#❀࿐ messages from the crossroads ( answered. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysticheathenn · 3 months

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Why Are Your Ears Ringing & Other Signs?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is for my Patreon All Tiers. This pick-a-card reading is all about the signs you may have been seeing recently and the possible reason why your ear has been ringing if you know you don't have tinnitus.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

Extended Patreon Includes:

What Can You Expect?

Extra Messages (If applicable)

MasterList

Patreon Link

Pile l:

Why are your ears ringing & other signs? Tarot: 5 of Swords (Clarified by Justice), 3 of Wands, Page of Cups, Queen of Cups, 9 of Pentacles.

Multiple messages for your pile. This energy pile l feels like you are releasing a lot of pent-up emotions. If you haven't or are in the stage of releasing your emotions this is the reason your ears have been ringing or you have been seeing certain signs lately. You may be the type of person who holds in a lot of their emotions to either keep the peace, trauma-induced, or because you hate feeling anything other than okay/happy. So you go about your life pretending as if you don't have feelings while bottling up everything unfair and wrongfully done to you. Some of you maybe releasing your mommy issues or if not releasing you are coming to terms with it. You are finally coming to the point in your life where you are accepting that your mother or whatever female figure in your life will not change and become the person you need them to be and you can either accept that and adjust your relationship to keep your mental health intact or decide to go no contact because of how tired you are. Others of you are healing you heart chakra and coming to terms with your past, heartbreak, or the realization that everything is going to be okay and it's safe for you to open up again. Slowly but surely I see you opening your heart to others who are more deserving to be in your life pile l. I literally feel a weight being lifted off of my shoulders as if this has been a burden to you for a while now. You are finally able to breathe and move through life without having to constantly remind yourself of the past and what the past has done to you. Some of you probably replay the things in life where you feel you are still owed an apology or something in that realm. You are coming to terms with the fact that the biggest thing you can do for yourself is to move on and heal because it's not getting you anywhere except being hung up on someone or something that is moving on with their lives. I'm hearing the quote " Now that I know better, I do better." Now that you know you need to establish certain things in your life you are moving forward with what you need to do in order to bring this healing energy of having your heart chakra being healed and open to the world around you. Patreon Link

Pile ll:

Why are your ears ringing & other signs? Tarot: Queen of Pentacles, The Emperor, 4 of Cups, Death, 9 of Swords.

This reading is divided into two messages: Love & Money. For those who resonate with money issues, this is you being tired of putting in the hard work only to continue to keep being placed further back. You feel as if every step forward you take three maybe even five sets back. For others of you, who relate to the love portion this is you getting tired of putting in the work for a specific relationship or in love in general and you feel that you are at a crossroads and aren't sure where you go from here. Either way, this pile is all about being tired, feeling anxious, and wanting a change in your life that doesn't result in depression, lack, and feeling inadequate. Change is coming pile ll, but this change I feel for some of you, you're the reason it's not happening. Maybe you know what you need to do in order for this change to happen but you are too afraid to pull the plug because you are scared or aren't sure what the next move is after you pull the plug on this business idea or love situation. Pull it. Pull the plug. You can't expect change if you aren't going to be the catalyst for it. Others of you that are not the reason for their own lack of change, this change will come in waves and just like waves you're going to take a few steps forward and then a step back but overall you're going to see the bigger picture to keep going because the changes are leading you to a better life and situation than where you are now. Also, this is a specific message for some of you but when a certain opportunity comes it's way do not look a gift horse in the mouth and question that it maybe a trap. Take it by the horns and see it for what it is, a gift. Everything in life is not a conspiracy theory or plotting against you. Life wants you to have good things but you need to start showing up more for yourself, listen to your intuition and not your heart, and move forward. Patreon Link

Pile lll:

Why are your ears ringing & other signs? Tarot: 6 of Cups, The Hanged Man, Ace of Wands, 6 of Pentacles (reversed), The Priestess (clarified by 9 of pentacles)

You may be seeing the number 666 or were possibly drawn to pile l. Instead of healing a mother wound or your heart chakra, this feels more like you are on the brink of healing your inner child or even past versions of yourself. This feels more like you didn't have all the things you wanted growing up because your family grew up poor or your parents just weren't the type of parents who wanted to see you thrive unless they had a thumb on you expecting you to do things in return for something else. This feels like you are coming home to yourself. Congratulations from Post Malone comes to mind.

"My momma called, seen you on TV, son Said shit done changed ever since we was on I dreamed it all ever since I was young They said I wouldn't be nothing Now they always say congratulations Worked so hard, forgot how to vacation They ain't never had the dedication People hatin', say we changed and look, we made it Yeah, we made it" - Congratulations by Post Malone

Maybe people counted you out and doubted you about being able to achieve what you are about to achieve or made you feel bad for liking the things that you like. This pile just has healing, relief, and freedom, but also chaotic energy all at once and it's hard to tap into because while you're on the brink of greatness you also feel as if you aren't doing enough especially if you are feeling as if you are in limbo or a standstill. That's possibly why you are seeing the angel number 666 because you are lacking balance. 666 means other things as well but balance is the main thing coming to mind. Balance and healing things that you didn't know you needed healing. The energy feels like that moment when you see YouTube creators who have put in work for years finally break even and they cry on camera thinking about the past and everything they have been through. Sorry if your reading is everywhere but it's the chaotic energy I feel for this deck. Things will happen swiftly for you...just relax. What is for you won't pass you by. You're close to running on E, please take care of yourself. Patreon Link

Pile lV:

Why are your ears ringing & other signs? Tarot: Hanged Man, 2 of Swords (reversed), 2 of Cups, The Fool, 8 of Cups

For whatever reason there is always that one pile where someone is in a relationship they need to leave and this is it. Except this time around it's a bit different. You are no longer contemplating whether you should leave and if you are you will come to the realization that it's time for you to get back to yourself. You want to know who you are in this new era you are walking into. I feel you probably have lost yourself in this past relationship or current relationship that you are in to the point you feel it has spread throughout your life to where you are in limbo or at a standstill with everything. You aren't sure where to go, what to do, in order to explore who you are again but slowly and surely you will find out exactly who you are and who you are meant to be. This pile is going to be a bit shorter because it's quite self-explanatory and I feel you probably choose this same pile over and over again from my other readings because you either have yet to leave, your energetic field is still holding onto the past and not focusing on self-betterment (becoming your highest self), or because you are just now stepping into this new beginning. This energy all I can say is very beautiful and I feel you will enjoy this new sense of adventure as you find yourself again in this new chapter. You may even discover things you didn't even think you would enjoy while others of you I see you reverting back to things you loved as a child/adolescent. I believe this is something people always made fun of you for and you decided to stop doing it because others deemed it as "uncool." I'm excited for you pile lv. Patreon Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

#spirituality #witchblr #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pac tarot #pick a pile #pac reading #pick an image #pick a picture #pick a photo

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cowpokeomens · 10 months

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Blood Pact

It's me, your favorite monster fucker! Here's another part of my Nocturnal Creatures series, in which you strike a deal with a demon- who goes by Nicholas. Sexy things ensue.

Warnings: Disgusting nasty filthy p-in-v, cunnilingus, lots of mentions of virginity (it's a social construct, but if you got it, flaunt it), Nicholas Ruffilo's monster cock (canon), if you feel I need to add anything PLEASE send me a message! Otherwise, enjoy!

________________________________________________________

You still couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Yet, here you stood, at a crossroads in your hometown. Not just the metaphorical kind, either- an actual, physical crossroads. Mason Avenue and Fisher Street, to be exact.

Right next to the city cemetery, from which you stole a jar’s worth of dirt.

It sat in your bag, next to some kind of flowering plant you hoped would work, a cat bone (thank goodness for veterinarian friends?), and a picture of yourself, one of the headshots your manager had insisted would help you blow up on TikTok.

It hadn’t.

You threw everything into a cardboard box, using your shiny, new shovel from the local feed supply store to dig a hole in the center of the dusty dirty roads. The ground was harder than you expected, so your two-foot deep hole had you sweating by the time it was formed. You all but threw the box into the hole, quickly covering it up with loose dirt, and taking a few steps back. Pulling out your phone, you consulted the symbol you saved from a website earlier that week, spray paint in hand. All the stupid Wal-Mart had left was “Cerise Fluorescent,” so you hoped whatever you summoned liked pink.

Carefully, you sprayed the lines onto the dirt, over where you buried your box. You tried to move quickly, but precisely; Getting caught was almost as terrifying as doing it wrong.

Finally, it was done. You scrolled over on your phone, to the Latin text you hadn’t even dared to read in your head. Stepping away from the circle, you read it aloud now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest, and you wondered one last time if this was worth it.

“Your Latin sucks.” A voice said suddenly.

You jumped, yelping, and fell directly on your ass.

You were scrambling back when the voice spoke again.

“Is this a Goetia sigil? In pink? The guys are going to get a kick out of this-”

You stood up shakily, dusting off your pants in the process. You finally saw the source of the voice: Standing in the center of your sigil was the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever seen.

Long, dark hair; his skin was lightly tanned and healthy-looking. Eyes the color of clouds, that seemed to shift from green to blue to grey before you. He was taller than you, tattoos visible on both hands, and dressed simply: A hoodie, dark jeans, and…

Were those Converse?

You were immediately overcome with confusion. “Um, who are you?”

He fixed those eyes directly on you. “I think that’s my line, doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. “You’re Amdusias?”

He winced. “Yikes, with the Scary-Latin-Demon-Name. You can call me Nicholas.”

You frowned. “You don’t seem like…”

“Like a great duke of Hell?” He finished your thought. “Yeah, only angels really like to make a dramatic entrance, that’s why they’ve been banned to stay behind the pearly bars. Too many eyes, too much fire-”

“You’re wearing sneakers?” You said without thought.

He looked offended. “Did you expect me to crawl out of Hell in loafers?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Well, no, but I-”

“TV is rotting your mind. What do you want?” He cut you off.

You felt the color leaving your face. “Well, um, I read that you were responsible for the music in Hell-”

“‘Music’ is a big word, but sure.” He interrupted.

Giving him a look, you continued. “Well, I’m a musician, too! Only…” You trailed off with a frown.

He mocked you with a faux-wince. “Ooh, not triple platinum yet, huh?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to hide your disappointment. Shaking your head, your gaze met his again. “That’s where you come in.”

An eyebrow cocked at you. “Think that because you snagged a demon, you get to be famous?”

You shook your head hastily. “No, not at all! I did a lot of research-” You Googled for 30 minutes- “So I don’t get to demand things without a trade, right?”

He smiled at you lazily. “Yep. So what will it be, your soul? First born? I love a first born, with a little bit of butter, some rosemary and-”

“I’m a virgin.” You blurted.

He froze, then his entire demeanor changed. For the first time that night, you felt genuine fear as the air around you went still. “Oh yeah?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish, so you settled on a nod.

He took a tiny step towards you. You were rooted on the spot, frozen like a deer in headlights. This was a bad idea.

Finally, you found your words. “My virginity. For- whatever it is you do. Fame, fortune, I don’t really care, I just want people to hear my music, connect with it-”

“Yeah, yeah, real noble of you.” He snorted, then composed himself. For a second, he almost looked concerned. “You sure about this, doll?”

You nodded, trying to look confident. “Yeah. But- make it organic, y’know, the fame part. I don’t want to look like an industry plant-”

He rolled his eyes, walking closer so that he was directly in front of you. You gaped at his proximity. “You can leave the circle?”

Laughing, he nodded. “I could have left at any point, but you’re pretty-” He leaned in so that he was whispering in your ear, “-For a pathetic little human.”

Your cheeks went hot. You knew it was just to rile you up, make this worse than it already was. At least, you figured, your virginity meant something to someone- it certainly held no value for you. A demon was less than desirable, but he was nice to look at-

Woah. Not going there, you told yourself sternly.

Shaking off the feeling, you held out your hand. “Okay, so deal-”

“Uh, no.” He cut you off, again. “I have my own terms and conditions.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

A smirk grew on his face. “My terms. For our arrangement.”

You tried not to let anger well up inside you. “And what would those terms be?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“You come to me.” He said plainly. Confusion must have been evident on your face, because he continued, “I’m not some monster in the night who’s going to show up for your virginity. When the time is right, you’ll come to me.”

“You’re not going to just… Take it?” The question slowly left your mouth.

He grimaced, an ugly look for such a pretty face. “Ew, no. I’m a demon, not a wild animal. Besides,” he cocked his head to the side, looking directly into you. “Virginity tastes better when it comes willingly.”

Gulping despite yourself, you managed a nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come willingly.” As if.

Holding out an inked hand, he grinned at you. “Then it’s a deal.”

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand in yours, shaking once. “Deal.”

_________________________________________________________

Six Months Later

You awoke in a cold sweat, the third time that week. Flicking the bedside lamp on, you walked over to the mini-fridge of your hotel room, grabbing a bottle of water. You were uncomfortably wet- again, and not from sweating. It seemed like every time you tried to rest, you were met by stormy eyes where sleep should have greeted you. You chugged the water, making your way to the restroom for a much-needed shower.

That night’s show had been sold out- the 13th sold out show of your highly anticipated debut tour. Nicholas had held up his end of the bargain; Your album was projected to sell close to a million units by the end of the year. And you had seen neither hide nor hair of him.

Well. Not in the flesh, anyways.

As you started the shower, your mind wandered. You knew it was him, sending you these dreams through his weird demon dream channels or whatever. Even as your body betrayed you, you knew it was not your own thoughts causing such a commotion.

Still, as you slipped in the shower to wash off the day’s grime, you felt your hand slip lower, between your folds to collect the wetness there. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you circled your bundle of nerves, moaning quietly. Despite your best efforts, your thoughts drifted back to long, dark hair and tattooed hands on your body. Your hand moved quicker, moans growing louder as you felt yourself getting closer to climax. You were on the precipice when a familiar voice made you freeze.

“I knew you’d be loud.”

Yelping, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, almost falling in your panic. Yanking your towel off the rack, you wrapped yourself as quickly as possible as you threw open the shower curtain.

Nicholas was sitting criss-cross on the expansive bathroom counter, picking at something under his nails.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snapped.

“You summoned me, duh.” He said, rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, six months ago. I thought I was supposed to come to you.”

He looked at you then, eyes dragging over your poorly-concealed form. His eyes glinted, looking hungry. “Moaning the name of a demon you promised your virginity to while you rub one out in the shower is a summoning if I’ve ever seen one. Besides,” He looked into your eyes, smirking devilishly. “You were about to come to me, from the sound of it.”

Your face was on fire with embarrassment. “I was not moaning your name.”

He cocked a brow at you. “Uh, you were. Loudly.”

Rage bubbled up inside you. “I was not!” The words spilled from you now. “I wouldn’t have even been doing that if you hadn’t been sending me all of your weird demonic sex dreams constantly!”

An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, then he grinned. “‘Weird demonic sex dreams,’ huh?”

You huffed at him “Oh, don’t even play coy. Like being dragged back to Hell and tied up by some hot shot demon was my big idea.”

The smile he was giving you was sinister. “Right, right. What else have I sent your way?”

You faltered, unsure of what he was playing at. “Like you don’t know.”

He shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t ‘sent you’ shit.” He mimed quotations with his hands.

Your blood went cold. Suddenly, the bathroom was too small. “You’re lying.” Your voice sounded feeble, even to you.

He shook his head, standing up. Slowly he stepped towards you. “I’m not.”

“But then- that would mean-” Stammering, you stood there helplessly as he crept closer.

Nodding, he leaned in even closer. “That was all you, doll.” He brushed a stray lock of hair off your shoulder. “What a dirty mind the little human virgin has. You mentioned being tied up- what else did I do to defile you, huh?”

He was too close, it almost made you dizzy. He smelled like smoke and rain and earth all at once. “Shut up.” You mumbled weakly.

He stepped back, finally. “Well, you know how to find me.”

There was a crack like lightning, then he was gone.

You stood there for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. This was fine, you reasoned. He left. He kept his word. Everything was fine.

______________________________________________________

Three Months Later

Once again, you couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in your master bedroom, you gazed out the windows overlooking the city below. You remembered when you first bought the condo- loved how open and light it was. In the deepness of the night surrounding you, the lights looked like tiny fires dancing in the dark.

Taking a deep breath, you laid down on your pillows, trying to relax your body. Running a hand over the t-shirt on your abdomen, up to your breasts, you felt your breathing start to slow. Your nipples were quick to perk up at the stimulation, so you pinched one experimentally, almost moaning out at the sensation.

Your nerves were on fire these days. The slightest brush against your skin made you feverish. You tried everything, from quitting cold turkey to bringing yourself to climax three or four times a day. Nothing was working.

So maybe this would.

You snaked your hand lower, falling into familiar routine. You had come to know your body well the last three months, knew exactly where to rub, where to pinch. As you toyed with your folds through your underwear, you imagined a different set of hands, larger and covered in ink. Unlike the other times, you allowed your fantasy to overtake you, gave yourself to it willingly.

“Nicholas.” You breathed, back arching ever so slightly.

There was a slight breeze, then a quiet gasp.

“Quite the show you’re putting on, doll. I suppose you didn’t say my name this time, either?”

You pulled your hand away from your core, scrambling to stand up. “No, I- I did.”

Nicholas’ face looked shocked for a millisecond, then an eyebrow was raised at you. “Oh?”

“I’m… I’m ready.” It didn’t sound convincing.

He scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Like I said, I’m not interested in forcing anyone-”

“Goddamnit, shut up.” You snapped. “I said I’m ready, okay? You said to come to you, so here I am. Unless you never planned on following through with it.” It was dangerous to goad him, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

His eyes were pitch black in an instant, staring you down. “Don’t joke about a demon’s word, doll. You’re not ready for that fight.”

Your hands shook, but you felt-

Mortification overcame you as you realized just what you felt.

Those dark eyes narrowed in on the single bead of slick that was rolling steadily down your leg. Cloud-grey eyes returned as realization dawned on him.

“You want me to debase you.” He took a step towards you as his words filled the room. “You want me to tie you up and have my way with you. Isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the truth, but it was evident.

He inhaled deeply, taking another step towards you. His eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled slowly. “You smell ripe. You want this so badly, poor thing- you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

You pressed your legs together, trying to maintain some kind of decency.

He was in front of you now, close enough to touch if you were braver. “Beg for it. Beg, and I’ll give you anything you want, doll.”

Chest heaving with labored breaths, you gave in. “Please.” You whispered.

His hand- the hands you had been dreaming about for nine months- came up to grip your jaw. “I said beg.”

You crumbled. “Please, Nicholas, please, I’ll be so good-”

His grin was minatory as he brought his lips down to yours.

Your relief was immediate as you sagged into him, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. He walked you backwards toward the bed, still kissing you furiously.

“How wet are you already, doll? I bet your little cunt is just soaked.” Breaking the kiss, he picked you up and set you on the bed, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “Tell me what you want.”

You panted, unable to form a sentence for a moment. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

He made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Right, you’re just a helpless little virgin who hasn’t spent the last 9 months having vivid dreams about me fucking her.” He looked up at you through his lashes. “Tell me what you dreamed about.”

“Your hands.” You heard yourself say immediately.

He smirked again. “Oh yeah? What were my hands doing?”

You knew your face was crimson. “They… They were touching me.”

“Where?” The look he was giving you was too intense for you to maintain more than a few seconds.

“Um-” You hesitated.

“You can say it.” He urged, leaning in.

“My… my pussy.” You finished, staring at the ground.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy now?” He was still staring at you.

“Please.” You breathed, anticipation making your entire body tense.

“Good girl, so polite.” As you shivered at the praise, his eyes made their way down your body, to where your core was at eye-level for him. “If you want to stop, say so, is that clear?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Something dark flashed in his face, then he said, “Good girl.”

His hand came up to run a single digit along your slit, through your underwear. You shook involuntarily at the contact.

“Oh doll, you’re starved, aren’t you?” He murmured, almost to himself. “Let’s get these ruined panties off of you.”

You went to shift your weight so that you could shimmy the garment off, only to freeze as Nicholas tore through it like a piece of paper.

He didn’t even look apologetic. “Hope you didn’t like those too much.”

You didn’t have time to consider it as you realized your cunt was fully visible to him now, slick with your own juices.

He sighed as he stared at your core. “Women are the best thing that bastard ever accomplished.” Then he looked up at you. “I’m gonna use my mouth, that okay, doll?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was hoarse from disuse. You felt like you were vibrating in your skin.

He leaned in slowly, as if to not startle you, before running his tongue from your hole to your clit.

The moan you let out was guttural and animalistic.

“There it is.” He said quietly, before diving back into you.

Your head fell back onto the mattress as he lapped at your clit, tongue occasionally diving into your hole. Tears welled up in your eyes at the relief it brought, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day. Your hands tangled in his long tresses, and he moaned against your pussy. Your hips were bucking into him involuntarily, your orgasm so close you could practically taste it. “Nicholas, I’m gonna- I’m so close-” You practically sobbed.

“Shh, I know, doll. Let it happen.” He said soothingly before going back to his ministrations. You came with a primal moan, back arching off of your sheets.

You were still panting when he stood up, surveying you. “All better?”

“Fuck me.” You demanded.

His expression went stoney. He leaned over until you were caged in by his arms on either side of you. “I don’t fuck demanding brats.”

You lost all your bravado. “Please?”

He sighed softly, but not sincerely. “How bad do you want it?”

You could have cried. “Please, I’m sorry Nicholas, I’ll be good, please fuck me- you don’t know how bad I need it-”

“I just had your greedy little unused hole grinding against my tonsils.” He sneered. “I know exactly how bad you need it.”

Your face went hot at the profane nature of his words- but he was right. He saw firsthand how bad you needed this. “Please.” Was all you said.

“Well, I guess since you’re asking so nicely.” He mocked as he stepped back, unbuckling his pants as he went. He slid off the trousers, his erection visible through his briefs. You suddenly felt nervous, looking at the size of him.

He stopped, seeing your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just- is it gonna fit?”

He pulled the briefs down at last, finally freeing his cock. It was big- even by supernatural proportions. The tip was an angry shade of red, veins pulsating on the shaft. He huffed a laugh at your face, pulling his shirt off, too. “I bet we can find room.”

Your eyes devoured the tattoos that covered him, tracing the planes of his body as you went. You almost didn’t notice him slinking over to you, crawling onto the mattress in one, fluid motion, landing on top of you.

“I’m gonna touch you again, okay?” He looked at you expectantly.

You nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. You whimpered when his fingers were back on your pussy, running along the folds. As you adjusted to his touch, two fingers slipped inside your hole.

“Fuck you’re still so wet,” He muttered, rocking his fingers back and forth inside you. You gasped at the sensation, his fingers so much larger than your own. Moving his mouth down to your neck, he began scissoring his fingers, stretching you out- a preparation you were thankful for.

You felt your second orgasm approaching as he continued his movements, moans growing higher pitched. “Nicholas, I-”

“Think you can hold on?” He asked. It was a genuine question, you knew whatever answer you gave would be correct.

You considered it for a second. “Yeah, I can- I can wait.” Your legs were still beginning to tremble, though.

He placed a kiss on your temple, pulling his fingers out. “I’ll go slow, but we can stop if you want to.”

You nodded an affirmative. He stared at you blankly, and you remembered yourself. “Yes, sir.” He tapped your nose, a gesture that was oddly sweet, as he said “Good girl.”

You felt him line up with your entrance, the tip slowly sliding in. It was still a stretch- but you found that you liked it, liked the feeling of being filled up. He went slowly, thrusting shallowly, each time going a little deeper. You could hear the noises you were making, but couldn’t stop yourself from making them. He paused three-fourths of the way in.

“Doing okay?”

“Yes Nicholas, please don’t stop.” Came your gargled reply.

He smirked, thrusting a few more times until he was fully sheathed in you.

Your back arched clear off the bed as he bottomed out, his tip nestled against something inside you that made you feel feral.

“Like that, doll?” You could hear how smug he was.

“Please, Nicholas, please-” You whined.

“I know, pretty, I’ll give you what you need.” His hands tightened their grip on your waist as he pulled out and slid back in quickly. You let out another carnal wail, your hands coming around to grab at his shoulders. He pulled out again, slamming into you, continuing on until you felt like a puddle on the bed.

“So wet and tight for me, such a good girl.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You nodded pitifully, not sure why, lost in the pleasure. Over and over again he slid against that sweet spot inside you, making you feel like you were on fire. Your orgasm soon approached you like a freight train.

“Nicholas please, I need- I need to come-” You stammered, close to sobbing.

“I know, it’s so much, I know, you can come, doll.” His words opened a dam as your orgasm overcame you in a powerful wave, making you all but scream as he fucked you through it.

He pulled out shortly after, jerking himself to completion on your stomach. You were gasping for air, legs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm as hot ropes of come covered you.

You felt disgusting, in the most delicious way possible.

Nicholas disappeared around the corner, returning with a rag to clean you up. He had used hot water, you noted, so it was warm to the touch.

“So that’s a deal?” You asked when he had finished cleaning you.

He looked sad, but the expression was quickly gone. “I suppose it is.”

He set the rag on your bedside table, already going to collect his clothing.

“I have a question, before you disappear again.” You called over his shoulder.

“And what is your question?” He turned around to face you as he pulled on his briefs.

“If I wanted a Grammy,” You began, cocking your head to the side. “What would your rates be for that?”

He gave you a grin, understanding your implication immediately as he dropped his pants back onto the floor.

“I’d be open to negotiation of terms.” He murmured as he made his way back over to the bed, lips slotting against yours once more.

#nicholas ruffilo rpf #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x reader #bad omens smut #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo smut #nocturnal creatures

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gay-destiel · 2 months

Text

we sons of hell and heaven

rating: Teen And Up Audiences

word count: 15,101

warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

author's note: so many thank yous!!

first of all, to my brilliant amazing artist @crossroads-consoul, you've been so awesome and i love your art and alkhfdjsckf i fell in love in claims with your first piece

second, all the mods for the SSRB, you were all so great and supportive and had answers to all my questions! it must be so much work to run a bang!

third, everyone on the discord who encouraged my weird-ass messages and such. y'all are so great <3

so anyways, go forth and enjoy my story! it maybe got a bit out of hand- compared to my last SSB story which was 2.6k words- but it's worth the time!!

summary:

With a stuttering breath, Sam stumbles back. His heart leaps into his throat and the angel blade wavers in his hand. It’s… but it can’t be…

“Gabe?”

The angel’s eyes flash, and he stumbles forward,

Sam.

Jolting, Sam blinks as the word echoes through his head, but before he can say anything, Gabriel’s knees give way, and he lunges forward to catch the fragile figure. Concern rushes through him at the vulnerable expression, at the lines of fear and exhaustion etched into his face.

What happened?

When Gabe escapes capture from a powerful coven of witches, his broken wings take him to Sam Winchester.

Now Sam has to deal with an injured archangel, an untrusting brother, and somehow his trauma with Lucifer.

#supernatural #sabriel #supernatural sabriel reverse bang #sam winchester #gabriel spn #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #fanfic #kyra's fics #idk what to tag this #my artist is the best <3 #art #fandom bang

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chuitu · 1 month

Text

August 9 2XXX

Written by: (compiled and edited by Anon)

Users: Yeva Moon & Hóng Hái'er

Uploaded: ????

File Corruption: Null (Restoration_complete)

{User: Yeva Moon}

It has been... 2.. 3 weeks since Mr. Nezha helped me flee from the Celestial realm, I often wonder if he is alright after i shot him.. He told me to.. But now I'm worried.. But first... my priority is to.. hide.

Celestial guards roaming from above, some checked the alleys, Nowhere is safe for me to hide... what now...?

Until now, I am disappointed... Mr. Li Jing... Mr. Lao Tzu... All the misters and missuses, They only saw me as a weapon to be used, they never really cared about me... All those things they told me, how they care... They lied, does this mean my friends were no different?

Liars, Liars all of them LIARS.

I want to rest... All this evading is draining my energy... I can't go home to mama... The Celestials will be expecting me there...

Then, there's only one person left...

{User: Hóng Hái'er}

My Captain actually gave me the time off for today... Thank Buddha i get to breathe, I didn't think i could go another hour without feeling the absolute dread of overtime, I wish i was being dramatic but i barely had the time to sit down at the time,

Well now me and a couple of my squad mates are simply lazing around at a diner, Rez really decided to order 40 dumplings, as if he could chow it down in one go... aie... I'm gonna head out for this one, just vaguely imagining him forcefully shoving dumplings up his mouth had ruined my appetite..

Well, the streets are pretty peaceful for once, glancing at the noodle shop me and Yeva used to go as children... Some random green biker girl just parked up front, giving a boy with a red bandana a bear hug... seeing those two makes me a little.. lonely..

Sometimes i still wonder why or where Yeva went, We haven't talked in a... long, long while, how long had it been... 120 years? Does she even have her phone with her? I kinda stopped texting her 50 years back... she never replies, not even a seen.. Was it my fault? Was Father right? Did she just simply abandon me the moment she heard about my powers being dead gone?

Eventually i.. came the conclusion of believing that it is so...

{User: Yeva Moon}

I found a... little crossroad, If i cross this.. and then one more lane, I'll see my Comrade again..

I wonder how he's been.. Haven't been able to text him because of Mr. Li Jing taking my phone away... I hope Comrade isn't mad from me not replying to his messages... if he left any...

What will Comrade think when he sees me again... I'm not sure what kind of face he'll make, it's been so long.. I hope he's not angry with me...

{User: Hóng Hái'er}

Managed to get off the next train out of Dinsun District, sigh..

What a day, I might finally have the time to spend some quality time with my parents,, well not a saying that they might be having their time without me casually walking in on them... doing.. parent... things... eugh.

I turned another corner, I just.. went blank,, I'm not sure what i was looking at, or rather who it was.. Y.. Yeva?

{User: Yeva Moon}

I found him... Redson, my Comrade.. He looks, confused.. I would normally be overjoyed to see him again... but... i can't feel anything, but relief... just that atleast..

He was about to say something.. but.. he stopped... he looked confused, he looks angry..? he looks tired..

{User: Hóng Hái'er}

I couldn't believe it, Yeva is.. She's actually back,, But i can't help but feel... conflicted, where was she all these years, why didn't she ever answer my calls or messages even once, why did she leave in the first place...

But i just felt, so tired, fatigued from endless hours of scouting and missions... and to think she suddenly comes back out of the blue??? I... I don't know... what to feel about this...

[Answerkey_selected...]

▄ Begrudged

□ Forgiving but conflicted

{User: Yeva Moon}

He said... Where have you been all this time... where were you when i needed you... i was alone.. you were my only friend... how could you abandon me like that... didn't even say hi, hello, how are you... nothing... You probably left because i'm nothing but a weakling to you now, isn't it?... his voice... hurt my ears.. it's... raining..

Ah wanted to tell him why i couldn't answer him... but... it seems... he won't believe a word i say... and.. he.. just left..

{User: Hóng Hái'er}

So eventually i left... I... I couldn't even begin to look at her... some friend she was.. I can't believe her... I feel so betrayed..

{User: Yeva Moon}

Comrade... left me in the rain... It's my fault... he's angry with me... because i left... without words... I abandoned him.. It's all my fault...

{File.Error__Restoration_complete}

-- End Log --

#•nierko zikloa•#•rescriped lore•#lmk fandom #lmk au #lmk oc #lego monkie kid oc #oc; yeva moon #lmk redson #lmk rescripted au

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taeu7 · 7 months

Text

"In Tune with Love: You, the Melody of My Heart"

Part 6

"Oh !......that is of coco to avoid suspicion he answered .........as Mingyu waved the rubber band in the air with a smirk. "Coco? Really, Wonwoo? Since when do cats fancy such stylish hairbands?" he questioned, his tone light but probing.

Wonwoo reached out, trying to reclaim the hairband while deflecting Mingyu's suspicions. "Just give it back… It's really Coco's," he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Hoshi leaned in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, I get what you're implying, Mingyu," he said, joining in the gentle ribbing.

Wonwoo, feeling the heat of their gaze, tried to brush it off. "What are you two talking about? It's just a hairband for Coco," he said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Mingyu and Hoshi exchanged knowing looks, their smiles suggesting they weren't quite convinced. "Yeah, sure," Mingyu replied, his laughter echoing in the room.

Hoshi nodded in agreement, adding, "It seems like Wonwoo has some secrets he's not sharing."

Despite the relentless teasing, Wonwoo managed to steer the conversation away, and they all settled down for a hearty lunch, the earlier banter fading into the background.

As the day turned to evening, Wonwoo found a quiet corner to call Y/n. His voice softened as he spoke, "I guess i am already missing you … more than I thought I would."

Y/n's response was equally tender, "but it's just hours we got seperated but yeah i miss you too ." Smiling and blushing on another side.

They delved into a conversation as cozy as a warm blanket, sharing their likes and dislikes, their words weaving a tapestry of their growing affection for each other. The distance between them felt smaller with each shared laugh and whispered confession. The week had been a whirlwind of missed connections, with Wonwoo's packed schedule leaving little room for face-to-face meetings. Calls and texts were their lifelines, brief moments that bridged the gap between them. ………… The week had been a blur of fleeting moments, with Wonwoo's demanding schedule leaving little room for him and Y/n to meet. Their connection hung by the slender thread of hurried texts and brief calls, each message a lifeline across the chasm of their busy lives.

On the set of 'Going Seventeen,' the air was abuzz with the usual energy of a shoot. It was during a much-needed break that Y/n made her entrance, her arrival punctuated by a jubilant "Tadaaaaa!" as she brandished her ID card for all to see.

The members turned, surprise etching their faces. "Wow, what's this?" they echoed, their curiosity piqued.

With a mixture of pride and excitement, Y/n explained how a chance encounter with Manager Kim had led to an unexpected opportunity. He had asked if she could lend her assistance, and without a moment's hesitation, she had agreed. It was a twist of fate, a new role that had seamlessly woven her into the fabric of their world.

Congratulations poured in from all sides, a chorus of well-wishes that filled the room with warmth. Amidst the celebration, Y/n and Wonwoo shared a fleeting glance, a secret smile that spoke volumes. "Congratulations," Wonwoo said, his voice low but sincere, a subtle acknowledgment of their shared joy.

Gratitude flowed from Y/n as she thanked everyone, her heart swelling with the acceptance and support of the group.

As the shoot came to a close, the decision was unanimous—a celebratory dinner was in order. Y/n, now part of the team, was naturally included.

The restaurant buzzed with the energy of SEVENTEEN's camaraderie, a place where laughter and conversation flowed as freely as the evening breeze. Y/n stood at the crossroads of decision, two empty seats beckoning her—one beside Dino, the other by Wonwoo. Her heart tugged her towards Wonwoo, and with a silent prayer that her choice wouldn't stir the waters of suspicion, she took the seat beside him, their smiles a secret handshake.

As the members dived into their meals, Y/n and Wonwoo conversed in the silent language of shared glances, a dialogue that needed no words. Their connection was a quiet current beneath the surface of the group's joviality.

Mingyu, ever the instigator of fun, decided to stir the pot. "Remember the rubber band mystery?" he began, casting a playful glance at Wonwoo. The table's attention swiveled to him, a collective curiosity piqued.

Y/n's heart leaped to her throat, and she choked on her food, coughing as the spice seared her senses.

"Are you okay?" S.Coups asked, concern knitting his brows.

Y/n nodded, her voice a raspy whisper, "Yeah, it's just… it's spicy."

Mingyu, undeterred, wove the tale of the hairband, his story a tapestry of teasing and speculation. Y/n fought to keep her composure, her mind racing for an escape from the spotlight.

The members, sensing an opportunity for playful interrogation, turned to Wonwoo. "Who's the girl, Wonwoo? You can tell us," Vernon encouraged, a grin spreading across his face.

Jeonghan chimed in, his voice teasing, "Is she an idol? An actress? Come on, spill the beans!"

It was then that Hoshi, with a detective's eye, noticed the similarity between Y/n's rubber band and the one in question. "Ohhh, ohh," he exclaimed, a knowing look passing between him and Mingyu.

The8, curious about the sudden shift in mood, inquired, "What's up with you guys?"

Mingyu and Hoshi, still smiling, kept their discovery to themselves. "It's nothing, it's nothing…"

As the evening wound down and the group prepared to leave, Mingyu invited Wonwoo to join him in his car. With DK and Hoshi already inside, Hoshi leaned in, his voice low, "Listen, DK, whatever we're about to discuss, it stays a secret."

DK's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "What is it? Tell me!"

Wonwoo, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension, echoed, "Tell me too."

Hoshi's smile was enigmatic. "It's about you, Wonwoo."

Mingyu, barely containing his amusement, added, "We know who that girl is."

DK's anticipation was palpable. "Oh man, you know who it is? Tell us, Mingyu!"

Wonwoo, a mix of annoyance and nerves, protested, "Will you guys stop? There's no girl."

But Hoshi was undeterred. "There is… We all know her."

Mingyu delivered the revelation with a grin. "We know, hyung. It's Y/n."

DK's shock was almost comical, his hand covering his mouth as he turned to Wonwoo, who sat in stunned silence, the truth finally out in the open.

A/n : i am just newbie in this field kindly ignore mistakes ! Hope i didn't make you bore !

And yes ! Thank you so much for all your response as little things do matters to me !

Have a nice day ahead!

Part 7 updated!

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daisyful-gvf · 1 year

Text

✿ little wing ✿

part 3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pairings: jake x reader

word count: 7.5k

notes: finally!! god i love this chapter. and i can’t wait for the next :)

warnings: sexual situations, marijuana use, drinking, angst :(

playlist (which i’ve become rly attached to lol)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

-✿-

You’re insane if you think The Beatles are better than Cream

You laugh to yourself at his message. It’s a very Jake thing to say. Your answer is playful:

i think you’re just stubborn

It’s been nice texting Jake here and there. During the long stretches in the cramped sprinter van, between braiding Violet’s hair and plucking absentmindedly on your acoustic, it’s an exciting little activity. He’s witty, and also somehow awake most hours of the day.

That could be. But consider this:

He sends a Youtube link to a live performance of Crossroads, and you know before you even listen that he likely has you beat. You watch it anyways and smile at the thought that he shared it with you.

alright, i’ll concede

You answer. After another moment you add

for now

“What’s that about?” Paisley’s voice catches you off guard in the seat row in front of you. Her eyeliner is still half on from the show the night before, and she rubs at it as she smiles at you, “The giggling at your phone. Jake?”

If you act surprised, she’ll see right through it. You just nod, and try not to blush too hard. She offers you a knowing smile and you wave her off.

“I’m just saying…” she laughs and plays with the wooden beaded bracelets on her wrist.

“Well don’t,” you smile and pick up your guitar again, putting Jake out of your mind for a moment.

“Come on,” she grins, “What’s going on?”

The air seems stuffy in the van suddenly, so you crack a window. The summer Texas air is inviting on your skin and through your hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “Truly, I don’t. I think we’re just friends, I think…”

She gives you an anticipatory look as you gather your thoughts.

“He’s a flirt, but he seems to tone it down with me. I think he’s just being nice. Professional, even.”

Whether or not she means for it to, the boisterous laugh that comes out pangs at your chest. As your face falls and you resort to playing a riff on the acoustic, she notices.

“Hey,” she soothes, “I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish I should shake some sense into you.”

You raise your brow at her as you play.

“I don’t know that even if I spelled it out for you, that you’d get it, babe,” she says gently, “But if he’s making you happy to be around, go with it.”

“Just don’t leave us in the dust for some rockstar dick, please,” Carol chimes in from the front. She gives you a wicked grin and then smacks her gum.

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes, “It’ll never be like that.”

Paisley reaches over and ruffles your hair before she turns to lay her head against the window, and then you’re left with your own thoughts again. The buzz of your phone on your thigh startles you.

What do I get for winning? :)

You roll your eyes at his cheeky message.

well, what do you want?

He reads the message instantly, and after about a minute of silence your stomach starts to knot.

And then it hits you. You’re in it. You haven’t felt nervous over a text from someone in god knows how long, and it’s almost embarrassing how plain it is for yourself to see. And maybe, it’s not such an insane thing to like him. Maybe you’ll let yourself see where it goes.

Smoke with me again?

You don’t notice you’re smiling at it until your cheeks ache a bit.

if you insist, kiszka

The beds of your nail starts to bleed as you chew at the skin anxiously. You send the next message with your breath held:

time & place?

He answers quickly

After the show? I think our hotel’s right across from the venue. Meet me at the lobby bar?

Trying your best not to overthink it, you reply

see you then. good luck with the show tonight! big crowd.

Oh yeah? You think I need luck?

Your stomach turns at the playfulness of his response.

so humble, you are

The bubble of ellipses taunt you for a moment as he answers.

;)

You stare at the small winking face for a while before you decide it’s probably bad for your cardiac health, and set the phone face down on the seat. The Texas wind knots your hair, but you smile as the breeze hits your face.

-✿✿✿-

You find yourself in a trance as you watch the crew pack up Greta’s equipment from the side stage. Fog still curls through the edges of the room from the machines. After you let yourself watch for a bit, you take a deep breath and make your way back to the girls.

Outside by the van, you find Violet with a leg propped against the small metal barricade, puffing on a cigarette.

“Hey,” she says gently, “We’re gonna go get pizza I think. Coming?”

You lean into her and give her a sloppy half hug, shaking your head, “M’gonna go hang out with Jake for a bit if that’s alright.”

She grins like a cheshire cat and puts her cigarette out on her heel of her docs.

“It’s sweet, y’know,” he clears her throat.

“Mm?” you shuffle your feet around, acting oblivious.

“I can tell you like him. It’s sweet.”

You shrug and lean against the barrier, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She laughs softly and leans next to you, “You don’t have to, that’s the fun of it. Just see where it goes.”

Her words seem so obvious, yet so hard to abide by in the moment.

You nod anyways, and then stand back up, stretching your hands up into the warm evening air. The crop top you’re wearing exposes your stomach to the breeze, and it’s unexpectedly grounding.

The rest of the girls round the corner and motion to Violet, and she leaves you with a soft wave and a smile.

After a deep breath, you turn on your heels and begin to walk around to the front of the venue, making your way to the hotel. The streetlights are warm orange against the dark sky, and it comforts you in an odd nostalgic way. The hotel is nice, a tall, shiny building, just a block away. You enter the lobby with your breath held.

He’s laughably easy to spot in a crowd. He’s in a black cutoff tank, and his brown hair spills in waves over his shoulders.

You approach the bar slowly and tap him once on the back. He turns with an already gentle smile on his face. He never seems caught off guard.

“Hey, little wing,” he grins and turns to bring you into a side hug,

You head reels, all at once hit with the smell of him, the warmth of him. In your head, his voice echos:

little wing

If he didn’t have a soft hold on your torso, your knees surely would buckle.

“Little wing?” you try to sound casual as you slide into the barstool beside him.

He nods, then is quiet for a moment as he adjusts back onto his stool.

“Seems fitting,” He finally says, taking one of the final sips of his drink, “That alright?”

You hum your approval, trying desperately to relax.

“I don’t have a nickname for you,” you blurt out.

He shrugs and signals the bartender for his tab, “You’ll think of one m’sure.”

“You want one?” your smile is genuine.

He smiles at his drink and takes the final swig, then shrugs as he sets it down and swallows. His eyes finally meet yours. “If you wanna give me one, yeah. ‘Course.”

“Hmm,” you bite your lip, “I’ll get back to you.”

He nods and takes the check from the bartender, exchanging his card and finally signing the receipt before he motions to you to exit.

You follow him across the white tile floor of the lobby to the elevator, where you’re met with a silence that is shockingly comfortable. Finally, he breaks it.

“Have a good show tonight?”

He’s standing in the opposite corner of the elevator, waiting your answer intently.

You nod, “One of the better ones actually. You?”

Instantly, he’s smiling, “Yeah, I felt good tonight.”

After you nod, he continues, “I watched your set.”

The comment makes your chest flush. You try to remember that he’s just a musician after all, too.

“And?” you bite your lip nervously.

The steel elevator doors creak open and he gives an ‘after you’ wave of his arm. He exists, then leads the way down the red-carpeted hall.

“I enjoyed it,” he answers, turning slightly to you as he walks, and he fidgets with his rings, “Your band is talented, that’s undeniable.”

You smile, thinking of the girls. The bond you all have is intense, and you can’t help but be proud on their behalves from the compliment.

“You especially,” he grins as he tugs his wallet from his jean pocket and retrieves the key card.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m biased, as a fellow guitarist,” he opens the door and lets you in, “But I’m serious. It’s good.”

You spin to face him once inside, once again taken by the slight smell of shampoo and moisture from his pre-show shower.

“Thank you,” you say genuinely, “Really.”

He hold eye contact as he nods and smiles, and you suddenly don’t feel so on edge. He’s sweet.

“So,” he drums the tops of his thighs and moves to sit on the bed, “You were crazy for trying to argue The Beatles over Cream, y’know. You had this coming.”

You laugh, turning to make your way to the couch, and then—

There is no couch. Just the king bed, large and white in the middle of the room. Your cheeks heat.

“You good?” He asks, as you’ve fallen silent. Your head whips back around to him and you nod.

“You’re gonna make your whole room smell like weed, y’know,” you say, trying to talk yourself into normalcy.

He shrugs, “I don’t care. Better weed than stale hotel.”

You smile and make your way to the edge of the bed. You sit on the very corner, unsure of what else to do. He giggles, you’re pretty sure at your nervousness, but then he gets up and goes to his bag that sits on the desk.

Out of it he retrieves his metal tin and a lighter. He also pulls out a small bag of starbursts, and when he makes his way back to half-lay on the bed, he extends the yellow package to you with his eyebrows raised.

“M’good,” you smile. He nods and sets them aside, opening the metal tin and pulling out a pre roll. He lights up quickly, and the smell calms you instantly.

“You can lay down if you want,” he rasps as he holds in the green hit, “M’not gonna bite.”

The laugh that trills out of you is loud, and it makes him giggle in response.

“I’d hope not,” you try to ease the tension, and then let yourself lay down. You face each other, propped up on your sides a few feet away on opposite sides of the mattress.

He hands you the joint and after you take it, he plops flat onto his back, sinking into the weight of the mattress. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as you inhale.

When they open, his eyes a bit sleepy, he feels his pockets for his phone. You watch him scroll through it as you take another deep hit, and then finally he sighs and sets the device aside.

“I know I said I don’t usually watch movies when I smoke, but I’m not really feeling music right now,” he says. He stretches for the remote on the nightstand, revealing a strip of his stomach above his jeans that makes you blush. “That okay?” he asks.

Nodding, you cup your hand under the joint as the ash accumulates. He notices and gets up to grab an empty cup from near the ice bucket, passing it to you as he settles back onto the bed. This time, he lays up by the headboard, an arm stretched up behind his head casually.

He looks so good. A glimmer of hope crosses you, that maybe he will take this further.

“You wanna pick the movie?” He says, clicking at

the remote, stealing you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, “Go ahead.”

He bites his lip absentmindedly, and yeah, this is bad for you. There’s no denying that you want him, but you know yourself, and you can’t make a move first.

“Pirates?” He smiles at you and points to the TV with the remote.

You swivel your head to find Johnny Depp’s charming, dirty face grinning at you. After a short laugh, you nod. Jake nods back.

Passing him back the joint, you roll to lay on your stomach, parallel to him.

“How you gonna watch the movie if you’re faced this way?” He smarts. You shrug, swiping your hand along the soft plush of the comforter.

“Maybe I just wanna lay here,” you counter.

“Fair,” he puffs on the joint. There’s smoke in the air now, clinging to the mild humidity that seeps in from the summer evening, “So when did you start playing?”

“Guitar?”

He nods, hitting it again.

“Mm,” you ponder, again and again brushing your hand over the fabric, “Maybe twelve or thirteen?”

He nods and passes you the joint. As he holds the smoke in his lungs, he rasps out, “It shows.”

You can’t help your eye roll—while it’s very polite of him, it’s comical in some way that you feel such validation from it.

“What?” he giggles.

“Nothing,” you laugh, “Nothing, thank you.”

“You have a favorite song to play?”

“On stage?”

He shrugs, “Anywhere.”

You scoff, “You should know that’s an impossible question.”

His giggle is effortless, and he shrugs again, “Maybe. Try.”

Taking your last hit, you answer him upon exhale, “Right now? Maybe Red House.”

“God,” his smile is wide and toothy as he takes the joint back.

“What?” You blush at his response.

“Nothing,” he parrots your earlier response, “Good song.”

“You?”

He finishes off the joints and puts it out in the bottom of the cardboard cup; likely a fire hazard, but one that will be disregarded. He pops another starburst into his mouth.

“Right now it’s Orchid,” he smiles, as he talks around the candy “But it changes about every three days.”

“Mm,” you hum in acknowledgement. A gentle silence blankets the room, and in the background, Pirates plays on. You stare are your fingers, mostly, as they play with the edge of a down pillow now. Jake’s eyes flit between the screen and you.

It’s quiet for maybe ten minutes before he finally speaks, his voice now a little more hoarse.

“Wanna drink?”

You look up to him. His eyes are heavily lidded, and he looks relaxed. Only after you’re looking somewhere other than your hands do you realize you’re starting to feel the weed. You nod.

“Like water, or like whiskey?”

Blinking at him, you can’t bring yourself to decide.

“Whiskey it is,” he laughs, “Took too long, silly girl.”

Unable to help it, you bite your lip at the name. It’s laced with affection, or at least you’re pretty sure.

He slides off the bed easily, his jeans making a soft noise against the comforter. You don’t know how he’s always in jeans; perhaps for the aesthetic. The moment your set had ended earlier, you opted for some soft, flowy pants and a cropped shirt to cope with the temperature.

“Just one,” he’s handing you a can before you know it.

“This is soda,” you furrow your brow. He giggles.

“Not just,” he eases the can toward you, “There’s no more cups in here. I poured it in.”

The smell hits you then; the sweet dark liquor mixed with the sugary cola smell. It’s enticing.

You take a heavy swig, and yeah, he was right. He settles back on the bed, feet crossed, back against the headboard. You’re still parallel to him, you head about in line with his waist. As he sips from his drink, he plops his right hand down on the bed freely.

Quickly, his bracelets catch your eye. There’s four, a couple metal and a couple textile. You wonder how he came to have them, and why they all look like they’ve been on him for years.

“These old?” You ask, reaching up to tap one. Your fingertips brush his wrist, but he doesn’t flinch. Unable to think better of it, you continue to toy with one of them. It’s braided cord, very worn, frayed at most edges. Your trace the braided pattern over and over, occasionally bumping his skin. The feeling is electrifying, like you’ve just held hands with your childhood crush for the first time. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Mmhm,” he answers. He takes another drink and then watches you play with it.

“Tell me about them,” you touch another one, a thin silver chain with a small gem pendant.

He takes a soft breath.

“Well. The cord one is from Josh. I’ve had it on about a year. Guess he thought it ‘suited my aesthetic’ or whatever,” he chuckles to himself, “The silver one is from my sister. Think I’ve had that one for three or four years.”

You nod and spin it around his wrist, all but holding his hand at this point. The weed has left you without embarrassment as a crutch, and it feels nice to let your fingertips skirt over his skin.

You point to another woven one, a blue and green friendship bracelet.

“That one is from some gas station in Michigan. A few months ago, before this tour started.”

You nod at his answer and point to the last one, a solid silver bangle with a small, ancient looking symbol.

“From my dad,” he smiles, “No idea where he found it. But I love it.”

The bracelets and your fingers graze his skin gently, and you wish you could stay in the moment forever. It’s tender, and it feels safe. You spare a glance up at him and he’s looking at you like he feels the same. Somehow, it’s more intimate than if he were to just kiss you.

“How bout you, hm?” He lifts his wrist and taps the small woven bracelet on your wrist, “Good story?”

“We all have one,” you say, and then realize that you’ve given very little context, “All the girls. Violet made them in the van during one of the rides in between shows.”

“That’s sweet,” he says softly. If it were anyone else, you’d think they were making fun of you. But not him, with the way he says it.

You nod and keep playing with the bracelets on his wrist, spinning them around and around, tracing them. You’ve mesmerized yourself with them. Eventually, the hair tie on his middle finger catches your eye, and you trail your finger down to circle that. His hand twitches slightly under your touch, but then relaxes.

It’s a natural progression, or at least it feels that way, as you begin to trace up and down his fingers with the nail of yours. The touch is gentle, and you intend for it to be soothing. Just when you’re unsure if it’s too much, and you consider stopping, he murmurs,

“Feels nice.”

You look up and his eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the wall. You take the cue and continue to trace over and over the tan skin with care.

Finally after five or so more minutes, you peek back up at him, and he’s grinning at you.

“Hi,” he barely gets it out before he giggles. You laugh back.

“Hi,”

“I’m high.”

“I had no idea,” you burst into an uncontrollable laughter at the sight of him, eyes heavy. He laughs with you.

“Feels nice,” he says again, though you’re not sure now if he’s talking about the high or you touching his hand.

Your arms tired from propping yourself up, you slouch down against the bed, your hair brushing over his hand. Quickly, you realize you’re cold.

“Cold,” you get out, rubbing the goosebumps over your arm. He lifts his hand to skirt a finger over your arm and feel the goosebumps.

“Get under the blanket,” he says, as if you were dumb for not thinking of that solution. You eye him hesitantly, unsure if you should be reading into this.

“Little wing,” he sighs, affectionately rolling his eyes, “Just get under the fucking blanket. You think too much.”

A little shocked, you laugh, but do just that. You slip off the bed and he does the same, and as you both sink under the plush of the down comforter, you realize how close you are.

For a bit you try to focus on Davy Jones and Will Turner, but then the high leaves you craving to touch him, and you can only ration with your brain in its dazed state for so long. You’re pretty sure he won’t freak out, so you let your head fall against his shoulder.

You can feel and hear him inhale, and you brace yourself for rejection, but all he says is

“C’mere,”

It’s soft, and he’s easing his arm behind you, allowing you to sink into his side if you wish. You look at him, and he’s close, and he still looks very high.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we just cuddled,” he says quietly, “S’no big deal.”

You wish he hadn’t said that, because you wish it could be a big deal. You wish it could snowball, with hands and lips everywhere, a culmination of all the little moments. But if he’s letting it be casual, so be it, it’s better than nothing at all.

Like you’ve just crawled through the desert, and like he is a pool of cool water, you fall into him, slotting perfectly against his side. His arm comes around you and rests on your waist.

“This okay?” He murmurs, barely audible over the TV and the blood rushing in your head. You nod against his chest. “You high too?” You nod again. “Good,” he says quietly.

Try as it might, the movie doesn’t hold your attention whatsoever. All you can focus on is the soft rise and fall of his chest, his body heat, his fingertips and their gentle pressure on your side.

It’s unclear when you drift off. When you wake, the TV is playing some 90’s sitcom at a soft volume. The blue glow from the screen washes over Jake’s face, which you’ve propped yourself up to look over.

He looks dreadfully sweet—lips parted slightly, eyelashes creating small shadows in their wake. His hair is messy, like he raked his hand through it shortly before dozing off.

Your eyes land on the digital clock on the nightstand to his side, where the time glares red: 3:34. Jesus christ, you have to be on the road at 7:30.

One last time, you look at him. The irrational part of you, the part of you that craves warmth, wants to curl back into him and say fuck it. But a few deep breaths later, you know that’s not what this is.

Carefully, you try to slip out from under the comforter, shivering as you slide the cover off your torso.

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks through the night air.

Blinking, you turn to make quick eye contact. He’s rubbing one of his eyes, stretching.

“I don’t know when I fell asleep,” you chuckle softly, “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head and plops his hands back into his lap, “S’fine, I did too. You…”

He looks like he wants to say it, too: stay. Or maybe you’re delirious from the late hour. But he chews on his bottom lip a moment, and then pick back up,

“You gotta leave early too, huh?”

You nod, and he nods back.

“Let me walk you down to the lobby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his legs from the comforter. Then he stills.

Suddenly, like a wave of nausea, you are hit with an emotion so unpleasant you fight tears.

If he doesn’t do something now, with you in his hotel bed during the witching hour, craving his touch and so clearly willing, maybe he never will. Maybe it’s just not like that, and this intense and well-fed crush you have is girlish and dumb.

“It’s fine,” you choke out, quickly putting your feet on the ground and searching for your sandals.

“No, I can—“

“It’s fine,” you reiterate, finally kicking on your other shoe and pivoting to the door.

“Hey—“

“Goodnight, Jake,” you get out, hand finding the room door in the dark only based on the rectangle of light coming from the hall.

“Little wing, hey—”

It’s the last thing you hear as the door latches behind you, and barely three steps into the hallway, the hot tears roll down your cheeks.

The bartender in the lobby gives you a concerned look as you rush out the front doors, where you walk a far too long twenty minutes back to your own hotel room.

When you sink into the bed next to Paisley, head pounding, sleep takes you quickly.

-✿✿✿-

In the stark light of the morning, with your head against the bus window, Paisley nudges you about twenty minutes into the drive. Her grin is devilish as she whispers,

“Why’d you come back to the room so late?”

Her look is expectant, much like you were last night. You answer her shakily

“Just lost track of time. Nothing happened.”

She nudges you again and says, “Okay,” with a knowing tone. Instead of arguing, you let your head fall back again my the window. Two more tears escape you before you fiercely wipe them away, determined not to let it get to you. He’s just a boy.

-✿✿✿-

You really should have just gone to the hotel tonight. The lack of sleep from the night before plagues you still after the show, especially on the adrenaline comedown.

But in the spirit of touring, you are convinced by Violet to accompany them to a bar, where you throw back a second vodka cran quickly and accept a hit of Carol’s cigarette.

And then there’s Jake. You can’t quite manage to peel your eyes away from the girl on the bar stool beside him. Her and her charming little grin, the way you can see her lipgloss sparkle from across the way.

Most infuriatingly, the way that Jake gives a wolfish grin back, and his eyes seem darker as he turns to her. The final blow is a flash of his hand skirting over her thigh, dancing over her skin.

Your head snaps to Paisley, “I need a fucking shot.”

She scans your face and seems to sense the panic, but like the sweet being she is, she places a gentle hand on your shoulder and gives a reassuring smile.

“Thought you’d never ask. Lemon drop? Green tea?”

Your head is shaking before her questions are over.

“Whiskey.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip and looks at you, and softly, she starts, “You okay?”

You shake your head again and she nods, going to fetch the shots as you take a shaky breath.

After one more fleeting glance at Jake, with his hand trailing over and over her knee, you swear it off the rest of the evening. There’s nothing you can do; there’s no need to stare at him and cause yourself misery.

“Cheers,” Paisley’s voice is in stereo as she swings around your right side, plopping 4 whiskey shots on the bar table in front of you. “Girls,” she says to get the other’s attention, divvying up the shots.

“Whiskey?” Carol scowls, holding it up in front of her.

“Oh hush,” Paisley smarts, “I said, cheers!”

You clink shot glasses and throw it back, willing the tears away in your eyes. The burn of the liquor does just that, and when you slam the glass down, a small smile finds its way to your face.

When you meet Paisley’s eyes, she’s giving you an inquisitive look. She must read your face.

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, turning back to the bar. You nod and take a sip of your third drink. You can absolutely feel it, so you should probably slow down, but it’s helping squash the anger that had bubbled up in you.

After Paisley returns with the second shot, and after it trials a warm path down your throat, you give her a wide smile. You feel fuzzy and nice.

“There we go,” Paisley giggles and tussles your hair, “Better?”

You nod, giggling.

“Good,” she smile. Her next words are softer, “Forget about him, babe. He’s an idiot, and you’re a hot rockstar.”

She means well, but it makes your chest ache a bit. You push it away with a nod as she pats your shoulder.

Not long after, the room spins. You really should have seen it coming, perhaps you even did, but it hits all at once.

“Paisley,” it slurs out of you, “Gotta go outside.”

Her hair whips everywhere as she spins her head to look at you, her eyeliner smudged and her eyes heavy from the presumable weed she smoked in the bathroom.

“Need me to come?”

You shake your head, giving her a salute as you back away.

“Be safe,” she points a serious finger at you, “Go straight to the hotel.”

Nodding, you make a swift exit into the warm air of the night. You’re somewhere in the desert now, and the air is dry and cool. You inhale it as deep as you can as you watch the neon from the bar signs across the street flicker. They’re pink and green, and it feels like outer space, which makes you giggle.

Willing the nausea away, you begin the short walk to the hotel, and try not to think about Jake. Inevitably, your inebriated brain does not listen, and you’re stuck between wanting to hate him, and wanting his hands all over you.

It’s still on your mind as you open your hotel door, as you slip inside the room and kick off your boots. You stare at the hotel bed, the empty, glaring white sheets. And you don’t want to lay in it alone.

Instead, you squint to look around the room for the ice bucket. You’ll waste some time getting ice and a drink from the vending machine, and perhaps by then, your mind will settle down.

Slipping the key card in the pocket of your denim skirt, you enter the hallway, barefoot and pleasantly drunk. You trudge to the ice room, offering the empty bucket to it for filling. Unable to resist the urge, you pop one of the cold cubes into your mouth and crunch. It’s refreshing, and you smile to yourself as you make your way back out.

There’s a figure in the hallway, about half way down and blurry, and you wonder to yourself for a moment if it really is him, or if you’re that drunk.

You turn to disregard it, to head to the vending machine, but sure enough;

“Hey.”

His voice is warm, and so wonderfully gentle. You hate how gentle it is.

You turn back, against your own will. And there’s Jake, wandering the few feet down the hall to you, dragging his hand through his messy hair.

“Hi.” You answer back, popping another ice cube in your mouth. He stops a few feet ahead of you and gives you a once over, and that shit eating grin appears on his face.

“No shoes?” He nods down at your feet.

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you nod and hold up the bucket, “Just wanted ice.”

He nods and rubs his hand over his flushed cheek. He’s drunk too.

“Wanna come in? I have drinks in the mini fridge,” he jabs his thumb in the vicinity of his hotel room.

You are silent for a long time, far too long for a normal conversation. You’re attempting to weight all of the options: should you, shouldn’t you, who cares, should you care, etc, until finally he breaks the silence:

“I’m just offering you a nightcap, I’m not gonna eat you alive, doll.” He smirks, and jesus christ, you wish it didn’t make your stomach turn the way it does.

You try to stay upset at him as he winks. Reluctantly, with an eye roll, you move to follow him to the room. He holds the door open wordlessly.

“Did you have a fun night?” you ask with a tone, walking in and setting the ice bucket on the desk. Might as well get the dig in before the liquor catches up to you fully, and you’re too drunk to be witty.

He nods and throws his phone and wallet on the bed, “You?”

You give a curt not back.

“You want a drink?” He offers.

“No liquor,” you sigh, “Already drunk.”

He nods and starts to fetch a sprite from the fridge, cracking it open as he hands it to you. His hands are large, you notice for the hundredth time. His fingers are long.

“So, why’d you ask like that? He says, reaching for his own soda. You step close to him, probably too much so, but it’s like he’s got his own god damn gravitational pull. When he comes back up from the fridge, you’re a few feet away.

“What?” you ask.

“How my night was,” he clarifies, cracking his soda can open and leaning with one arm against the hotel furniture. He takes a long sip.

You shrug at his question, “Just seems like you had a fun time,” you raise your brows and take another sip. You’re being petty, but you don’t care.

He studies your face for a moment and scrunches his brow down, pressing his lips together. After a second, he shakes his head,

“Just say it, whatever it is you’re not saying.”

You blink at him. You should leave, probably. But the words pour from you before you can stop. You set your soda down on the desk with some level of aggression. He sets his down too, softer.

“You played with my hair,” you say, emotion creeping up in your voice.

He watches you, his lips parted, his drunk mind trying to understand what has just come out of your mouth.

“You said I have a sunset aura. We fell asleep together.”

The thoughts are disjointed, but it’s what comes to your mind.

“I thought you liked me,” you finally get it out—the meat of what you’re trying to say. You feel embarrassed, childish and petulant, “I thought—”

Your throat begins to shut as tears start in your eyes. The embarrassment is combusting into anger, fueled by the alcohol.

“I thought—”

“I do,” he interjects before you can say it again, “I do like you.”

You’re in stunned silence for a moment at the admission, but then the words find you.

“Then why the other girl?” You force the words out through your tight throat, though they wobble, “Why—why do that when I was in your bed last night? You had me.”

He winces at that, barely, but you see it. He licks his lips and furrows his brow more, standing with a hand hooked through one of his belt loops. He doesn’t seem angry, though, maybe confused.

“Little wing,” he sighs finally, with such a genuine regret in his voice that you almost soften, “I don’t know,” he rubs his face over his hand, “I just flirt, I don’t—”

“You could flirt with me,” you know it comes out harsh and borderline desperate, but the liquor has ripped down your walls, and your frustration is glowing hot at the surface.

“It’s not just that, I just—,” he sucks in a breath and shakes his head, “I’m fucking drunk, doll, I don’t—“

“Spit it out, Jake,” you have no patience for niceties.

“I just wanted a hook up,” he blurts, “But I didn’t, I mean, obviously, I’m here,” he holds his hands out at the room, “I just—”

“What is this, Jake?” Forget soft, you’re angry now, “You like me but don’t want to hook up with me? I didn’t ask you if you wanted to be friends, I asked if you like me—”

“I do,” His voice is soft and his eyes are sad, and as he says it, he steps forward and touches your cheek. Try as you might to maintain your anger, the touch takes your breath. You want it: you want him to be soft with you, to touch you like that.

“I do,” he repeats as he strokes over your cheek with his thumb, gentle as a breeze, “You do remind me of a sunset. Little wing, I fucking—” he laughs, breathless, and you can do nothing but watch, “I’m damn near obsessed with you.”

Out of your stunned silence, you manage a hushed response, “Then why not me? At the bar…I…your hand…”

He shakes his head solemnly and strokes your cheek again, “Because I don’t—I don’t know how to do that, doll. I don’t really…I just usually fuck girls and then that’s it. I’m not really used to much more, y’know, with the touring, and,” he sucks in a breath, collecting himself, “And I don’t want to do that with you.”

“I…” you search for words that never come, “Jake…,”

“You’re too sweet,” he’s suddenly so close, leaning in with whisky on his breath. His cheek nuzzles yours, “You’re so fucking…sweet, fucking beautiful, and feminine,” his lips drag over your cheekbone, “talented, special, pretty little thing…”

“Jake…” it’s all you can manage.

“And I can’t…” he nips at your jaw and your head is spinning, “Fuck, I can’t do… that… to you,”

“Why?” it comes out as a whimper, “Why can’t we?”

You can’t bring yourself to care about any of his cryptic warnings: you just want him.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t—I’m drunk, this isn’t—“ His hand leaves your jaw and he pulls away.

You tighten your fist into his jacket lapels, strangling the black leather fringe, and he suddenly comes to, his eyes locking on yours.

“What are you scared of?” You bite out.

He sucks in a breath and his eyes scan over your face.

“I’m drunk, doll, I really…we should really talk when I’m not.”

“Why? So you can phrase it better? Just say it,”

He licks his lips, “I don’t want to mess this up. I like my time with you, I like how we just…how easy it is. It’s sweet. I don’t wanna ruin it. I don’t wanna fuck and then never talk again, or make it all complicated, or…” he shakes his head, “I just wanted it to stay sweet.”

The admission is gentle, and you ease up on him, speaking softer.

“I didn’t take you as careful.”

“It’s just you, little wing,” his eyes scan your face, soft brown and kind, “Just with you.”

The silence invites a palpable tension, suspended between both of your anticipating glances.

As precautious as he speaks, it seems his body cannot help but surrender to the temptation, and he leans in again. Feather soft, his lips brush yours. You can feel his breath, and the scent of him is dizzying.

“M’sorry,” he’s slurring suddenly, “I’m—um…” he falls silent and he moves to rest his forehead against your temple. You can feel his shaking breath.

Your heads are pressed together, breathing against each others necks. In your chest, your heart is a drum.

You know you should be sorry too; this isn’t how you want to kiss him for the first time. But he smells so good, and his skin is warm, and his hands on your waist are making your spine tingle, and you can’t care about anything that should or shouldn’t happen.

“Jake?” you sigh.

“Yeah?” his voice sounds strained.

“Can you stop being sorry and just fucking kiss me?” you hiss against his jaw.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, slamming back into you. His lips are hungry, and you’re needy.

His hands are against your bare ribs as he licks into your mouth, and his palms pressed warm against your skin makes a heat flare in your stomach.

He backs you up a couple feet to push you up against the wall as he kisses down your neck. His hands are wandering, skirting hesitatingly over your breasts, his thumb dips under your skirt hem into your navel and then retreats. His hand falls to your hip, flirting with the hem of your skirt. Your legs open for him and it makes him whine.

“Can I—“ he swallows.

“Please,”

His hand moves along the front of your thigh, and then it’s between them, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin slowly. Then, it moves up to your panties, touching softly over you.

“Warm,” he breathes, like he didn’t even mean to say it aloud.

“Jake,” you whine, “Please.”

“Oh,” it’s nearly a whine, and his eyes are squeezed shut, “Don’t say my name like that, doll, or this is gonna get out of hand quick.”

The words make your legs clamp together around his hand.

“You like the thought of that, huh?” He nips at your ear, “Don’t tempt me. Let’s not—“ there’s a sharp inhale as his thumb brushes the hem of your panties, nearly dipping his finger under the fabric, “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Jesus christ, little wing, you’re makin’ this hard for me,” he withdraws his thumb and skirts it over the front of your panties, “You don’t—“ his breath hitches, and he looks directly into your eyes, “You don’t wanna wait?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I just—fuck, I just didn’t want it to be like this,”

“What do you want?” You ask, and you mean it. He draws his hand away from your thigh.

“I’m not good at this, like I said, I just—I don’t know what this looks like tomorrow if we do that tonight.”

“I want you to want me bad enough to not care about any of that,” it comes out of you before you can decide better.

“Oh, doll,” he’s breathless, shaking his head. He meets you in another desperate kiss, and okay, maybe you’ll believe him.

“I want you,” he says it with a shudder in his breath. The back of his hand graces your cheek, “God, do I want you,” he looks at your for a long moment in silence before he takes your hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, where you can feel the hard warmth of him beneath the clasp. It makes your cheeks hot.

“See?” He slots your fingers with his, then, “ But I can’t not care…” he kisses your cheek, “Even drunk, I know that.”

“Please?” You give him doe eyes, and you reach for his hand, placing it back on the hem of your skirt, “Jake, I…please, touch me.”

“Listen to you,” his eyes roll back in his head, “Fuck, I don’t even recognize myself, I normally…mm, jesus you’re hard to resist,”

He takes a deep breath, and then removes both of his hands, holding them up in the air as he releases the breath. They come back to cradle your face.

“Doll…,” he says softly, “Not tonight. I’m sorry, I wish—“ he clears his throat, “You’re welcome to stay here, but I can’t do that tonight,”

He shocks you with the display of reservation, and suddenly you’re hit with a wave of embarrassment.

He can tell.

“Hey,” he kisses you softly, “It’s alright. Just—I can’t do that with you like this. It’s not fair to you.”

You nod softly and embarrassed tears begin to sting at your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he wipes them with his thumb and kisses you again, so tender your heart aches, and you want to be mad but all you can do is kiss back.

“You can stay here,” he says against your lip, “I can hold you.”

The thought of laying there with him after all this makes you almost frantic, you wish it could go any other way.

For the second night in a row, he’s sighing as you turn away.

“Little wing,”

It’s sad, and in the pit of your stomach, nausea brews. You’re already walking away when he repeats it, and because your body cannot help it, you turn back to him.

“What?” it’s far harsher than you meant; you can see it in the way he recoils that it stings.

“You can stay,” he offers again, “Please—I—It’s alright, I promise.”

A thousand replies run through your mind, but you settle on a heavy breath. You don’t think even if you could put the disappointment into words, that he might understand, or that it might make any difference. You don’t want to spend the night chastely laying beside him while you wonder again if he wants you the same way you want him. So you don’t.

“Goodnight, Jake,” you say softly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

And for the second night in a row, you let the hotel door shut as he’s saying the nickname again.

“Little wing—”

fin.

-✿-

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#gvf fic #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fics #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #little wing jake

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luckyroll3 · 26 days

Text

Crimson Lights: Chapter 19

Masterlist

The tick of the clock is the only sound in the clinic, a rhythmic reminder that it is well past the time most decent folks were in bed. My eyelids are heavy, my brain foggy from pouring over records and invoices when my cell phone rings, piercing the silence. I see that it’s Chris. I press the answer button and place it on speaker, “Hey babe.”

"Kay, you still at the clinic?" Chris' voice is terse, an edge to it that instantly sets me on alert.

"Yeah, I’m here. Just finishing up some paperwork.”

“Who else is there?” He asks firmly.

“It’s just me. Everyone else went home hours ago. What's up?"

"Unlock the back door. We're coming in…now."

"Chris?" The line goes dead before I can get another word out. Confusion swirls through me. Chris' urgency was palpable, his message cryptic.

I hurry to the back door, my pulse pumping in my ears as I flick off the lock and pull the door open. The night air brushes against my skin, carrying a hint of impending rain. I peer into the darkness, searching for any sign of movement.

Then came the muffled sounds of struggle, footsteps pounding against the asphalt. Several shadows materialize into figures as Chris, Changbin, and Hyunjin appear, their faces grim set and strained under the dull glow of the one security light. Between them, they half-carry, half-drag a fourth man whose face is obscured by shadows and blood. But his chin-length blonde hair and thin frame is unmistakable. It’s Felix.

"Jesus," I whisper, stepping aside as they maneuver through the narrow doorway, Felix groaning softly with each jostling step.

"Clear a table," Chris barks, his eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second before returning to the figure in their arms.

I spring into action, shoving aside equipment to clear an examination table. They lay Felix down with a care that belies their rough exteriors. Felix’s breaths are shallow, his once sharp features now puffy and distorted with bruises. A knot tightens in my stomach as I take in the extent of his injuries.

"Kay," Changbin's voice cuts through the chaos, low and steady. "We need your help."

My hands hover over Felix, professional instincts kicking in despite the tremor in my fingers. I brush his hair out of his face. "What happened?" I look up, my eyes moving between each of them.

"Can't talk about it now," Hyunjin growls, anger simmering beneath the surface like a coiled spring. "Just... help him."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the swell of unease I am feeling. "You do realize treating humans isn't exactly my expertise, right? I'm a vet, not a doctor."

"Kay," Chris says, his voice firm and seeming oddly calm despite the chaos. He steps closer, his presence solid and grounding. "Whatever you decide to do here... I get it. This isn't your fight."

His dark eyes hold mine, steady and sincere. It is a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea that my thoughts have become. A choice laid bare before me—to step back into the relative safety of my own world or to wade deeper into theirs.

"Chris, I..." My gaze flits from Chris to Felix, whose chest rises and falls with too much effort. A shiver runs through me, not from fear, but from an acute awareness of the crossroads at which I now stand.

"Kay, please," Hyunjin implores, his eyes locking onto mine and welling with tears. It is a plea wrapped in steel, the kind that left no room for refusal.

"Fine." The word comes out a surrender, though my heart races at the implications. "Okay," I say as I switch on the overhead lamp, its beam illuminating the stark reality of violence across Felix's face and body. "Okay," I repeat, more to myself than to them. I sigh deeply. "I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," Chris says, grabbing and squeezing one of my hands, the words almost lost amidst the low moans from the table. It isn't gratitude that softened his voice; it’s something much closer to desperation.

I reach for the antiseptic, my hands steadying as muscle memory takes over. This is my realm, my sanctuary of healing. No matter the chaos that had spilled into it, this I can do—I can mend what is broken.

The sharp scent of blood mingles with the sterile tang of disinfectants as I lay out the medical supplies. Gloved hands ready, I listen to his chest with a stethoscope to ensure his lungs aren’t punctured. They sound good. I glance up at the three men crowding my clinic, their faces taut with worry and something darker. I second guess asking them to explain, but Chris reads the question in my face.

“He's been jumped by another crew,” Chris begins. “They're making a statement." The last words hang heavy in the air, charged with an unspoken threat.

I look up at him. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" My words are sharper than I intend, my nerves fraying at the edges.

"Sorry, it's... complicated," Changbin adds. "But we didn’t have anywhere else to go. Anyone that we trust as much as you."

"Complicated seems to be the theme of the night," I mutter, turning back to Felix, whose labored breathing fills the silence between us. The sight of him, so vulnerable and broken, tugs at something primal within me—a fierce need to protect, to heal. "But doing this doesn't get me involved in your mess, right?" I clean as much of the blood off his face and neck as I can with a towel.

Chris looks at me but doesn’t answer. The shadows in his eyes betray the weight of our situation.

As I start to examine Felix, I recognize that the lines between my world and theirs is now blurred—a veterinarian thrust into the role of a battlefield medic. And this despite the effort they had made to keep me at a relative distance from their work.

The metallic tang of blood hangs in the air, clinging to my senses as I prepare a makeshift bandage. My hands move with a precision born from years of practice, though never under such dire circumstances. The whine from Felix's pained breaths grate against my ears, heightening the tension that had knotted itself in my stomach. I work fast to clean, bandage, and stitch. I note that he’s fading in and out of consciousness as I work. "Stay with me, Felix," I murmur, not just a command to the injured man before me, but also a silent plea to the universe.

I hear a loud crash across the room. I look up and see Hyunjin slamming a metal tray against the wall. His eyes are wild and burning with a fury that could set the world ablaze.

"Those bastards," he seethes, each word slicing through the tense air like a shard of glass. "I'm gonna tear them apart!" he growls. I watch him, slightly terrified. I’ve seen how he reacted when someone mistreated me, a person he barely knew. I shudder to think what he might do to those who have literally broken his best friend, the person he loves most in this world.

Chris' hand shoots out, gripping Hyunjin’s shoulder with enough pressure to hold back a raging bull. "Hyunjin, we need to be smart about this. We can't just—"

"Smart?" Hyunjin spits, shrugging off Chris' grasp and throwing the tray to the floor. "They almost killed Felix!" His voice breaks, betraying the swirling storm of grief and rage inside him.

"Listen to me," Changbin interjects, his own voice a low growl, emanating strength and an undercurrent of control. "We need to track them carefully. We can’t risk more heat, not now."

I could see the conflict in Chris’ eyes, the leader in him battling the friend, the brother, the caretaker. Both he and Changbin know Hyunjin is a lit fuse, ready to detonate and take down anyone or anything in his path. But they can't babysit a time bomb while hunting for monsters.

"Kay," Chris turns to me, his jaw clenched. He relaxes it as his gaze meets mine. "Can you...?"

The unspoken plea hangs between us: stay with Hyunjin. Keep him here, keep him out of the way, keep him safe.

I tie off my last stitch before walking to the garbage to peel off my gloves, then to the sink to wash my hands. "Of course," I say, the weight of the responsibility settling on my shoulders. "Jinnie,” I call over sweetly. “Felix needs someone he trusts by his side. Can you stay with us? Help me take care of him?"

Hyunjin's chest heaves as if fighting against the tempest within him. For a heartbeat, it seems as if he will refuse, but then his shoulders slump, and the fire in his eyes dim to smoldering embers.

"Fine," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But only until they're back."

“Thank you,” I say to him. I walk over and give him a warm hug. He stands there stiff for a few beats before he allows himself to sink against me and hug me back. Then I take his hand and walk him over to Felix, whose breathing is almost back to normal. I head over to Chris and Changbin who are having a hushed conversation on the other side of the room.

"Thank you, Kay," Changbin whispers, giving me a nod of gratitude mixed with concern. I nod. He walks towards the backdoor.

Chris wraps me tightly in his arms, whispering in my ear, “Sorry for dragging you into this. Please get them both through this.”

“Okay,” I whisper back.

“I’ll let you know when we’re on our way back. Stay here and keep the doors locked.”

“Please be safe.” My voice is soft, but I’m trying not to let on how scared I am that something bad will also happen to them. I hand him my keys to the clinic. “I need you both back.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” He kisses me gently before turning to join Changbin at the door. Their silhouettes are stark beneath the security light outside. With a final glance, they disappear, leaving behind a charged silence that pulses with unspoken dread. I turn to Hyunjin, who has sunk into a chair next to the examination table carrying Felix, his body language speaking of a defeat far crueler than any physical blow.

"Hey," I venture tentatively, inching closer. "He's going to be okay, Hyunjin. Felix is strong."

"Strong doesn't matter when it’s 1 against 5," he replies hollowly, though his gaze lingers on Felix's body with a flicker of hope.

"Maybe not," I concede, choosing my words as if threading a needle with shaking hands. "But having someone who cares? That makes a hell of a difference."

For a long moment, Hyunjin simply stares at Felix, silent and still as stone. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his hand hovering above Felix's bandaged arm before gently coming to rest there and sliding down to wrap his hand around Felix’s—a silent vow of protection.

I settle back into my chair behind the desk and I watch over Hyunjin as he watches over Felix.

—

Looking at my watch, I note that several hours have passed by. I quickly look at my phone, but don’t see any messages. I check over Felix’s wounds and start to remove one of the bandages that has been soaked through with blood. I can feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning into my back.

“Kay,” his voice is strained, barely more than a whisper, but it tugs at my focus.

“I’m almost done,” I say to him over my shoulder, wrapping another layer of bandages tightly around Felix’s torso.

Hyunjin shuffles closer, a gust of his breath fanning across my neck as he peers over my shoulder. His anger has simmered down to a smoldering worry that lingers in the crease between his furrowed brows.

"Is he..." Hyunjin trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

"He’s fine. Stable." I turn my head to meet Hyunjin's eyes briefly, offering a reassuring nod. It is the truth, though I hoped it sounded more certain than I felt. We fall into silence, save for the occasional rustle of bandages and Felix's shallow breaths.

When I’m done, I move to the sink to wash my hands. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask, now that he’s much calmer.

"Do you know about Marco de Luca?"

"Marco?" I ask. The name pricks at my memory – Marco de Luca — it sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

"Yeah, Marco," Hyunjin confirms, his voice dropping to a hush. "He was at the party where we met you. Chan, Han, and Changbin made a deal with him that night."

I remember being left alone on the balcony after my first kiss with Chris. Marco was apparently the reason why.

"We thought we had an understanding with him and his crew." Hyunjin's hand clenches into a fist, the knuckles white. "But this attack on Felix... it doesn't add up. They followed him home from one of the warehouses and jumped him. Left him bleeding in the alley next to our building."

I watch him as he starts getting worked up again, his breath beginning to heave. I take his hand in mine. “You have to keep it together…for him,” I say.

He nods slowly. As I start to let his hand go, he squeezes it and pulls me into him. He looks down at me and says softly, “Thank you.”

“Hyunjin, I—” But my words are cut off as he leans forward, his intention clear in his eyes.

Instinctively, I step back and place my free hand against his chest, halting him mid-motion. “Hyunjin, stop.”

He freezes, confusion flickering across his beautiful features.

“Look,” I say firmly. “What happened the other night was a one time thing. It was fun, but more out of curiosity than anything else. And if it were to happen again, it would be the three of us,” I say referring to Chris.

His eyes search mine, and then, surprisingly, he nods. "I get it," Hyunjin says, backing away. "No hard feelings. I just got caught up in the moment, y'know?"

"Yeah. It’s fine. Thanks for understanding.” Relief washes over me, cooling the heat of the moment. I don’t need any more complications.

"Yeah," he murmurs, turning back to watch over Felix. "We had fun. Maybe it will happen again, maybe it won’t."

I walk back to my chair, curious about how nonchalant he’s being after getting turned down.

About an hour later, the silence of the clinic is busted when my phone beeps. A message from Changbin saying they’ll be there in a few minutes. Five minutes later, I hear the lock turn and the back door creaks open.

"Kay?" Chris's voice is a low hum, cautious as he steps in, Changbin behind him. "How's Felix?"

"Stable, for now," I reply, watching as they near the steel table where Felix lay unconscious. "You should probably get him proper medical attention soon, though."

Changbin's gaze lingers on Felix before meeting mine, his eyes hard but grateful. "We found the guys who did this. Five goons from another gang," he said with a restrained edge. “Han and Minho are watching them.”

"Do you know why they jumped him?" I asked, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Chris shakes his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes. "No. They weren’t talking, and we have no time for maybes." He runs his fingers through his hair to put the strands back in place as he walks over to me. “Can we move him?” I nod. “OK, let’s get back to our building.”

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz fanfic #bang chan #bangchan fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #bangchan #changbin #changbin smut #changbin imagines

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deathblossomed · 5 months

Text

@thuganomxcs asked:

"You know Botan, sometimes I can't help but feel you screwed me over with this 'spirit detective' gig." (can be au free time after hiei but before genkai. For Bonding's sake.)

"Oh, I'm sorry Yusuke, and here I thought you'd enjoy being brought back to life. Not to mention a license to get all that fighting energy out. But I can always tell Koenma that you'd prefer to go back to being a ghost if this job doesn't suit you."

#❀࿐ messages from the crossroads ( answered. )#thuganomxcs

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burst-of-iridescent · 1 year

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Hello! (First I wanted to say I'm sorry if you've answered this before, and if so could you please direct me to it in your response?) but I was wondering what you thought of Zuko's betrayal toward Katara in The Crossroads of Destiny, if it felt in character or not for him, if not, how do you think it should have been written differently? On the same note, what are your (specifically Zutara related) thoughts on Season 3? Is there anything you would have written differently, and if so, how? Personally, I always felt dissatisfied with S3 in general, although it was still overall enjoyable. I don't even personally dislike kataang, but maiko disgusts (and I mean REALLY) disgusts me.

i know there are many who argue that zuko's choice in CoD was character assassination, that it was meant to torpedo zutara, that it was too sudden etc etc... but personally, i've always felt that it was both in-character and necessary for zuko at that point in his arc.

i can understand how on first watch it seems like too much of a turn-around, given how zuko's arc seemed to be heading, but i think this ignores two things: firstly, that the path to redemption isn't linear and secondly, the real context of the choice that lay before zuko in CoD.

it's one thing to give up on chasing the avatar and accept a quiet, humble life in ba sing se; it's another entirely to actively turn traitor yourself and work against your nation and your family. part of the reason zuko was able to reconcile himself to being lee the tea shop server forever is because it was essentially a path of passive neutrality: he was helping neither the avatar, nor the fire nation. it was the best option available to him, a grey area that allowed him to find some measure of peace without forcing him to pick a side.

azula's coup, however, destroys any chance zuko has of ever going back to that life. he's been dragged right back into the conflict, and this time there's no question of staying out of it. one way or another, he'll be forced to fight, and the only choice left to him is who his enemy will be. azula, his own sister, offering him everything he's ever wanted? or aang, the boy he's spent years hunting, who embodies everything he's been taught to oppose?

and so naturally, when confronted with a dangerous unknown, he chooses to go back to what's familiar and what he spent most of his life believing he wanted. remember that zuko is also a victim of a lifetime of abuse and indoctrination in a moment of extreme psychological stress, and it's no wonder that he picks what he sees as safe and easy (zuko isn't actually safe in the fire nation ofc and he knows that, but it comes back to the case of the devil you know vs the devil you don't), though he himself is aware deep down that it's the wrong choice.

from a character perspective, zuko also needed to go back to the fire nation to realize how much he's changed, and that the home he'd always yearned to return to didn't actually exist, and probably never had. had zuko actually gone with the gaang in the book 2 finale, i think a little part of him might have always wondered about the what-if of it all. ultimately, i think it strengthens zuko's redemption for him to backslide and then actively make the choice to change and still try to do better, further proving the show's message of how it's never too late to do the right thing.

the only thing i would have changed is how zuko's arc in the first half of book 3 is handled, because while i do get what the writers were going for, i think it was a wasted opportunity to get insight into the war from the fire nation's perspective. it would've been cool to see zuko learning about the gaang's exploits and slowly putting the pieces together about who was likely responsible for it, allowing us to see the effects of their actions from the other point of view.

book 3 was definitely the most unsatisfying of the series, because the season as a whole is the least cohesive and well-planned of the three, and coming on the heels of the near-perfect book 2, the disparity is even more obvious. it's somewhat masked by the fact that it does have some of the best individual episodes of the series, which is probably why many people overlook how weak the season is as a whole.

i actually wouldn't change anything zutara-related other than letting them have ONE conversation and a hug post-agni kai (as they deserved) because that entire arc was just *chef's kiss*. my problems with book 3 stem almost entirely from the finale and aang's overall arc, but that's probably too long to get into here so tldr: less magic pointy rock, lion turtle, and half-assed relationships, more letting go of katara, confronting grief over air nomads, and found family with hints of an actually well-developed romance for the future.

sigh, to think of all we could have had.

#zutara #zutara asks #anti kataang #anti maiko #zuko #zuko meta #atla meta

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garbinge · 4 months

Text

Siblings

Angel Reyes & Sister!OFC Manny Reyes 30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 1.9k words A/N: Hi Friends!!!! Know I've been a bit MIA, but.....Instead of doing a prompt list, I took the opportunity to take the last few months to write through ideas for all different fandoms I've had in my head for years/months etc as well as update some of my multichaps. Enjoy the ride over the next 30 days friends!

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, heartbreak, drinking, smoking.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie (have been a bit inactive on tumblr so this might not be up to date, if you'd like to be added to my Mayans taglist please shoot me a message!)

The tears were falling from Manny’s face, she had tried to pull herself together but it was no luck. After seeing her ex, Ellie, out on a date in Santo Padre, things just kind of got…emotional. Their breakup was coming up on its month anniversary, and the biggest sting aside from seeing her on a date, was the where of it all. Ellie had made it very clear that she wanted to leave town, that Santo Padre was holding her back from her full potential. So seeing her here was the biggest heartbreak of all.

She rang the doorbell repeatedly, not in the mood to wait patiently for an answer. She grabbed the sides of her sweatshirt and crossed them over her chest with her arms as she fidgeted at the front door. After she wiped her face from her tears for what felt like the millionth time, she rang the doorbell another 12 times before the door swung open.

“What the fu–” Angel’s voice cut off after he saw his little sister standing in front of him sobbing. “Manny?” He lowered his head as he tried to get a look at her face.

In an instant she was barging into his house and started to pace in the living room, her one arm still crossed as she nervously chewed on her nails on the other. Angel would have made a sarcastic comment, but he got the sense that right now might not have been the best time.

“Manny, what happened?” He asked, now a little worried.

The girl turned around and stared at him, her eyes were swollen from crying and she could feel herself losing any sense of rationality she had left. Angel’s face was filled with confusion but in between that there was concern. That’s what made Manny lose it. As the sobs flooded out she ran into Angel’s arms and just sobbed. Angel hesitated for a minute before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.

After a minute, Angel spoke up. “Manny, I’m gonna need to know what the fuck is going on.”

“I’m sad.” She said, pulling out of the embrace and wiping her tears.

Angel held back another sarcastic comment, but his face was saying it all. Manny let out a laugh, probably the first one in hours. “I saw Ellie.” She was now making her way to the couch to plop down.

With those three words, Angel understood everything, he got why she was sad, why she was crying, but the one thing he was still wondering was why she came to him. Angel went to grab two beers before plopping down on the opposite side of the couch, extending his arm passing the beer to her.

Manny nodded, and popped the cap off taking a chug. After she chugged half the beer, she sighed letting her body just relax in the heaviness of the day.

“You know,” Manny said as she looked up at the ceiling. “She told me she wanted to get out of here, experience the world. I got it, I mean this town is…” she stopped for a minute to think about the right word.

“Suffocating?” Angel finished her sentence.

“Yea, suffocating.” Manny agreed. “But I can’t leave. My life is here, you know. The shop, Pops, EZ, you.”

“I’ll let the fact that you mentioned me last slide since you’re sad.” Angel commented.

Manny chuckled again before continuing, “I just mean, we were at a crossroads. It sucked, we dated for 4 years, but it made sense to break up.”

“But seeing her back here so soon, got you all fucked up.” Angel nodded knowing he hit the nail on the head without her even mentioning it.

“Yea, really fucked up. I’m like second guessing everything. Not even the things she said during the breakup but everything before that.” She shook her head.

“You want my thoughts?” Angel stretched out, putting his feet on the coffee table.

Manny didn’t say anything, just squinted and stared at her older brother.

Angel glanced over at her, “Well?”

“I’m debating if this is in my best interest.”

Angel laughed at that and continued to talk. “We’re stuck here. EZ and me. We chose this and now, it’s our life. But you Manny? You don’t gotta be here. You don’t have ties the way we do.”

Manny frowned at that, a little confused. To her, her ties were just as deep as her brothers.

“We got Pops, we got the shop, hell, we got each other, you should go out there, the world, live life.” Angel continued, still laying back on his couch.

“I meant my shop, not Pops.” Manny laughed, still wiping away the trail of tears that was starting to dry and cool on her face.

“You don’t really think you need that place, do you?” Angel was leaning over to grab his drink. “It’s a mechanic shop, the gears will keep spinning whether you’re there or not.” He took a swig of the beer, going back to his relaxing position. “And fun fact for you, in case you didn’t know, auto-body shops, they exist outside of Santo Padre.” His eyebrows raised knowing the comment was as sarcastic as they come.

“Wow, you know, you ARE the older, wiser brother.” Manny rolled her eyes and fell back on her side of the couch, completely melting into it as her hands raised to slide down her face in frustration and overwhelmingness.

Angel shrugged with a smile that could earn him a swift push if Manny wasn’t multiple feet away from him.

“It’s more complicated than that. The shop is all I have, I make more money owning and running it than I would selling it. It’s in a shitty part of town, so selling for land is off the table, it’s not remodeled so selling it to another shop would just make me next to nothing.” Manny explained wishing she had a drink right now.

Angel must’ve read her mind, or just ran out of his own beer because he was standing up and moving to the kitchen to grab two more cold beers for them both. “You’ve already thought this through?” He spoke through the open hatch that connected the space between the kitchen and living room.

“Everyday since Ellie left.” Manny sighed and thought through all the possibilities again.

Angel was now in front of her extending his hand out to give his middle sister the beer. Manny reached out and happily grabbed it and took a quick swig before crashing back down into the leather couch.

“Can I be really honest with you?” Angel moved his seat to the recliner that was directly in front of where Manny was on the couch, the coffee table between them.

Manny shrugged by lifting her hands with a wave. Her way of giving Angel the permission to speak freely.

“Ellie had one foot out the door when she was just our next door neighbor. And I think you knew that.”

Manny squinted, an emotion of some kind bubbling in her throat. “Are you insinuating that I did this to myself?” The disgust in the sentence was obvious from her tone of voice.

“I’m insinuating,” Angel put extra pronunciation on a word he likely didn’t use often, “that we,” he pointed in a circle to reference both of them in the room, and then up in the air to refer to EZ and their father, “the Reyes’, have a tendency to self sabotage.”

Manny nodded, there was no arguing in that, they did tend to self sabotage themselves, they were doing it by staying in Santo Padre.

“I guess the breakup– it is on me.” Manny exhaled deeply as she wrapped her mind around that.

“Now, hold up, I ain’t say all that. Ellie fucked you over, treated you like garbage in the end. I loved that girl, I loved you two together, but to me and my eyes, she did not handle the break up well. And that’s comin’ from me, you know?” Angel let out a laugh. “She just left you a note, dick move.”

Manny nodded and let out a breathy laugh from her nose.

“I’m just saying, it’s not all on one person.” Angel concluded that thought and moved to another, “And quite frankly, I don’t fuck with her because I had to see you miserable for months, you didn’t get out of bed for weeks.” Angel reminded her.

“Days.” Manny quickly corrected Angel.

“Okay, days.” He took her correction and spoke it with sarcasm. “Either way, it’s not enjoyable seeing your baby sister with her heartbroken.”

That triggered a memory for Manny and she couldn’t help but smile and remember it in detail. She was barely 13, in high school, her first year, Angel was a senior.

“Do you remember the first person I ever dated?” Manny asked Angel but wasn’t looking at him just yet. When his silence spoke as an answer for him, Manny’s eye’s met his and spoke the kid’s name. “Jared Blonsky.”

Angel scoffed, clearly remembering the name. “Total douchebag.”

Manny chuckled at his recollection of the man. “Yea, he was. You remember what you told me? When he dumped me?”

Angel tried to think but ultimately he shook his head in defeat. “No, I honestly don’t.”

“That sometimes you get your heartbroken and other times you’re the heartbreaker, and that no matter what scenario I was in, my big brother would be there to break whoever hurt me.”

Angel smirked as he stared at the ground. “Sounds like me.” But then he looked up at Manny with a bit of worry in his eyes. “But to be fair that was before you were bi.”

“Before you knew I was.” Manny corrected his politically incorrect statement.

“Yea that’s what I meant, but like I’m not really down to beat Ellie up.”

Manny shook her head at the complete obliviousness of her older brother and the irony in what she was about to say.

“It’s why I’m here. Why I come to you. Because I know you’ll get it, that you’ll be here.”

It got quiet between the two as Angel nodded his head up and down. He then moved to grab the TV remote and turn on something stupid to fill the silence, and just pass the time. He switched channels until finally landing on some cartoon before moving to the coffee table to grab a joint that had been pre-rolled and lit it up. After a few puffs, he leaned to pass it to Manny.

“I’ll always be here for you, you know. If you’re here, if you’re in another state, I got you hermanita.” Angel’s words were kind and caused Manny to look up at him as she grabbed the joint.

“You’re really tryna get rid of me, ain’t you?” Manny couldn’t help but tease her brother.

“Man, shut up and watch the damn show.”

And with that, Manny laughed, leaned back, inhaled the smoke of the joint. She might not have been okay, but for the moment, this moment, she felt loved. So she’d take it.

#Mayans MC #Mayans #Mayans FX #Angel Reyes #OC Manny Reyes #OC Manny #Reyes Sibling #Reyes Sister

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