hvckleberried

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

the hardwood beneath her feet creaked in familiar patterns, toes taking nearly the same pattern as last time. miles’ actions were foreign in his name, but admittedly appreciated. hell, becca didn’t know what she could handle right now, how would he? the gentleness in his movements was a sign of protection.

in this place she feels warm, welcomed, safe.

he guides her into the living room, and becca’s eyes scan the scene while she tries to keep the dam of tears from crumbling. her shaking skin touches smooth leather and a chill runs through her numb body, nerves spiking to the touch. but the warmth of his knee keeps her grounded, safe from floating away at any moment.

becca’s voice is soft but hoarse all the same, her screams from just an hour ago wearing at her throat, cracking her vocal chords to pieces. “ we… we didn’t know he was gone— we thought… we thought we could save him. “ she whispers, her eyes not daring to meet his, fearful of her own reflection in those misty grey oceans. silence pools around them. she’s not sure what she’s expecting, what does someone say to that ? maybe… maybe she just needed someone to hear her, to help her keep herself in one piece.

his hand grasps hers and becca could feel that jolt of warmth zap through her once more. it gave her a sense of life again, if only for a moment, the numbness in her skin wearing away slowly. 

you did all you could.

his words bring a new meaning. she had heard it on repeat from herself and peyton over the last few hours, but coming from those once venom-filled lips made her almost believe it. 

“ okay, okay, yeah… “ she whispers in response, her eyes casting back down to the blotches of crimson staining her once peach and soft red dress. now, it was a stained reminder of a beautiful night gone so horribly wrong. 

she meets his eyes, and she knows— there’s a brokenness in her eyes, her golden brown turning to a soft, fading chocolate. she was draining by the minute, and she knew she had to crash. one way or another, she was going to crash and burn. 

she takes his hand once more, forcing weak legs to stand and wary eyes to falter. turning to him, she places her other hand over his, her lips curling into a wavering smile. her eyes didn’t match it.

nina and lucas are nowhere to be found. as miles leads becca up the winding staircase to the kiersney’s second floor, he finds a foreigner –– gratitude –– lodging in his chest. he’s grateful they’re whereeverthefuck doing whateverthefuck, as long as they’re not here to witness this.

miles’s mind defaults to tallying steps as they climb. his grip on becca’s hand tightens with each degree of ascent. he swallows, glances at their feet. the wall. the ceiling. “ almost there, ”  he coaxes. like reaching the apex of these steps might wash all her worries away.

he’s overwhelmed with temptation to move closer, but it’s... temptation of a different kind. so as their feet settle firmly on second-story hardwood, miles draws her closer and drapes an arm around her shoulders. it’s a paltry attempt at bodily reassurance, but he knows what it’s like to shoulder those images :  the blood. the breath. the eyes. 

miles vernon’s heart isn’t warm. but it peers out from the shadows, long enough to register gelb’s sorrow and empathize. that gratitude resurfaces. those rich airheads can’t see this.

miles’s room sits just beyond the bend, the last in an ever-stretching array of bedrooms and guest rooms, closets and bathrooms, bullshit and bullshit. but miles swallows that, refrains from staring daggers into his foster siblings’ closed doors as they pass. now’s not the time. and, lucky for miles, hatred runs no risk of expiry.

“ this is me, ”  he murmurs as his free hand nudges the door open. like she has no idea. like her body hasn’t been here before. wine red walls beckon the pair into the minimally decorated space :  bookshelves. a few stray shakespeare posters. beanbag chairs by the window, bought by his foster parents in meager encouragement for forging friendships. as if miles would be caught dead bringing anyone from west ham high here.

and yes, the irony does hit him.

he gives gelb’s shoulders a squeeze before kicking the door shut with his heel. still no sign of tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. but he doesn’t want to chance it.

“ what’re you after ? ”  he asks, tipping his chin toward the closet. he breaks away, gliding toward the spacious walk-in. “ hoodie, sweats, tee ? ”  the french-style doors swing open on soundless hinges. nimble fingers flick through impeccably organized garments :  ordered by color, sleeve length, occasion.

it clashes with chaos. and... something stirs in him, something uncomfortable and vulnerable, unveiling this kind of domesticated self. so rather than present options in any clear order, miles simply steps back and opens his arms toward the closet, eyebrows raised.

he’s not good at this.

“ take your pick. ”  his lips pull into some semblance of a smile.

how do people do this ?  comfort ?  console ?  he chews the inside of his lip and tilts his head to the side. maybe it’s time for a joke.

“ just don’t clear me out. ”

yeah. he’s fuckin’ underqualified.

[hvckleberried]

t-vickymoore‌:

@hvckleberried

If she was being honest, Victoria didn’t expect to find in the house anyone besides her friend, maybe Lucas, but not Nina’s other brother. For lack of a better thing to do in that situation, Victoria decided to greet him. “Hey.” She had heard about him; no flattering things, really, mostly by Nina’s mouth but also from other people around school. That he did drugs, that he set a building on fire (maybe with people inside?) . Victoria didn’t paid much attention to them anyway, because if there was something she knew was how easily bored people picked someone to make up things about them and wreck their reputation (even if some of the things people had said about her weren’t exactly lies). “I’m Vicky, I’m looking for Nina. I heard she was doing bad, so… I came to check up on her. Have you seen her?” 

this girl walks right in the front door and miles catches himself cursing pressman for her damned everyone’s a winner; mi casa su casa bullshit. he blinks up at the brunette from his spot on the sofa, arm draped over the edge as he flips through ginsberg. a cigarette teeters between his lips, unlit. no one’s here to tell him he can’t, but it’s the possibility of it, the taste of free will on his tongue. without the kiersneys hovering, anarchism reigns. miles returns his gaze to the text held in one hand, eyes once again scanning the page. but this vicky girl doesn’t leave. so after several beats of total silence, he flips a page and his eyes flick up to her again.

“ you’re looking for nina. how unfortunate. ”  he makes no move to rise, to welcome. no, he’ll just sit right here, savor kaddish, and will anyone willing to waste a breath on nina to hell. actually. somewhere else. he wants to toy with those fires, someday.

“ haven’t. ”  a smooth lie. he hasn’t seen her in twenty minutes, since their misfortunate paths crossed in the kitchen. miles reads the next few lines. flip.

“ guess that’s your loss. ”

[hvckleberried]

ninacelina‌:

“If it were you’d be the epitome of fashion for years now.” To say that Nina couldn’t stand to look at him was an understatement. How dare he stand where their parents once stood? How dare he talk to her that way in her house? 

She didn’t know what anyone else in New Ham was doing, but they weren’t playing house here. This was a game of home invasion that might never end. 

Her hand flew into the air and collided with his face as soon as the other’s words reached her ears. 

The only thing in the world she had wishes for as a little girl was to bring her mother back. To switch places with her. To say goodbye. The dresses, tiaras, shoes, dolls, and all the crap her dad poured into her room was never what she really wanted. And here this asshole was. In her home. In his home. In Nina’s home. With that kind of disrespect about a death that literally just happened.

“How’s that for pathetic?”  It took only a second to realize what she had just done and it was still that very second that she knew she didn’t regret it. This was a long time coming. “You’re scum, Miles. Literally beneath me. You don’t get to ever decide how I act or react. Do you understand me?”

nina slaps him and miles can’t help it –– he laughs. shakes his head and just... laughs. what does she think throwing hands will accomplish, besides amusing him ?  miles has never been deterred by petty violence. if anything, it just intensifies the mischievous spark in his gaze.

how’s that for pathetic.

“ quite, ”  he responds, as if her first question isn’t rhetorical. miles isn’t dumb; he knows he’s testing her. that’s the fun. respect for nina ?  for lucas ?  the mere thought of it makes him cluck his tongue. “ if you’re going to hit someone, for everyone’s sake, make it fucking hurt a little. ”  miles eyes her like the vainglorious bastard he is. her bitterness only widens his acerbic smile.

he picks up the carton of orange juice again and finishes off its contents in one swig. this is just another afternoon. just another stupid day in the kiersney household.

“ oh, nina... ”  miles feigns softness. clucks his tongue. “ i don’t give a rat’s ass what you do. ”

he sets the empty container onto the counter and brushes past her toward the fridge. his hands dance along the handles before finally pulling open its french-style doors. an apple sits on the top shelf. miles nicks it and tosses it in the air a few times before twisting his wrist and digging in with a satisfying crunch.

“ by all means, ”  he adds before another bite. “ drink yourself into oblivion.”  cue a lackadaisical wave of his hand. “ who’d miss you ? ”

crunch.

dark brows lift, as do the corners of his lips. and those gray eyes ?  stare.

[hvckleberried]

ninacelina‌:

Nina is crumbled into herself at the island with a pink long cylinder that on closer inspection was a canteen currently filled with ice water. She’d been drinking water non-stop for hours now – staying by the fridge to continuously refill periodically – and yet she still had the biggest headache. Curse Lucas for forcing her out of bed. Her body dragged at the simple task of looking up at the person who entered the shared space. Ugh, was the internal greeting for her foster-brother. She rolled her eyes at his mere presence. 

“How else am I supposed to look?”, her venom tongue nearly piercing him like a dagger.

Maybe it was just the contrast in their demeanor but there was something off-putting in his casual vibe. Becca had been here apparently. Nina had saw her walking out the front door when she first came downstairs. Now, Miles was sauntering around like it was a regular day. Like their entire community didn’t just turned upside down by a tragedy. 

“Don’t you look fucking chipper in light of recent events?” There was no attempt at hiding her disgust.

miles smiles scornfully and shakes his head. nina’s got bite. he’s glad, in the wake of tragedy, some things never change. after a night spent cradling a human heart in his hands, he craves something normal. as he licks his lips, citrus tingles his tongue.

“ however you like, ”  he responds, like her asking offends his soft, suburban ego. it’s a clear jab at their foster mother’s knack for maintaining the illusion of free will. “ who am i to judge ? apparently crackhead chic is in. ” 

nina’s next comment comes mid-sip. miles’s eyebrows raise. his eyes widen as he sets the carton down and swallows.

“ what ? ”  he asks, gesturing around them. despite the seriousness of their subject, his lips tug into an incredulous smile. “ does being pathetic suddenly have resuscitory powers ? ”

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

what was she doing here ? what, in her right mind, had compelled her to run all the way here in the middle of the night with an idiot driver on the loose. but becca couldn’t condemn herself, not right now, not after everything. 

she waited with every second, every tick of the clock as time slowed and her heart raced. this couldn’t be happening, there was no fucking way that this night had turned into such a… horror film. nothing made sense and nothing was okay. 

her throat clenched with a tightness that restricted her breathing, a soft, exasperated heave of her breath fell from her lips as she tried to keep herself in control, but all she could think of was keiran’s dead body in the back of her car. his blood smeared on the side of her dress that now felt like a prison around her body. 

golden brown hues gazed up into a sea of blue and grey, but they held a softness now, an entirely different aura than before and becca almost thought she was at the wrong house. she was sure her brown eyes were lined with red, the veins bulging from her socket and the tears barely drying on her cheeks. 

as he opened the door further, her feet move slowly, timidly, like any moment she could fall through the floor and never get up again. maybe she deserved it. but just as soon as that thought popped in her head, he was moving closer and that’s all it took for becca to fall into his arms, fingers clinging to his black tee as she tried to hold in every sob that begged to break her. 

she sucks in breath after breath but it all seems to flee her, every word she could think of vacating her mind and leaving her with an emptiness that hurt. this was different than emily, or the pregnancy. this was someone she’d seen sneaking in and out of her house, horsing around with blue on the weekends, throwing punches in the school hallway. this was someone she knew. 

he pulls away and becca thinks she’ll crumble, that without a shoulder to lean on or a body to grip, she’d break and shatter and join the lifeless boy wherever he was. but she keeps it together as his hand steadies on her arm. 

“ thank you. “  it was all she could muster without a sob breaking through, her feet carrying her through the door way and into the slightly familiar house. 

her chest is heaving up and down, and her mind, which was once empty, is now filled with images of just hours ago, every detail etched into her mind. 

“ i… i drove him. “ she finally spoke up, her voice weary and weak, “ i drove him to the hospital and he was already dead. “

the last time gelb was here, she stumbled through the front door, body firm-pressed to his. they’d wasted no time in flitting upstairs, shedding inhibitions and clothing and thought. now, the small girl’s foot teeters past the sill and miles can tell, tonight ?  all she’s shedding is tears.

he’s never seen gelb move with such uncertainty before, and... it stirs something in him. miles nudges the front door closed behind her, with care, like any loud noise beyond a muffled click beneath his palm will send her to the floor. and then he’s guiding her through the front foyer. only when miles eases them into a seat on one of the kiersney’s leather sofas does he notice her dress now dons variant shades of red.

i drove him, gelb speaks, i drove him to the hospital and he was already dead.

gelb’s seen her friend’s blood. and miles wants to punch something.

what’s there to say to someone who’s just harvested a dead body off the ground ?  while miles knows what it’s like to play joe black, he also knows what it’s like to deliver the fatal strike. he bites his bottom lip and saws. what’s there to say ?  what’s there to say ?

silence pools at their feet and swirls around their ankles. seconds stretch on and there he sits, knee against gelb’s, and... his hands move before he knows what he’s doing. they move to close around one of hers and squeeze.

he can’t wring the hurt out of her heart. but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

“ you did all you could, ”  he finally assures. he can’t offer up words of god or blessings, or he’s in a better place. spirituality’s melatonin for morons. “ and... it’s appreciated. ”  miles looks away. he sounds like a fuckin’ pr company.

his gaze returns to those eyes, those lips, that dress.

“ let’s get you changed out of that, ”  he suggests, voice taking on a gentility he’s never accessed before. the forest fire in his chest lightens and eases itself into a hearth. tender. contained.

because he, too, once wore beloved blood as an accessory.

“ i have shit you can borrow. ”  the words tack on because... because he doesn’t know what else to say. he’s sorry ?  he barely knew the guy, beyond a few run-ins around town.  he’s sorry for her... loss ?  that’s greeting card bullshit. miles vernon isn’t fuckin’ hallmark. so he just... meets her eye, tips his chin so she can really see him.

miles doesn’t speak fluent heart. but he needs her to see him, see this. he squeezes that small hand again. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. she’s hurting.

he’s not well-versed in mending. but god damn it, he’s... he’s got to try.

[hvckleberried]

( @ninacelina ! )

miles saunters into the kitchen and barely pays his foster sister a glance as he jerks open the fridge, snatches the orange juice, and swigs straight from the carton. he nudges the swinging door shut with the toe of his boot. gelb left a little while ago, and on goes the mask–– but something about comforting a sobbing girl still rattles him to the core. he can’t outwardly say he cares about this damned town. but even he’s got some feeling.

another gulp of juice. miles leans against the island, one hand reaching back to press against cool granite. and then his eyes actually rest on nina for a moment. polly pocket’s not looking so glamorous today.

“ don’t you look like shit. ”

it’s as normal a good afternoon as they come.

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

“ you’re not my dad. “

“ no, really ? i had no fucking idea i wasn’t dead. “

“ keiran’s dead. he died on impact. “

“ he was dead in the car. “

“ cassandra’s in a coma. “

becca can feel the pulse in her neck soaring, the ball in her throat growing, and the rage inside of her subsiding, only to be replaced by the agonizing emptiness she knew so well. everything around her seemed to be crumbling, every little aspect of her being zapped away in one night. 

people began rushing into the hospital, one by one. familiar faces all plagued with the same look etched across their faces. sorrow. fear. pain. the air is foggy with disdain and treachery, and just as becca thinks she’s safe, that this couldn’t get worse, he walks into the hospital. 

she knows he’s there for cassandra, but something in her growls in pain— he has the audacity to come near her, to show his face after what he said. she doesn’t give him the chance to see the pain on her face, she runs.

she runs, and runs, and runs. her feet carry her in an unknown direction, but her mind is set in one place. she has to get away. before she knows it she’s running up the steps of a place she has only been once before, drunk and stumbling through the doorway with her face smashed against another’s. but now, that desire is vacant, subsided as her knuckles bang on the door, the young girl holding in tears she knows won’t resist for long. 

the door swings open and it takes all becca has not to crumble into the other’s arms. 

“ i’m sorry, “ is all she can muster out at first, the clenching in her throat fighting against her own words. “ i just— i didn’t know where else to go, i… harry’s off somewhere, tess is crying over a boy, blue’s… i just… i didn’t know where else to go. “

after visser murdered any chance he had at letting his spark with gelb sweep into wildfire, miles had no business at that dumb dance. so he slinked off into the night, shed his stupid outfit for a black tee and sweats, and turned to kerouac for comfort.

the winter fly in kerouac’s cabinet withers, and gray eyes fall shut for a moment to relish in twelve-word settling snow. melancholia dusts atop paper-pressed palms. miles’s tongue flicks against the back of his teeth as his lips barely, barely retrace the ink’s steps.

in my medicine cabinet the winter fly has died of old age knock knock knock––

that’s not part of this one.

knock knock knock––

miles is half convinced that’s fate knocking on his door –– at this ungodly hour, who else could it be ?  he debates ignoring the call, but the lamp is on. and oh, what a fool he’s been, to make his present so easy to spot.

the curly-haired boy rises and tosses his well-worn poetry book to the side. it’s binding, lovingly thumb and bent, splays open against the sofa. nimble fingers make quick work of the kiersney’s four locks :  better rich and overprotected than rich and robbed. a smirk ghosts at his lips. if only they knew, stealing from them had always been an inside job.

miles jerks the door open just enough to glare out onto the porch, half expecting to see an entourage of letterman jackets and steely eyes. the sharpness of his gaze eases when he finds becca gelb standing there instead.

pressman’s comatose. keiran jordan’s dead. miles hears it through the grapevine, from an unknown number, and he hasn’t made much of it. new ham gossip’s just as batshit as west ham’s was. but... judging by the pained look on this girl’s face ?  that two-sentence text from an unknown sender –– hit and run. cassandra unresponsive, keiran dead. –– carries new weight.

“ don’t apologize, ”  miles mutters, opening the door wider. one of his hands falls from the door, like he might reach out and comfort.  “ it’s unbecoming. ”  dark humor sifts uneasily between them, but doesn’t quite patch the cracks.

miles knows what it’s like to watch a friend die.  and now gelb knows, too.

he hesitates before moving forward with a tentative step. he’s used to people flinching away; they’ve trained themselves well. but this approach... it’s gentle. it’s something miles vernon hasn’t done before. miles’s arms press steadily beneath gelb’s elbows and he gingerly moves closer, pulling her into a hug. he’s... tense. not good at this. but if he doesn’t hold her from breaking apart now, who will ?

“ it’s fine, ”  he says, even though they both know better than to believe it. he pulls back and meets her gaze, really searches those deep brown-gold eyes. no smirk. no smug tease. it’s the first time he locks eyes with her and truly means it. though their bodies part, miles keeps a light hand on her left arm. steady. like if he doesn’t, she might collapse into gravity’s tug.

and then miles vernon’s uttering two words he’s never said  before.

“ come in. ”

[hvckleberried]

justwestofwillow‌:

will isn’t thrilled about the nickname, but she doesn’t show it—just lets it roll off her back, like so many other, much worse, names she’s been called. especially in the last few years. her face lifted expectantly, waiting for the prepared question, but he was dragging it out. and that look on his face, like he was about to pounce- and then she went pale and then she blushed and then her mouth moved to find some words.

they’d been so careful! how did he figure it out? him, of all people, who willow wasn’t sure she’d even spoken to before! “i do not have a boy toy,” she finally got out, determined to dispel this budding rumor. “where did you hear that? and who is it you think i’m smitten with?”

“ mm. you don’t have a boy toy. and this isn’t whiskey. ”  miles swirls his cup before downing the last of his drink in one go. his cup knocks against wood as he places it on the table in front of the blushing girl. this was just. too. easy.

“ thing 2. lacrosse boy. lanky. annoying. muppet on librium, or whatever the fuck. ”  on this rare occasion, miles bothers to think of this kid’s name. but he’ll let little miss spring sunshine connect the dots, since she’s so smitten with him. his eyes flicker from her to his cup as he reaches for a handle of amber liquid and pours himself another healthy helping of liquor.  “ hate to break it to you. but your stealth skills ? bested only by a fuckin’ meteor strike. ”  he knocks back another swig without bothering to replace the bottle’s cap. he doesn’t owe this place shit.  “ could hear your eye fucking from a mile away. ”

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

becca can feel the boy’s eyes glued to her every move— every bite, every glace, every shift of her body is being recorded by orbs of misty grey, speckles of blue and just the right amount of concentration to have her choking on air. but becca keeps her cool, elbow resting easy against the table as he continues to watch her. 

“ if you’re going to stare, miles, take a picture. it’ll last longer. “ she’s quite the hypocrite, her own eyes scanning his frame. her move surprised him, that was obvious, but she took pride in the glazed look in his eye, the way he shifted forward. 

everything in her wanted to grab his hand and race out the back door, throw him in the backseat of a random car and just let go. she craved the feeling of that night, all those months ago. it was the first time she had truly let herself have fun, and the boy beside her had catered to her every need— that was the hardest part to forget. 

her thumb exits her mouth with a soft ‘pop’, tongue swiping over her teeth to clear any unwanted left over icing, but her eyes stay locked on his. god, she couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried.

becca wasn’t going to let him take back over, instead, her hand once more rose his way, bright red nails moving to fix the collar of his jacket. her grip might’ve been too tight, but if she didn’t hold on to something right now she feared her legs would give out— and what was the fun of that if they weren’t already in bed ?

“ good to know i finally got a reaction out of you. “ her words hold the smirk that played on her lips, fingers dragging across his chest as she continued to fix the jacket. “ but i know that’s not all i do to you. “

at her comment, miles’s gaze only intensifies. he doesn’t bat an eye. “ last time i checked, picture-taking is your expertise. ”  he’s observed her recording for yearbook, voluntarily. that’s the kicker. gelb actually believed in keepsaking that hellhole of a school, and their shitshow of a class. miles only picked up a camera for the club when disciplinarily mandated, and even so, all of his sports photos have a big old fuckin’ bird in the middle. or two, with the assist of tripods and self-timers, trailing up the sides. and who ever said the delinquent didn’t know how to use leading lines ?

the question tingles on the tip of his tongue. so simple, so easy. they’ve met eyes like this once before–– strike-slip matches, open flame. but the heat behind gelb’s gaze is measured. miles knows better than to take the bait.

so he leans in, gray eyes tracking her every move as she inches closer, closer, and brushes her fingers across his collar. his lips edge into an easy smirk as her nails trail along the silken rouge. his breath might hitch. his eyes might flutter. but he holds her gaze captive with his own.

under that dress, her pulse runs hot. it’s all he can do not to tear that fabric. with his teeth.

rip into me, beg burning eyes. her hands drag down his chest. miles’s heart slams against his ribs. each beat skips quicker, roars faster, burns brighter.  rip into me, they purr. i dare you.

but she won’t. not here, not in public. not with prying eyes and reputations on the line. but oh, does miles wish she would.

there’s only one end to this. vernon sees no harm in milking this part.

“ oh ?  is that so... ? ”  his voice dips lower. light fingertips dare to reach forward, to touch, but he refrains. bites his lip. he’ll... play...nice. for now. 

“ why don’t you... ”  miles lets out a breath. his smirk morphs into a devilish smile. “ ...enlighten me ? ”

[hvckleberried]

rcbinthehccd‌:

closed starter for @hvckleberried

robbie made a note to herself a long time ago to never put anyone above herself. she’d broken that rule only a few times, certain situations forcing her to the brink and sling-shotting her right back over the edge. her time with miles was not one of those certain situations, and she held no regrets. 

but who said she couldn’t have a little fun ?

the second she saw him, robbie almost gasped. he wasn’t clad in his usual full black outfit, no, he had a blazer on. dear god. 

“ who in the hell are you trying to impress ? “

she has the audacity to match his ken doll of a foster brother. what a fuckin’ trip. just the idea of it makes miles grit his teeth. fuck that shit. miles sees lucas link up with her early on in the night and steers the hell clear –– she’s made her allegiance known.

and then she approaches. miles blinks at her like she’s just walked across a militarized border. unarmed.

“ mm. fuck you, too, ”  he offers as a greeting. prom’s got a no smoking policy. he reaches into his blazer pocket lights the fuck out of one of those damn cancer sticks anyway.

“ i’d ask you the same thing. ”  he says post-drag, eyes narrowed. he speaks through clenched teeth, cig teetering between thin-pressed lips. like this is small talk. like she doesn’t matter to him one bit. “ but you’re too easy. ”  

to figure out goes unsaid. on purpose.

[hvckleberried]

justwestofwillow‌:

@hvckleberried

willow pulled her eyes away from monty hanging with his friend peyton across the room. she’d been stealing glances all night, in secret. no one was watching her, no one who really knew her was around right now. but that tall, glaring boy was staring at her. she sipped her drink and stared right back, moving a little closer. “you… are staring at me.” she said softly. “why?”

“ ah, flower girl. ”  miles swirls his drink and holds her gaze, brow lifting as he sips from his own cup. “ i actually have a question. for you, ”  he counters, raising the his index finger from where it rests against the rim of his drink. another sip does nothing to subdue the growing smirk stretching across his lips. “ tell me :  when do you and your boy toy plan on snagging a room ? ”

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

becca knew there was something to the vernon boy that she just couldn’t place. she had received attention from guys before, mostly nearing the end of junior year and the beginning of senior year, a new confidence finding her among the years. but this— this game of cat and mouse that constantly switched between the two was something she had never played before. luckily, she was doing a pretty decent job so far. 

that night used to play like a movie amidst her dreams, creeping up on her in the middle of the night as she remembered the way his fingers tangled in her hair and his lips that trailed over every inch of her body. the way her skin burned at each touch and chased each absence. for a while, she twisted it into her own horror story, her pregnancy revealing itself and tainting the image. but in this moment, all she could remember was the taste and feel of it all. it made her knees weak and her breath shallow and she knew he could see it— he knew what he was doing, and that just made it all the more intriguing. 

“ a nerd. “ she repeated, her voice sturdier than before and her eyes dilating as she watched the shift in his. the carrot. instantly, a smirk lifted on her lips as she nibbled on the vegetable once more. she was sick of this game, it was her turn. 

most only knew her for her test scores and the tumbling historical facts that tend to fall from her lips in waves. that’s what focused her attention on him that night— he didn’t stand puzzled and confused with her odd comments way of flirting, instead he laughed, and becca knew she was hooked right from the start. 

his tongue swipes the last bit of the desert into his mouth and becca can’t help but watch as his lips moved, the same lips that had left a trail of marks all across her body, red blots scattered across her chest and stomach for a week after the fact. as he finishes, she sees her chance to flip the tables. 

her hand raised to his face, his body shifting closer as she moved. her thumb wiped gently on his lip, her chocolate-covered digit was brought back to her lips. cherry red consuming dark brown as she sucked it clean, never missing his gaze.

“ oh, it’s up to me? “ lips curl in a smirk as smooth vocals leave them. “ you’re definitely a nerd. but a mysterious nerd— it’s a whole other level. “ her tongue darted across her lip, teeth tearing at the skin. 

her lips form nerd again but miles couldn’t give less of a shit about the word: he’s interested in the physics of conversation, the path that red pair tracks as they etch her thoughts into sound.

he’s observed her from afar in the weeks following that night –– the way the corners of her lips turn down when she concentrates. the way her brow furrows just seconds before a laugh. becca gelb is fluent in english and sign and intrigue. miles wastes no energy in subduing the magnetism sparking his gaze. he simply watches her mouth close around that carrot and congratulates the vegetable for stepping down a trail he’s already traveled.

what miles doesn’t expect is for le voyeur to become le touché. her thumb brushes against his lips and it’s all he can do not to open his mouth and invite her in. she retracts her hand and miles feels his chest reach forward, a ghost of an inch, as she tastes cocoa from his lips.

a pensive hum vibrates against his own lips, but the sound rumbles deeper, resounding against his ribs. mile’s tongue darts out to swipe over where her thumb had just been, in time with her terminal lick. as gelb savors the last of remnant icing, he too relishes in the bite of phantom fudge.

a mysterious nerd. his smug expression molds into a pseudo-smile. hungry eyes drag across her features –– he wants to –– he wants. 

let’s bounce. two words he can easily, easily propose through tooth-pressed lips. but that would be too easy, and miles has never been one to shy away from a challenge.

she plays, tooth and tongue and lips, and that’s what gets him to grin. his fingertips drum against the tablecloth in a fluid wave :  pinky to thumb, then back again. a fire in him ignites. gelb’s down to play.

“ a whole other level, ”  miles murmurs, head tilting. he’s not talking about the intellect. “ ah, gelb. you flatter me. ”

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

“ funny how you aren’t afraid of me, most boys are running towards the hills by the second go. “ chocolate hues flicker towards his finger, his tongue flickering out for a moment’s glance, and she sucks in a breath. her eyes are easy and her smile is smooth, but her chest is roaring with a silent growl. 

“ nope, not even close. “ she lips pop the ‘p’, and her lashes flutter as she gazes up at him. he’s bent towards her, but his height is still towering compared to her small frame. she could remember then those foggy eyes were clenched shut behind closed doors and the safety of his comforter. now, they were wide open and staring her down, just like all those month’s before.

keep your cool, no repeats of last time, gelb.

the voice in her mind faded to dust as he leaned in closer, she could practically feel his lips against her ear and it took everything in her not to grab the collar of his jacket. the quote was one she knew well, littered among her journals and text books. though, now, rolling off his lips and dripping in venom, they sounded so much darker, so filled with something too inappropriate for textbooks. she acted as if she didn’t catch the flicker of his eyes, instead leaning back further on the table.

“ i forgot, you’re a nerd too. “ she keep her voice stable and smooth, barely. her eyes trail with his finger once more, and the carrot in her hand flies back to her lips in habit. 

“ i don’t scare easily, ”  miles says with a haphazard tip of his chin. it’s true. he’s seen too much to run for the hills over a little resistance. especially since he’s not pursuing. gelb keeps circling back to him, cropping up in his path –– if anything, she isn’t afraid of him. he’s well aware of his rep around town, but she’s seen beyond that. she’s seen dog-eared copies of on the road and howl on his bedside table. he draws a long sip from his cup and tries not to think about that too hard.

she keeps remarkably calm, but he catches it: the inkling to squirm, to jump, to touch. miles’s eyes are well-trained for female attention, and he’s got gelb on high alert. the subtle shreds of confirmation ( hitched breath, hooked gaze )  codify his ever-present smirk.

“ mmm. a nerd... ”  he hums. she nips at that carrot and his steely gaze darkens. he’s taken back to bedding her in the dark –– roaming hands, mingled breaths, tangled tongues. miles eases the brownie to his lips and bites into fudge, holding becca’s gaze all the while.

“ ...maybe not. ” 

she’d made a comment about jefferson and horticulture at that party, months prior. miles recalls their conversation vividly. becca gelb’s got a brain :  he’s never shouldered such an urge to crack into someone’s skull before. to comb his fingers through their thoughts and taste their depth as they unfurl upon his tongue.

miles’s tongue trails along his teeth. he swallows the last of the confection and craves something more. he makes like he might snatch another square from the tray, but looks like he might sink his teeth into her instead. he plants an arm next to the tray, right beside her. his nearest shoulder dips low; his chest angles toward her. the dance swirls on behind him, but miles pays no mind.

the devil wears something close to prada, and she’s stood right in front of him. red dress. red smile. she smells like vanilla and her words taste like blood. 

“ i’ll leave that one to you, ”  miles purrs. “ you do have quite the knack for... ”  he tips his head to the side and eyes her up and down through long, dark lashes. “ ... history. ”

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

“ if i have to serve 150 years for brownie theft, i’ll sue. “ her tongue poked against her inner lip, a soft chuckle humming between them. she couldn’t take her eyes from his, they had locked in and there was no going back.

memories of the night at the bar flashed back into her mind. that same smirk, those same grey eyes staring her down like prey and she was willing for the hunt. lust was a terrible drug and she had just chugged the whole bottle. 

“ well, it is an interesting view, but i’m not one of your little fans. “ she could feel her breath hitch in her throat as he neared closer, the hot wave of breath fanning over her neck sending goosebumps along her skin. she could keep her cool, totally, as long as he didn’t get any closer. 

fingers pluck at a random snack, bringing back a carrot as she eyed him down. this was the longest staring contest she had ever entered, and something told her his eyes would wander at the first chance he got. she wouldn’t necessarily mind it.

“ you’ll sue. color me petrified. ”  miles drags his index finger through the brownie’s frosting, his own lips hinting at an actual smile before he sucks it clean. he blinks as chocolate rolls across his tongue, eyes alight with something akin to amusement and desire.

“ you aren’t, eh ? ”  his brows lift at her denial –– he expects no less from her now, but their past transgressions speak otherwise. and actions, he’s sure she’s aware, scream louder than words. 

“ absolutes are coercion. ”  he murmurs, veering close again to deliver the ginsberg quote with the intimacy it deserves.  “ change... is... ”  that carrot’s an excuse to allow his eyes to dart there, wandering to survey that exquisite dress on their way. then they trail back up, slowly, to latch back on to those gold hues. 

“ ... absolute. ” 

another drag of frosting. the same finger presses past his lips; his tongue rises to meet it.

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

golden orbs meet rainy skies of grey and becca gelb could already feel her heart beginning to race and the breath leave her lungs. cherry red lips purse as she resisted the urge to bite her lip, eyes widening slightly as he began to talk. 

“ the fact that i’m totally hiding the brownies behind my back. “ she offered, a soft chuckle leaving her lips as she tried to resist further reaction. he got a kick out of it, and she knew it. “ you’ve gotta be a stalker— matching my colors ? that’s a little creep show, vernon. “ she was teasing, it was obvious, but her eyes stayed too focused on his— as if they were resisting the urge to eye sex him for the remainder of their conversation.

“ oh, gelb. hiding brownies. you’re practically the next madoff. ”  miles tuts and eyes her over the rim of his drink. those eyes lock on his and light a fire. as he finishes off a sip, his tongue, dyed red by the punch, darts across an ever-growing smirk.

“ creep show, eh ?  well shit. i’ll do anything for my fans. ”  miles eases by her to snag one of those coveted brownies, their bodies drifting dangerously close. once he secures one of the treats, he just takes a bite and stares right back. deep. smug. wanting. he’s got what he’d been after, but against hardwood, his boots plant firm. something holds him there. 

maybe it’s the steady alcohol he’s been sipping all day. maybe it’s her.

[hvckleberried]

beccagclbs‌:

becca stood leaning against the snack table, hand swirling her cup of fruit punch. man, she wished she could drink. if so, she’d be a walking tequila bottle by this point. but, she remained sober, her narrowed eyes scanning the party as a peer approached her. 

“ don’t mind me— just sitting here watching this whole thing go to hell. “ bright red lips took a sip from the solo cup, brow quirking as she watched the other.

she’s standing by the snack table, and if miles were anything like his contemporaries, he might find that amusing. maybe he does. but he’ll never admit it, not while he bites into a celery stick, and certainly not as he portions out his own punch and tops it off with a hefty pour of whiskey.

“ what’s to mind ? ”  he asks, washing down a smirk with a nice long swig. piercing gray eyes flicker from her lips to his matching sleeves, then back again. “ besides your lips lusting after my jacket. ”  

[hvckleberried]

mcntydcluca‌:

monty’s eyes flicker to the tic tac’s in hand, pupils shaking as he followed each one with minor critique. but his eye’s flutter back up to meet the other’s, just as he moved to scan him. monty knew he wasn’t the most intimidating, but his slim frame held no signs of his strength. he looked like a toothpick, fought like a brick. 

“ nah, but some people need a friend. “ his brows pulled to a fine point in the middle of his forehead, eyes slightly narrowing towards the other. 

“ my lover ? — dude, what your problem ? “ he finally snapped, his voice more annoyed than angered. 

miles relishes in it, the narrowed eyes, rising tension on that doorstep. he can breathe easy, knowing chaos still ticks.

“ my apologies, friend. did i offend you ? ”  he swishes a tic-tac swish cheek to cheek before his expression blossoms into a crooked smirk. miles props a shoulder against the doorway and observes monty with an element of pity. poor nice boy. he’s yet to get burned.

he could easily close the door and retreat back into the comfort of his own den, but no, that’d be too easy; that wouldn’t be fun at all. so he twirls the tic tac box between his left forefinger and thumb and figures he’ll offer this kicked puppy a few scraps of seasoned advice.

“ nobody in this fuckin’ town’s watchin’ your ass. not your shaky little co-captain. not visser. not pressman. ”   emily’s dead because she bought into all this community bullshit. miles isn’t blind. “ they’ll put you in the ground, too, and nobody’ll bat a fuckin’ eye. ”  he doesn’t owe this kid anything. but it’s about time someone in this stupid town calls it how it is. “ wise the fuck up. ”