an organized puzzle. The atmosphere was still quiet, unbelievably quiet in comparison to the usual commotion shaking up the office, in the form of footsteps shuffling around, phones ringing periodically and voices merging into an undeciphered chaos.

As your heels clicked against the flooring early in the morning, you were only met with soft good morning’s, voices still partly heavied down with sleep and with the fresh, mouthwatering smell of coffee seeking to kickstart the day with a much needed dose of caffeine.

With the office still drowning in the quietness and slowness of a sleepy morning, it was hardly surprising to see that the red circle marking today’s date on the calendar remained ignored. Even more so, you would easily expect it to remain that way an hour later, when the office comes back to life, regaining its full, hectic atmosphere and falling into its usual fast pace.

But the little heart marking your own February calendar has been present on your mind for the past week, making your footsteps livelier and much more energetic than the whole office combined.

Your original destination changed halfway through the long corridor leading towards the grand office, the unmistakable gold plate stapled to its door. It was the slightly ajar door that lured you in, making you peek your head inside, fingers following (right on tow) to knock on the wooden surface.

“Good morning!” Your voice chirps happily through the office, pushing the door open and making your way inside.

Ashton’s head shoots up from his morning paper, a smile stretching his lips to greet you.

“___!”

His hands work on folding the newspaper in his hands, attention focused on you -more precisely,on the gleeful tone in your voice. “I wonder what’s gotten you so cheerful this early in the morning.”

There's a teasing glint in his eyes, but you're hardly bothered. Instead, you move closer to sit down, smile still bright.

“I can list a thing or two.”

Ashton seems to let this slide, despite the way his eyes narrow and a chuckle leaves his mouth. The conversation falls into a pleasant talk about how his family’s doing, before you're leaning against your elbow, on the wooden desk and ask;

“So, you’re still up for babysitting Jace tonight. Right?”

Ashton’s face suddenly breaks into a huge grin, and it's almost like a lightbulb went off inside his head.

“Aaah, I get it now.” He manages between breathy laughs, adding with a wink, “A little valentine date, with Mr. CEO?”

Your only reply is a chuckle, because you can’t really deny that he is actually right. But even that is enough to get him smiling wider, highly amused by this conversation.

“But aren't you guys past the dating stage?” He comments, lifting his hand up and pointing out his ring finger, “Like, way past it?”

That draws a scoff from you, almost in defense. Because you know that, technically, the papers had never been signed. You were still

But Ashton was very right. Your relationship did not fall under the category of your typical married couple, and the reason behind that was more than just you living separately. It was the late night dates, driving you home and kissing you at the door. It was the random movie dates, and daily texts. It was the slow restart, the tentative steps and the fear of diving in too soon.

It was all the little things you had lost the habit of doing, along the way.

It was, as Ashton pointed out, everything that made it seem as if you were a new couple still basking in their honeymoon phase, rather than a husband and wife with a long line of history.

Yet, despite the accuracy of Ashton’s words, you only lift a hand up to shoo him away, eyes rolling; “we are not dating.”

“Oh really?” He taunts, seeming to take that as a challenge, leaning over his desk on his elbows. “Cheesy dates on the weekends, flirting shamelessly on the phone -during work hours, mind you. And let’s not forget,” He stops with a smirk you know well enough to dread whatever’s coming next, “Hot, steamy, not-so-secretive sex in his off-”

You most certainly don't allow him to finish his words, interrupting him with a loud shout of his name and threatening to throw the closest thing at hand -the framed picture on his desk, hardly effective as a weapon- at his face.

“Ashton! What are you- where did you even get that from?” the flustered face you make, along with the way you trip over your words only manage to rile Ashton up further. And not even the hard stare you shoot him (or at least try to, unable to fight back a smile) makes his incessant laughter come to an end, as he seems to find immense pleasure in your reaction.

Ashton only gives you a knowing smile, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against his chair. “Like I said, not so secretive.”

“Ash!” You try to sound scalding, but a chuckle still breaks your frown, Ashton joining you as well. “Would you not?”

“Anyway,” You are quick to add, getting up from your seat and fixing your skirt, “I have to get going. I’ll wait for you tonight!”

Protests from Ashton follow you even as you close the door, about how you’re ignoring your friend to go flirt, and you can barely hold back a laugh at his words.

The light knocking on the door makes Luke lift his head up from his papers scattered over his desk, and a smile quickly takes over his face when your face comes into view.

“Good morning~” You greet, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Getting up from his desk, Luke meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you naturally and bringing you into a hug.

Pulling away just slightly, Luke’s lips meet yours with a kiss.

“Happy valentine’s day, baby.” The words are whispered against your lips, Luke’s hand moving to hold your face, before leaning in for another kiss, deeper this time. And it’s only when he’s had enough that he pulls away, his hand holding yours, leading you back towards his desk. Luke sits down on his chair, facing you as you settle on top of his desk.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask, lifting your hand and running it through his hair, just the way you know he loves it.

“Yeah”, Luke nods, eyes momentarily closed, enjoying your touches. “I had to stay up late, but that’s ok . Did you n Jace have a good night?”

Before you manage to reply, the ringing on his phone breaks through the silence, getting him distracted momentarily by it. But Luke only spares a single look at the caller ID, before he silences it. Turning back to you with a smile, his hand moves to rest on top of your thigh.

“Do you want some coffee? Some breakfast?”

“No, no need.” You answer, “I need to get to work in a bit.”

Your reply draws an involuntary frown from Luke. One he doesn’t notice, but you do, making you lean in for a kiss. You keep it short, leaning away too quickly for his liking.

“Baby, I think you need new blinds for your office.” You whisper, making Luke’s eyes open.

“Why? What’s wrong with these ones?” He asks, genuinely confused.

His eyes move away from you, focusing on the mentioned blinds behind you. But your hands cup his face, redirecting his attention back on you, and explain; “Apparently, they let out our steamy, hot sex out to the open.”

Luke’s startled for a moment, before he breaks into a laugh. Getting up from his chair, he leans over, settling his arms on each side of where you sat.

“Baby, I think it’s more about your state when you walk out.” Luke whispers, lips touching yours with every spoken word, before he gives in and goes for a deep kiss. Eyes closing, your arms move from his face, to wrap around his neck and pull him closer,legs opening up just a little bit more to bring his body closer. It’s almost as if time freezes, and everything else escapes your mind, until Luke pulls away.

“Say,” another kiss, “did you talk to Ash about babysitting tonight?”

“Yeah” you nod, “he’s talking Jace over to yours, so we-” you pause, a flirty smile on your face and your hands moving back to Luke’s face, -”can can go back to mine and have it to ourselves. All night.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Leaving Luke’s office, that day, was something you couldn’t get out of your memory. The moment you had stepped a foot outside, all eyes fell on you. It had taken a solid minute of silence for everyone to look away and carry on with their work, trying to act subtle. But you knew that everyone had heard what was supposed to happen in the privacy of Luke’s office. Sympathetic smiles followed you as you exited, along with concerned eyes and hopeful hearts.

It was a while before Luke’s assistant went into his office, too worried to be barging in too soon. The whole office walking on eggshells, holding their breath and sharing hushed murmurs about what had went on.

On Jace’s birthday, Luke had showed up, but almost an hour late. You had opened your door to find him breathless, cheeks flushed and words of apology rushing out, explaining how the traffic had been slower than he expected.

Truly, Luke had expected you to shut the door at his face. Because you had given him only one task and he had failed it already.

But you smiled at his state, and lead him inside.

A loud evening was promised, of birthday songs and happy wishes, of little kids giggling and running around while adults lounged around and exchanged their news. But when night came and everyone had left, your little birthday boy soundly sleeping in his room, Luke stayed back, offering to help you out with the cleaning.

Luke had never felt as hesitant as he did that night. He only knew to keep enough of a safe distant, waiting for you to determine the next move, to choose where to go. But, as he let his eyes linger on you, standing oh so close to him, drying the dishes he finished washing; it had filled him up with an overflowing feeling of homeyness, making him want act upon it. He had wanted nothing more than to have his hands rest on your waist, and lean in to kiss your lips until it was all marked into his memory.

But he did not kiss you that night.

Or the next time he saw you, when you had invited him for lunch. It was at a restaurant close to his office, and you had picked up Jace from his school as well.

Or the time after that, when you had all met up at Calum’s house for a little gathering.

He was walking on thin ice, Luke knew that. And he would be damned if let himself ruin things again. But he was determined to work hard to prove himself, to be there for whatever his family needed. Until then, he would let you lead, at your own pace, and hope that you wouldn’t want to push him away.

Luke had only gotten a taste of your lips the night he stayed over for a movie night, helping put Jace to bed.

It had felt like the first drop of water he had in a year of drought, making his whole body come back to life. You had pulled away far too soon for his liking, but then you asked him for a coffee date at his office, and Luke’s heart felt like bursting at your words, oh-so sweet to him.

As expected, the tables were crowded with couple holding hands and making oaths for forever, the waiters rushing back n forth, from table to other. Rose petals decorated each and every table, along with red candles and heart shaped candies.

But your table was in the far back, private enough to feel like it was just you, and just him.

The lace dress you wore was a gift from Luke, chosen with care and left on top of your bed for you to find, along with more packages that you didn’t get the time to go through just yet. It suited you to a wonder, and Luke couldn’t have felt any more blessed, his hands finding it harder to stay away from you for too long.

“It’s been a while since we last celebrated Valentine’s this way.” The comment leaves your mouth without much thought, smiling in contentment. But then your eyes lift up from the menu you were reading, and the look on Luke’s face instantly makes you regret it.

It’s a look you see on his face more often than you wished. It was a look that betrayed his thoughts whenever he was falling into the pit of remorse and regret.

Last Valentine, you couldn’t even remember the day clearly. You’re sure that it was nothing but a delivered bouquet of roses and chocolates that had a card too bland to be personally sent by Luke. You knew that it was a last minute order after his assistant -most likely- reminded him of which day it was. You’re not sure if the year before that was that special either.

It had indeed been long since you both celebrated the day this way. You knew that. And he knew that.

“Hey,” You whisper, frowning. Your hand reaching out to hold his, giving him a gentle squeeze. But Luke only shakes his head, replacing the look on his face with a smile instead.

He knew that he wouldn’t find a way out of the maze of regret any time soon. He knew that his mind would always go back to little details and remind him of every wrong decision he wasn’t aware of at the time.

But for tonight, Luke wants it to be special. He wants it to overpower the memories of times he didn’t take the time to celebrate special days with you.

For tonight, he just wants it to be just you.

The lights in the living room are kept to a low dim, an old record softly playing in the background.

Once dinner was over, exquisite dishes savored and sweet desserts shared, it was time for you both to go back home and enjoy a little more privacy. The ride back was just you two and your wandering hands, the driver disposed for the night.

Your drinks remained on the table, long forgotten as you got drunk on each other’s lips instead.

“I don’t like this house very much” Luke breaks slightly away from your lips, his mouth moving to pepper light kisses on your jaw.

“What?” You ask after a little too long, his lips distracting you from his words, “why?” You draw out, pulling away a bit more and looking around your apartment. “I think it’s fairly nice.”

Luke hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, around your shoulders.“It is nice. But it's not home.”

A minute of silence follows his words, Luke’s eyes simply gazing into yours and studying your reaction. The beats of his heart drum against his ear, so loudly that it drowns out the music still playing from the corner of the room.

Fear slowly makes its way into his heart, sending strings around it and caging it in, making it throb painfully in his chest. It’s the same fear that keeps creeping up on him; the fear of taking a wrong step, taking it too fast and potentially breaking down everything you have been rebuilding. The fear that he would once again risk losing you.

But then you look into his eyes, with that special way of yours, and the words just tumble out of his mouth.

“Come back home.”

Your heart flutters again at his words, stronger this time. Not only because it’s the first time he bring this up, but it’s in the way he spoke his words. Hesitant and unsure. Just like the very first time.

“I- I don’t know. Are you sure?” You question, mind feeling unprepared.

The look Luke shoots you is enough to tell you that he is more than sure. And the small smile on your lips knocks a little more confidence into him.

“Come on, think of all the positives.”

You squint your eyes at his words, smile getting wider and your hand moving towards the side of his neck, allowing your fingers to run through his hair.

Luke’s smile grows at your words, lifting his hand to rest on your forearm. His thumb moves in little circles against your skin, his head turning slightly to meet the patch of skin and land a soft kiss, before he leans away. “Hm..” he pretends to think, “We get to have breakfast in bed?”

“I don’t think you really thought this one through,” You tease, “Mr. I-wake-up-in-the-ass-crack-of-dawn.”

Luke chuckles at that, shaking his head, “On Sundays then, how about that?”

An attempt to tame your smile goes down the drain, so you simply let it be.

“Carry on..”

“No more driving late at night, or having to pack clothes.” Luke continues, “We’re always over at each other’s anyways.”

You lift your eyebrows, slightly nodding your head, a teasing smile still playing on your lips. Luke shakes his head with a laugh, just as amused by your behavior. Deciding to play along, his head dives in, lips finding the skin of your neck and leaving featherlight kisses.

“You get to wake up to this lovely face every morning.” He hums against your skin, kisses punctuating his words. “Slow, early morning sex before-”

A loud giggle falls past your lips, your hands holding Luke’s face and pulling him away. But he still goes for a kiss on your lips, before leaning back into the couch.

“___, …”

The tone of his voice drops all its playfulness, getting serious. With honest eyes never once leaving yours, he speaks; “I mean it, I want you to come back home. I miss you being home. It’s not the same anymore. You don't have to do it anytime soon, I’ll wait. But I just need you to think about it.”

His words knock the breath out of our lungs, leaving you struck for a moment too long, before warmth overtakes your heart. You can feel tears starting to pool in your eyes, and your hands reach out to pull him in for a deep kiss.

A little shaky, teeth clashing and breaths mixing together. But it’s nothing short of perfect.

“Ask me again” You mumble against his lips, hands still holding his face.

“Please come back home.”

Your answer comes in the form of another kiss.

(Bonus: Luke proposes again, 6 months later.)

#I hope this is acceptable :') sorry :') I was behind schedule #thank you everyone #goodbye~#Hireath #luke hemmings #5sos #5sos writing #luke hemming imagines #5sos fics #luke imagine #ceo!Luke #daddy!Luke #ceo!5sos #mine

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myartwritingcraft · 7 years ago

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Bureaus and Brokers – Chapter One: The one set in a bar

I mentioned about three weeks ago that I liked the Dotl RealWorldAU enough that I want need have to write some fanfiction for it...

I had a bit off a hickup how to write the fight, which lead to this stagnating for a while, but I think after this followups will be much easier, so if anyone would like to read more of this, please let me know!

(Also if you like my ideas you might want to check out my side-blog @prompts-and-micro-stories )

(Oh and before I forget it: Dotl is a great webcomic by @bludragongal and you should probably read it before reading this.)

Bureaus and Brokers – Chapter One: The one set in a bar

"Oh hell, ████ no! This was not only a complete waste of time, but so nerve-grating, that I probably lost a whole ███████ year of my lifetime. I'd rather tear my own eyes out than do this again!" were the words Lyra would have loved to say, but instead she responded weakly: "Yeah, it was a nice evening, we should repeat it sometime." She forced the corners of her mouth upwards and hoped that her colleagues wouldn't take enough notice to realize that the smile was 150% fake.

They didn't. "Why stop now? There is a very nice bar around the corner, that serves a badass martini!", Frank replied, genuinely excited.

"Oh, sorry, I don't drink", Lyra declined defensively: "For medical reasons. I have an appointment to donate blood tomorrow." In her mind she complimented herself for this excellent alibi.

"Oh bugger!", Frank replied, but the small group left to continue their little tour.

Lyra watched them a while, and started audibly grumbling when they were away enough not to hear it. “████, of course they want to hang out at my favorite bar. Of course, when I need a drink the most…”

She took her smartphone out of her bag and started searching for another fitting establishment. It sucked that there were only a few semi decent drinking locations around in the city and now she would have to make a huge detour to the next one, instead of just making a short trip to her usual place and then walking to her flat a few houses further.

A few swipes later she called a cab and was her way to the next location. Her mood sank further, because of the obnoxious tune that sounded off from the car’s radio. And the smell in there reminded her of the wrong end of heavy drinking nights.

Finally they arrived at the bar and she quickly paid off the cab driver with a few currency units and determinedly strode forwards to the entrance.

It has been a very slow night so far for Brent. Today there were almost no patrons at the bar, so he had taken up a seat inside next to the entrance instead of standing outside. There was no point in staying in the cold if he was the only one to do it. Without prior notice a woman entered and strategically strode towards the bar.

“Hey!”, Brent called after her: “You can’t just enter!”

The woman ignored him and simply placed an order with the barkeep.

Brent sighed and stood up and walked over. He tried to sent of an imposing and respectable aura, but in the end he felt mostly annoyed.

“Excuse me, miss”, he started, but she only took a quick glance at him and waved dismissively: “It’s alright, you may leave now.”

“Wait, what?” Brent was startled.

“Go away”, she added and grabbed for the glass that the barkeep put in front of her.

“Not so fast!”, Brent interjected and demonstratively snatched her beverage away.

“Hey!”, she interjected: “That’s mine! Get your own drink, ███████!”

“I don’t drink while I work”, Brent stated: “And you won’t drink until I’ve taken a look at your ID.”

She stared at him and rolled with her eyes: “Do I look like I’m not of drinking age yet?”

He snorted: “You might look like an octogenarian and I still would check your ID.”

She starred at him for three solid seconds, during which he did his best to not flinch, and suddenly broke out into laughter: “That’s priceless! What are you, the bouncer?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am!”

“Okay, kiddo, here!” She took her ID out and flipped it over to him, still chuckling.

Brent checked it thoroughly and gave it back. “Okay, looks like you’re fine. Have fun drinking, but don’t overdo it!” He added the last part because he felt kinda awkward.

“No worries”, she said and emptied her glass in one swift swoop: “I’m a responsible drunk.”

“Whatever”, Brent replied and returned to his station at the entrance.

While she ordered another few drinks Lyra realized that she didn’t feel that shitty anymore which was really strange, because normally she needed at least four more glasses to reach that point. Perhaps it was the simple fact that this guy had not oogled her like most – who was she kidding, all guys around did. That was a kinda refreshing, although she was sure that he’d manage in a heartbeat to destroy what little positive opinion she had of him. Most ALL people managed.

Kinda depressed again she continued to raise her spirits by trying to drown her sorrows in them.

As someone used to drinking she quickly reached that special happy state of mind, where things didn’t bother her anymore and she just felt intensely bored. So she looked around and watched the other patrons.

There were a couple of sleazy businessmen that tried to get drunk on some quality whiskey (she would have recognized that bottle even blindfolded). Then there were a few more construction-workerish looking guys, that hurdled around a tablet computer, where one of them seemed to stream one of these sports games. The faint sound let her guess that it was probably soccer or football or whatever. She had absolutely no idea, because regular sports were all the same anyway; they lacked the finesse of real martial arts. Seriously, it was right there: martial arts. That was a form of physical exercise she could get into.

A third group consisted of a few dolled up gals, who obviously enjoyed their time together, happily chatting and laughing a lot.

Lyra let her gaze linger longer on them, she always tried to use opportunities for getting some inspirations how to put her own outfits together. That was the only reason, no doubt whatsoever.

The nice view degraded, as a few more guys entered the bar and the biggest douche of them started to harass them in the most stupid way imaginable:

“Hello ladies, how are we doing tonight?”

“None of your business!”, one gal with snazzy blond hair replied, inducing laughter in the others.

“Hey, no offense. I just tried to be nice here.”

“Maybe, but we are having our little ladies night here, so could you just let us be?”, a black-haired one asked.

The guy started grinning pleased like Punch: “But don’t you know that one man is needed to make a ladies night really pleasurable?” When he started to actually touch one of them, Lyra knew that this had gone more then far enough.

A quick glance in the entrance’s direction – of course empty, because why should the bouncer be bouncing, when there is an actual need for the bouncer to bounce – and Lyra headed off to the damsels in distress. “Hey, they said they want to be left alone!”, she hissed angrily at them.

“████ off, █████!”, on of the other guys replied, but the leader just scratched his chin: “You’re not looking bad, not at all. Perhaps you could join us? Well make sure that it will be an unforgettable night!”

“Cut that ████████, the ladies asked that you leave them alone, so you will respect that wish and back off.”

“And if I don’t do that?” He stroked contemplatively his chin.

“Then you will regret it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Maybe...” Lyra demonstratively let her knuckles crack.

The guy waved aside: “Oh come on, really? As if I could take an office █████ like you serious. Did you ever look at yourself in a mirror? Would someone like you risk to break of one of her pretty manicured nails? Or worse, what if some of your makeup smudges?”

Lyra didn’t even bat an eye: “That’s all you got? All hat and no cattle?”

“Still more then you’ll ever have. Be a nice woman and sit down again. Perhaps you could then actually start to enjoy some attention.” He grabbed Lyras breast.

It took only a moment, but Lyra grabbed his arm and throw him with a special move down onto the ground. Then she put one of her feet on his chest and asked: “Finally willing to listen now, ███████?”

Brent was carefully balancing the three heavy crates with assorted liquors and tried to find a walking speed that was fast and stable enough at the same time. Running errands annoyed him; he had to make sure that there was nothing fishy going on, but explain that to the barkeep.

He was always back at the door and briefly put down the crates to open it, strategically placing one of his feet to keep it open. He bend down to carefully pick up the crates without loosing foot-grip on the door.

In the moment, the crates were firmly in position, a man suddenly flew through the door, landing on the concrete sidewalk. Brent glanced inside the bar, were he saw the office lady from before, breathing heavily, a look of furious anger on her face mixed with a hint of surprise, and a big stain on her outfit. Its color suggested it was an appletini.

She bristled with anger, went directly after him and said: “I hope this was a lecture how it ends if you can’t behave like a decent ███████ human being!”

The woman made a glance sideways: “Have a problem?”

Brent who just had watched, unable to do something without putting his precious cargo down first, just shake his head: “Nope. I’m sure you had a perfectly valid reason to throw all the way through the bar onto the street.”

“████ right!”, she responded, reminding him for a little moment of a cockatoo puffing its feathers.

In the distance the sirens of a police car could be heard approaching, quickly coming nearer. The matching car arrived half a minute later, and the officers quickly assessed the situation.

“That was about time!”, Lyra declared satisfied, when they cuffed up the sleazebag, but she was caught by surprise, when they continued with her. “Hey, what is that supposed to mean?!”

“You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you. Etc. pp.”

She was not so dumb to resist the police, but she was clearly not happy either.

Brent watched as the car left the scene with both of them, and shock his head: “That could have definitely gone better.”

~~~

Ford glanced over his partition screen and smiled, mildly mischievous. "I think this is the perfect opportunity to switch the game to the other group, don't you think so?"

"Oh come on, I was having a run here, you can't seriously leave my character hanging in limbo like this!", Lyra said and crossed her arms.

"Hey, I'm the gamemaster, remember rule number zero."

"Pff, fine, whatever..."She grabbed her glass and downed its content, although it was just plain, ordinary water.

Thistle looked up from the book that she had read and panickly started to shuffle around the myriad of sourcebooks surrounding her: "But I'm not ready with my character yet!"

"Don't worry", Ford replied: "As long as you have the basics down, we can start. We won't get into the finer mechanics of the game until later. Also I think it would be nicer to begin the scene with Mr. Orrig."

He nodded in the direction of the orc, who put down his character sheet. "Ve can start venever you vant."

#dotl #dotl fanfic #dotl real world au #bureaus and brokers

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writing-in-riverdale · 8 years ago

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please don't say you love me part 2 | bellamy blake (the 100)

part one: https://writing-in-riverdale.tumblr.com/post/159184398653/please-dont-say-you-love-me-bellamy-blake-the

prompt: 23- “kiss me” , 30- “ive been inlove with you my entire life”, 55- “don’t you dare lay a finger on her” & 72- “what the hell was that?!”

request: thank you for writing my bellamy request! i want to request a part II if that’s possible? like the reader avoiding him for a while and he realises what he’s done when he sees her sigh another guy going into a tent?! x

✖

i didn’t even make it 10 metres away from the camp before i turned myself around and headed back inside, my feet trudging through the wet dirt as i walk through the gates to arkadia.

i spot my friends standing in a group bellamy giving them what looked like hushed orders. i roll my eyes and take off bellamys jacket walking over to him

octavia sees me approaching and she nudges her brother gaining his attention, turning toward me as i close the gap between us at an alarming rate. i can see him sigh before i even reach him

i push the jacket into his chest, hard. he steps back looking up to me guilty “it’s cold (y/n) just take it” he begs, i shake my head “id rather freeze” i turn away from the group walking toward my shared tent with bellamy

i grab armfuls of my belongings heading toward octavias tent dumping my possessions in the younger blakes tent. “what are you doing?” she quizzes me as she walks through the entrance

“im moving in” i chirp turning to face the brunette “what happened with you and my brother?” i sigh “nothing O let’s just forget it ever happened”

she rolls her eyes at me grabbing my arm as i try and leave the tent, “(y/n) what are you doing?” “to visit my good friend monty” i smile sweetly pulling my arm free

i wonder around the camp looking for the brunette boy until i spot him over by the dropship “monty!!” i yell rushing toward him “i need moonshine and i need it STAT” he chuckles filling up my flask.

“thank you” i smile taking a large gulp “ill be back for more” i wink walking toward the fire pit sitting down on the loges as i continue to drown my sorrows

about 3 and ½ flasks later i find myself giggling at the sound of the fire crackling “hey” i look up to the shaggy haired blonde “sterllliiinnng” i giggle earning a smirk from the boy.

“how much have you had to drink” he chuckles sitting down next to me, warmth radiating from his body “enough” i giggle snuggling into him my hands on both of his thighs.

he’s arms snake around my waist rubbing softly as i finish off the rest of my moonshine “i need to pee” i announce standing upright as my knees wobble “ill be back don’t you move” i grab he front of his shirt and he chuckles before nodding “i’ll be here”

i refill my flask and pee before frolicking back over to sterling noticing that majority of his friends have now joined him at the fire. i bite my lip taking him in as he looks up seeing me, a smile spreading on his face

i walk over to the boy stopping infront of him “where am i supposed to sit” i pout his boys smiling at him wickedly “right here” he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me down into his lip.

a giggle leaves my lips, “god she’s wasted” murphy mutters to sterling, smelling the moonshine on me from miles away. “bellamy isn’t going to be happy” i laugh wrapping my arm around the blondes shoulders.

“fuck bellamy” i reply to murphy glancing into sterlings blue eyes, a smile twitches on his lips as he leans forward pressing our lips together

the kiss starts to get hot as i move my legs so they’re on either side of the boys legs, straddling him as my tongue battles for dominance

the boys erupt into hollers as i grind my hips into his, finally breaking for air he whispers into my ear “want to get out of here” i press my lips to his neck sucking at the sensitive skin nodding.

he places his hands on my ass as he hauls me up continuing our kiss as he carries me into his tent, flopping me down on his bed before he crawls on top of me removing my shirt in one swift movement

he connects his lips with mine before he is ripped off the top of me, i bolt up as i see an angry bellamy holding sterling up by his shirts “don’t you dare lay a finger on her!” he yells

still feeling a bit groggy i try and shift on my feet also the falling off balance “she’s drunk for god sakes” he screams placing his jacket around my shoulders and pulling me up into his arms.

he gives a warning glance to sterling before storming off with me in the general direction of his tent “put me down” i yell tryinto squirm out of his grasp “stay still” he grumbles dirt crunches under his boots.

we reach his tent and he throws me roughly onto his cot “ouch!” i yell feeling sober, “what the hell was that?!” he seethes anger flashing in his eyes

“i didn’t know that i had to tell you who i was hooking up with” i argue moving from his cot “im not doing this” i spit anger coursing through me as i attempt to walk out of the tent

he grabs my wrist stopping me from leaving “we’re doing this whether you like it or not” he growls, i rip my wrist from his grasp “what are you? my father?!”

“you can’t keep doing this, playing both sides. you either like me or you don’t- you can’t keep pretending to care for me when it suits you bellamy, it’s sick.” i stammer my eyes welling with salty tears

“what’s that supposed to mean?! you think im jealous?!” he exclaims running a hand over his mouth “i mean if the shoe fits” i continue to argue earning an eye roll

“you can’t go around throwing yourself at people in attempt to get over me!” he yells walking closer to me “god you should hear yourself right now!” i laugh maniacally turning away from the boys beady eyes

“id love to stay and continue this riveting argument but someone’s waiting for me- someone who actually wants me” i knock him as i walk toward the exit.

“he doesn’t love you” he yells as i fiddle with the cloth covering the inside to the tent to the outside world, “he doesn’t have too” i mumble.

“im in love with you” i freeze my body turning toward him “what?” i croak “ive been inlove with you my entire life” he finishes his brown orbs glowing in the dim room.

“this isn’t fair” i mumble tears rushing from my face “you-you made me think you didn’t even care about me bellamy you you-” i ramble my cheeks growing hot as warm tears roll down my dirty cheeks

“im an asshole i know” he tells me walking toward me grabbing at my hands “i was afraid” he whispers not daring to make eye contact “why?” i croak holding back a sob.

“you’re beautiful and i don’t deserve you, i don’t want you to settle for me because it’s the end of the world- i want you to choose me” he concludes tears leaking from his big brown eyes.

“i chose you, bellamy blake. a long time ago, i wasn’t lying when i told you i love you, i do, love you, bellamy blake”

he cries looking up into my eyes scared to touch me “kiss me” i beg and i don’t need to tell him twice before he leans forward connecting our lips and lifting me off the ground and until his lap

after a heated make out session bellamy had asked you to be his girlfriend and you happily obliged walking out into the camp hand in hand, finally feeling whole with your king at your side.

#imagines #bellamy blake #bob morley #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagines #the 100 #the 100 imagines

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where-ls-my-mlnd · 5 years ago

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“You’d have to tell me that ancient figure for me to give you a proper comparison.” The sheet attitude in that one statement and the swiftness with which it arrives shocks me so hard that it almost gives me whiplash; my eyes bulge, my jaw drops open, and I’m utterly speechless as I just stare at him incredulously. ...Alright, then. Alright, J, give me life, you mouthy ass little shit! Fuckin’ sassing me like that. Okay. Okay, I see you. You know what - I don’t even care. I probably deserved that anyway. I totally meant to taunt him. I kind of half-assed it, ‘cause I don’t really care that much, but I meant to taunt him. You’d be hard pressed to find a teenager who doesn’t have a fake ID, like, it’s not embarrassing to have one, but it’s embarrassing for people to know you have one and that you need to rely on it to be able to do adult things and I know this because I was a teenager once. You don’t ever want to hear a fucking word about your fake ID unless it’s your peers telling you how very cool you are. I remember being seventeen and I know that if anyone ever shattered the pretense that I was an adult and exposed me for being a child I would have lost my fucking mind. I was spectacularly delusional. My favorite age to play was always 22 and I had no fucking idea how young I really looked. If I wasn’t lucky enough to know people who passed for 21 - every single club in the Bay Area would have said “fuck off” and sent me back to my parents. And they were dead. And I looked so offensively young that nobody would have believed me if I told them that. They would have just thought I was lying in an attempt to remove all authority figures from the equation and thereby avoid facing punishment. Sorry, you can’t call my parents - they died! Haha, I can do whatever I want! Until the state of California steps in, anyway. J is...quite the selectively sensitive person. He’s cool with most things, but every now and then something will affect him deeply and much to his chagrin he won’t be able to hide it. I was aiming for his fake ID to be one of those things and I can only assume I was right, based off of what a massive attitude he just caught. You know what though? I like it, honestly. I do. I like this bitchiness for him, it’s fun. I suppose I’m an emotional masochist - I’ve always enjoyed strong, fiery people whose words burn and humor cuts just a little too deep. J is actually on the milder side of what I’m used to. He confirms that he paid an insane amount of money for his fake ID, attributing the splurge to his nicotine addiction, which I get all too well, and that he got it done online, which is new, then tells me to chill out with the J name as it doesn’t appear anywhere on the ID. That throws me for a second. I always forget his real name isn’t J. It may not even start with J, but my brain only knows him as J. It’s weird! Does the fake name on his ID start with the same letter as his real name? What is his real name? I wish I knew but considering how slow he is to open up I doubt I ever will. “I’m not dumb, man. I’ll keep the one letter of your name that I know to myself, since I know it would be so incriminating if it got out,” I quip. “And 2008, wiseass. That’s the figure. Contrary to your beliefs, I am actually not a decaying geriatric. I just turned 24 two months ago. I guess anyone could seem worldly and wise compared to you, though, huh, kiddo?” I put my arm around him and give him a condescending squeeze on the shoulder. He almost immediately squirms out of my grasp and it makes me start to hysterically laugh again. That’s what he gets. We play nice for the time it takes to get in line, which makes me sort of proud of us. God must be feeling remorseful for the way he just completely fucking dropped the ball when it came to my life, because the line isn’t too bad. It’s still pretty fucked, but that’s what happens when you live in one of the most populous cities in the most populous state. In fact, it’s rather forgiving compared to some of the other lines at clubs I’ve seen. According to my estimations, we should arrive at the front of the line within ten minutes: and more or less, those estimations turn out to be correct. This makes me breathe out a sigh of relief, stifling a smile so I don’t look even more like a giddy, over-excited teenager. J, or whatever his real name is, jerks suddenly back into movement, shuffling up to the front of the line with me. I could stifle my smile, but I can’t stifle my laugh at the almost comical way he resurges. I can practically hear the Windows XP Startup sound. The bouncer neglects to ask for my ID, but demands to see J’s, and there is quite the fucking stutter when this happens. J doesn’t show that he’s freaking out; just takes his (fake) ID out of his wallet and flashes it to the guy coolly, but I know that he has to be inside. I am too, a little bit. I mean, it’s like...being rammed up the ass by reality right now. I can’t help but feel incredibly fucking dirty and wrong for sneaking an underage kid into a nightclub. And all because I felt like being social for once, but don’t actually have any close friends my own fucking age. Aren’t I a little old for this? Aren’t I a little old for J? He’s got to know there’s something fucked up about this, he’s too smart not to...at least he’s just doing it for the money, right? Not like he’s gonna lose his fucking mind and start binge drinking once we (if we) get inside. If he does, then fuck it, I’ll spend the whole night looking after him if I have to. Would’ve served me well to have that sort of supervision when I was his age. Would’ve served me well to have a lot of things that I never got. J’s fake ID is met with a curt nod of approval from the bouncer, and we can both finally breathe again. Out of nosiness, I steal the briefest glance at his ID as he shoves it back in his wallet, and what I see almost makes me shit a fucking brick. Ryan Dale Miller. Miller, huh? Didn’t know I had a second long lost brother... “Okay, come on, Ryan,” I say cheerfully as I approach the door, my laughter drowned out by the low, pulsating bass pouring out from the depths of the club. I turn to him briefly, “Should I call you Ryan for the rest of the night? I think I’m getting kind of used to it.” “Go ahead and try,” is his retort. This has no real effect on me; I just snort and raise my eyebrows. “Maybe I will. Not like you could stop me anyway.” It’s the last thing I say before I disappear into technicolored oblivion, into the sea of bodies crowding the club, into the dark, moody, pounding dance music. The full blast of it comes over me in a huge wave, in a dazzling, euphoric fucking rush, and it’s like I’m coming alive, like those primal instincts that had been dormant for three years are rising to the surface and erupting straight out of me. With the blink of an eye, I’m seventeen again, and yet I’m not at all. I can feel all of the phantom sensations of being seventeen, of being fucked up out of my mind, of fevered infatuation, of sweet obsession, of feeling so alive that I thought that I might die. But I’m not seventeen, I’m twenty-four, and there’s something so disorienting about that, like I’m staring at a puzzle put together with all the wrong pieces. It’s some kind of future nostalgia. Everything is different now. There is no illicit rush, no feeling like I’m someplace I shouldn’t be. There is no incessant worry that someone is going to find out I’m underage and kick me out, there is no sense of danger, no sinister undertones to my being here. There couldn’t be. I’m not vulnerable anymore, I’m safe, I know damn well what I’m doing. I belong here now. And as I take in my surroundings, the lights that shine in gorgeous, vibrant blue hues, the pillars that frame the club’s landscape and tower above me, glowing and grand, the overwhelming crowd of people dancing to the rhythm, I’m hit with the most sickening, comforting, terrible, beautiful feeling. Welcome home.

#/newpersonsameoldmistakes #4/17/15 #the bros #u r a dum HO stephy

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terryblount · 5 years ago

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GRID – Review

Picture this: It is January 2009, and there’s me in a sweltering office playing a game I just picked up with some Christmas cash. I had seen a friend play this the year before, but the highly-detailed yet almost creamy graphics still captivate me as I finally fire it up on my own PC. That game was Racedriver: GRID, and I was coming up fast to my first turn gunning a sexy black Dodge Viper.

I tense up, press right on my keyboard, and something totally unexpected happens – the Viper ACTUALLY TURNS! Now wait just one second, this did not say sim-racer on the box! How can extremely responsive controls and realistic physics coexist with action-packed and enjoyable racing in the same game!? Gosh, you can even rewind the time a la Prince of Persia if you make an accident.

The opening of the game takes you through a brief montage of the racing disciplines. This is the first time I ever played a Nascar game!

As a then hardcore Need for Speed fanboy, this was like nothing I had ever played before. Codemasters had stumbled upon an incredible marriage between sim and arcade racer with Racedriver: GRID that totally changed my perception of what this genre can do. Now this union has reached its eleventh anniversary in the form of 2019’s GRID, and the relationship is still going very strong in my opinion.

Turbo flutter

Like any marriage there have been some rough patches. While by no means a bad game, GRID 2 blipped on the radar and then simply drowned amidst the releases of other heavyweights like Bioshock Infinite and GTA V. Then there was Grid Autosport which tried to introduce complexity in an effort to match the gameplay modes of modern racing games, but sacrificed its own identity in the process.

To make the series relevant again, Codemasters brought 2019’s GRID back to the roots of what drew gamers more than a decade ago. In this way, GRID is defined by an overall design that just wants to get the player behind the steering wheel as quickly as possible so that they can get down to what really matters: damn fine auto sport. It is what I wanted from this game, and GRID certainly delivered.

Cockpit view without the steering wheel is also an option. Sim-racers should be happy. Also, have you ever noticed what utter imbeciles spectators next to the road can be.

From a gameplay point of view, the physics once again straddle that elusive middle territory between realism and arcade gameplay. The responsive steering and they way the cars stick to the road gives control to the player, and make the cars predictable in how they will handle. This consistency allows skilled virtual drivers to own their talents, but also avoids an overly steep learning curve.

Moreover, I really liked how each of the cars feel so different that they could practically be turned into their own separate games. The F1000 cars drive like a bar of soap on a prison floor in that they whizz around the twisty, closed circuits like lightning.

The Minis, on the other hand, have only four gears and drive a slower and more sluggish race around the track. They turn pretty fast, but building up speed to pass your opponents is a little harder. Then there are the touring cars which allow for blistering speeds on the straights in street races, but those hairpin turns will force you to come all the way down to 2nd gear if you don’t feather the throttle properly.

Why don’t more racing games have replay options!?

GRID’s arcade heritage comes out in the forgiving perks of the gameplay. The acceleration of the cars is perhaps a little exaggerated, particularly in the NPC drivers, but at least players have the option to catch up after an rendezvous with the tire barrier. As mentioned, the ability to rewind time returns here, and players will only have a limited number of these which helped me not to abuse this feature like I tend to do when playing Forza Horizon.

Speaking of which, GRID’s nemesis system was one of the key features mentioned in the game’s marketing campaigns. Theoretically, whenever you give another NPC (including your team mate strangely enough) a particularly hard knock, they will mark you as a ‘nemesis’. Woe betide you if you get within striking distance of their car once you put a sizable dent in their Camaro.

In practice, I barely noticed anything at all even after evoking bloodlust from more than one driver during a race. I don’t insist on the inclusion of this feature per se since an NPC trying to play demolition derby while you are just trying to race could become infuriating. Yet, it could have been a cool addition if it was actually noticeable, or worked properly.

Auto detailing

Aaah yes, the graphics. Whether off-road or on the track, Codemasters has always created outstanding visual fidelity in their racing games regardless of other shortcomings. I will never forget those DirectX 11 tessellated puddles in Dirt 2 since it was one of the first, useful implementations of this tech. GRID has no intention of breaking this tradition.

This game is a beauty. Aside from a blurry road texture here, and a flat-looking building there that snuck into view, the cars and tracks have been beautifully recreated in lightly stylised visuals. All the lines, curves and reflections on cars have been rendered in sharp detail, and the tracks are highly reactive to light and the refractions of sunlight from the surface of the tarmac.

A basic livery editor is always nice

GRID is sure to compliment these visuals with bone-rattling audio so you can really feel those pops and roars from the exhaust pipe as you gear down on the straight for an upcoming turn. The game even comes with support for Dolby Atmos, which I can only imagine to be an utter eargasm if you have the gear.

Do some people actually have access to this for their PC’s these days, or is this just a feature carried over from consoles? Anyway, you can tell Codemasters wanted to make something that looks good and that keeps within their tradition of running well on PC. Such a shame that my entire Dirt collection has now been nullified because Games For Windows Live. There’s a place in Hell for you Microsoft.

Lumps with the gravy

Rather than prattling on about the small little nit-picks which are cancelled out by the positives anyway, there is one unavoidable issue with this game, namely the scaling of the difficulty. When set to medium, even with manual sequential transmission starting right at the back of the grid, I could make utter mincemeat out to the competition.

I miss the the thing from the first game where the commentator could read my name. What’s the point otherwise of having a generic name like Pieter!? At least I get to fly my home colours.

I actually got a little bored with how efficiently I was feeding other drivers lungfuls of my dust, so I cranked the AI up to ‘Hard’. Suddenly everyone turned pro, and I felt like that driving school student who accidentally turned onto highway.

The gap was between medium and hard is simply too harsh, and the proof is in the hot laps before each race. For the unfamiliar, this is essentially a single lap against the clock where your time determines your position in the starting grid. The difference between medium and hard difficulty is nearly THREE SECONDS in the hot laps (for the front spot). If you know racing, this is practically an eternity.

Seeing the checkered flag

I know that some yobs on the internet are throwing around phrases like ‘bare-boned’ when describing GRID, but I actually appreciate the removal of all the pink fluff. I play this stuff all the time and I have watched too many racers plunge headlong into the muck because they tried to shoe-horn a ridiculous narrative into the game, or force the player into a convoluted progression system.

GRID gracefully sidesteps all of that by offering beautiful aesthetics and a simple roster of races for the player to complete. The focus here is on the actual driving and giving the player the opportunity to hone their skills within a consistent gameplay structure. The variety is built into the different tracks and skills required to drive all the different cars. This is not about what happens off the track.

I would insist that all gaming developers should play GRID because THIS is how you do a reboot of a series. Nearly every single strength of the first game has been replicated here, and the upgrades available through modern technology have been used to enhance the experience, and not as crutch to cash in on fans’ nostalgia.

Nice graphics

Great controls

Enjoyment in simplicity

Variety in cars and tracks

Harsh difficulty adjustments

Useless in-ear chatter

PC Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Controller

The post GRID – Review appeared first on DSOGaming.

GRID – Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

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maxslogic25 · 7 years ago

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How to Scale Creativity for Exceptional Marketing With Jay Acunzo

As marketers, we’re always on the lookout for the next great thing to help propel our campaigns to profit and attract more of the right buyers. At the same time, while we’re obsessed with the thought of “doing something different, something creative” to reach our objectives, we’re not always sure about where to start. We’re almost afraid of parting ways with the status quo and ultimately concede to taking baby steps instead.

But what if one day we decided to take the road less traveled? Cliché, but bear with me. What if we were somehow inspired enough to think of “creativity” not as another tool that generates results, but as something we all can unleash from within to more naturally—in a way that’s our own—produce better marketing outcomes?

Jay Acunzo, an award-winning podcaster and dynamic speaker, attests that the lofty ideals we worship—creativity, innovation, prolific production—can actually be taught. As the former digital media strategist at Google and head of content marketing at HubSpot, he’s got me listening.

In this blog, you’ll find an interview with Jay exploring how to find your own creative ways to produce truly exceptional results.

Q: With all the noise buzzing in today’s digital ecosystem, how do you best filter through it to focus on what matters most to marketing initiatives? For instance, what are some of your favorite industry outlets?

I don’t think it’s about finding the best industry outlets (or gurus, or podcasts, or blogs, or books…) but rather understanding your own context first and foremost. There’s just SO much information out there—it’s like the Information Age has created a dark side: advice overload. And the best way to filter it is to understand and overtly articulate your own aspirations, the problems you’re out to solve for your customers, and the limitations of your own resources. If you know yourself, your customers, and your resources, you’re a master of your own context first and foremost. You’ve set up your “filter” through which you can vet all that advice out there. Then it’s a lot easier and faster to decide whether an industry outlet or individual thinker or piece is right for you or not.

Ultimately, the goal is to make all that overwhelming information serve you because you’re proactive, rather than drown in it because you’re reactive.

Q: What’s the one, seriously worn out best practice that makes you want to pull your hair out? Okay, go nuts, pick two if you must.

Every time someone asks how long a podcast or blog post should be, I start throwing chairs and flipping tables.

It’s like, how long do you have? Here’s an endless list of (A) why I can’t give you one simple answer and (B) why you’re thinking about the wrong things here. Marketers and salespeople refer to content as a container, but the audience is after what’s inside. And just like Tupperware, “podcasts” and “blog posts” come in all shapes and sizes. It all depends on what you want to cook up—or, more crucially, what your audience wants to eat.

So how long should the thing be? As long as it needs to be. No longer. No shorter.

Q: As a content marketer in a dense world of content, you work hard on honing and perfecting your writer’s “voice.” What role does voice play in your overall strategies and how do you ensure that it not only resonates as authentic, but that it also translates across various marketing channels?

Maybe this is weird, but I’ve never stopped to think about voice as a writer. I’ve never actually “worked hard” on my writer’s voice. It’s just MY voice. Like, me, the person, not me as a writer.

But maybe the lesson lies in why I love to write: it makes me feel stuff and makes others feel stuff too. That’s such a powerful thing. When you feel emotions, you’re a bit more raw. You stop the daily grind and reset a bit. The deck has been cleared, so to speak. And so now, you’re open to change and open to learning. So I guess the way I’ve honed my voice is to just write a ton of bad stuff, see what resonated emotionally with me and with others, and keep doing that stuff.

For example, I know that I have a casual, often sarcastic voice (with plenty of parenthetical asides)—but only because I enjoy that kind of style and others have told me they enjoy it too.

The goal is to find the overlap of this Venn diagram, with one circle being “resonates with me” and the other circle being “resonates with others.” To find the overlap, you have to put out a ton of work, and a lot of it will be bad. The business world doesn’t like to embrace this idea that launching something good requires being bad for a while, but that’s reality. There’s no shortcut or cheat here.

Q: What’s the first step to letting go of the status quo, of what’s being done again and again for reason unknown, and trusting your intuition to finally do something different?

I think things like the status quo or the best practice emerge when we aim to become experts in something. There’s a certain sense of “arriving” or final state of knowing when you want to be an expert. But I think it’s far more powerful, especially in the Information Age today, to act like investigators. Forget being an expert and act like a detective, always.

Investigators ask questions. They don’t earn a living by having the answers so much as knowing how to find them. And even then, they question whether or not the case is really closed.

On my show, Unthinkable, we tell stories of work that looks crazy…until you hear their side of the story. From the outside looking in, every individual and team that we profile seems to fly in the face of all the experts in their space. They break from the status quo. But really, they just investigated the details of their own context—their team’s abilities and beliefs, their customers’ reality, their resources, and limitations—and they plucked out an answer that seemed logical IN THAT CONTEXT. It looks like it’s countercultural or atypical, but to them, it’s really strategic and logical.

When you embrace that no context is identical to yours right now, and when you focus more on being an investigator than an expert, then really great, creative, or unconventional work only seems “unthinkable” to others.

After all, “the answer” will change. How many strategies, tactics, tools, and trends do we suffer through and claim as our savior before we realize the only constant is change? So if “the answer” will always change, imagine if we could throw ourselves into any scenario in this ever-changing world and know how to figure it out. We’d be unstoppable.

Want to break from the status quo? Act like an investigator, not an expert.

Q: Talk to us about the data you use to validate your approach; do you have a preferred way to measure success?

When I’m not traveling and speaking, I direct and host multiple podcasts about people who do meaningful work. The metric I use is something I call “URR.” It’s a completely made-up metric, and I had to give it an acronym so all the very important business people out there would take me seriously. URR stands for Unsolicited Response Rate. It’s been my experience that if you get a small number of people reacting in a big way to what you did, you should lean into it, because good things tend to happen afterward. URR is a way to measure resonance in a world too focused on empty reach, so in a way, it’s how I measure the hard thing: Did I create something memorable, some kind of “value payload,” that triggered a visceral reaction from others? If yes, I put it in more places and do more with the concept. If no, I kill it and move on. This applies whether I’m tweeting or writing or podcasting or speaking. I’m on a constant hunt for resonance, and then that forms the basis of all the rest of my work. (You can read more about URR in this rant I wrote about bad marketing.)

Want to learn more about taking your approach to the next, creatively exceptional level of marketing? Hint #1: Consider studying the INSIDES of what you created. Jay Acunzo will discuss his thoughts on brilliant marketing in “Guts and Spines: How Brilliant Marketers Start and Scale Their Creativity”—an inspiring webinar presentation in which Jay will partner with ZoomInfo to deconstruct what makes top creators so prolific. We love discussing creativity like it’s some mystical muse. But the world’s best know: It’s all about those tangible guts and spines.

What makes exceptional marketing in your mind? How have you been able to achieve creativity? Let us know your methods in the comments.

The post How to Scale Creativity for Exceptional Marketing With Jay Acunzo appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 https://blog.marketo.com/2018/02/scale-creativity-exceptional-marketing-jay-acunzo.html

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archiebwoollard · 7 years ago