#Keep it Strange Santo

[delfts-purple]

Santo llesonians can't drive 7/? - El misil 🚀

[lastoneoutofsantoileso]

Hi! I'm a recently returned veteran RPer looking for new friends and RP opportunities! I have 10 years of RP experience on tumblr and elsewhere!

Both mun and muse are over 18.

Please feel free to dm any inquiries!

Thank you for your time!

[swan2swan]

Brooklynn making a joke about her limb difference and Soyona showing disapproval of this woman's possible self-deprecation (a split second before realizing that she's actually going to have to murder her) is incredible stuff, actually.

[mystrangesanto]

Feels right to start this way. Welcome to the blog!

[blond3ang3l]

Eren is a geek lover. He absolutely is enamored with you. Watching your lips with every word you spoke. The way you got excited telling him about every single new detail of the things you got interested in. Eren worked hard as a famous rnb singer, long days in the studio trying to perfect his songs. Then having to perform when he literally had the WORST anxiety known to man. It always felt like someone needed him and was on his ass about something.

But he did it all for you. For moment like this were he could come home and listen to you tell him. About the things you’ve watched in your huge list of video essays that you had in a playlist on YouTube. How you lit up telling him different facts from how the dating game killer had a coworker that also happened to be a serial killer and he didn’t know to the conspiracy theory of the 27 club, no matter what you said it always made you so happy and seeing you all giddy and stimming while you talked to him made him so content with his life.

…and his dick very hard

“I know cotards syndrome, Koro, Diogenes, fregoli, hypochondria, pica, capgras, boanthropy, apotenmophilia, kulver bulcy, ekbom, erotomania, Stendhal. Pics is like one of the more well known. You know that show my strange addiction that we watch together? Yeah so like those people who eat the random shit like the lady who ate rocks- omg that reminds me!”

Erens ass was not listening one bit. He was watching you, watching your body. You guys had been apart for a little over a month so could do a very short tour in another country and he was sick as fuck that he couldn’t bring you. Everyone knew it too. His attitude fucking sucked that trip. He was antsy, his anxiety was through the roof, he snapped at everyone, overall he fucking hated it. But now, sitting here with you he finally felt at peace.

You were sitting on his lap, yapping his ear off. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to your legs which lead him to notice you were wearing his boxers. The way your thick thighs filled them out compared to his own, he couldn’t resist grabbing them. Grabbing them led to groping them, which lead to him sneaking his hands under the boxer. This caught you off guard and stopped your sudden rant with a small gasp. He chuckled and slipped two fingers in his mouth covering them in his saliva before slipping them back under the boxers.

“Cmon baby, keeping telling me about the little videos.”

He had to have been joking. No way was he just gonna pretend he wasn’t teasing you. Like his finger wasn’t circling around your aching hole.

“Go on I’m waiting baby. Keeping telling me bout what you learned.”

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes you knew it would get you no where. This wasn’t a new thing, eren was always so needy. It was always worse after a tour. Even if it had only been a relatively short one.

“Okay well like I was saying, erotomania is something that a lot of celebrity stalkers have. Especially kpop ones. It’s when someone genuinely believes they’re in a relationship with a celebrity. Remember that girl that literally would follow you to the airport? That crazy bitch probably had it.”

Eren couldn’t help but bite his lip as he listened to you go on. God you looked so fucking good. Your hair looked so good. He was so glad he got you your own personal stylist so you never had to worry about needing to go to a shop or someone else’s house. You smelled so good too. That vanilla body oil you used was just fucking irresistible. He didn’t know whether he liked that one or the strawberry poundcake one more. Either way it only made him want you more.

He slowly slid a finger inside you, watching your face contort as you tried to keep your composure. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat. He missed seeing your face. Facetime wasn’t enough. Having to sneak off to the bathroom to jerk off to pictures and homemade pornos wasn’t enough for him. He needed to see you. To feel you. He slid his free hand up your shirt, groping your chest as he thrusted finger in out and of you.

“R-ren, fuck. Cmon baby, how am i supposed to talk while you’re doing this.”

Your whines only made eren smile as he thrusted a second finger inside you. He watched you as you threw your head back while crying out. He was enjoying every second of teasing you. You were so impatient and he knew it. That’s why he catered to every need you had. You hated having to wait and tended to be bratty when you did. So he made everything about you. Whatever you wanted you had. But this time he needed to be selfish. He wanted to watch you come undone first. And that’s exactly what we’re doing.

Your tight grip on his shoulders told him everything. Your nails were digging deep into his skin as you pushed back against his fingers. You didn’t want to admit it but you missed Ren so much. Your fingers and toys didn’t compare to what he could do. How he could prolong your orgasm by teasing you. He could feel you leaking all over his thigh, his boxers now all sticky along with his thigh. He slowly slid his fingers out of you causing you whine.

He didn’t feel bad at all. It was about him this time. He gripped your hips dragging you along his thigh, making it even more of a mess. You hid your face out of embarrassment. It was too much at how he could make you a whiny mess. No other man could do this to you but him.

You couldn’t help the small noises that fell past your lips as you grinded against his thigh. Eren shivered feeling your warm breath against the side of his neck. The way you tugged at his hair he knew you were close. He could read your body like a damn book.

“Cmon baby, almost there. Let me see you.”

“F-fuck ren, I cant.”

Eren wasn’t having that at all. You couldn’t what? You were gonna disobey him? No chance in hell. He gripped your jaw forcing you to look at him

“You telling me no baby? I could have sworn I said I wanted to see your face. I’ve been gone for a long time and you think your whining is gonna stop me?”

You loved moment like this when Eren suddenly got serious. He was…well he was very off Standish which came off to mean as others. But he babied you. The moment you told him no thought after he told you to do something? It was like a switch flipped in him. His tight grip on your face was only turning you on more which made you rut against his leg faster.

“You’re gonna be good aren’t you baby? Gonna cum for me like a good little whore?”

You eagerly nodded as you bit your lip. You could only cry out his name as you came all over his thigh, making a mess in his boxers. Eren kept his grip on your face to make sure you maintained eye contact the entire time. A smirk creeping on his face as you came.

“There you go baby, let’s go get you cleaned up..”

———————————————————————

@merakidoll Eren fic just like I promised🫶🏽

———————————————————————

Based of a conversation with my boyfriend where I literally was going on about mental illness during my rant about the many video essays I watch

[whereslynx]

[PART 2] Sad Eye meets his match.

a/n: as per request, here’s part 2 :)

part 1 <—

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After the tension of the Santos party, you thought you’d have some peace. But there he was—Sad Eyes—leaning casually against the shelves of fresh produce, radiating that cocky energy you hadn’t expected to encounter again so soon. The grocery store was bustling with life, and the air smelled of ripe fruits and fresh herbs. You maneuvered your cart down the aisle, concentrating on selecting ripe avocados, determined not to let him distract you.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘Not your business.’” Sad Eye chuckled lowly, “What? You don’t wanna fuck with a Santo?” he asked, his voice smooth and playful as he trailed behind you, matching your pace with an effortless swagger. He had an easy confidence, his casual lean and relaxed demeanor making it clear he was comfortable in any setting.

“Keep dreaming, Sad Eyes,” you replied, glancing at him with a smirk, trying to suppress a grin. “I’m just here for groceries, not drama.” Your heart raced a little; there was something undeniably magnetic about him.

“Groceries? Boring. How about you let me spice things up?” He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you. “I can show you a wild side of Freeridge you’ve never seen before.” The challenge in his voice was laced with charm, and you could feel the spark of intrigue igniting.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing an avocado, its smooth skin cool against your palm. “And what, exactly, does that involve? Shopping cart races?”

“Only if I get to win,” he replied, a cocky smirk spreading across his face. “But seriously, you’re gonna let a Santo like me walk away without at least a name?”

“Not my first rodeo, but sure, I’m all ears,” you shot back, the sass flowing effortlessly as you turned to face him, leaning casually against the cart.

He leaned against the shelf, a playful glint in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his tough persona. “Come on, you really don’t want to mess with a Santo like me. I’m dangerous in all the right ways.”

“Dangerous? Is that what you call it?” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you resumed your shopping, picking out a few ripe tomatoes. “You’re more like a playful puppy trying to act tough.” You could feel the playful banter between you crackling like electricity, and it was hard to ignore the flutter in your stomach as you glanced back at him, catching that amused expression on his face.

“Yeah? Well, what if I am?” he retorted, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “You’d be surprised how much trouble I can cause.” His smirk was cocky, but there was an edge to it that suggested he was only half-joking.

You grabbed a box of cereal from the shelf, amusement bubbling beneath your surface. “You think you can intimidate me with your tough-guy routine? Nice try.” The bright colors of the cereal box reflected your playful mood.

“Challenge accepted,” he said, effortlessly matching your stride as you moved toward the dairy section. “But hey, I can be a gentleman too. How about I treat you to something cold after this?” He leaned closer, his casual demeanor mingling with an unexpected seriousness that made your pulse quicken.

You considered it for a moment, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement. “Only if it’s ice cream,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

“Deal,” he replied, his grin widening, confidence radiating from him as you both made your way to the checkout.

As you unloaded your cart, the soft clinks of your groceries hitting the conveyor belt filled the air. You glanced over at him, catching him pulling out his wallet. “Wait, hold on. You’re not paying for my stuff,” you said, eyebrows raised and crossing your arms defiantly. “I can handle my own groceries.”

The cashier paused, watching the exchange with a bemused expression while you felt a rush of annoyance mixed with a strange thrill.

“Too late,” he said with a cocky grin, handing his card to the cashier. The card gleamed in his hand, a symbol of his confidence. “Just think of it as a down payment for that ice cream.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine, but only if you promise not to make this a habit,” you relented, your amusement bubbling to the surface.

“Y/N.” You eventually said, watching the cashier bag the groceries. Sad Eyes looked up at you, his brows raised in curiosity, “Hm?” he hummed in response.

“My name is Y/N.” You muttered, slightly in disbelief that you’re actually letting your walls down for him. But the way Sad Eyes’ face lit up, a childish grin plastered onto his face as if it was one of the biggest accomplishments of his life—maybe it was worth it.

“Sad Eyes,” he replied, bowing slightly with exaggerated flair. “That ice-cream store ‘round the corner ain’t gon’ buy itself. Let’s bounce.” He said, grabbing your groceries for you and already heading out.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you followed him out of the store, feeling a spark of excitement.

As you both strolled down the street, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and playful banter. The air was warm, and the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over Freeridge. There was an undeniable chemistry between you and Sad Eyes, an unexpected connection that felt both thrilling and refreshing. As you approached the ice cream shop, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something interesting. With every shared laugh, you found yourself curious to see where this new dynamic would lead.

[thedinosapien]

Theory: Brooklynn talked to N5 before leaving

The finale leaves many things implied or even confusing – in a way that makes it seem like something happened, especially between the scenes where Ben warns Brooklynn about the Bumpy's egg in the suitcase and the scene where B leaves. I invite you to rewatch the final scene, so it will be easier to understand what I say:

It is implied that Brooklynn had a conversation with the Nublar 5 off-screen, hidden from the viewer. The implications of the scene:

Ben is the one who talks about Bumpy's egg, so he obviously put himself in front of his friends. In the next scene, we see the position of each of the boys and girls: in front, Ben (who talked about the egg in the case), behind him, Darius and lastly, Kenji, then we have Sammy in ahead of Yasmina. Keep Brooklynn's reaction finding out about the egg in mind, I'll talk about it later.

Although Ben asks for the egg, the one who has it in his hands in the last scenes is Kenji. It's not Ben, who loves Bumpy more than anyone, or Darius, who is Brooklynn's best friend. She decided to give the egg to Kenji, proving that:

A. Maybe she trusts him more than Ben or Darius (understandable, since Pincus didn't do what she asked and D left her with the Allo, but it would be a bit strange for the scene, don't you agree? After all, Ben is Bumpy's dad);

B. There was more to the scene than what is revealed to the viewer. A conversation, probably.

The only one Brooklynn hadn't seen before in the season was Kenji, so she didn't know about the affection he has for the baby in the shell, that is, she had no reason to choose him, again indicating that there was an exchange of words between the characters.

There is two hypothesis about what must happened:

• Before giving the egg to Ben, he (Kenji) interrupted and demanded to receive it in Ben's place. It would be strange, since one way or another they would already have the egg in hands – in very safe hands –, changing only the fact that it would be with Ben Pincus;

• Or better, Brooklynn took advantage of the great opportunity she had to give essential explanations for the third season: Santos would kill them if she noticed any sign of betrayal on B's part, but with only one egg missing and the promise that none of her "ex-friends" would get in the way of the plan, everything would be safer for Santos. B just had to take advantage of the small gap to tell her friends WHAT she was doing, WHERE she was going and WHY she was going there – remember, the others don't know anything about Sayona's plans. Those informations will be essential for the characters!

It makes sense, doesn't it? After all, part of the arc of Kenji's relationship with the others is that "nobody tells me anything". Having him as the center of the scene, being, somehow, the priority of information, implies a development in his arc and a future advancement in the others' as well.

Note, in the beginning, Kon was the last, but in the end he is the one who is the most ahead of his friends. There really was something.

Now, the final detail that is totally related to Brooklynn's reaction to the egg: Throughout the season she never knew that Bumpy would have a baby. Her reaction reveals that she realized she lost a lot. It's exactly what Earnest said: "You're nothing special [...]. You're never happy with the good thing you've got, right in front of you." This reinforces that Brooklynn's story is about enjoying the things she already has, what she loses with her obsession and what she also has to gain from it. She needs to balance a lot of things in order to finally understand, by herself, what the truly wants and needs.

——————

A stupid theory I posted on reddit and thought it would be nice to post here. Tumblr must be more active, so activity ≃ interaction + addiction/correction for the theory.

I should stop thinking too much abt this show

If it turn out to be totally wrong, I hope you guys don't remember my post lol

[becauseplot]

Hi hello more thoughts about this post-osnf au. I should come up with an official name or tag for this lmfao.

A couple nights out of the hospital, settled in Liz's guest room, is when Thiago starts having dreams of being lost in the Symbol again, waking up scared and disoriented and confused. The thing is, he never calls out to anyone while in the middle of his panic because he simply doesn't think to (he knows nothing but the Symbol, where is the Symbol, where is the Symbol...), so by the time he finally thinks of reaching out to Liz---she keeps her phone on her bedside with certain contacts on ringer at night---or texting his friends, he's je's already mostly calmed down and feeling like himself again. That doesn't mean he isn't shaken by it though, and he rarely ever sleeps after waking up like that.

Telling the others that he's having these dreams (Nightmares? Visions? Oh god, he hopes not visions...) is probably the smart thing. But he also doesn't want to freak them out considering that Santo Berço should be, is, dead in the ground and he knows hoe shaken up they were by him taking that Symbol. Fuck, he was shaken too. More than shaken. Admitting that the Symbol still comes for him in his sleep is just...it's terrifying to consider what that means.

He's sure they're just dreams. He's had nightmares---still has nightmares---of his first mission, so only makes sense that the second one would show up too. It's just fresh in his mind. In a week or two, they'll start to taper off.

They do not taper off.

They don't seem to get substantially worse, no, but they certainly don't seem to get much better. Reactions upon waking range from being disoriented for a couple seconds to full blown disconnections from his body and his memory for god knows how long as he struggles to find comfort in surroundings that are entirely strange and alien to him.

He figures out a way to cope, though. He sleeps with a lamp on low light (and a towel lining the bottom of the door to keep Liz from noticing in case she wakes up before him and passes by his room) and writing the following in dark pen on his inner forearm every night before he goes to bed: "My name is Thiago Fritz. I live in São Paulo. My friends are Liz, Cesar, Joui, and Arthur. Liz sleeps in the room upstairs. The Symbol is gone. I am home and I am safe." He scrubs it off every morning. Eventually he cuts the sleeve off an old white workout shirt and writes the reminder on the elastic, skin-tight sleeve so he can simply slip it on before bed.

Does it work? A bit. Sometimes his disorientation gets so bad that the shapes of the letters are just that, shapes, but once his brain can work enough to recognize the shapes for letters and read, it gets much easier from there. He draws some spirals and swirls on the sleeve in the hopes of drawing his attention to it more whenever he's freaking out.

In any case, he's coping, he's got this. Sure, he still doesn't sleep well (or at all) after waking up from the dreams, so he's tired all the time, but a little sleepiness can be remedied with naps. He's injured and middle aged now, people can't get on his case if he wants some shut eye in the afternoon.

The others notice his perpetual exhaustion. Of course they do. He tells them "nightmares" and doesn't elaborate. Liz tells him that he's welcome to wake her if he's having a rough time, and Thiago just tells her she's welcome to do the same. Easy dodge.

[magentalightstudios]

Strange Darling Trailer 2024 | Official Trailer | In Theaters Aug 23rd

Get ready for the most gripping horror thriller of 2024! Watch the Strange Darling Trailer 2024, the official trailer for a movie that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Starring Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner, this film dives into a twisted one-night stand that spirals into a serial killer’s vicious murder spree. Directed by JT Mollner, with stunning cinematography by Giovanni Ribisi, this movie is a must-see for horror-thriller enthusiasts.

"The cleverest thriller of its kind" - Variety

Storyline: Nothing is what it seems when a twisted one-night stand spirals into a serial killer’s vicious murder spree.

Cast:

Willa Fitzgerald as the Lady

Kyle Gallner as the Demon

Giovanni Ribisi as Art Pallone

Barbara Hershey

Ed Begley Jr.

Madisen Beaty

Bianca Santos

Steven Michael Quezada

Strange Darling premieres in theaters on August 23, 2024. From the producer of Barbarian & Late Night with the Devil, this is one horror thriller you won't want to miss.

[delfts-purple]

The people in this city are fucked up. No wonder there is so much crime here. XD

[helltownohiohq]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 — 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚑𝚚𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝

the festival had been nothing short of odd, filled with questionable party favors, strange music, and even more peculiar company. you've made yourself at home with it, at least. whether it be due to finding some actual semblance of enjoyment, or from just wanting to see it through since you came all the way out here anyways. you keep checking the time, and slowly — it was moving. second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. before you knew it, the sun was at its highest at 8:16pm. you notice, like shadows slipping through the night, that the masked hosts have circled around the outskirts of the grounds. how many of them were there ??

they formed a barrier, a wall that could not be broken. no one could leave without pushing past them, and with the way their masks were gleaming with scarlet in the evening summer sun . . . any temptation to try were quickly snuffed. everyone's attention was drawn to the bonfire in the center of the festival that has been roaring since the moment everyone arrived, its flames never dying, fuel in the form of wood, sticks, and planks always being added by folks of all walks of life.

you hear the beat of a drum, from one of the masked musicians, a steady and pulse-resembling beat like that of a large beast's heart. it's loud, it's all-consuming, you feel it in your feet through the earth below you all the way up to your skull. there's some hushed whispers, some quiet murmurs. perhaps this will just be a prayer of some sort and then you could all go home— the invitation did mention there would be praying.

from behind the tents that had been pitched in the back comes a figure, and she is walking with some odd and peculiar wooden stilts on her hands. like some kind of animal. the mask she adorns is slightly different than those of the festival-hands, a white one with two sets of large antlers stretching to the heavens, and a closer look reveals it has two faces, with what appears to be smeared handprints ornamenting its front.

on these stilts, she circles the fire, beginning to mutter some kind of prayer as she does so. the festival hands echo her words but . . . you do not recognize the language they speak. their prayers grow louder, and louder, and suddenly the figure stops, as does the chanting.

❛ welcome to the 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄, my divinians. . . ❜

her voice, despite its thunderous volume, is a melodic song carrying on the breeze as it brushes through the forest. no one speaks as she silences them with her presence, still on her stilts, surveying the crowd that has now gone entirely silent.

❛ by the acceptance of our invitation, of our gifts, of our offerings and hospitality . . . we officially welcome you into our ceremony. a ceremony of honor. of thanks. of the acknowledgement in the change in equinox and the birthing season of our divine. these coming months, the kin of our saviors will walk these grounds among us . . . and we wish to give them a warm welcome by cleansing this land for their arrival, and purging it of its sin. ❜

you notice now that masked festival-hands were bringing in these . . . sculptures. they look like wicked scarecrows, recreations of familiar figures you see every so often within the town but . . . not quite. there are three of them, with names carved into their faces; SAMSON HERNANDEZ, RICHARD ORTESKY, and MIGUEL SANTOS DE OLIVEIRA.

before you can process what is happening, before you can make out the fine details of the sculptures, they are being tossed in the fire. the prayer amongst the festival hands has resumed, and they seem to be inching closer and closer . . . closing in, entrapping everyone in a tight herd by the fire that now roared louder as it devoured the sculptures it had been given.

❛ the divine demands to be fed, it demands sacrifice. . . for all we ask of it, it only requests that we keep these woods and this earth it walks upon clean. . . ❜

some of the festival-hands words begin to topple over themselves, growing more passionate, some of them swaying with the heartbeat of the drum and the melodic coo of their prayers.

❛ the divine will save us all . . . and bring back the seven who were stolen from us . . . but for the divine to save us, we must feed it. we must fuel it. we must lay down the holiest of carpets for it to walk upon.❜

and then . . . the chanting changed. suddenly, atop the foreign prayer, came the names of the missing bowling alley employees, the name of laurie deana, the name of kayla mcneil . . . prayers and chants mixing until it was too hard to decipher the muttering as anything more than a swell of noise as it crescendoed. as it rocked the trees, pulsed through the dirt, soared like the rising flames of the fire.

and finally, with a final cry for her savior ;

❛ for YOU, the divine . . . for YOU, the most holy . . . in the name of the divinity of cervus, i give my life to you. i give my sins and my anguish and my blood . . . i give you my life so you may restore breath to those in which it was stolen from !! ❜

and like she were a goddess of flame herself, the woman walked into the fire, the flames catching the fabric of her robes and igniting the wood of her stilts, enwrapping the antlers and the mask on her face, swallowing her whole as her screams of agony sounded off like a war cry. the crowd around you erupts in panic, and none of the handlers try to stop you from running as they drop to their knees around the fire, throw their necklaces & flower crowns into the raging inferno, or launch themselves into the swell of flames themselves.

all you can hear is the sound of prayer, the sound of sacrifice, the outcry of panic, and that steady beat of the drum as sun — finally — begins to sink back down to the western horizon.

𝐨𝐨𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

tis not a summer festival without some grand and over the top sacrifice, now is it ??

all you have to do for part two is react . . . it can be an immediate reaction, it can be during the event, it can be days later . . . how is your muse responding to witnessing such a thing ?? did they step forward and offer the gift they had been giving to the flames ?? do they run screaming ??

there is obviously no timelimit on this event: take as long as you wish to wrap up your event threads. the solstice is now over ... but the butterfly has flapped its wings, and helltown, ohio is in for some very cruel awakenings.

[soldierboysdoll]

Just a few headcanon for my SPN DR because I'm bored like hell

(Don't be rude abt my english please, it's not my first language)

– He loves when I listening old musics, like House of the rising sun from The Animals, or Wicked games from Chris Isaak, even though he often mocking with me bacuse of that. It's only teasing.

– Didn't let me drive Baby. He said: "Sorry hon' but I ain't gonna let you hurt my baby" and I'm fine with that, I know I'd probably do that.

– Loves when I wear his old T-shirts, but never let me wear his jacket.

– Once I tattooed a little 'D' initial between my breasts and he always kiss it several times when it comes to intimate moments.

– I love the smell of him. He always smells like leather, motoroil, Palo Santo and cheap detergent.

– When I first show my wings to him, I tore a feather from it and gave it to him. He keep it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

– He was in shock when he first saw the wings and mesmerized when I show him that if he held it in front of the sunlight it's shinmering with a golden light. He was so shocked, he just stared at them for a good half an hour not even speaking.

– When we first met, he was annoyed at Cas that he bought another burden on them, but he actually started to like me when he wanted to corrupt me to drink whiskey and I told him that I made the recipe of the whiskey and incepted it into a random dude's mind.

– The forehead kiss is our trademark. A kiss on the forehead is known to be a symbol of loyalty and trust. Dean knows that angels are loyal to God, but he wants me to be loyal to him and him to me.

– When things get too stressful, Dean and I just take a trip to the nearest waterfront. In the middle of the night, standing in the silence, we just cuddle, me wrapping my wings around him to keep him warm. He would never admit he was cold.

– Unlike other angels, my eyes glimmering opal, so he bought me a necklace with this mineral from a witch for Christmas.

– I had just discovered Spotify, when Dean sitting next to me, started kissing my neck. A playlist of Lana Del Rey started between the heavy kisses and touches. Even the whole making love thing were strange to me, but I bacame much more liberated from Lana's music, it gave rhythm for the whole act. *And yes, my eyes lit up like **that** when... ;)*

– Maybe it's too cliché, but he got an angel wing tattoo on himself because of me. He hates all angels except me, Cas and Jack. He traveled alone to California, where I showed up to him for the first time. He walked into a seemingly trustworthy tattoo studio and came out with two tattoos. With an angel wing ‐ which he made sure they decorated it with golden details - and baby's license plate. After all, we are his two greatest loves.

– I have not visited the Earth many times, but the arts have always captured my interest. I painted Baby for Dean's birthday, which he put on his wall.

– I was wounded by an angel blade during a hunt. Dean has been afraid to use this weapon ever since, because he's afraid he'll hurt me with it, even though he's very good using blades and knifes.

– He knows I love when he has beard, so he shaves less often.

– ALWAYS have cherry and coke flavored Haribo in the glove-box.

– Sometimes he let me pick the music, then grimacing and complaining and whining the whole time during it until I have enough of his bitching and let him pick his music.

– Secretly singing almost every Avril Lavigne song in his mind when I listening that.

– Quickies in baby.

– Quickies almost in every places he gets horny.

– Our love language is mocking and teasing each other and cuddles. Lots of cuddles.

– He can't sleep if I wasn't there for some reason.

– Sexting. A lot.

– He loves when I send him nudes, and has a folder in his phone about them what he titled with just a little angelwing emoji.

– Calls me 'angel' even though he knows I hate it.

– Polaroids of us in baby.

– Let me help when he fix the car, but only because he loves when I gets dirty by motoroil.

– Buy me pads and chips when I'm on my period, but give it to me with a lot of complains and mocking. He loves taking care of me though, even have an extra heater pad what he could heating in the car in his bag in case if I have period cramps on the road.

– Teach me how to clean guns, but always do it for me to make sure it's safe to use.

– He loves my cooking. As soon as he tasted my cooking the first time, he never wants to go to a diner.

[mystrangesanto]

That's right - King Bossonius the Bloody will be @ Dustfaire 2023! Pay your respects w/ a fistbump. Just look for the one wearing the 👑!

[heyymikki]

lamb to the s l a u g h t e r

LOCATION: Hotel in Las Vegas FEATURED: @giovanniiricci @elliottortegax MENTIONED: @maevemacnally, @nikodimopoulos

It was done.

The article she had been working on for months was finished and had been posted both on the Tribune's website and on the front page of the print edition.

It was strange how her feelings for the town and the people in it had significantly changed since she had agreed to Dante's ultimatum nearly three years ago. A place she had never anticipated feeling any attachment to had become home, the people in it her friends and family. Now, with it all in jeopardy, she couldn't in good conscience stand aside and let it happen without putting up a fight to make up for her part in it all. What better way to stick it to the head of the organization that had blackmailed her than to use those same connections to out him for who he really was?

And yet... she had miscalculated. What she had viewed as a mercy of not pulling her friend into it ahead of time given all she was going through turned out to be the exact opposite, blindsiding her friends with the reminder of what they had lost.

Grief reared its head in all kinds of ways, but she hadn't expected the pushback. She hadn't expected the anger from Maeve and her family when she thought she was doing something to help, keeping the names of those lives lost at the forefront of the conversation -- a reminder that they hadn't been forgotten, that there were still people searching for the answers to why they had had their lives senselessly taken from them. Now, because of her own selfish pursuit of redemption, she had hurt others and possibly ruined their friendship for good.

Every day since Niko had told her of the collapse of Los Santos -- and as a result, her ring of protection -- she waited for the businessman to retaliate. There was nothing: no refuting her claims, no spinning of some kind of PR story to explain away the evidence she had found. The silence was deafening.

Still, life moved forward. She still had to go to work, put a smile on her face like she wasn't terrified of the other shoe dropping. The weekend of the music festival quickly approached, and she tried to allow herself to enjoy the idea of letting go and forgetting her cares for even a few hours, even though the last couple of events hadn't gone well. But first, she had to meet a client.

Luna had gotten a request for an evening on the Friday of the festival weekend. Niko insisted she cancel, but she figured before she had to face the ire of those in town she'd upset, she could have the distraction of a night in Vegas. To appease him, she kept her personal phone on her with her location enabled as she made her way to the meeting place.

The opulent hotel lobby shimmered in bright white marble with accents of gold throughout. It was enough to tell her that whoever her client was had a lot of money. If she did well tonight, she wouldn't have to work for a little while. She could help Niko with the restaurant, or they could go to Greece like they had talked about. It felt so long ago already, though it had only been a few weeks realistically.

"Excuse me," she greeted the man behind the check-in counter with a smile. "I was told there would be a key waiting for Luna?"

"Ah, yes, I have that here for you." He pulled out a drawer beneath the desk and pulled a keycard from inside, double checking the room number before jotting it down onto the sleeve.

"Thank you. Is he already up there?" Receiving a nod in response, she smiled and thanked him once more before heading to the elevators, heading for one of the penthouse suites. These were her last few moments alone before she'd have to put on an act for the remainder of the evening. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath, trying to brush away the uneasy feeling settling like a weight in her chest. Just one night, then she'd be able to work on everything else later.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to the appropriate floor, and she searched for the appropriate room number. Usually when clients left a key at reception, they wanted things to keep things discrete, so she didn't bother to knock, using the key to let herself in.

The room was dim with only a few lamps lit around the common area, and she didn't immediately notice anyone inside. A table in the eat-in kitchen was set with two glasses of wine and two plates covered by metal domes to trap the heat inside and keep it fresh, but she caught whiffs of something earthy and sweet. "Hello?" she called. Maybe he was getting cleaned up, she thought. "Is anyone here?"

"Hello, Miss Beaumont."

Every bone in her body stiffened at his voice. She'd listened to enough interviews and campaign speeches to know the voice of Giovanni Ricci.

If only she had trusted her gut.

Giovanni casually strode from one of the side rooms, a coy smile on his lips like a cat who'd cornered its prey. She backed up towards the door but was immediately halted in her pursuit by a broad, hard chest behind her. The security guard gripped onto her arms to hold her in place as another locked the door.

"I'm so glad you could join me this evening. Please, sit." Giovanni motioned towards the seat across the table as he took his own, unbutton his suit jacket as he did so.

Mikayla was forced into the seat, though she struggled to get out of the guard's grasp. He grabbed the decanter full of red wine and poured some into each of their glasses. "You're not an easy person to get alone, you know." When she didn't respond, he continued. "I read your article, of course. It wasn't entirely accurate, but I was genuinely impressed by what you managed to uncover. I don't imagine you could have done that without help." His gaze flicked up to meet hers. "I'm curious to know who your sources were."

"I wouldn't be a decent journalist if I didn't protect the anonymity of my sources," she replied.

Giovanni chuckled. "You'd be surprised at what information even a person with integrity is willing to share when they're subjected to pain beyond imagination."

Mikki held her breath. "Is that what you're going to do to me?"

"Perhaps. It depends on you, really." He held his glass in the air, waiting for her to do the same. He raised an expectant brow, the silent tension growing every moment she delayed. Finally, she lifted her own glass and held it up, allowing him to gently tap them together. "I'm hoping it won't come to that if we can reach some kind of agreement."

"Is that all you want to know? My sources?"

"Mm, well," he started after a sip of the wine, "right now, yes, but questions beget questions and so on and so forth." He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "You know how it goes."

"No, actually. This is my first time being interrogated for information."

The other guard who had locked the door came to the table to lift the covers off the plates, revealing a filet paired with mushrooms in some sort of wine cream sauce and mixed vegetables on the side. If it had been offered by anyone else, she would have begun eating right away, but she didn't trust that none of the food had been poisoned or tampered with. That didn't stop the man from digging into his own dinner.

"It's rude not to eat," he remarked, watching her.

"It's rude to kidnap someone, too," she retorted.

"I'd hardly call it kidnapping when you came of your own volition," Giovanni chuckled again. "I suppose if you don't eat it, our other guest will."

Mikayla furrowed her brow. "Other guest?"

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a groan came from the room Giovanni had come from. Mikayla's eyes darted in that direction, her heart racing in her chest. She wouldn't put it past him to use someone in her life to get her to talk based off of everything else she'd learned about the man, but the number of people it could be had become an ever-growing list over the last few years. Who could he have grabbed without anyone else noticing?

"Ah, he's awake. Bring him here, would you?" Giovanni didn't even look up to address the guard, but the man nodded and made his way into the room, grappling with whoever was being held there.

Mikayla's eyes grew wide as a bloodied Elliott was dragged into the room and thrust into the third chair at the table. "Dad! What is he doing here? What did you do to him?!"

"I've grown tired of the traitors within my organization who believe I don't know of their disloyalty," Giovanni replied in a bored tone around the steak in his mouth. The man glanced across the table at her, face stoic. "He's been watching you and your mother for years using our resources. If only he'd done more to hide his allegiances, I might have believed he was true to the cause."

Her father was a part of The Enterprise? The news shook her to her core, but she did her best not to let Giovanni see it. The last thing he needed to know was another one of her weaknesses to use against her.

"If you tell me what I want to know, you both can walk out of here and you'll never have to worry about me again. And if you don't... Well." He smirked. "I'll be forced to get creative."

[whereslynx]

[FINALE] What we left behind.

pov: You were Oscar’s ride or die, raising Cesar and holding everything together while he faced the chaos of Freeridge. But when he leaves the Santos—and you��behind, the life you built together unravels, forcing you to find a new path while the past refuses to let go.

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

a/n: a/n: this beautiful request comes from my good friend @cheesesandwichsanto ! thank u very much for stinking with me till the end of the series! :) ALL PARTS OUT NOW! i will be getting back to requests!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The atmosphere at Oscar’s house was thick, a strange blend of forced pleasantries and unspoken tension. You adjusted yourself in your seat, a hand resting on your swollen belly, while the other gripped the edge of the table. Across from you sat Isabel, her radiant smile not quite reaching her eyes, her own bump noticeable beneath her flowy dress.

Cesar sat to your right, his jaw clenched as he picked at his food. He hadn’t said much since arriving, his discomfort palpable. Oscar sat at the head of the table, every glance he shot your way tinged with something unreadable.

“So,” Isabel said, trying to break the silence, her tone light. “How far along are you?”

You offered her a polite smile. “Eight months,” you replied, your voice calm but distant.

Oscar’s expression faltered, his fork freezing mid-air. The weight of your words was deliberate, a reminder of the life you’d carried for years before he’d walked away.

Although, Isabel’s smile remained warm, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “You’re strong, congratulations.”

You gave her a small nod, and for the first time, you noticed the sincerity in her tone. Despite your initial resentment, there was no malice in her. She was trying, and for that, you softened—just a little.

The dinner had fallen quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that suffocated rather than soothed, thick with tension and unspoken words. You kept your gaze down, your hand absently tracing circles on your belly as Isabel attempted to break the silence with polite conversation.

“So, um,” Isabel began, her voice light but slightly shaky, “what’s been keeping you busy, Cesar?”

Cesar didn’t answer immediately, his fork scraping his plate as he pushed the food around. His eyes never left Oscar, the two locked in a silent standoff that felt as though it had been years in the making.

Finally, Cesar spoke, his tone clipped. “Same stuff. Running the Santos. Cleaning up the mess Oscar left behind.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Isabel blinked, her smile faltering. “That must be… challenging,” she offered hesitantly, glancing toward you for support.

You nodded slightly, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. “Cesar’s done a good job,” you murmured, your voice soft and neutral.

The silence returned, heavier than before. Isabel shifted uncomfortably, clearly picking up on the tension but unsure how to diffuse it. “And, um, how about you?” she asked, turning to you with a tentative smile. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

You forced a small smile, grateful for the neutral topic. “A boy,” you said, your hand resting on your belly. “He’s… healthy.”

“That’s wonderful,” Isabel said, her smile genuine. “Have you thought about names?”

You hesitated, glancing at Cesar briefly before answering. Taking a deep breath, you said, “Andres Gúzman.”

The room went still. Oscar’s fork clattered loudly against his plate as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing.

“Gúzman?” he repeated, his voice low and sharp.

“Yes, Gúzman,” you said, matching his tone with unwavering calm.

Oscar, however, was staring intently at you. His eyes, dark and piercing, traveled to your hand resting on the table. For a moment, he stilled. The faint glint of a gold band caught the dim light of the room, and realization dawned in his expression. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he pieced it together.

His voice broke the silence, rough and low. “Sad Eyes?” he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief and something else—something raw, almost pained.

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, your lips pressing together as you slowly looked up at him. “Antonio,” you corrected quietly, your tone calm but firm.

But Oscar wasn’t letting it go. He let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Sad Eyes,” he repeated, the nickname laced with an edge. His gaze dropped back to the ring on your finger. “That why the name’s Guzmán now?”

You exhaled slowly, refusing to rise to the bait. “Yes,” you said simply, holding his gaze. “I’m married. To someone who was here for us.”

The words hit their mark, and you saw it in the flicker of emotion that crossed his face—sorrow, irritation, and something deeper, harder to place. His lips parted as though he wanted to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked away, his hands tightening into fists on the table.

Oscar’s expression darkened, the words cutting deeper than he let on. He shook his head slightly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “So, that’s what this is now? You and him?”

“Yes,” you said simply.

The weight of his stare pressed down on you, and for a moment, the table felt like it might break under the tension. Cesar, who had been quiet the entire time, finally leaned forward, his jaw set.

“Don’t even start,” Cesar warned, his tone low and commanding.

Oscar’s head snapped toward him, his frustration shifting for a moment. “Really, Cesar? You’re okay with this?”

“I’m not the one who left,” Cesar shot back, his voice cold. “She didn’t owe you anything, and neither does Sad Eyes.”

Oscar let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “Sad Eyes? He was my right hand, my best man.” His gaze flicked back to you, lingering on your ring and then your belly. “And now he’s—”

“Careful,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Antonio stepped up when you walked out. He didn’t ask for this, but he’s been here for me, for Cesar, for this family. And if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with yourself.”

Oscar’s mouth tightened, but the words he wanted to say never came out. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and pressing his hands together as if trying to hold himself back.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. “You’re really trying to make a point, huh?”

You let out a humorless laugh, your emotions bubbling over. “A point? No, Oscar. I’m trying to raise a family—something you decided to walk away from.”

Oscar’s hands balled into fists on the table. “So that’s it, huh?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Sad Eyes. Guess he finally got what he wanted.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice firm but steady, though you could feel anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Oh, come on,” Oscar shot back, his voice rising. “You think I didn’t notice? He’s been watching you for years. Quiet, loyal Antonio, always waiting in the wings. Guess he saw his chance and finally made his move.”

Your chest tightened, but you refused to let his words rattle you. “You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Cesar cut in, his voice low but full of barely restrained anger. “You walk away, start a new life, and think it’s all good. Meanwhile, we’re the ones picking up the pieces, and when we do, it ain’t good enough for you.”

“Cesar,” you said, a hint of warning in your tone, but he ignored you, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

Oscar finally broke his silence, his voice calm but firm. “You think this was easy for me?”

Cesar scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a disbelieving smirk. “Easy? You don’t even know what hard looks like, man. You left us. Left her. You don’t get to sit here and act like you did us a favor.”

Oscar glared at Cesar with furrowed brows, a ‘tsk’ leaving his lips, “This is what I was talking about,” he gestured towards him, “the Santos are messing with your mind.” Oscar growled, struggling to keep his composure.

Cesar, however, was far less composed. Slamming his utensils onto the table, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“This is a joke,” he snapped, glaring at Oscar. “You invite us here, act like everything’s fine, and expect us to just sit here and play house? Even dissing my hood? When they were the ones backing us when you left. I can’t do this.”

The tension in the room was unbearable. You shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Isabel, who looked more lost than ever.

“Cesar,” you said again, your tone pleading this time, but he wasn’t hearing it.

“I’m fucking done,” Cesar said abruptly, pushing his chair back with a screech. He stood, glaring down at Oscar. “Enjoy your perfect little life, Oscar. Just remember who had to clean up after you.”

He stormed out without another word, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the quiet house.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your water glass. Isabel opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it, glancing uncertainly between you and Oscar.

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of Cesar’s car roaring to life outside.

Finally, Isabel cleared her throat, her voice soft but tentative. “I… I’ll just clean up,” she said, her chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly, her expression strained as she collected the plates. “Excuse me,” she muttered, retreating to the kitchen.

Oscar remained seated, his eyes fixed on the spot where Cesar had been. You stayed where you were, your gaze distant as you struggled to keep your emotions in check.

For a moment, you debated staying quiet, letting the awkward silence stretch on until Isabel returned. But something in his demeanor—the simmering anger, the bitterness in his tone—pushed you to speak.

“I don’t recognize you anymore,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm.

Oscar’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing as he looked at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gestured toward him, your hand trembling slightly. “It’s not just the tattoos being gone or the curls,” you said, your voice tinged with sorrow. “It’s… everything. The way you carry yourself, the way you talk. You’re not the same Oscar I knew, and I don’t know if it’s in a good way or not.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “Maybe I’m not the same,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you’re acting like I’m the only one who’s changed.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “You think I wanted to change? You think I had a choice?”

After a moment of a pained silence, “Why did you come back, Oscar?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. A question that you seemed to have asked one too many times than you should have.

He didn’t answer immediately, his head dipping slightly as he exhaled deeply. “I wanted to make things right,” he said finally, though the conviction in his voice wavered.

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” But there was a hint of empathy stirring in your tone for him.

The silence stretched on, thick with unresolved tension. Isabel had taken solace in being retreated to the kitchen to give the two of you space, sensing the undercurrent of emotions neither of you dared to voice. You sat at the table, idly tracing your fingers over the rim of your water glass, doing everything you could to avoid Oscar’s gaze.

“You know,” he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, “I didn’t expect you to wait around forever.”

“Good,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. “Because I didn’t.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of the unspoken filling the space between you. He didn’t look at you this time, his eyes fixed on a distant point on the wall as he struggled to contain the emotions threatening to spill over.

Isabel’s voice from the kitchen was the only sound that followed, her gentle humming a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you and Oscar. You weren’t sure how the evening would end, but one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his anger and the awkward silence left in his wake. Pulling out your phone, you texted Antonio.

Come get me. Cesar left. 9:27 PM Sent ✔️

It took some time before Antonio arrived, and in the interim, you found yourself standing on the porch with Isabel while Oscar lingered nearby, his eyes watching you closely.

Outside, the air was cool and crisp, the faint sound of traffic in the distance.

Isabel, sensing the tension, offered you a small, encouraging smile. “I know this is… complicated,” she began gently. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredible. The way Cesar talks about you—it’s clear how much you mean to him.”

Her words caught you off guard. For so long, you’d resented her presence, the idea of her. But now, sitting here, you realized she wasn’t the enemy. She was just another piece of a story that had fractured long before she’d entered the picture.

“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “You seem… good for Oscar.”

Isabel only smiled, stepping inside the house and shutting the door behind her to give you and Oscar some time to say one last goodbye alone.

The rumble of Sad Eyes’ car pulling up outside broke the quiet tension that had settled over the front porch. Oscar glanced toward the sound, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He already knew who it was before Sad Eyes stepped out of the car.

Sad Eyes’ shoes crunched against the gravel as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes locking onto Oscar’s. For a long moment, neither man spoke. The air between them was thick with history—shared memories, fractured loyalty, and a bond that had once been unshakable but was now irreparably broken.

They stood toe to toe, not in anger but in the weighty silence of what was left unsaid. Sad Eyes’ stare was steady, unflinching, as if to remind Oscar of what had been lost, of what Oscar had chosen to leave behind. Oscar’s gaze didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of regret, or maybe just acknowledgment of the gulf that now separated them.

“Antonio,” you said softly, stepping between them. Your voice was calm but firm, a reminder that this wasn’t the place or time. “Wait by the car.”

Sad Eyes’ gaze shifted to you, and then to his unborn child that rested in your belly, his expression softening just enough for you to notice. He gave a small nod, his jaw still tight as he turned and walked back toward the vehicle. You watched him go, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as he leaned against the car, his stance protective but restrained.

When you turned back to Oscar, his eyes were still on Sad Eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say a word, but the look on his face told you everything—you didn’t need to choose sides. You already had.

“You still hate me?” Oscar asked quietly, his voice rough but sincere.

You turned to face him, searching his eyes for a moment before shaking your head. “No, Oscar. I could never hate you,” you said honestly. “I’ll always love you… but we weren’t meant to be.”

He nodded, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “You look happy with Sad Eye,” he said after a pause.

“I am,” you replied, your voice steady.

Your gaze drifted to the driveway, where his Impala once stood proudly, a relic of your shared past. “Where’s the Impala?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia.

Oscar glanced away, a faint chuckle escaping him. “Sold it. Thought it was time to let it go.”

You nodded, the memories tied to that car flashing through your mind. “We had a lot of memories there,” you said, your voice laced with bittersweet warmth.

He looked at you then, his expression softening. “Yeah. We did.”

Sad Eyes cleared his throat from the car, and you turned toward him, ready to leave this chapter of your life behind.

“Take care of yourself, Oscar,” you said quietly before walking toward Sad Eyes.

As you slid into the passenger seat, you glanced back one last time, catching Oscar’s silhouette against the dim porch light. He raised a hand in a small wave, and for the first time in years, you felt a sense of closure.

The past had shaped you, but it no longer defined you. You were moving forward—this time, with Sad Eyes by your side and a future full of possibility ahead.

[shyanddreamy]

You can't save everyone

Happy Lowman x Reader | Part 3

Being in Charming again was strange, but above all it was scary. You had been out of the city for about five weeks, and now you were afraid that they hadn’t missed you or that they didn’t want you back. But it was too late to back out.

“Are you ready?”, Creeper asked you, rubbing your back tenderly.

As you didn’t have a car, Neron had offered to drive you to Charming. He was wearing a jacket over his kutt because it wasn’t a good idea for a Mayan to be seen in SOA’s territory without giving them a call first. For this reason, he had stopped his bike a few blocks from the Teller-Morrow workshop.

“I am”, you answered. “Thanks for taking me here. And for everything else.”

“It’s been my pleasure.”

The reality was that you were going to miss him, which wasn’t appropriate to say out loud or it could lead to misunderstandings.

“May we meet again”, you added instead. “And call if you ever need a hand. Even if it’s just to talk.”

“I’ll do”, he nodded. “The same goes for you, love.”

“Okay. I’ll do it too.”

Creeper was the kind of man who always looked after his people. And even though it was a goodbye for now, you already were one of his own.

With nothing more to say, you gave him a heart-felt hug which he did not hesitate to reciprocate. No words were necessary, so after a last smile, he took his bike and drove back to Santo Padre. Once you were alone, you took a deep breath and started walking down the street with a clear destination.

It was getting dark by the time you arrived at the TM, which was already close. However, their bikes were there, so you assumed they´ll be inside the clubhouse. Your heart beat so fast you thought it would explode. And for better or worse, one of the Sons had already seen you as he was sitting outside on the wooden table.

“Look at who we have here!”, Tig exclaimed. Both of you walked towards each other until he was able to welcome you with an embrace. “When have you come back? Come in, boys will love to see you.”

You didn’t have time to talk or even think again about whether this was a good idea or not because Tig guided you directly to the entrance. And his arm was still around your shoulders when you crossed the door, so you couldn’t run away.

“I have found a lost bunny outside, brothers”, was Tig’s way of announcing your return. And while you were telling him not to call you that, the rest of the boys came to give you a warm welcome.

For a few minutes, it was all hugs, questions about how you were doing, and sentences assuring you that they had missed you and were glad you were back. The situation changed when you caught Happy’s eyes on you. Even his brothers understood they should give you some space, so they went to the bar counter to take some beers. Only then, Happy slowly walked towards you, leaving half a metre between the two of you.

“Hey”, you said.

“Hey”, he responded.

Suddenly, you felt the atmosphere colder and a stronger stomach ache due to nerves. Anyway, nothing could change the excitement you were feeling for seeing him again.

“I’ve missed you.”

Happy tensed his jaw and, for a moment, you thought he was going to kick you out. Instead, he put one arm around your back to keep you close and rested his head on your shoulder regardless of the height difference between you. He wasn’t hugging you, it was more like he was looking for some kind of comfort from you. Like a child who has been hurt.

“Cut the bullshit you two and came with us to celebrate Y/N is back home”, Chibs said, which was enough for Happy to give you back your personal space.

“You just want an excuse to get drunk”, you responded while following Happy’s steps to the bar counter.

“Don’t see the problem in there, love”, he added.

A few hours went by while you were drinking and catching up. They told you some anecdotes from these days that you missed out on, and you answered their questions and told them some things about Santo Padre, the city and his people. You tried not to mention Creeper’s name just in case as you focused on telling them more amusing stories. One of the few times you mentioned Mayans was to make fun of the fact that they thought at first you might be some kind of spy.

With the intention of breath some fresh air after the heat you had experienced in Santo Padre, you went outside to smoke a cigarette. However, the person who decided to join you at the wooden table kind of surprised you.

“Tired already?”, Chibs asked you while lighting his own cigarette.

“A little bit”, you responded. “It’s been a long day.”

“Will you go home?”

“Where else?”

“Just asking”, he added, shrugging his shoulders.

“I know you have noticed that something’s going on between Happy and me”, you said. “He has barely spoken to me. That makes it pretty obvious.”

“He has barely spoken, but he didn’t take his eyes off you for a single moment”, Chibs pointed out.

“Yeah, I know.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette and slowly released the smoke before continuing to speak:

“When you left, he lost his head, Y/N. He banged all the croweaters he could at first and started drinking more than usual.”

It wasn’t nice to hear the great number of chicks in which Happy had had his dick in, but you couldn’t reproach him for anything. Not after what you had done with Creeper adding the fact that you weren’t exclusive at all.

“But then everything got weirder”, he continued. “He pushed away every single hoe that tried to get into his pants. And he was in a bad mood most of the time. I mean, more than usual. He also started sleeping in the clubhouse some nights, alone, as if he didn’t want to go home.”

“What the fuck does it all mean?”, you asked him, slightly confused. After Chibs words, there were so many conjectures in your head that you needed someone to confirm or deny them.

“What the hell should I know? I’m not in his damn head, Y/N”, he answered back. “But I’m not blind or stupid. I understand why you left as well as I know how much Happy cares about you. So, put your shit together.”

“You are so rude, Pres, but I get your point.”

Chibs smirked and shook his head.

“I just want what’s best for y’all.”, he assured you before the door opening caught your attention. “I think is my time to go back inside.”

As Chibs walked towards the door, Happy walked towards you, so their paths crossed. You saw Chibs muttering something to Happy, but you couldn’t make out what it was. Moments later, it was just Happy and you out there looking at each other.

“I’m gonna go home”, he announced. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Happy just nodded in response, so you made your way to his bike. After he sat down on it, he offered his helmet to you.

“Thanks”, you muttered before taking a seat behind him. You had been away from him for so long that even this small distance made you nervous. In any case, you hugged him on the back, as you always did.

Your journey home was shorter than you expected. This could be because you would have liked to have more time before arriving at your destination, where you would have no excuse not to talk.

“I’ve never felt this way at home before”, you said due to both of you were in the middle of the living room looking at each other but without saying a single word.

“How?”

“Awkward.”

“Want to go?”, he asked you.

“No.”

“Want me to go?”

“No, of course not”, you assured him.

“So, what do you want?”

“Don't know. Talk, maybe?”, you suggested, slightly ironically.

“You should talk. You were the one who left.”

“But I left because you didn’t…”, you didn’t finish the sentence, but Happy frowned anyway.

“Because what?”, he growled.

It was time. If he wanted you to talk, you would tell him the raw truth.

“I left because I was hurt. Because seeing you banging randoms chicks under my nose was hurting me”, you said loud and clear. “I love you so fucking much that it hurts, Happy. But you have to tell me. You have to tell me that you don’t feel the same so I can move on.”

Your eyes were watery, but you didn’t shed a single tear. You have practiced this conversation in your head too many times and now you had to keep your composure. Crying would make nothing better.

“So, that’s why you’re here”, Happy pointed out. “You want to hear what you want and leave again.”

“It would be the most reasonable. But I want to move on, not to leave you.”, you acknowledged. “What I have realised is that being away from you is even more painful, Happy. And I would rather have a little of you than none at all, but I can’t keep waiting for something from you that will never come.”

After you stopped talking, Happy remained silent for a few minutes. You were thinking that he might be looking for the right words to reject you when he took something out of his kutt pocket and gave it to you. Frowning, you unfolded the folio to find something that made you frown even more.

“What’s this?”

“A hotel. Halfway between Santo Padre and Charming”, he briefly explained to you. “I booked a room. For us.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you. I thought the trip would be good for you. That some time alone would be good for us”, he added. “I didn’t expect you to stay at Santo Padre.”

“I had no fucking idea, Happy. How was I supposed to know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You took your decision. I didn’t have to make up your mind for you.”

You were wordless. Of all the things you thought could happen, this wasn’t one of them. And for once in a long time, it was his turn to speak his truth.

“I’ve never had an Old Lady or any of that bullshit. I thought I'd never want it, but you are so fucking annoying”, he said, pretty mad. “You hurt me too abandoning me, but still all I could think was that I wish you were safe. And this house was so fucking lonely it sucked. So, I’m sorry if this’s not what you wanted to hear, but I fucking love you, Y/N. Call it how you want, I don’t care, but just don’t leave me again.”

Two tears had run down your cheeks at his confession. You had to take a deep breath before you could walk towards him, feeling your whole body shaking.

“I know I was wrong. It was wrong to try to push you away. To try to convince myself that it wasn’t something more”, he continued even though you were now inches away from him. “But I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. This is not like anything I’ve ever done before.”

You brought your hands to his face, gently cupping it as you gave him a soft smile.

“I’ve never thought I'd say that, but for once, stop talking, Happy.”

Happy pursed his lips, completely serious, and waited not knowing what for. Your heart ached again, but this time the reason was different. You left because you weren’t on the same page, when in fact you were.

“I didn’t have a fucking clue when I left Tacoma to come to Charming with you either. The only thing I did know was that I wanted to be with you”, you assured him. “That’s all that mattered then and that’s all that matter now.”

As soon as you finished the sentence, you kissed him, as you had wanted to do since you first saw him in the clubhouse. And when he felt your lips on his, he put his arms around you to reduce the distance between your bodies. The passion with which you kissed each other was high, but you both needed more.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and Happy quickly gave you a hand to get rid of his kutt and shirt. When you felt his warm skin under the palms of your hands, you bit his lower lip with desire.

“I’ve missed this so much”, you muttered, but the sound of your shirt being torn confused you for just a few seconds. “You had no need to do that!”

But all you could see was his mischievous smile.

“I do needed it. I’ve missed you too.”

From that moment onwards, you could no longer contain yourselves. Your clothes were scattered on the living room floor, and your lips would be swollen from so much passionate kissing. You had left wet kisses and bites all around Happy’s neck and his fingertips would probably be marked on your skin by then. You didn’t even waste time on going to a bedroom or, at least, to the sofa. Instead, Happy cornered you against the nearest wall and wrapped one of your legs around his waist. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he plunged himself down inside you and stayed like that for a few seconds.

“Shit. I’ve missed you so fucking much”, he panted.

As his movements became wilder, the only thing you could do was sink your nails in his back and his shoulders, moaning like you wanted the whole world to hear you. Happy knew everything about your body, but your body also reacted differently to him than to anyone else. Everything was better with him. And it wasn’t just your body, it was your mind and your heart too. Every single part of you was in sync with Happy. And in some moment, the three words you had never said before during sex escaped from your mouth.

“I love you.”

You had said those words to him many times. For instance, every time he went on a mission, because you cared so much about him and wanted him to be safe, but you’ve never said that when you were hooking up. It would have been out of place. But now, in that moment, those words meant all the things you couldn’t express any other way.

“Again. Say it again”, he growled.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much”, you repeated as it was a mantra while his thrusts got harder. “I love you more than my life. More than everything. And I’ll love you forever.”

With those words sounding close to his ear, accompanied by your moans, and burying his head on you neck, Happy got his release. You could tell by the way his muscles tensed and his fingers sank into your thigh and hip.

“Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“It would be a sweet death at least”, you responded. “But now I really need to sit down. My legs are shaking so badly I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand on my own when you let me go.”

You went straight to the sofa and didn’t do a single thing except catch your breath. The only thing Happy moved from the sofa for was to get the packet of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket. And as he lit his, he did the same with yours.

“It’s been quicker than usual”, you pointed out.

“Fuck you. It’s been a while”, he defended himself. “Besides, I've all night to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“Sounds tempting”, you nodded while biting you lower lip. “But I'd like some timeout. Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

You spent some time talking calmly about the last few weeks you had been apart. You spoke of trivial things, but also of cloying ones, such as the times when you had been on the verge of calling the other to talk for at least a few minutes. You had to mention that you had spent a few nights with one of the Mayans from Santo Padre, but without explicitly saying that you had been fucking. However, Happy wasn’t the right person to blame you for anything either. Instead, you told him that Creeper had helped you find a decent room in a considerably better motel, and that he had given you a couple of recommendations for nice places to go and places to avoid. After the talk, you went to Happy’s room this time, and once there you took your time to give each other a few more orgasms. Maybe with that pace you could make up for the lost weeks. Having finished such and intense and exhausting activity, you could easily have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that, odd as it may seem, Happy still wanted to talk.

“You know how this life is. The danger. Why do you still want to be with me?”

“During the years, I've learnt to understand your life. What the kutt means and everything that it involves”, you responded. “Dangerous or not, it’s your life. You chose it and I respect it. And I love your brothers. They are my family now too.”

“But I’m gonna die, Y/N. Someday. For my club”, he added.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“So, I could die too someday. You know that what I do to earn money isn’t safe either.”

“You won’t die as long as I’m here.”

“Maybe. But what if we die? Everybody dies. And I prefer to spend the time we have together. No matter what.”

“Sounds good”, he acknowledged. Anyway, he still had doubts. “But I’m fucked up. You can’t deny it.”

“Of course you are. You are as fucked up as I am.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I don’t give a shit about what differences you see”, you answered back. “I may be one of the people that knows you better, the good and the bad. And I still love you. You’ve never scared me. I see you, Happy, and I still love you with all my heart.”

“Thanks”, he muttered. “For loving me despite everything I am and everything I do.”

“Cut the bullshit”, you growled while hitting him with the right amount of force in the ribs. “You are talking like a crybaby.”

“Sorry”, he answered, this time with a slight smile on his face. “I just don’t want you to regret it.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Okey. Fine.”

Happy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table and made himself comfortable on the bed, pulling you towards him so that your head rested on his chest.

“So, are you gonna be here, right?”, he asked you in a soft voice while his hand caressed your still naked body. “Tomorrow morning, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ll be here”, you responded tenderly. “Tomorrow morning and every other morning. I’m not going anywhere anymore.”

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds perfect”, you pointed out.

←Part 2 // Part 4→