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17020 · 21 days

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☆ AFTERMATH.

Reo Mikage faces the aftermath of his actions, and his ex-girlfriend (?) tries to move on. Part two of "ONE." Warnings: Reo Mikage, swearing, violence, fake everything!!! 3.6k angst to fluff to angst(???), both platonic and romantic relationships here, pro! post! bllk boys, no beta because how. this is too long.

REO MIKAGE was an absolute mess.

His mind was of no help, either. The image of you and Seishiro at the club was on his mind, replaying constantly like a broken record. The minute he stepped outside, he met with his white-haired best friend, who received him with open arms.

"I'm so sorry she did that" he apologized, "it's better that she did this now rather than later. Plenty of fish in the sea."

Many tears (and many drinks inside Seishiro's apartment) later, Reo Mikage had been consumed by delusion. The more words that came off his best friend's mouth, the more determined he had become. Because yes, his best friend was right: there were plenty of fish in the sea, and instead of drowning in his own sea of tears, he should swim and see what he can find.

"And what you can find, is, a golden crown with two lions at its sides."

It was a gamble, sure. To distract his broken-hearted best friend with their upcoming matches and championships could earn him an earful, but it was their job after all. Reo surprisingly took it well, and made it his goal to stick to football, as relationships were a hassle. The Premier League was slowly coming to an end, and Champions League just reached quarterfinals. Football was forever. Besides, according to Seishiro, "trophies can't cheat on you, now, can they?"

Delusion had struck him unlike ever before. Reo Mikage was a like a sponge cake, soaking up his best friend's poisonous, yet effective advice. He became a monster, letting his frustrations out on every training session. Reo overworked himself, to the point where he barely had any rest, and it showed.

Draws, losses, yellow and red colored cards raised. Reo Mikage had reached a new (professional) low. A match against Luton was scheduled to take place in a few days, and what came next came as a shock to no one, except for Reo and his loyal companion.

Reo Mikage was to be benched for the next few matches of the season.

The issue with the sponge cake of Reo Mikage was, that he was undercooked. Rising to the very top, then completely deflating after cooling. A hard exterior with a liquid interior, yet to solidify. What seemed like his peak to him, was an all-time low for his peers.

The match against Crystal Palace ended with him earning a red card, after a display of violent conduct against another player. The locker room was like entering a colosseum, as everyone from Manshine City watched Reo Mikage receive lecture after lecture. The last lecture, though, stood out to him.

"As soon as you stepped into this stadium you should've left your home life behind, because you're here to play ball, not with women's feelings. Don't know why you're the one sulking, if you're the one who caused hurt."

Gasps and 'oohs' were barely heard as the everyone in the locker room suddenly quieted down. Reo's eye twitched.

"Say that again."

The man in front of him sighed. "As soon as you stepped into this stadium you should've left your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, his head hit the metal behind him, and a streak of blood ran down his nostril. Reo Mikage had swung at the man in front of him, pushing him towards his locker. "Not sure why you're called a panther when you're so fucking slow."

The man tried to maintain his composure, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his nose. "Not sure why you treated Yn like shit, she didn't even cheat."

"What do you know?"

"I know your piece of shit lackey lied to you" the man facing Reo retorted, raising his voice. "I sat in the booth in front of them, Nagi was the one to grab her hand. You should really use glasses you blind bitch."

Reo's eyes widened as his lips parted in surprise. He was speechless, turning to his best friend and awaiting his response. In return, Seishiro averted his gaze with a sour expression on his face. It was a no brainer. It was the face of a guilty man.

"It's not true, right? Seishiro?"

Silence.

"Nagi it's not true, though, right? Slowpoke's just talking out of his ass, right?"

Absolute. Deafening. Silence.

"Look, I did you a favor" he spoke up, finally daring to look at his best friend in the eye. "She was a parasite that made you sloppy."

He was shocked, with no words able to come out of his mouth. The persona he had built for the past few weeks came crumbling down before all his peers as he realized what he had done. He was an asshole, and had been led astray by toxicity.

Reo Mikage collapsed.

Prior to getting punched in the face, CHIGIRI HYOMA had spent every minute of his time by your side.

After Reo had left on that fateful night, Chigiri offered a warm, tight embrace, as well as a late night-drive to your apartment, with a quick stop at the nearest convenience store. He was certain you were going to need comfort, and after accidentally watching the whole debacle, it was the least he could do.

You woke up the next morning, seemingly confused as to how you managed to get yourself home. Last night had been a blur, both mentally and physically; your teary-eyed vision was not of any help. Turning to your nightstand, you were stunned.

A gift basket.

It was made up of essentials. Pills (for the raging headache after a hectic night out, and also for your liver), a face mask and eye patches (for the puffiness after crying), cold medication (because crying can lead to a small, yet annoying cold), and electrolytes to help restore your body. It was also, strangely enough, made up of your favorites. Favorite snacks (both salty and sweet), favorite beverage, and favorite... flowers. With a note. Flowers? From who?

'Hope you feel better :)'

Slowly (and carefully), you got up from your bed, sliding your feet into your slippers and heading out towards your kitchen. What caught you off guard, was, the fact that a red-haired Manshine City player sat comfortably on your couch, turning his head your way.

"Morning, Yn. How'd you sleep? You like the basket I left there for you?"

"Respectfully, Chigiri, how the hell did you get in here?"

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "I guess you don't remember, but I dropped you off after last night to make sure you got home safe. You gave me your keys and told me to come back in the morning."

So, you were that drunk.

Before you could even apologize, the doorbell rang. Chigiri stood up from your couch, making his way towards the door and opening it, only to reveal a delivery guy with a few boxes in his hands. Chigiri received the boxes, handing the guy some bills. He turned around and pushed the door closed with his back, walking towards your dinner table and setting the boxes there.

"I got us some toast and smoothies. You need to replenish your body with sodium and carbs after a night out, y'know?"

It was nice, you had to admit. To be taken care of after such a horrific night was precisely what you needed. It was a safe space which you clearly needed: the breakfast was delicious, and Chigiri's company was comforting. It was therapeutic, with you telling him how you felt and letting a few tears slip, and him listening to every word while using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe your tears away.

It was so nice, in fact, that you had not realized that the breakfast turned into a twelve hour hang out, which later turned to weekly hangouts, which later became 'let's just let Chigiri move in and basically become my roommate' hang-outs.

He was the company you never knew you needed, a breath of fresh air, if you will. Every day off he had meant a new activity for you two to try out, a new adventure, and a new fond memory. From painting mugs, to visiting zoos and aquariums, baking, a walk in the park—you name it, you and Chigiri had done it all.

It was hard not to notice the lingering touches, the lost puppy eyes, excuses to be near each other. It was bound to happen. For the past few months, he had been by your side, helping you heal and holding your hand on each step of the way. You wondered if he felt forced to do so, or if he genuinely cared. His actions seemed to insinuate that he did, but there was a sprinkle of doubt on your mind. You guessed you had Reo to blame for that.

It was too soon. Besides, there was the possibility he did this out of friendship, not out of love. Nonetheless, you were certain of one thing: Hyoma Chigiri had become your safe space.

The day of the altercation, Hyoma made sure to stop by his place to clean up his nose before going to yours. He did not want for you to find out, because it really was not relevant, as it could set back your progress towards healing completely.

As he stepped onto the elevator of your apartment complex, he pressed the button of your floor. He felt his phone buzz, and as he pulled it out from his pocket, he read it was a message from Reo.

Mikage I'm sorry. I didn't know the truth about everything, and I'm sorry I punched you.

Hyoma sighed.

Chigiri Say sorry to Yn, not me. (xxx)-(xxx)-(xxxx) That's my therapist. Clearly you need her more than I do. Don't even think of apologizing until you've changed. She doesn't need to deal with your shit right now.

The elevator's doors opened, and he stepped up to your door. With a few knocks, the door opened to reveal a happy you. A better you, that had a giddy smile on her face, instead of her lips curled downwards with tears running down her cheeks. A healed you, that was ready to take on the world, as her eyes gleamed with life.

"Are you ready, Hyo?"

He nodded as he took your hand in his, stepping back inside the elevator with you, going down towards the parking. After the match against Crystal Palace (and its gruesome aftermath), you offered to treat him to some sweets at a coffee shop you both liked.

As you and him arrived at the coffee shop, his phone began to buzz like crazy. His phone began to heat up from the amount of text messages he was receiving. He opened them, only to realize that he was in trouble. The first message he opened was a link from Isagi, which was a tweet leading to a news article.

Isagi "CHIGIRI HYOMA PUNCHED IN THE FACE BY MIKAGE REO IN LOCKER ROOM ALTERCATION. The red panther received a punch after winning 4-2 against Crystal Palace. A thread." This true?

Bachira WELL DID YOU FIGHT BACK?? DO WE NEED TO BOOK A FLIGHT???

Isagi More importantly, does Yn know?

He quickly turned his phone off as he held the door open for you, guiding you to a secluded table at the back of the shop. It was for privacy, because Hyoma Chigiri was one of England's most popular players after all.

It was not unusual for you and him to receive so many weird stares. Especially with the disguises you had on.

It was tradition, and it was something you did even with Mikage. In order to avoid crazy fans or paparazzi, you opted for stupid disguises, like sunglasses, hoodies, sun hats, caps, and more. This time was no different, with Hyoma having his hair tied into a bun, wearing a gray hoodie and a pair of polarized wraparound sunglasses. You, instead, opted for a cap and cateye sheer sunglasses.

The staring felt... somewhat strange. People from the coffee shop already knew you and Hyoma since you frequented the shop, but this time, their gazes lingered a bit longer than last time.

"Umm... Hyo... why's everyone staring at you?" you questioned, genuinely concerned as to why everyone stared at the man in front of you.

"Probably has to do with the fact that I screwed up in our match against Luton" he shrugged, feigning indifference.

Hyoma was glad that you had decided to block both your name and Reo's on your social media tags. It was done for obvious reasons, of course. The mere thought of Reo Mikage would have made your soul leave your body (in a bad way), so you opted to block both of your names to avoid gossip and the media trying to decipher your breakup.

This meant, of course, that only Hyoma and the rest of the world could see the tweets, the paparazzi pictures of you two, the speculation, the blind items of 'trusted sources' (which were garbage), and the overall buzz on what was deemed 'football's biggest love heist'. In the public eye, Hyoma Chigiri was a home-wrecker. A home-wrecker that fell HARD for his teammates ex-girlfriend. A total simp.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain red-head had his eye on you for some time. To him, you had been off-limits. Before, he felt utmost respect for Reo, so there was no breaking 'bro-code' when Reo told him and Seishiro that he was starting to fall in love with you. More importantly, he knew that, as long as you were happy, he was happy, even if it was with someone else. Naturally, that initial attraction faded over time, settling to admire you as a friend instead.

Hyoma internally cursed as he realized that maybe it did not fade completely, and that maybe, just maybe, he had been given a second chance. There was no more 'bro-code', seeing as him and his 'bro' had fallen out, and he already was a home-wrecker to the media, so there really was nothing to lose in regards to reputation.

What Hyoma Chigiri was afraid of losing was you.

He feared that if he were to confess, the beautiful 'whatever-it-was' that you two had (because he knew for a fact this was not a friendship) might end due to his feelings being overwhelming for you. If anyone was to make the first move, it had to be you.

And Hyoma was so glad you did.

After the coffee shop, he drove you back to your place. Hyoma offered to order takeout as a way to thank you for the coffee shop snacks. It was getting late, and as per usual, he was going to spend the night. The couch was all set up and ready for him. It had his blanket and his favorite pillow, along with a stuffed animal (a panther) which you had gotten for him at the zoo. He was about to lay down, when your voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hyo... can you sleep in my room tonight?"

He spared no time in following you to your room, with his blanket and pillow in hand. As you climbed onto your bed, he set the pillow and blanket on the floor. You laughed as you shook your head, patting the spot on your bed next to you. "I meant up here, with me."

Carefully (and while trying to maintain his cool), Hyoma climbed up to the spot next to you. You scooched over to his side, placing your head on his chest and your arms wrapped around his torso. Feeling him tense up, you slowly loosened your grip.

"I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to do that, Hyo. I'm so sorry."

His arms were now on top of yours, readjusting them, thus tightening your grip. He bent down to leave a kiss on your forehead, reassuring you that it was more than okay for you to do so. A content sigh escaped your lips. "I like this" you smiled, "I like us."

"I like us too, princess."

It had been a year since you last saw Mikage.

It had also been around six months since the wish Hyoma Chigiri pushed away for so long had, at last, come to fruition, with him honored to be given the opportunity to call you his girlfriend.

The relationship was kept private. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been settled, with yours and Hyoma's friends not daring to ask about the status of your relationship, or if you had finally settled on a label other than 'just friends.' Aside from the usual photos taken by fans or paparazzi on the street, there were no public appearances or statements to clear things up.

Until the end-of-season party.

The end-of-season parties were hosted by each club once the season is finalized, usually sending out special guest invites to players from other clubs, or even having joint celebrations with them. Manshine City sent their invites, reaching former members of Blue Lock, and even providing each guest with a plus one.

There was no doubt on Hyoma's mind. It was time to go public.

It did not take long for you to be convinced to attend, seeing as this would be you and Hyoma's debut as an official couple. Media involvement was at an all-time high, seeing as there was a rise in popularity for Manshine ever since the 'internal conflicts' between players were shown to the public.

As you got ready for Manshine's end-of season party, you noticed a medium sized velvety box on your vanity. Curious, you opened it, revealing a beautiful necklace, at the center being a pendant in the shape of an initial. Your initial. As you took it out of the box, you heard your boyfriend's footsteps as he walked into your room.

"Hope you like it. Your name is lovely, so own it."

He took the necklace from your hands, swiftly placing it on your neck. Your phone began to ring, the caller ID reading Isagi's name. He had called to let you know he and Bachira were parked outside the apartment, waiting for you and Hyoma. Seeing as they ended up in Champions League quarterfinals and decided to stick around for a while in London, it was no surprise they got guest invites to Manshine's party. This meant carpooling was mandatory.

The party was flooded with journalists.

It was to be expected, of course. As players arrived, journalists approached them as if on queue, each one had a camera and a microphone on hand, as they were expected to cover the whole event.

So it was no surprise when you and Hyoma got approached by a journalist, hoping to ask your boyfriend a few questions about his thoughts on the season, as well as to congratulate him on his performance. The journalist asked Hyoma who was 'the gorgeous woman who stood at his side', to which he proudly smiled, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"She's the love of my life."

After a cordial 'congratulations' and a few pictures (which were definitely going to trend on the internet for weeks), you excused yourself as you walked towards Isagi and Bachira, wanting Hyoma to have a one-on-one with the journalist. You were about to approach them, only to be stopped by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around, your eyes widening in astonishment.

"Hi."

"Oh... umm... hi Mikage."

'This is going to be one hell of a night' you thought, unsure of how the hell Reo Mikage had the balls to actually strike up a conversation. His gaze lowered from your eyes to your chest, fixated on the sparky initial which hung on the shiny, silver chain.

"Uhh... nice necklace."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

Flabbergasted, you raised your eyebrows. He sighed as his gaze was now focused on the ground, as he was unable to look you in the eye. You could tell he was beyond nervous, as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his suit.

"I'm really sorry, Yn. I let my emotions get the better of me, and more importantly, I didn't trust you. I'm sorry that I didn't hear your side of things and just broke things off like that. I've been to therapy since then, and I thought now was the right time to apologize."

You stood there utterly dumbfounded, unsure of how to react. One one hand, it felt soothing to know your ex-boyfriend finally worked on himself, but even then, his actions still cut you deeply, and a part of you wished he never showed his face again. Even with mixed feelings, the corners of your lips raised to form a smile.

"It's okay, Mikage. Let's leave that in the past, okay?"

Sure, Mikage was the one who left you hurting, feeling like you were stuck at the bottom of a well with no one left to hear your pleas. He was the one to destroy you completely, after not caring enough to know your side or even listen to what you had to say. But if there was one thing you learned with Hyoma, it was that, to be at peace with yourself, sometimes it was better to forgive.

Mikage's eyes glimmered as tears threatened to trickle down his face, a smile growing on his face. Slowly, his hand reached for yours.

"Do you think we can... you know... give us another..."

You wasted no time in pulling back your hand.

"I hope you find true joy, Mikage, I really do. I just hope I never get to hear about it."

He slowly inhaled, letting out a shaky breath. You felt a strong arm wrap itself around your waist, and as you looked to your side, there was your boyfriend, Hyoma.

"Everything okay here?"

Mikage's eyes met with the redhead's.

"No—yeah—I was just leaving" he stuttered, "seems like you've got it from here."

"Don't you worry, yeah? I got her now."

#blue lock x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #chigiri x reader #hyoma x reader #chigiri x you

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notealotgoingon · 4 months

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2023 Bullet Journal Cover & Lists

- movies - books - physical music stickers

(typed list below cut)

Movies

X (2022) ★★★★★ 1/9

Pearl (2022) ★★★★★ 1/10

Jason X (2001) ★★★ 1/17

X (2022) ★★★★★ 1/26

Pearl (2022) ★★★★★ 2/11

Rosemary's Baby (1968) ★★★★★ 2/11

Harley Quinn: A Very Problematic Valentine's Day Special (2023) ★★★★★ 2/12

Skinamarink (2022) ★★★★ 3/8

Re-Animator (1985) ★★★★ 3/12

Ring (1998) ★★★★★ 3/12

Ju-On: The Grudge (2002) ★★★★ 3/12

I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) ★★★★ 4/2

Scary Movie (2000) ★★★ 4/3

Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023) ★★★★★ 4/5

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ★★★★★ 4/18

Scary Movie 2 (2001) ★★★ 5/3

Scary Movie 3 (2003) ★★ 5/4

The Green Knight (2021) ★★★★★ 5/20

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) ★★★★ 5/21

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania (2023) ★★ 6/6

Evil Dead Rise (2023) ★★★★1/2 6/27

Nimona (2023) ★★★★ 7/2

Barbarian (2022) ★★★★ 7/6

Malignant (2021) ★★★★ 7/7

Barbie (2023) ★★★★★ 7/23

Scream VI (2023) ★★★1/2 8/1

Saw (2004) ★★★★ 8/1

Frozen (2010) ★★ 8/2

Resident Evil: Death Island (2023) ★★★★ 8/21

Studio 666 (2022) ★★★★ 9/4

The Exorcist (1973) ★★★★1/2 9/4

Saw II (2005) ★★★★ 9/9

Saw III (2006) ★★★1/2 9/9

Saw IV (2007) ★★★1/2 9/9

Saw V (2008) ★★★ 9/9

Saw VI (2009) ★★★ 9/9

Saw 3D (2010) ★★ 9/9

Jigsaw (2017) ★★★ 9/10

Miss Americana (2020) ★★★★ 9/10

Spiral: From the Book of Saw (2021) ★★1/2 9/17

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) ★★★★1/2 9/24

Saw (2004) ★★★★1/2 9/25

Saw II (2005) ★★★★1/2 9/26

Dracula (1931) ★★★★ 10/1

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984) ★★★1/2 10/1

Friday the 13th: A New Beginning (1985) ★★★★ 10/1\

House of 1000 Corpses (2003) ★★★★ 10/8

Friday the 13th (1980) ★★★★1/2 10/13

Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour (2023) ★★★★★ 10/19

Saw VI (2009) ★★★1/2 10/28

Saw 3D (2010) ★1/2 10/29

Saw X (2023) ★★★★1/2 11/6

Saw IV (2007) ★★★1/2 11/20

Saw X (2023) ★★★★1/2 11/20

Terrifier (2016) ★★★1/2 12/4

Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth (1992) ★★ 12/4

Saw V (2008) ★★★1/2 12/4

Terrifier 2 (2022) ★★★1/2 12/11

The Green Knight (2021) ★★★★★ 12/18

Sonic Christmas Blast(1996) ★★1/2 12/22

Black Christmas (1974) ★★★★★ 12/23

Black Christmas (2006) ★★★1/2 12/24

Saltburn (2023) ★★★★ 12/29

Taylor Swift: Reputation Stadium Tour (2018) ★★★★★ 12/30

Books

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor Lavalle 1/2

The Witcher: The Last Wish by Andrzej Sakowski 1/12

We Can Never Leave This Place by Eric Larocca 1/14

Causes and Cures in the Classroom by Margaret Searle 1/29

Vox Machina: Kith & Kin by Marieke Nijkamp 2/1

Black is the Body by Emily Bernard 2/4

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas 2/18

The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green 2/19

Black Klansman by Ron Stallworth 2/26

The Dark Tower V: Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King 3/7

Ring by Koji Suzuki 4/14

What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher 4/14

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez 5/8

Circe by Madeline Miller 5/19

When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka 5/30

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe 6/1

The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker 6/25

The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson 6/28

The Lesbian Classics Get Me Off by Chuck Tingle 6/28

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace 7/5

Teacher of the Yearby M.A. Wardell 7/7

The Colorado Kid by Stephen King 7/17

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone 7/31

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle 8/4

The Writing Revolution by Judith C. Hochman & Natalie Wexler 8/10

You Can Go Your Own Way by Eric Smith 8/20

Phasma by Delilah S. Dawson 9/12

Small Spaces by Katherine Arden 9/27

Reforged by Seth Haddon 10/8

Fifty Feet Down by Sophie Tanen 10/23

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty 11/22

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett 12/2

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade 12/7

Wildfire by Hannah Grace 12/5

Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice 12/12

Tender is the Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica 12/19

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers 12/20

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo 12/28

Stowaway and Silent Song by Vera Valentine 12/29

Physical Music Media:

(this isn't all of the records/CDs I've gotten or listened to this year, but I figured I'd decipher the stickers I put in the book; these are all of the promo stickers on the outside of the plastic wrapping on the releases)

Beat the Champ - the Mountain Goats

Paradise - Lana del Ray

Red (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

What's it Like? - Sure Sure

Did You Know There's A Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard? - Lana del Ray

Stick Season - Noah Kahan

The Rest - boygenius

Midnights (Late Night Edition) - Taylor Swift

Raving Ghost - Olivia Jean

The Record - boygenius

Speak Now (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

Dark in Here - the Mountain Goats

Bangerz (10th Anniversary Edition) - Miley Cyrus

God Games - the Kills

1989 (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

#mine #studyblr #notes #aesthetic #bujo #bullet journal #bujolife #bujo aesthetic #bujoinspo #bujoblr #bujo list #2023 reap #booklr #books #film

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zot3-flopped · 19 days

Note

folklore, folklore Deluxe version, folklore the long pond studio session, evermore, evermore Deluxe version, fearless taylor's version, red taylor's version, midnights, midnights 3am edition, midnight the til dawn edition, speak now taylor's version, 1989 taylor's version Deluxe ( 12 albums) 4 in 2020, 3 in 2021, 2 in 2022, 4 in 2023

In comparsion what other artists have releases during the same timespan:

2020-2023

Harry Styles: Harry's House (1) 1 in 2022

Ariana Grande: Positions, Positions Deluxe, Yours Truly Tenth Anniversary Edition, (3) 1 in 2020, 1 in 2021, 1 in 2023

Beyonce; The Lion King The Gift Deluxe, Renaissance (2) 1 in 2020, 1 in 2022

Drake: Dark Lane Demo Tapes, Certified Lover Boy, Honestly Nevermind, Her loss, For all the dog's, For all the dog's scary house edition (6) 1 in 2020, 1 in 2021, 2 in 2022, 2 in 2023

Billie Eilish: Happier than Ever (1) 1 in 2021

The Weeknd: After hours, After hours Deluxe, Dawn FM, Dawn FM Alternate World, Avatar The Way of water, Live at Sofi Stadium, Starboy Deluxe (7) 2 in 2020, 3 in 2022, 2 in 2023

Doja Cat: Planet Her, Planet Her Deluxe, Scarlet, (3) 2 in 2021, 1 in 2023

Olivia Rodrigo: Guts, Sour, The Hunger Games The Ballad of...(3) 1 in 2021, 2 in 2023

Miley Cyrus: Plastic Hearts, Attention Miley Live, Endless Summer Vacation (3) 1 in 2020, 1 in 2022, 1 in 2023

Dua Lipa: Future Nostalgia, Club Future Nostalgia DJ Mix, Future Nostalgia The Moonlight Edition (3) 2 in 2020, 1 in 2021

Sza: Dear Evan Hansen, Ctrl Deluxe, SOS (3) 1 in 2021, 2 in 2022

Lana Del Rey: Chemtrails over The Country Club, Blue Banisters, Did you know that there is a tunnel under Ocean Blvd (3) 2 in 2021, 1 in 2023

Kanye West; Donda, Donna Deluxe (2) 2 in 2021

Adele: 30 (1) 1 in 2021

Bruno Mars: An Evening with Silc Sonic (1) 1 in 2021

Selena Gomez: Rare, Rare Deluxe (2) 2 in 2022

Rihanna: Black Panther (1) 1 in 2022

Katy Perry: Smile, One of the Boys 15th Anniversary (2) 1 in 2020, 1 in 2023

Lady Gaga: Chromatica, Born This Way the Tenth Anniversary, Dawn of Chromatica, Love for Sale Deluxe, Top Gun Maverick, Sweet Sounds of Heaven (6) 1 in 2020, 3 in 2021, 1 in 2022, 1 in 2023

She is the only one releasing more than one album from 2020-2023. So when her fans say that other artists to Deluxe versions or remixes or whatever too. Yes they do. But they aren't as bad as she is. It's no wonder she was the best selling artist in 2023. Morgan Wallen did 7.2M with one album in 2023. From 2018-2023 he released 4 albums. Despite that she is on tour doing huge promo for her albums.

Thanks for this research. Very interesting.

#taylor swift #anti taylor swift

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highwarlockofbookworms · 5 months

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“He hears Andrew scoff on the other side of the line. “My PR agent just called; SPORTS UNLIMITED wants to know if they can use the picture Kevin tweeted last night on the cover of their upcoming issue. They’re running a segment on you two for some unknowable reason. Also – I do not want to deal with this.”

“Hold on,” Aaron says as he logs back into his Twitter, begrudgingly. Nicky is quiet, so Aaron assumes that he hasn’t seen the picture as yet either. “Also, how is your PR agent even involved in any of this?’

“Also also, why do you even have a PR agent when you refuse to talk to literally everyone?” Nicky adds. He’s not wrong. Andrew doesn’t really need a PR agent. Neil needs a PR agent.

“Probably because I’m in the picture too and because you don’t have a PR agent and we have the same face – now what they should have done is contacted Kevin’s agent, but he’s kind of an arsehole who is dealing with a lot right now I assume he told them to shove it. Also, you may need to get your own PR agent.”

Aaron finally bypasses all the (still active) notifications and finds Kevin's tweet from 13 hours ago. It’s a picture that Aaron doesn’t immediately recognize, of both Aaron and Andrew, just like Andrew had said. It was taken from a few paces behind them and features the twins engaged in conversation – heads slightly turned towards each other – walking together through the village market near the stadium.

The factor that intrigued SPORTS UNLIMITED was undoubtedly their attire. Both twins are sporting exy merchandise of rival teams. Andrew is wearing his own team shirt – probably his own uniform since they seem to be on their way to one of Andrew’s games. It’s his Knights shirt with their surname and the number 3 on the back in clear, white letters.

Aaron, however, is wearing Kevin’s merchandise. The Wyoming Wolves shirt – the team Kevin used to play for, at the time – with the name Day and the number 2 in black letters. It wasn’t actually Kevin’s own shirt, just merchandise.

Aaron admits that in light of recent events, it’s a cute picture. But the true story isn’t even a romantic one. Aaron isn’t wearing Kevin’s number to be cute; he’s wearing Kevin’s number to be a shithead to Andrew – it’s become a sort of tradition.

Since they’d graduated and Andrew and Kevin had both gone pro on rival teams, Aaron had found himself attending their games whenever he was free. He obviously supported them and wanted them to win, but – that’s boring. The first time he’d done it, it was to annoy Andrew – Andrew didn’t care, but Neil got annoyed, so it was still a win-win situation. Aaron had worn his Kevin Day Wolves shirt to a knights game when the Knights weren’t even playing the wolves. He thought it was funny, and even if Andrew didn’t give a shit – pissing Neil off is always a good pastime.

The next game he’d attended was one of Kevin’s, and he wondered if he could get the same rise out of Kevin he’d got out of Neil. The Wolves were playing the Panthers, and Aaron showed up in a Knights shirt with Minyard 3 on his back.

It became a fun game, wearing Andrew’s shirt to Kevin’s games and Kevin’s shirt to Andrew’s. Finally, the Wolves and Knights played each other, and the Foxes had placed bets on what Aaron’s move would be. Choose between Kevin and Andrew, finally? Normal attire? Wolves merch in the first half and Knights merch when Andrew finally shows up in the second half?

Aaron had worn his own Foxes, Minyard 5, shirt to that game, and every game Andrew and Kevin played each other in future.

“I do not need a PR agent,” Aaron finally says. “I did not get as far away from exy as I could, and go to fucking medical school, to be on the cover of a sports magazine,” “that’s the type of thing you should tell your PR agent,” Andrew advises.

-Chapter 3, The One Where Everyone Finds Out

#aaron minyard #andrew minyard #nicky hemmick #kevin day #neil josten #kevaaron #aftg fanfiction #aftg #the one with kevaaron #the one with all the ships #the one where everyone finds out #andriel

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gumballavocadoharry · 5 months

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First lesson; wit:

*This is Yn's POV*

The tall stone building seemed to collapse around me. I was standing in front of the castle like university in front of me, my legs trembling in discomfort, heart pounding out of my chest and stomach turning like I saw a billion maggots sliter under my shoes. My backpack was slung around me, and my suitcase full of my clothes and other things were tightly gripped into my hand. Any minute, I could tumble over and it would be the first embarrassment of my new school as luck would have all my classmates see the clumsy schmuck fall onto the hard pavement of concrete mixed in stone.

This was my first choice. I never had to face the despair of not being accepted into the school of my dreams, considering how much work I would have to put in to be a exceptional author. This was one of the best schools that was a recommendation from high school once I graduated. A chill crept down my spine before I carefully opened the large green tinted doors and walked into something so futuristic, that it shouldn't be exposed to the public now. Like Black Panther type technology. I swallowed my breath and managed to make it into the main office where I was given a number to my dorm room and and passes to the cafeteria, the library, gym, special classes and of course my main class. I was also handed three sheets of paper; one with the list of classes I had, the second was the classes I took and the third was a mini map of the entire school.

"I'm Mrs. Beachem, just let me know if you need anything." The older lady flashed a kind smile, which I courteously reciprocated. "Thank you very much." I gasped before darting off the elevators and taking the bridge to the dorms. 825, My room. A solo room; no roommates or anyone, just me. I laid out some cheap lavender sheets with a plum quilt over the mattress and started adding pictures on my walls. The frames complimented the room decor I was going for and the aesthetic. Lavender, plum purple, blue and gray were all the colors that took my plain white dorm to the next level. Classes didn't start until tomorrow, so that left me plenty of time to scan the different classrooms and shortcuts on how to get to them.

I sat on my bed and looked at the first paper that was stapled to the other two of my classes. My homeroom teacher- main class I took- was directed by Mr. Styles. He was one of the new professors on campus, only starting here three years before I did. I had heard about him from other students who went here and said he was one of the best teachers and that he was very resourceful in his knowledge of writing. The other two classes were taught by Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Vincent. I grew nervous just thinking about the morning ahead of me tomorrow. The thick river of vile held me at knife-point to spill up from my stomach in complete fussiness.

Maybe it was just my stomach gurgling in hunger. I checked the map again and practically uprooted myself from the soft mattress and walked to the cafeteria.

After filling my belly with banana pudding, a chicken burrito, diet coke and a bag of fritos, I promptly started walking through corridors to find the complex classes I was destined to take. I found Mrs. Vincent's class first. It had this cozy, quell aroma to it. The room was a piece of Mrs. Vincent, making the class as relaxing and educational as possible. Next was Mrs. Campbell's room which looked like any classroom. But with elfin traces of friendliness. Last was Mr. Styles's class. Entering it was like entering a lecture hall from a movie. This was nothing like some little kiddie high school classroom, but something from a movie. The class was the size of an auditorium with seats that has tables attached to them in rows. It wasn't stadium huge, but big enough to feel overwhelmed by it all.

I ventured back to my dorm across the bridge and settled into bed for the night as the sky was turning it's dark navy blue color with faint glint twinkles spotting around in the background. I took one last look around the room, darting my eyes all over the walls of my brand new shelter for the next year or so. I crawled into bed and rubbed my eyes hard enough to fall asleep.

I awoke to the sound of my blaring alarm and the morning birds chirping their usual matinal melodies. My first class, Mrs. Campbell's, started around 9:30. It was 8:30 now, so I didn't hesitate to rush into the shower, change clothes and run across the bridge to the cafeteria for a small bowl of cereal. I scanned my pass, grabbed a tray and plopped a bowl, a carton of milk and a small buffet box of cereal onto my tray and picked a random table by the window. I consumed my breakfast before grabbing a small cup of coffee and leaving straight after for class. Upon entering the first classroom of the day, I was greeted with cheerful smiles and the smell of cake.

My eyebrows pinched themselves together wondering where that smell was coming from until I realized it was a lit candle that was blooming on Mrs. Campbell's desk. I took my seat towards the back and unpacked my yellow notebook with a pattern of daisies and hearts. I assigned this particular one to the English class because it had a springtime theme to it, while my teddy bear one was assigned to Mrs. Vincent and a stone royal blue was to Mr. Styles. "Hello class." She walked in; floral print dress, beige cardigan and black flats with the most cheerful smile and professional demeanor. She took her stance at her chalkboard, writing her name and introducing herself to everyone.

"I'm Mrs. Ann Campbell, but you can all call me Mrs. Campbell." She sat perfectly ladylike at her desk, shining off the top layer of it for any dust particles that may have collected. Her perky tone in describing the basics of English literature made it seem anything but a dull pointless subject. At least, not to the credits who predicted that English was a key point in writing......which was correct. I jotted down as many notes as I possibly could before the bell rung and the class was dismissed. I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed the stream of students pouring out of the door. My next was Mr. Styles.

I entered the classroom-styled lecture hall- and took my seat towards the middle. A slew of students crammed themselves into the large hall, taking their seats just as the young teacher entered the class. He wore this white dress shirt tucked into some black slacks with a thick black watch almost riveting up his entire wrist. "Hello, I'm Mr. Styles," He wrote his name slickly across the chalkboard in a tight pinched manner. "And this is creative writing." His voice almost had this monotone echo that snapped all eyes in his direction. He was nothing like Mrs. Campbell, and her warm cheerful smile and cake scented classroom. No, this was a rigid college class that expected...demanded full attention and the best of your intelligence. And Mr. Styles fit that description perfectly.

The man's chalk sketched across the green board with speed; not stopping to take a breather in for even a slight pause for the sake of his wrist. "Mark Twain was a famous author; famous for writing short humoristic stories about his character's misadven-" Mr. Styles paused to see a boy in his front row giggling from a note he passed. He didn't hesitate to snatch the note, rip it up and slam the pieces of it back on the boy's desk.

"Young man, your first day of kindergarten is over. This is a complex class that details writing, its history of it and knowledge to be a writer," He leaned in closer, eyes squinting only a little, "You can come to this class fully prepared or not at all to this class, this school, this university. But don't think for a minute I'll tolerate anything in between!" He sneered spitefully, before gathering back over to the chalkboard and continuing the lesson.

He cleared his throat and continued his Mark Twain lesson, despite leaving the boy in such engrossed humiliation that tears torrent over. But no one was watching him....they were all focused on Mr. Styles and his very comprehensive speech of how Mark Twain's writing influenced how much nuance writers used to this day. The class was of a quiet echo; only Mr. Styles's voice was heard throughout the class. I looked down at the royal blue notebook on my desk.....Yep. The notebook matched the class's theme perfectly; straight to the point, no nonsense, and solid. If there were any mistakes, there would be a whip across the back....if not a flat out execution.

The bell had rung, stripping everyone's cast iron focus on Mr. Styles to their bags and books. I scampered out with everyone else, only glancing back to see Mr. Styles looking upon his pupils in a now deserted lecture hall.

I took a breath in, trying hard to release the pent up tension from the suffocating walls of Mr. Styles class. I've had strict and unruly teachers before....but this was something singular. With the snap of his fingers, Mr. Styles could make the universe look into his aloof, stolid eyes. A chill quivered through my body like a snake slithering against its tree. It was lunch time, and then next would be Mrs. Vincent's class.

I managed to make it to the cafeteria where it seemed like everyone was on the dot. I grabbed a tray and plopped a couple sandwiches, a bottle of gatorade, doritos and blueberry yogurt onto my tray before snatching a table by the back windows. My neighbor was no other than the boy who had his handed to him by Mr. Styles. We were both diffident, reserving our eyes to our plates that we somehow had a hard time manipulating into moving the food into our mouths untouched.

"That's some class?" I finally broke the ice, showing the boy that I wasn't a snoot who blindly agreed with Mr. Styles harsh correction. "Yeah," He gave a soft chuckle, still in shame from the latter incident, "The guy seems to be fond of Mark Twain right?"

I giggled, "Yeah. He described him so vividly and passionately, that I was beginning to wonder if he was there with him in person and had a personal conversation with him." The boy laughed, "Yeah....." He was still unsure of my interaction, so I had to let my cards fall onto his lap. "Look, what happened in class....I didn't agree with. Mr. Styles seems like one of those teachers and you seem really nice. I'm Yn by the way." The boy finally gave a full beam. "I'm Lucus." I returned the smile and suddenly stuffed my sandwich into my mouth, finally enjoying the savoring flavor of a mitigate stomach. And I think Lucus did too.

I remembered my shortcut across the way to Mrs. Vincent's class. The motherly like class that had the aura of protection, yet didn't slack in education. But I knew this would be the easiest class. It was nice break from the parky dry institution that was to be Mr. Styles class. Speaking of the devil, on my way to Mrs. Vincent's class, Mr. Styles walked past me; skimming a tight lipped smile with quiescent intractable eyes. But even his polite expression was dry. There was no real passion inside of it. But yet, the very presence of this man demanded obedience and austere behaviour. The aura of his presence still haunted me as I took shattered steps into Mrs. Vincent's cozy haven. "Good afternoon class!" She squealed with such warm sugary vocals.

"I'm Mrs. Vincent. And this is American literature," She wrote it on her whiteboard, easing the eardrums of the brash blackboard sounds of the chalk against a chalkboard. "Before we start, does anyone have any questions?" I held back from anything as I just wanted to get this class over with so I could squirm back into my dorm and bury my head in my studies. Mrs. Vincent started the class and from I learned so far- her class was the easiest. Not too much homework, nor too much fast talking and just an overall laxed mien in the environment. I took notes and once I finished my last page, class was over. The bell rang and we were dismissed.

I followed the wave of students out of Mrs. Vincent's classroom before breaking off independently onto the bridge. It was like a glass tunnel where you could see everyone on campus walking around with their schoolbags and their schedules. I made it back to my dorm where solitude surrounded me. There was no chatting or yelling among students, teachers, or staff members....just peace. In exhaustion, I flopped onto my bed after dropping my bag on the floor. I circled face up and stared at the ceiling. Can I do this? Is this worth it? Two classes are amazing and the other....no....I took his class to challenge myself. He's one of the best professors on campus....give it a chance. Besides....you didn't screw up with him...yet.

Those thoughts raced through my head like a hamster on a wheel. But my mind couldn't help but ruminate over Mr. Styles. He's a demanding to please....but what about everyone else? Was he married? Did he have kids? I bet he's a total sweetheart to them; giving them big hugs and using a more soothing reserved tone, never daring to speak one harsh critical word to them. I uprooted myself from the bed and glued myself to the cotton swivel chair at my desk and took out my first book of creative writing. After all, Mr. Styles said either "come to the class prepared or not all" but he will refuse to "tolerate anything in between." Out of sheer fear, I swallowed as much information about Mark Twain that I could cram into my brain.

I almost missed dinner. I sped down to the cafeteria and grabbed leftover lasagna with a glass of lemonade and salad. I figured I needed the brain food. The cafeteria was mostly empty except for the last few people trying to gather in the last traces of their meal. I ate quickly before taking my tray up to the counter and returning to my dorm. "Yn!" I turned to see Lucus heading towards me on the bridge. "Hey," He caught his breath a little, "I just wanted to say thank you again for being so nice to me. It was a rough day but.....I appreciate your kindness," I smiled, "You're welcome Lucas....I know....I took Mr. Styles class for the challenge. I knew he was an excellent teacher and very detailed in teaching creative writing....if you can ignore his style of teaching that is....you'll make it."

Lucas swallowed hard, "You're right. I shouldn't have passed that note in class," "That doesn't excuse Mr. Styles of course, but.....you seem really smart. My point is- don't let that get to you or ruin the class. Give yourself a chance to rise up to the challenge and make it worth your while."

Lucas looked at me like I was some all knowing elder. "Thank you again Yn...you're so wise." I knew it. I smiled and gave Lucas a pat on the shoulder. I watched as he walked away to the left side of the dorm area. I turned right to mine and locked myself in for the night. My studies continued until I fell asleep after barely taking off my clothes.

I arose to the freckled spots of sun hitting my face. I rung into the shower, got dressed, grabbed my backpack and headed to the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to be celebrating Friday. I guess me and Lucas weren't the only ones who had a grueling first day. Tomorrow would be the weekend and that meant I was free to visit friends, family go to the movies or even just study. I know how it sounded. I didn't want to be one of those book dependent people where you only ever just studied and totally shut out life itself. But it was just creative writing. The thought of it made my heart beat faster and my stomach twist itself into my throat. Even if I wasn't the one getting scolded, just the thought of some clown deliberately testing the waters with Mr. Styles made my legs ping.

That man could stare Satan in the eyes and make the devil himself shudder in terror. The hand-me-down feeling of watching someone get punished by him was different than some uptight high school teacher letting one of her students have it. They usually deserved it. But the slightest offense in Mr. Styles class would be a lesson that one would learn very quickly: Your second chance is sitting in that chair and still being able to finish the class. Not taps on the wrist, no timeouts. Nothing. Either you sink or swim.

This chapter is sooooo long that I figured I'd make a part two...

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #professor harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry one shot #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles oneshot #harry styles love #harry and yn #harry x yn #harry x reader

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andrebearakovsky · 2 months

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NHL Outdoor Game Jersey Tier List

I originally had this idea back during the Stadium Series weekend when I was looking at the jerseys and comparing them to jerseys of outdoor games past. So I decided to put all the different jerseys NHL teams have worn for every outdoor game since 2003 onto a tier list (excluding the 4 jerseys that were worn in the 2 games at Tahoe, since each team just wore their reverse retro jersey and they weren't special jerseys for the event).

Some of these are absolutely gorgeous, and some are flops. I've organized them into tiers of how good they are, and an important factor in my rankings is creativity - whether or not something was original and distinct for the event or a copy of a current/former jersey had a significant impact on what tier it went in. And a note that I am only rating based on the jerseys themselves, and I'm not judging any accompanying pants, helmets, gloves, socks, etc. All of these ratings are scientific and 100% correct.

All of these pictures were taken from the NHL Uniform Database website. This is also where I looked at each team's jersey history to see which outdoor game jerseys were just a copy of another jersey.

And a note that the Coyotes, Blue Jackets, and Panthers do not have any entries on this list since none of them have ever participated in an outdoor game. (Though this will soon change! Looking forward to seeing what the Jackets do for their Stadium Series jerseys next year. And tbh they really need to give the Yotes and Panthers an outdoor game 'cause I think those teams would make some pretty nice jerseys.)

Detailed list of which exact jerseys these are (team and event) are included under the cut for reference.

Jerseys listed from left to right as seen in the image above.

Amazing - Washington Capitals 2015 Winter Classic, Minnesota Wild 2022 Winter Classic, Seattle Kraken 2024 Winter Classic, Vancouver Canucks 2014 Heritage Classic, Ottawa Senators 2014 Heritage Classic

Good - Philadelphia Flyers 2017 Stadium Series, Philadelphia Flyers 2012 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2018 Winter Classic, Detroit Red Wings 2014 Winter Classic, Washington Capitals 2018 Stadium Series, Toronto Maple Leafs 2018 Stadium Series, Los Angeles Kings 2014 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2011 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2012 Winter Classic, Ottawa Senators 2017 NHL 100 Classic, Calgary Flames 2011 Heritage Classic, St. Louis Blues 2022 Winter Classic, Buffalo Sabres 2022 Heritage Classic, San Jose Sharks 2015 Stadium Series, Los Angeles Kings 2015 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2010 Winter Classic, Dallas Stars 2020 Winter Classic, Winnipeg Jets 2019 Heritage Classic, Winnipeg Jets 2016 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2023 Heritage Classic, Calgary Flames 2023 Heritage Classic, Boston Bruins 2016 Winter Classic

All you did was pull an old jersey out of the closet (with little or no changes) - St. Louis Blues 2017 Winter Classic, Washington Capitals 2011 Winter Classic, New Jersey Devils 2014 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2008 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2019 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2009 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2014 Stadium Series, Detroit Red Wings 2009 Winter Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2014 Winter Classic

This is just your jersey w/ little or no modifications - Calgary Flames 2019 Heritage Classic, Anaheim Ducks 2014 Stadium Series, Montreal Canadiens 2003 Heritage Classic, Montreal Canadiens 2011 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2016 Heritage Classic, Edmonton Oilers 2003 Heritage Classic, Philadelphia Flyers 2010 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2015 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2017 Winter Classic, Chicago Blackhawks 2016 Stadium Series, Minnesota Wild 2016 Stadium Series, Buffalo Sabres 2008 Winter Classic

Fine - New Jersey Devils 2024 Stadium Series, Philadelphia Flyers 2019 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2017 Stadium Series, New York Islanders 2024 Stadium Series, Nashville Predators 2022 Stadium Series, Carolina Hurricanes 2023 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2019 Stadium Series, Montreal Canadiens 2016 Winter Classic, Tampa Bay Lightning 2022 Stadium Series, Detroit Red Wings 2016 Stadium Series, Colorado Avalanche 2016 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2019 Winter Classic, New York Islanders 2014 Stadium Series, Boston Bruins 2023 Winter Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2022 Heritage Classic, Toronto Maple Leafs 2017 Centennial Classic

Can't decide whether I like it or hate it - Colorado Avalanche 2020 Stadium Series

Boring - Detroit Red Wings 2017 Centennial Classic, Montreal Canadiens 2017 NHL 100 Classic, Nashville Predators 2020 Winter Classic, Buffalo Sabres 2018 Winter Classic, Philadelphia Flyers 2024 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2014 Stadium Series

Awful - Washington Capitals 2023 Stadium Series, Pittsburgh Penguins 2023 Winter Classic, New York Rangers 2014 Stadium Series, Vegas Golden Knights 2024 Winter Classic, Los Angeles Kings 2020 Stadium Series, New York Rangers 2024 Stadium Series

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blueiskewl · 1 year

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City of Gladiators Fountain Flows Again After 2,000-Years in Turkey

An ancient fountain that was destroyed in a 23 BC earthquake has been restored in Turkey's “City of Gladiators.' Now, the two millennia old water font is streaming drinkable water again, just as it did some 2,000-years ago.

Unearthing Turkey’s Ancient City Of Gladiators

The ancient city of Kibyra, or Cibyra Magna, is situated in the township of Gölhisar in the southwestern Burdur Province of Turkey. In ancient times it represented the capital city of an independent state known as Cibyratis, that lay just outside the north-western limits of the ancient province of Lycia, that thrived in Anatolia from 15-14th centuries BC, and as Lukka until 546 BC.

Strabo recorded Kibyra as having originally been settled by ‘Lydians,’ who were indigenous people in this region of Asia Minor. These people constructed over 100 stadiums and after the Roman general Lucius Licinius Murena defeated the ruler of Kibrya in 83 BC the city became part of the greater Roman province of Asia. Listed on the UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List , ancient Kibyra is known as the “City of Gladiators.” Now, archaeologists have announced that “a colossal fountain” has been restored and that it will “flow with fresh water for the first time in 2,000 years.”

Piecing Together An Ancient Masterpiece

Dr. Sukru Ozudogru, an archaeologist at Mehmet Akif Ersoy University, recently told Anadolu Agency ( AA) that his team of archaeologists have spent the past four months collecting “150 original fragments from the ruins.” Now, they have successfully “pieced the architectural masterpiece back together.” The “round-planned fountain” measures 15.24 meters (50 ft) in diameter by 7.92 (26 ft) high and after being built it was used for more than 600 years.

The team of archaeologists have also restored the original water supply system from the spring, so that the fountain now flows with drinkable water “just the way it did 2,000 years ago.”

Dr. Ozudogru described the water from the restored fountain as “spouting from the mouths of lion and panther.” Not only do these two animals feature heavily in Roman mythology but they are two of the animals that gladiators fought in the arenas. Incidentally, it was after the discovery of the “10,400-person stadium” that hosted hundreds of gladiatorial fights that Kibyra became known as the “City of Gladiators.”

Rebuilding What Nature Attempted To Destroy

Blending both Roman and Byzantine architectural styles, during the 1000 years of the Roman empire the city became famous for its blood-thirsty gladiatorial contests. However, a 23 BC earthquake almost flattened Kiybra, and if it were not for diligent citizens in the aftermath rebuilding the giant fountain it would have been lost in time long ago.

The AA article said the restoration of the fountain and its two pools required “68 original architectural pieces and 24 imitation blocks produced from the original stone type.” Furthermore, it was observed that the original fountain featured one large circular pool and the second pool was added decades later. Dr. Ozudogru maintains that when the fountain was functional, some 2,000-years-ago, the two circular pools supplied potable water to four different parts of the city.

Sticking With The Original Plan

As far as aesthetics are concerned, fragmentary remains informed the researchers the original fountain was detailed with “elaborate statues of animals, huge columns and embossed friezes.” The archaeologists used two moldings taken from original sculptures that were both unearthed during recent excavations, and the originals are currently being exhibited in the Burdur Museum.

The researcher explained that in Roman times “Water was a mythological hero” that flowed into the two pools from the mouths of “lion and panther” statues. Relating these two animals to Roman mythology “ Heracles lay on a panther skin and Dionysus, the god of wine, wore a lion skin," according to the professor. However, both of these animals were fought by gladiators in the 10,400-person stadium in Kibrya, which Akkurnaz explained “was a building designed for an assortment of blood-soaked spectacles, including gladiator fights and wild animal fights”.

By Ashley Cowie.

#City of Gladiators Fountain Flows Again After 2000-Years in Turkey #Turkey’s Ancient City Of Gladiators #ancient city of Kibyra #ancient monument #ancient fountain #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #long reads

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billthedrake · 2 years

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BREAKING THE DRY SPELL

Luke Carlson still felt proud of his body. He'd slimmed down to 230 but was still trim as ever. He'd stayed with the Panthers organization in a scouting capacity after this big retirement announcement. He credited being around football as inspiration for staying in top shape, and it helped that he still had access to the weight room and the same strength coaches he had as a professional player. And on weekends, he always had his health club in the suburbs.

Luke sat now at the bar of the Capital Grille. This was his regular weeknight meal out, once or twice a week. Just some alone Luke time, having a good steak and a couple of beers before taking a car service back to his suburban mansion. He'd started dressing more professionally when he showed up at the Bank of America Stadium... wool trousers, loafers, button-down shirt, and he had a custom blazer he'd throw on for these steakhouse dinners.

"Mr. Carlson..." a voice interrupted him. Luke looked up to see a 30-something business bro, in a similar attire, standing nervously next to the bar. 6-foot-even, dirty blond hair, brown eyes... Luke was a sucker for brown eyes. Like a lot of millennial bros, this guy was solid from dedicated time at the gym. Even with a busy career and a wedding band that suggested family life. "I hate to ask you, man... but could I have your autograph?"

Luke gave a faint smile and nodded. He hated this ritual, to be honest, but it came with celebrity and success. "Who am I making this out to?" he asked as he took the pen and paper.

"Um... Tom... God, thanks... I'm in New York but I'm a huge Panthers fan... grew up as one actually."

For some reason Luke was warming up to this guy. "Carolina boy?" he grinned. He hadn't picked up the usual local lilt, however.

Tom shook his head and laughed. "Chicago suburbs," he said. "I just thought the uniforms were cool as a kid... I got so much shit for that."

Luke laughed and handed him the pen and paper.

"God, thanks, man. I know you must get asked for that a million times."

"Some," Luke said gracefully but truthfully.

Tom got the hint. "All right, sorry to disturb your dinner, Mr. Carlson." And like that he returned to the party of bankers who were leaving after a business dinner.

Mr. Carlson, Luke thought. He couldn't remember last time he'd been called that. It made him feel old, at 30, but he also appreciated the implicit respect. Luke wasn't crazy about the way total strangers thought they knew him. Or were looking for a piece of him.

His shank of dick throbbed in his trousers. Carlson had somehow imagined that his NFL retirement would free him to get laid more. No longer under a media microscope, he could line up a nice thick cock to suck. Or a hot daddy ass to fuck. The old Luke would have reeled that Finance Bro right in. Dude might be straight and married, but he was starstruck as hell. Luke had spent his first few years in the league enjoying groupie sex after encounters pretty much like that. He missed those carefree days. His cock missed those carefree days.

But something was missing in his life. Luke didn't want a groupie. It was a catch 22: as an elite athlete Luke knew his worth and knew he deserved a special man, but he didn't trust anyone into him solely for being an elite athlete.

He took a sip. Stop being a sad sack Luke. You're 30. Not 50.

There came a twitch of his boner again, a firmness that made him glad his hardon was hidden underneath the bar. If it had been a while since he'd connected with a dude sexually, it had been even longer since he had a 50 year old. A daddy. It had taken Carlson until his mid 20s to realize, or admit, he was wired for older men. There were the teen crushes on authority figures in his Ohio town. And for a while he blamed his fixation on his losing his cherry to a State Street exec in Boston, a BC alum who chatted him up at a fundraising event. Luke still thought back to that man as his ideal, but he also knew if it hadn't been John Daley, it would have been some other older, successful man.

Like the banker who'd just arrived at the bar, three seats down. Suit and tie, just carrying his success in his demeanor. Luke took a second to size him up without being too obvious. Tall, about 6'3", and medium build, probably mid-50s, mostly gray hair kept banker-short, thinning but not receding. Handsome guy, with a roman nose, strong jaw, and just the right amount of tan and crows-feet wrinkles. And those brown eyes. Fuck.

It took a second, but Luke knew he was a familiar face.

"Hey, you go to my swim club, don't you?" Luke blurted out before he could even think or stop himself.

He expected the man to be annoyed, but instead the professional looked over at the former jock and gave a grin of recognition. "Foxcroft?" he asked to clarify.

Luke nodded. "I'm only there on the weekends, but I'm pretty sure I've seen you before."

The man smiled. "Probably. When I turned 50, I made a vow to get back in shape, and I've been holding to my end of the bargain ever since."

"Yeah?" Luke smiled. "Impressive." He didn't want to seem overly lecherous, but he had to admit this man was a total DILF and the body beneath the suit was clearly well kept. "How long ago was that?"

"I'll plead the fifth on that one, buddy," the exec smirked. "A while."

"That's cool," Luke said. God something about this man had the right amount of laid-back easy going, and right amount of no-BS gruff exec. "Listen... I know how it is to come to a bar looking for some alone time and everyone in the world coming up to you."

That got a sympathetic raise of the eyebrows from Bank Exec. "People been hounding you for autographs?" he asked.

So the man knew who he was. "Shit, I guess that sounded like one of those 'you know who I am?' lines," Carlson said with a blush.

The Exec laughed. "It's all good, man. I'm not famous," he added. "But I had to stop going to Del Friscos cause the gold diggers circle around there like flies. Took me a couple of tries to find a steak house that wasn't a divorcee scene, you know?"

Luke flashed an eye at the man's left hand. No ring. He thought he was being subtle, but the man caught where he was looking.

"Yeah, divorced myself."

Luke felt rebuked. "Sorry, man."

The Exec shook his head. "Don't be. I'm living my best life now. Got two grown kids off at college. And a job that pays for my golf habit," he joked.

"I kind of feeling that way, too," Luke said. "After retirement. At least mostly."

Exec gave that sympathetic look again. "But not entirely?"

Luke almost wanted to unload on this guy. But he just gave a wry grin. "Look man, you didn't come here to hear about a retired athlete's problems. But if you wanna come over, I wouldn't mind some company with my steak dinner."

There it was Carlson putting himself out there. Even if the Exec didn't see it as flirting, it was forward in its own way.

Thankfully, Exec picked up his scotch and scooted his stool back, sliding down to the free stool next to Carlson. "I'm Scott," he said, offering his firm businessman handshake.

Luke gave a friendly smile. "Luke, though you know that already.... so, Scott, what brings you out on a Wednesday night?"

"Long day... and I wasn't ready to go back to an empty house just yet, you know?"

Luke felt a connection to this man but had promised not to talk about his loneliness lately. "Where you live? Burbs I take it?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, Foxcroft, right near the swim and racquet club."

"I do too," the athlete said, and they traded their street locations. They spend the next half hour talking animatedly about their suburb and what it was like to live there. Then the following half hour about their interests and hobbies.

"I wasn't sure what it would be like to transplant to North Carolina," Luke admitted, but it's actually great for fishing and outdoors stuff.. you have the mountains and rivers and lakes, all nearby. The hunting is actually better in Ohio... " then turning to the Exec, he asked, "you hunt, Scott?"

The man shook his head. "Nah, but I love fishing. A few college buddies and I go out to Montana each year for a week."

Luke's eyes lit up. "That sounds amazing... invite me along next time," he joked.

Scott laughed and nudged his legs gently against Luke's suited one. There was a brief spark between the two, but Scott paused, feeling like he'd gone too far. Been too familiar.

There were men that Scott Monahan was attracted to as potential sex partners. And there were those incredibly hot, impossible men he'd jerk off to for a quick release after a late work night. Luke Carlson was very much in the second category.

"Um, well," the Exec said, checking his watch. "I should probably go. Long day tomorrow, you know." Somehow the time had passed and it was almost 10.

"Yeah," Luke said, trying to hide his dejection. His hardon had long gone away and been replaced by a half-forgotten fluttery feeling in his belly.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" the businessman said as he took the spare receipt and put it in his wallet.

"At the swim club," Luke replied in an almost a chipper tone. "I'm here pretty much every Wednesday, too," he added. "Kind of a little ritual. Some other nights, too."

Scott nodded and clapped Luke's strong shoulder before offering his hand again. "Well, it' was a pleasure to meet you, Luke."

"You too, Scott, take care, man."

***

Luke felt dumb the whole next few days. He actually jerked off imagining Scott the Exec over him, lifting Luke's legs and fucking him. Deep, hard, loving. Luke made a point of going to the swim and racquet club on Saturday. And again on Sunday. No Scott.

On Monday he went back to the Capital Grille. The same seat at the bar, where Josh the bartender always knew how to look after him. It felt less lonely this time, somehow. Like Luke was alone, but not alone. The memory and spirit of Scott was there. Luke smiled as he ordered a scotch, neat.

"Hey buddy," Luke could almost hear in Scott's mellow, refined tenor voice.

Only it wasn't his imagination. A hand clasped his delt muscle beneath the blazer and there was the 6'3" executive in the flesh. A navy suit instead of charcoal, but still very much dressed for the C-suite and looking like a million bucks. "Is this seat free?"

"God yeah," Carlson beamed, maybe a little too eager. But fuck it. Scott didn't seem to mind, pulling up the spare stool and sitting down.

"Quiet here on a Monday, huh?" he said as he flagged Josh down for a drink.

"Pretty much. Out on a school night, Scott?" Luke asked playfully.

The banker grinned. "Not ready to go back to a quiet house. And a steak dinner sure beats whatever microwave meal I was gonna have."

Luke laughed. It was like they were picking up right where they left off. Small talk, friendly banter, lots of eye contact, some light touching and bumping of the knees.

And their conversations went deeper. Scott showed Luke pictures of his kids. "Julie's at Williams... Mike's a freshman at Stanford, pretty good at soccer, too," the Exec beamed proudly.

"Impressive, man." Luke enthused.

Scott smiled but nudged Carlson's elbow. "You don't gotta be impressed. Mr. Pro Bowler..."

Luke blushed. "You must think I'm an asshole."

Scott shook his head. "Nah, just successful. I admire that."

"Thanks, Scott," Luke said. God it was hard to keep his eye contact from meeting the man's gaze directly. But the way the Exec was looking at him drove him wild. No longer mere butterflies, Luke was feeling some major wood in his trousers. "You give off that successful vibe yourself."

"I do huh, buddy?" Scott was definitely teasing him now. "What's your guess?"

Luke took a second to look the man up in down. Hot as fuck in his mid 50s and had the kind of expensive suit to show it all off. The blue brought out the dark-specked gray hair and those brown eyes. "I'm thinking.... definitely banking... upper executive.... maybe BofA...?"

Scott grinned. "Pretty good guess... Chief Operating Officer."

"Impressive," Luke said sincerely. Carlson was well to do in his own right and most NFLers wouldn't find a bank executive a particularly interesting profession. But Luke admired men who were successful in business - and since his BC days had admired the men sexually too.

"Thanks, buddy," Scott said as he took a sip of scotch. "I keep saying I'm gonna take an early retirement, but..." he lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. "Between you and me the money is too fucking good."

Luke laughed. Then his mood got a little more serious. He didn't want to kill the fun vibe but he craved to know more about Scott. "So, personal question, man, and you don't have to answer. But how long you been divorced?"

Scott had his easygoing manner. He was good at talking to people, with people. "I don't mind, bud. It'll be 10 years in May. Wife caught me fucking an intern."

Luke blushed. The devout Catholic part of him wasn't crazy when men didn't take their family and vow seriously. On the other hand, Luke had his own complicated situation. Besides, he was a man who was used to crude talk - in the locker room, on hunting trips, or wherever. "Was she worth it at least?" he asked in a conspiratorial kind of way.

Scott grinned. "HE was worth it, believe me. Princeton lacrosse player and built like one..." he stopped himself before his talk got lewd. "I mean, not worth hurting Kate or my kids, but I guess I had to own up to some stuff about myself, you know?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. A little too empathetically.

"My turn for a personal question," Scott asked, his brown eyes twinkling. "And you don't have to anwser... but you're married, right? Why are you having your dinners here instead of at home?"

Luke almost made up a lie. Like he usually did. Instead he decided to be honest with Scott. "Sharon and I... well, we've kind of separated." Luke sighed. "I mean, she's super Catholic and so am I, so we don't believe in divorce or anything, and there are the kids... I love them to death, you know."

This is the last thing Luke wanted to do. To spill his guts. To seem like an emotional mess with this perfect man.

Scott just patted his back. "I get it buddy. And good on you for being there for your kids. That takes guts, man." That hand rubbed small circles along Luke's broad back.

"Thanks, Scott," Luke grinned gamely.

Scott gave another reassuring grin then ordered a second scotch.

Josh came over with a new three-quarters-inch filled rocks glass without the ice, and it occurred to Luke that the two men had paused the conversation the whole minute it took. Finally, as the bartender walked away, Scott spoke again. "It's funny, when I was younger, everything was black and white. I knew what I wanted in life and how I was gonna get it."

Luke felt a strange empathy, even if he didn't follow exactly. "You don't now?" he asked.

Scott thought for a second and added, "I do for some things. At work, I don't have anything to prove really, and I know how to run a business. I'm good at it and I reap the benefits."

"But..." Luke prodded.

Scott grinned, realizing he'd been caught in some ambivalence. "No matter how many Princeton interns you fuck, that won't fill that hole for something more, you know?" He looked at Luke with a look that was suggestive but vulnerable.

"Tell me if I'm out of line, Scott. But I can't think of anything I'd rather do tonight than be your intern."

"Fuck!" Scott whispered, in almost a grunt.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Luke asked nervously. He was a 30-year-old pro bowler goddamnit, why did he feel like a kid asking a girl out to prom?

The exec shook his head and smiled. "The opposite, man. It's just..." he lowered his voice. "You gave me a huge fucking boner just now."

Luke laughed. He loved the man's easygoing attitude to sex. Like Scott had been around the block and didn't have time for bull shit.

"Um... I'd say me, too, Scott. Only I've had one the last ten minutes." Luke blushed but not too shyly leaned back in his bar stool and spread his thick thighs to show off the ridge of ex-tight end cock riding up into a solid ridge in his trousers. "Guess all that intern talk got me worked up."

Scott grinned and chuckled, taking in Luke's handsome, chiseled face before facing his drink and running his thumb nervously around the glass rim. "I'm pinching myself here buddy."

That was the first misgiving Luke had. He wasn't angling for more groupie sex, but he had to admit it was probably unavoidable. And if his pro-jock celebrity status was what got a successful business daddy like Scott interested in him, so be it

The 55 year old looked back up with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but I've stroked a couple loads out thinking of you."

"Yeah?" Luke felt flattered and excited. And more than a little happy the man had been doing what he'd been doing on his own, too.

Scott nodded in a conspiratorial way. "Like I say, my house gets lonely sometimes."

"I find it hard to believe you couldn't line up who you wanted," Luke assured him. "I mean, if I..." he stopped himself.

Scott chuckled. Their scotch was half drunk but he was rock hard in his suit. "Let's get out of here, man."

"Yeah," Luke gasped, mad that his horniness and crushed-out excitement was almost keeping his words from forming.

He pulled out his wallet, but Scott placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. "My treat, buddy." He fished out a few twenties and tossed them on the bar, giving bartender Josh a wave of thanks.

The Charlotte air was warm for September as they stepped out of the steak house. "Your place or mine?" Scott asked. Again no bullshit. Luke liked that.

"Either's good. But I haven't had a dude back to my place in ages. Kind of miss it."

Scott nodded and nudged Luke's blazered elbow. "Yours it is, then, buddy.... will be cool to see how a pro bowler lives."

Luke was really warming up to the hero worship, maybe because with Scott it felt playful rather than needy. And in a way, he saw the exec as a peer, a successful man in his own right. Luke offered his car service and soon the two were getting into a sleek black Mercedes.

"I half expected a mansion," Scott grinned as they got to Luke's house. Carlson almost objected with a running account of the square footage and number of rooms his house had, but he realized then the exec was just teasing him, almost goading him into bragging. He had to laugh defensively.

The vibe when they got indoors was surprisingly easy. It was like riding a bike to Luke, stepping up to a hot daddy, softly gripping him by the mid section and pulling him in for a kiss. The man's suited erection felt hard against Luke's and the ex-athlete realized that Scott Monahan was pretty hung.

He couldn't help it. Luke humped his hips against the man as they made out. The executive had a big goofy grin as he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at Carlson's 230 pound stud build. Slowly, he helped Luke take off the blazer and openly admired the muscle filling out the dress shirt with his more slender but strong hands.

"Fucking nice, buddy," the 55-year-old growled, his brown eyes sweeping up to meet Luke's in a heavy gaze.

Carlson meanwhile admired every bit of Scott's 6'3" body. Not a pro athlete build, but the ex-linebacker didn't care. The exec was really fucking fit and the tailored suit only made the middle-aged build look even more perfect.

"Shit," Luke gasped.

"What?" Scott laughed, getting used to the idea Luke fucking Carlson would be so into him.

The ex-jock sighed and had to spread his legs to let his boner ride up in his trousers. "I can't decide if I want a nice slow session or if I want you to ravage me."

Scott's nostrils flared and the side of his mouth curled up in a half grin. "How bout this buddy? Whatever you pick, we do the other one next time."

"Think you can go easy with just a spit job?" Luke grunted. "It's been a while since I've done that."

The older man nodded. "You call the play, I'll run it." He started removing his suit coat, but Luke stopped.

"Leave it on," he interjected. Then feeling he was too pushy, changed his tone. "Please man."

Scott grinned and made a show of feeling up his suit lapel. "Buddy if this is what gets me into your hot ass..." He stepped up closer and claimed another kiss from Luke, reaching down to grip those amazing steely, beefy buns before moving his hands to the front to help Luke undo the belt and zipper.

That footballer dick was rock hard and thick and dripping clear sap onto Scott's hands and he felt it up. Truth be told, if Luke Carlson had made a move to fuck him, Scott probably would have gone against his top-only policy. Maybe that would happen next time, or time after next. Cause the banker had a good idea there was gonna be a next time, and more. There was just too much clear chemistry between the men.

But he didn't belabor the jerking stroke on that Carlson cock. Scott leg go and gave a soft pat to Luke's hips as a signal. The athlete moaned into the man's mouth and broke the kiss, looking him deep in the eyes before turning around and pulling down his trousers mid thigh.

Monahan crouched down. He ran his hands up the outside of those tree trunk thighs and wondered how he was so lucky. Before him was the roundest hardest ass he could imagine. Ready for him. Gone was any memory of prior men from his head. Even that Princeton intern couldn't hold a candle.

Hungry now, Scott nudged his face into that warm cleft and started rooting deeper, till he could lick Luke's soft, crinkled hole. Instinctively Scott knew Carlson was no stranger to bottoming for other men. But that ring was tight as a drum, almost virgin tight. It had been a while for Luke.

Luke's thick tool was almost pressed against his rippled belly, he was so turned on. He leaned forward, bracing his meaty upper body against the granite countertop as he got eaten out by a master. Carlson wasn't surprised this businessman was good at eating ass, but he was taken aback by how fucking good Scott was. It was technique, to be sure, but also hunger. The way the tongue varied its approach, the way the man seemed so abandoned to munch Luke's pucker....

He felt a gentle pat to his bare rump then knew Scott was standing up behind him. That executive cock was dripping a good amount and between the precum and the spit, Carlson felt good and wet for penetration.

"Ravage, huh?" Scott teased.

And all of a sudden Luke felt fingers grip his waist tightly and that daddy dick pressure its way in.

"Fuck!" Luke grunted as several inches of Scott pushed in.

"You got this," Scott assured him. His right hand rand up Luke's muscled back before coming back to its prior grip. "Ready for more?" he asked as he watched Luke's breathing return to normal.

"Yeah," the ex-linebacker said plainly.

This time everything felt amazing. Scott's girth, and more and more of his length, the sheer hardness of a man who loved to tap ass and was getting the fuck of his lifetime. Luke felt fuller and fuller, and with that sensation came the psychological thrill that he was getting taken. By an older, more experienced man. By a man old enough to be his father.

The balls pressed lightly against those creamy white buns, for a second. Then Scott pulled back.

"Fuck me, man," Luke urged, no longer embarrassed by his own need. It had been too long.

Scott Monahan was already doing just that. Deep steady strokes. The fingers growing tighter as they rode up Luke's obliques for leverage. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're tight," he growled in a voice that said it probably wouldn't take long to cum.

Luke reached down to his own neglected dick. It was slick with his own clear sap and he started working it up and down in time to the executive's hard thrusts.

"Harder, man," Luke urged. He was in the zone where he could take it.

"Fuck," Scott hissed and those hips worked faster. That hard prick pistoning faster in and out of Luke's hole.

He was hitting that spot, all right. Like that dick was made to get me off, Luke thought. The retired athlete looked up into the window. He probably should have pulled the blinds or something, but thankfully the view wasn't in the neighbor's sightline.

Good thing, because in the reflection, he saw his meaty body leaning over, bracing himself while his fucker, fully dressed in his expensive suit, railed his ass.

That vision did it. Luke came, firing onto the side of the island.

"Goddamn... here it comes buddy..." he heard Scott's urgent voice, cracking with orgasm. Then that heavy, surprisingly big dick inside Luke grew slick with seed. A lot of it. And it kept coming. It had been a long time for Scott Monahan, too.

They paused a second and Luke leaned up into Scott's embrace and soft, appreciative kisses along the corded neck.

"That was amazing, buddy," the exec whispered in Luke's ear.

He gave another appreciative pat on Luke's side and slowly withdrew. Luke played host and offered him some paper towels to wipe off as Luke did his best to wipe the spermed up crack.

"You gotta go?" Luke asked as he pulled his trousers back up over his rump. He tried not to let his emotion show through. Maybe this was groupie sex like so many times before.

The middle-aged man tucked back in, his dong still heavy but shrinking with post-release satisfaction. "Fraid so, buddy.... you know, school night and all."

"Yeah," Luke conceded. "I'll order you a car." He texted something on his phone, then after a second looked up. "They should be here in ten minutes."

The man zipped and stepped up to run his fingers along Luke's square chin. "I meant what I said earlier, man. We'll take our time the next time around... maybe a date if you're free this weekend?"

Those butterflies returned to Luke Carlson's stomach. But the defenses were hard to shake. Scott read his mind.

"We'll keep it low key, man," he assured Luke. "Kind of more my speed anyway."

"Honestly? I don't know that I can wait till the weekend," Luke said. Putting it out there.

Scott grinned and stepped back. "To tell the truth, I probably won't be able to either, man."

Luke chuckled and took a second to feel the man's shoulder though the suit fabric. He knew Scott was fit, but that delt muscle felt solid, more solid than Luke expected. "You better go, or there's gonna be more ravaging going on," he growled.

Scott laughed. "Yeah."

Luke walked him to the door and the two met for a soft kiss at the door.

Then Scott pulled back and stepped out the door into the night, giving one last wave just as the black car was pulling up.

#drakestories

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minervadashwood · 1 year

Text

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab/plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 6

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist Form

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Summary: The Dixon brothers help you move in to your new home. This chapter contains: Smut. Word count: 2.5K

Thanks to @green-eyedladywrites, @bringinsexybackk69, @livingdeadblondequeen, and @littlegodzilla for all your support and enabling my young-norman gif obsession.

As Daryl parked your car close to your dorm, a familiar anxiety burrowed in his chest. He felt this way around most strangers, especially large crowds full of people better than him. It was only his innate alpha aggression that kept his head up and his shoulders back. Most times he felt like ducking his head and hiding. But more often than not, he was a strong alpha among betas and lesser alphas, and that part of his biology took over.

You seemed well-recovered from the incident at the truck stop, and were once again bubbly with energy. Indeed, as he followed your directions through the GSU campus, you were pointing out buildings and landmarks, like the Panthers' football stadium. You promised to take him on a tour once you learned your way around the place.

He sighed in the driver’s seat and shut off the engine. Before he could get his bearings, you were already out of the car and loading up yourself with various bags and a suitcase. That compelled Daryl to action.

“’Mega,” he said, rounding the car to get to you. “Don’t bother with all that. I’ll get it.”

You smiled at him, but shrugged—or tried to: your arms were weighed down by three canvas bags and an overstuffed duffel. “I packed it all up myself, so I can manage at least this much.”

He wondered if you weren’t carrying half your weight in your arms, even though you were heavyset and curvy. Those bags looked heavy. Daryl could not stand the thought of you carrying a single heavy bag, let alone four of them.

Daryl took the duffel from you and put it back in the car.

“Daryl—” you protested.

He looked down at you, and without thinking too much about it, commanded you. “Put those in the car, Y/N. I’m carryin’ ‘em in after I get ya inside.”

With a small pout, you obeyed, and Daryl sighed with relief.

“I’ve moved by myself lots of times, you know,” you told him.

Daryl put his arm around you and tucked you against his side. “Won’t hafta do it again. Ya got me now.” Besides, the next time you moved, it would be with him, in the home he’d find for you.

Although you had recovered from the truck stop, Daryl still hadn’t. He did not sense any other alphas around—just beta after beta streaming from the parking lot to the dorm—but he wanted you as safe as possible. So, he held you close as you directed the way into the building.

In your life as a student (undergrad, two fellowships, and now grad school), you’d moved plenty of times. You were well-practiced in packing your entire life in your small yellow Bug, moving here and there as your academic career demanded.

Daryl’s insistence that you not carry a single thing was as sweet as it was unnerving. The omega in you preened at being cared for, but you’d become used to your independence and took no small amount of pride in looking after yourself. Perhaps a life without a dependable family, a pack, had taught you self reliance was key.

Although, you made friends easily once you were settled in each new place, in between endeavors you were on your own. It had taken you a lot of courage and positive self-talk to make yourself capable of such independence.

Was that aspect of your life over now? Had all that effort simply been biding your time until your mate came into your life?

Still tucked into Daryl’s side, you could not deny how good it felt to be flush against him. Despite your conflicting thoughts, you loved the way he touched you and held you, how you fit perfectly against him.

The closer you got to your dorm, the more Daryl clutched at you like a man possessed. His hands and arms were around you or gripping you every which way (PG-rated, that is), as you walked inside and stopped at the front desk. There, you met the Resident Director, Casey, and then you signed all the necessary paperwork.

Daryl’s hand was in the back pocket of your cargo shorts while he glared at Casey, a true beta if you’d ever seen one (and therefore no threat to your mate).

“We met on my way here,” you explained to her. “Still getting used to each other.”

Casey smiled at Daryl then winked at you. “Better get you the Mate visitor forms.” Casey handed you a packet of paperwork, and you smiled gratefully.

Casey went on, “Once you turn that in, he can get his own keycard for the building and your apartment. Well, after the background check and everything. Should only take a couple of weeks. You can sign him in as a regular visitor until then.”

You nodded, suddenly flushed and giddy at the thought of coming back to Daryl waiting for you. Or Daryl letting himself in while you were sleeping and then waking you up with kisses…or more than kisses.

Just as Casey handed you the keycard, the door to the building opened. In sauntered Merle, laden down with some of your luggage that had been in the pickup truck.

“Let’s get you moved in, Peanut!” he announced. You did not miss the lecherous leer he gave Casey but decided not to comment on it.

Strange how Merle, who Daryl said was an alpha, seemed to prefer betas over omegas.

Your new home was fully furnished and had a small kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. It was quite compact and cozy. More than enough room for you.

Between Merle and Daryl, you didn’t have to lift a finger to move in. The brothers carried everything up to the fourth floor using the stairs, even though there were two working elevators. Based on the way you heard them arguing after each trip, you soon realized it was a competition to see who could carry the most at once.

Once everything was carried up, it was time to unpack. Merle took it upon himself to organize your bookshelves, of all things, and set up your TV and DVD player.

Meanwhile, Daryl dragged you to the bedroom and insisted on helping you put away all of your clothes. It was not long before you realized why. He sat in the middle of the floor, pulling each top, skirt, pair of shorts or pants, leggings, and even individual socks and scented each one. You refused to let him touch your undergarments, preferring to keep those private for as long as possible.

Still, it wasn’t long before both the room and your wardrobe were thick with the heavenly musk of your mate, making you crave his touch, his kiss, his body.

By the time you’d finished putting away the last of your underwear, you felt almost drunk on Daryl’s scent. You braced yourself on the wall, taking deep breaths and willing your hormones to calm the fuck down.

Like most things, this did not go unnoticed by your mate. He slowly stood from the floor, a mischievous glint in his eye as he stalked toward you. When he was standing in front of you, he nuzzled your neck, your gland. “Ya need me, don’t ya?” he whispered, his voice gravelly.

“It’s your fault,” you mumbled, leaning into him. “Getting your scent all over the place.”

Daryl gripped the back of your head, tilting it so your neck opened to him. “Tomorrow I’m leavin’ ya all alone. Can’t have anyone forgettin’ yer mine. Ain’t that right, ‘mega?”

You nodded, with a shuddering breath. If he didn’t fuck you right now, you’d fuck him, omega or not. “You going to take care of me?” you asked, batting your eyes at him.

Daryl growled and smashed his mouth on yours. Then, he was lifting you in his arms and spinning you around. You thought he was taking you to the bed, which was piled up with clothes now, but instead, Daryl kicked the bedroom door closed and held you against it.

He set you down, his mouth assaulted yours with feverish kisses that had you moaning and writhing against him. But soon his mouth left yours to trail along your jaw and to your neck.

Your shirt came off next, and Daryl continued his path downward, kissing your chest, then your belly, sinking to his knees the farther he went. When he got to the button of your cargo shorts, he had them undone in a flash, and yanked them down your hips, along with your underwear.

“D-Daryl—the bed—what about the bed?” you panted.

Daryl kissed your hip and trailed a path to your navel. “I been wantin’ to do this ever since I seen ya in that skirt. Then that fucker hurt ya, got your clothes all dirty.”

Daryl kissed his way past your navel, closer, and closer to where you wanted him most. You trembled more and braced your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll be thinkin’ of ya in that skirt ‘til the day I die, ‘mega. And everytime I do this, too.”

Your hands left his shoulders so you could thread your fingers through his hair. His mouth traveled to one of your inner thighs as his hands gently held the soft flesh of your legs. He stopped and looked up at you, waiting.

“Tell me you’re okay, ‘mega,” Daryl said, placing soft kisses on each of your thighs.

You nodded furiously, and Daryl gave you a half smile. “Spread your legs for me.”

You did as he commanded, letting the cool air hit your already soaked pussy. Daryl was kissing your thigh again, teasing you relentlessly as he worked his way inward, until finally his mouth found your little bundle of nerves. He gave it a tender kiss. Then, he gently ran his tongue along your folds,

Unbidden whimpers escaped you, and Daryl chuckled with his face pressed against your mons.

“Taste like fuckin’ heaven Y/N. Jus’ gonna eat you all up.”

Just pretend they are vertical and this is you in the gif w/ daryl, ok?

You seriously questioned your ability to remain standing but didn’t want him to stop. “That’s fine,” you sighed, hoping he’d make good on that promise.

Daryl licked along your folds, teasing his way around your clit, working you into a frenzy. You were a second away from forcing his mouth there yourself when he finally placed his lips around your clit and gave it a gentle suck.

“Oh, Daryl,” you mewled, tugging at his hair.

Then his tongue, gentle but insistent, began working your nub with a steady rhythm, and he peppered in gentle suckling, nearly driving you mad. He gripped your hips to keep you in place as you writhed and squirmed. You were close to coming when he slid a finger into you, skirting you even closer to the edge. Then, with a few more flicks of his tongue and his finger caressing your g-spot, you came on his hand and mouth, with a loud, sonorous moan you couldn’t stifle even if you’d wanted to.

Daryl got to his feet and pressed his hard body to yours, holding you against the door. You were grateful for his solid frame because you were sure you were about to collapse, feeling boneless and spent.

He kissed you, his tongue lapping at you and forcing you to taste yourself on his mouth. You heard him undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his jeans, and your pussy pulsed in anticipation of your alpha’s cock.

Daryl ran a hand down the side of your face. “You got to trust me now, ‘mega. Whatever happens, I got ya.”

You nodded hurriedly. The entirety of your body screamed at you to trust your alpha, leaving no room for doubt.

Daryl put his hands on the back of your thighs and lifted.

You gasped, suddenly held aloft only by your upper back against the door and Daryl’s hands beneath your legs.

“Now, wrap those gorgeous legs ‘round me,” Daryl ordered.

You felt unwieldy and awkward but did as he said. Now he was gripping your hips with his big, strong hands.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes,” you rasped, and then Daryl lifted you up only to slowly bring you back down on his cock. You threw your head back as he filled you, your wanton pussy taking in every satisfying inch of him.

Using his incredibly strong arms, Daryl began to move you on his cock, while at the same time he thrusted up into you, setting a pace and angle that had you gasping and moaning his name.

“I could live inside this pussy for the rest of my life, Y/N, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“You feel good, too, Daryl. I love it when you’re inside me.”

Daryl looked down at you, his lust-filled eyes watering. He put his forehead on yours as he continued fucking you. “Can’t wait to claim ya, to make you mine.” His gaze held yours, and amidst all the pleasure you felt with your body, your soul felt pleasure, too, like your whole being had found a home in the arms of your mate.

As Daryl thrust into you, waves of pleasure grew and grew until you came, shuddering and shaking in his arms. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in utter joy. At the same time, you felt your alpha’s knot expanding, and Daryl groaned and grunted as he thrust into you.

When he came, your name was on his lips, and you melted against him as his seed filled you and threw your arms around his neck.

Daryl kissed your jaw, slow and gentle as you both tried to catch your breath.

Suddenly, a heavy knock sounded on the door, making you jolt in surprise.

“Y’all through in there?” Merle shouted.

You froze in terror and shame, clutching at Daryl and wanting to hide yourself inside him. You’d forgotten entirely about Merle being in the other room.

It seemed Daryl had, too. When you looked into his eyes, they were wide with shock and regret. You stared at each other, speechless and holding on to each other for dear life.

“There’s some kid here to see ya, Peanut. Says his name’s Ro or some shit.“ Merle’s voice grew marginally softer as he turned away from the door. “What the fuck kinda name is Ro?”

You rested your forehead on Daryl’s shoulder , and he slowly carried you to the bed. Carefully sitting down, he settled you on his lap so you could both be more comfortable until his knot deflated..

“Peanut!” Merle shouted. “Ro brought us food! Best get out here before I eat it all.”

Daryl must have sensed your fear because he was whispering for you to take deep breaths and running his hand up and down your back.

Once you’d relaxed some, Daryl held your gaze, and you saw a twinkle in his eye.

A giggle burst out of you, and you pressed your forehead into his shoulder, now laughing uncontrollably.

Once you calmed down, you realized Daryl was smiling at you, his blue eyes bright with relief. He kissed your nose and held you close, and you could not remember ever being so happy.

One thing was for sure, at least one of your neighbors knew who you belonged to.

Thanks for reading! Likes, replies, and reblogs are treasured and cherished!

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