@POPSPRINCESS i got big decisions, i got TWO BRUNETTES and a blonde one . // now that's miami problems .
musing + writing blog by layla .
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@popsprincess
@POPSPRINCESS i got big decisions, i got TWO BRUNETTES and a blonde one . // now that's miami problems .
musing + writing blog by layla .
they have too much history, and she left this town with open wounds from him, amongst others. she wasn’t perfect, by the time she decided she needed to leave, she hated who she had become — so full of anger at the world. she had take herself off the cross of her own self - crucifixion and get away from the entire environment. she’d made a list of things she had wanted to do : travel, meet new people, go back to school, talk to her biological father. she’d managed to do all of that, but she hadn’t been ready to come back — it was the world that made that decision for her. she had gotten the call in the middle of the night while in brussels. it was her dad, the only father figure she had, her only family outside of her sister, was gone. and alivia had her own family now, which left her properly by herself. she didn’t even get the time for a proper goodbye, despite booking the first flight she could back to the city, he had already been gone. she winces at his mention to it, she forgot that he, along with everyone else in town, knew about what had happened. her father was a prominent figure, even drew’s parents had been there, to her own shock and disdain. “ it’s fine, ” it wasn’t, but it would be. life wouldn’t stop moving, even if it felt hard to get out of bed every morning now. “ thank you. ” what else could she say? nothing would bring him back, but it’s reminding her of his own situation. “ i’m sorry, too. ” about her. he had lost someone too, the mother of his children. it’s hard to picture him as a father, to see how different their lives have turned out. “ if you need anything, i’m here. ” her therapist would scold her for being so readily available for him, but maybe this is what she needed : someone who understood.
parker was a reminiscing reminder of the awfulness of his own love. it was like a poison, it crept into people. worse than drowning, it burrowed in your chest and warmed you from the inside out. he had learned from his father what it meant to make people feel special. had learned from a man that he hadn't seen since the birth of his first child. the truth is, he would have been just like him. would have hurt more people, a dozen more parkers if life hadn't twisted him in its injustice. how he could fall in love, not the fabricated half sided selfishness he had called it before. but real, deep, longing. the kind that pulled you back from the edge, the kind that had him staring at a version of himself that didn't make it past his twenties, a version of himself that rippled into the background of his mind. reminding him of who he was, who he still is at times. he'd killed versions of himself over and over again, until it stuck. until he promised to do better, and be better for her. because she needed him. because he was a father, and a husband, and a hundred other things he never thought he'd be loved enough to see. people didn't love wickedness, but parker had. and for that, he could never ask for forgiveness, she had given it to him when he deserved disdain. he wouldn't ask for it now. he was still paying for his sins, it seemed. after his wife died, he'd spent the trajectory of his twenties being a single father. they don't teach you how to be a dad, and he knew nothing of warmth or comfort--until them. he'd taken the sharp edges of himself and filed them down, until his hands bled. he nodded when she said it was fine, but this town-it ate people alive with it's rumors. and she looked tired. he'd tell her to run, if she'd listen. "i thought you would have.." he shook his head, scratching at his temple as the words trailed off. "key'd my car or something, maybe." he glimpsed behind her to the yukon. "still could," the dimple almost reached the surface. "if you want."
tears whelm up in her eyes , trying to fight it -- she did , she always did . so hard sometimes , she had the markings to prove it . whether it was punching the mirror or using it to indent into the palm of her hand enough to induce the pain to stop it from traveling . wants to numb it , silence everything going on inside her head which is why she turned to drugs , used the alcohol to heal the broken parts of her knowing that the man before her would go through hell in order to bring her out on the other side , unscathed . he loved her , she knew that . felt it every time he touched her , every time he was inside her . and she loved him , too . but the fatal thing about her manic state was the inconsistency of her emotions , the unknown of what was going to happen next once it hit . watches him from the other end of the hallway , reminders of their life together hidden in every crevice of their home . the last time she had one of those was the treehouse monti had built for her when she was just effy's age . she shakes her head , "i said stop it , drew ." he's lying . he doesn't need you . no one does . their daughter was better off without her . she wasn't fit to be a mother . not when she could hardly take care of herself , depending on the man desperately trying to bring her back to maintain the agony she caused themselves . fingertips run through her hair before she's tugging at the ends , rougher than necessary . they are better off without you . "stop it , stop it , stop it !"
god, wouldn't that be easier? to stop. stop loving her the way he did. stop going back and forth with this endless pit of darkness. stopped letting it claw pieces of himself along with her, while he pulled her out. again and again. he'd promised her that he would do whatever it takes to bring her back. when she was herself, when she looked back at him with quiet eyes and glossed over stares. because she always knew it would come back, the same way he did. it was worse when effy was a baby, it had been worse than this episode. if he could sell what was left of his soul for hers, he'd sign the contract tonight. the muscles tightened, his throat felt raw. he always gave her space, in the beginning, in hopes she would come back to him on her own. "i love you." the distance was inched, like pieces of glass cracking between each step. "and you love me." no matter what she said, words were empty even if they were silvered in venom. it's when she started pulling at her hair, did his hands clasp against wrists. she felt smaller, frail, and strong all the same, in moments like this. "stop it." he repeated the words back to her, harsh enough that his grasp on her startled to struggle. "reid," the warning quiet. not for her, for them. "don't make me do it like this."
"you know," his brow arched as he slunk back into the leather chair. "you could have just called."
she was broken in the head . came to terms with it a long time ago , confirmed by savannah who never let her live it down a single day in her life . becoming a mother herself should have helped pave a way to being a better person , but she didn't think she could do it . wasn't sure if she was built for it . she knew they deserved someone who could love them the way they needed , the way normal mothers loved their kids . who didn't come home wondering if she was going to be there or not . reid looks at him now , blue eyes nearly black in a way that only happens when she sinks into this dark hole she dug herself . "i don't need anything ," words come slow and jagged as she pushes her plate away and stands , trying to put space between them before he had the chance to eat it up . "no ." don't . the only person who could get through to her was him and they both knew it . it's why she fought it when she got like this , addiction feeding her lies -- he'll get tired of her eventually .
it's like he was looking at pieces of her scattered across their house. some of her heart was under their bed, another piece planted in the garden, then another in their daughter. who looked just fucking like her, that he worried it would sooner or later be the only way he could see her again. "okay," his hands raised, gaze shifted to the plate that had skid against the wood, the metal utensils that had dropped and clinked against the china. the small crack in the corner of one of the plates where this had happened before. "you don't want to talk? then listen." his throat bobbed, and he pushed off the wood. "effy is with beatrice," the kind elderly woman he had hired a few years back, when her postpartum had verged on breaking her entirely. "they're out at the movies, and school just finished last friday." he was telling her this because he knew the storm that was coming, had stood in the base of it and had loved her, not in spite of it, but in addition. "she's been asking about you." he started pacing into the den, then towards the hallway where one of the bathrooms had been. the closer the better, he wouldn't try to lead her into the master, and since this one they used for the kids, it didn't have a lock. he'd made that mistake before once or twice over the years. he flipped on the shower, and then catches her in the hall. "she needs her mom." he wants to reach out, and he's prepared to drag her in there if he has to. "i need you, reid. okay?" his voice softened. "i need you."
" this is my home. " she'd spent years trying to escape it, though, traveling from city to city and replacing the painful memories with new ones. she'd grown up, she was stronger now — but seeing her biggest weakness wasn't something she was prepared for. " everyone i have ever loved is here. " including him.
he'd done a lot of terrible things in his life. a majority of which stimmed back to her, and the countless was he had treated her. he wasn't a good person back then, he's not even sure he is one now. only difference was, being a father had changed him in ways that people couldn't prepare for. making the way his had treated him, all the more lingering. looking at his daughter, in the ways she was so much like her mother, dug deeper and deeper at wounds he had thought he'd healed over the years. every now and again, he was reminded, like pieces of lint leftover on your clothes- how cruelness was a family trait he had swallowed. "i heard about what happened parker," no words could really do justice for how much hurt she had endured. "is there anything i can do to help?" because sorry wasn't good enough. he'd apologized enough to her, danced on what was left of her heart until it was rubble. he wouldn't start by doing it again. real or not, this time.
has been playing with her food for what felt like hours now , disassociation settling deep in her bones . his words take a second to register and when they do , she barely even glances in his direction . "do i look hungry ?" she should care . she should be obligated to give him some sort of semblance of affection , but the voices ... the voices always won .
tension settled in his jaw, he could feel it. heat traveled down his back, settling worriedly at the base of his spine. loving her was like living a hundred days in the sun, only to be thrust into winter the moment things started to grow again. his hands set the glass down, folded across the table as he leaned into it. gently, he'd learned gentleness through barbed wire and scars. blues shifted to the plate, pieces of food that were pushed around. he wouldn't comment, wouldn't feed into the voices that pulled at the strings of his heart like taut wires. if he could scream, he'd wrap his hands around the voices, and yell until he was hoarse and strangled--give her back! "you need to eat." he concluded, standing and picking up his plate. "you can't just-" he set the plate down, moved closer. leaned against the expensive wood. "talk to me." she's still there, he just needs to find her again.
"why'd you call me?" why he came, would have been a more reasonable question. "boyfriend didn't answer?" his gaze drifted absentmindedly, the party trickling down to leftover beer and morning regret.
"I don't think I ever expected you to come back to this place."
the kids were gone for tonight, he'd given them money and their nanny advise to keep them busy, take them to the movies, the arcade. rarely did they use their staff to raise their own children but desperate times. hours ticked by, dinner had gone cold, he'd order more-if she actually ate this time. "are you hungry?"
getting back into the game and would like some new threads + ( new & old ) partners too, so like for a starter if you’re interested !
“ god, you're always the most sexy thing in any room. ”
nothing had changed, this was the exchange. and yet, "have you ever been in love?" her throat felt immediately dry. the abruptness of the question making the distance short, and palpable.
he doesn't say anything -- doesn't have to . by energy alone , you knew , rhys myers didn't mess around . so he'll follow behind her , give her security a look that read the same line : fuck with him and find out . taking a seat without putting up much of a fight , he thumbs over the corner of his mouth where he spots the drop of blood before brushing it away against denim . he deserved it tonight . after years of radio silence , he returned home to find his parents dead and his brother living . all by himself . leaning back when he spots the ice in her hand , he takes a look around the room , noting the ambiance set up and the dark colors . had been in one too many places like this , owned by the bianchi's . wonders how a pretty girl like her ended up here . then again , none of the pretty girls he met sold their soul for fun . "should i roll over , too , and expect you to pet me ?"
she had eyed the way the bouncer had tilted his chin away, before they were alone. from one cage to another, she flickered round irises to the movements. the blood that blended into the denim, darkening the spot where he wiped until it was forgotten. "depends," the corners of her mouth twitched softly but she still kept herself a safe distance away as she gathered the ice. her throat bobbed, and then she exhales, gathering her nerves and swallowing them. the mask they expected her to wear had never quite fit. slowly she moved over to the booth, sitting next to him, closer than intended. she didn't touch him, not yet. "you do tricks?" the tease was softer under the music, the lights low and intimate in the private lounges. they were made that way for a reason, to make you believe you were alone. to give the illusion of privacy in the dark. the truth? she was always being watched. "can i?" she asked permission, because it was rarity in the place like this, nodding the where his mouth was split.
open to : m / f / nb plot : dude, we're in the backrooms </3 andi asks for y/m's help in filming an asmr video centered around liminal spaces. boom, they head to a dead mall. while filming, mayhaps strange things start happening … maybe they end up in the literal backrooms 👀
a decaying time capsule is what they've been exploring : familiar, almost nostalgic despite never really having been here before. over 700,000 square feet of deserted kiosks, gated store fronts, and EVERYTHING MUST GO signage, the only other people they encountered had been near the entrance where the nail salon is still active. the mall itself exhales staleness ... like a forgotten closet filled with moth balls — save for the brief whiff of a discontinued bath & body works mist andi swore she could smell and the pair bickered about whether she'd imagined it or not. yes was the reasonable consensus, but she remains dubious nonetheless. a pop song has been playing faintly on loop yet she hasn't quite been able to make out the words despite how many times she's heard it since they've been here — hopefully she doesn't get copyrighted. “ guys, check it out. this thing looks ancient. ” she whispers into the hand held mic, pointing at the coin operated horse as they approach it. it's an ugly thing : slightly dented, the paint long chipped off in patches that expose the metal beneath with a severely worn out saddle, made seemingly of real leather, to top it off. " hi - yo silver ... " is the phrase engraved in the dusty golden plaque at the base of the ride and she mumbles it a few times for tingle purposes. beckons the other to come closer with the camera as fingernails drum against the aluminum body of the horse, alternating between fast and slow tempos before lightly dragging her nails along the surface. “ these used to be so fun though, you ever ride them as a kid ? ”
the whole fucking place gave him the creeps, if he was being honest. the only reason he'd even gone, was because she would go either way. the last thing he needed was seeing her face plastered across the news, local girl kidnapped by deranged lunatics in abandoned mall. places like this were a fucking pool for groups to get high, or wasted, without the threat of being locked up. they'd traded graveyards, and this place was a walking fucking cemetery. his suspicions were only confirmed when in one of the department stores, someone had set up some camping gear and it looked lived in. which meant they weren't the only ones wondering around this place. "she has a death wish," he'd muttered to the listeners before watching her from a few paces behind. it was easier to see the things she didn't, that way. he had only been halfway paying attention to the long forgotten kiddy ride, when the shuffle of something behind her had caught his eye instead. he squinted, ignoring her question entirely, jaw twitching but the spot didn't move again, if she were to look over her shoulder, the shadow would be gone. still, he felt watched. "this place is fucking creepy." he said, finally turning his attention back to her. "you get enough footage?" he was persistent to go back. "whatever junkheads are shacking up in here we should go before they com-" the horrible screech of a carousel jingle cut him off, the aluminum horse kicking into life. "fuck!" his hand clutched his chest, until the music lowered, and lowered, slowing until it died again.
open to : m / f / nb plot : hitch hiker … beware ! jk, waylin's actually a decent guy ! ... maybe he's the one who should beware ? mayhaps not ? who knows !
it's been almost two hours. within that time frame, he's turned down a handful of rides. the first few had been lonely elderly men who seemed to purposely misunderstand his circumstance … as though his request for a ride into the nearest town were code for something obscene. the last had been a couple, relatively normal in appearance sans eyes with blown pupils that darted around mid conversation in a paranoid fashion and the glass pipes scattered in their backseat. it'd be safe to say : he's dodged four bullets. feet begin to drag with each step he takes, boots stirring up the dust on the shoulder of the road. the fabric of white cotton shirt clings to him, damp with sweat, and lead weight of a canvas duffle bag slung over his shoulder only adds to the discomfort of it all. brown eyes will cast a glance to the field of common reed beside him, then out further where the tree line begins, silently wondering if he should cut his losses and spend the night out there. turns on that idea, just as he does his heels, to face the road behind him, now taking steps backwards with a hand shielding eyes in search for signs of life on the long stretch of highway.
it's then when he catches a glimpse of their car climbing over the hill, an image rippled by heat waves that rise from baking asphalt, out of focus and diffused around the edges … almost dream - like. there's the mechanical whirl of the chamber — readying the last round in the revolver. arm extends out to the road instinctively, a thumbs up to hail them down, paired with the friendliest smile he could muster, muscles working to ease the fatigue etched on features. a sliver of relief is felt when they pull over just some feet ahead. he stares at their license plate for a brief moment, tossing it forwards and backwards in his mind. what will it be … a dud or a hit ? in a few long strides, he makes it to their car — eyes skimming the state of their backseats before reaching the front passenger door. he rests an arm over their car, leaning lightly against the vehicle to ease the weight on tired feet, head tilting as he squints at them through the open window. “ thanks for stoppin’ for me, kind stranger. any chance you’re headin’ into town ? ‘s kind of where i’m tryin’ to get to. “
the sun stretched on forever. the road adrift with sand and wind that carried onto everything. her hair, her clothes, it was tainted by the gusts of grit and tinges of red. the windows were down, and the ac must have been broken from the hundreth time she'd flipped and toggled the knobs until eventually giving up. there was a reason she picked a beat up mustang from '93. they didn't have the same alarm system as the newer cars did. no way to track the car, no built in GPS that would ping at every shitty gas station this far out from the city. it was just her and the open desert somewhere outside of vegas. if she could get far enough away, she could start over. before they ever realized she was gone. but they would, eventually, if they hadn't already when they were missing a lounge girl later tonight, or when the owner of this car left the club only to realize he'd been robbed.
it was all going accordingly. the morning air had turned stale, and the road was left forgiving than it was at night. sweat clung to the nape of her neck, curls pulled up and out of her face as her hand rested on the open window. freedom was only a county line away. until the car hiccupped, the tire split by a piece of junk metal in the road, before cluttering beneath the undercarriage and spit out the backend. "shit!" she hadn't been far from a gas station, but to whatever luck there was a tire in the back, and a kit to patch it until she could stop. but she couldn't just bring it into a shop. it would kill time she didn't have. every minute she was stuck out here in the open made her feel like a bird being hunted in the open sky.
she's been in the middle of conjuring an idea. when the idea appeared in the rearview mirror. skirting off to the side, she waited for him to approach. she'd had worse plans. her hair was down, freshly ruffled, a smile sweet as sin pulled between brims. "hey," she squinted as he leaned in. the sun was reaching it's peak. she could play the kind stranger, the one with no ulterior motives, for a bit. "yeah, actually i'm moving close by." but there was only just a single duffel in the backseat. "cars giving me trouble though, hit something in the road, managed to do a quick patch job but can't get the nuts off to change it. mind helpin' me out? i really don't want to get stuck in the desert, and i'll drop you off wherever you need to go." that part was honest.
she swallowed dry the moment before his response came, shoulders relaxing slightly even if absentmindedly, though face continued to hold its manufactured pose. "i said that" she bites back, tossing a piece of hair over her shoulder as chin rises to watch him more clearly. "i could tell she wasn't your girlfriend, that's all i'm saying" it's not, it was wishful thinking, an impulsive response to a jealous reaction. and yet, she crosses her arms. "you don't look like you like her enough for that" as if she could be the one to judge that. "so, it's good that i'm right"
the sharp edges of her had always been endearing, maybe he had only known how to lick affection, when it was inflicted with a point. he'd rather her fury, than her indifference. scream at him, tell him why he's being an son of a bitch. he'll listen, gladly. so long as it meant she was speaking to him again. the corners of his mouth remained unmoved, until she'd snapped forward like teeth and claws, and it made something inside him warm and hum. "yeah?" brow arched just slightly, god-he wanted to pull her forward and show her what it felt like when he did. but he had already been the one who wanted first, he wouldn't be the one who caved, too. "what do i look like when i do?" dark irises did enough to touch her without him lifting a finger. "like someone. i mean." would he be their punching bag? let them leave bite marks in replace of being wanted back? he's half tempted to let her.