#being from small town pa fucking sucks

[nowherestogo]

i just deadass got a message saying “someone told me you moved back to [insert my hometown” FROM SOMEONE I HAVENT TALKED SINCE I MOVED OUT OF THAT TOWN!!!

[hellinglasses]

@blackberrywars​ welcome to holiday shenanigans for polycules and mamas

this one is set in the same universe as izzy and ed are those girls from jennifer’s body and is half the brain-child of @girls-and-honey​ but all you need to know for context is that ed and izzy grew up together in a small town in pennsylvania during the late 90s/early 2000s as next door neighbors and oh!! that steddyhands is established, that’s important too

as turkey day approaches, the boyfriends drive all the way from their shoebox apartment (appendages included) in new york to ed and izzy’s hometown in PA to spend their very first thanksgiving with the mamas hands and teach. this of course escalates to heartwarming moments and contless shenanigans, including: stede not thinking the “bestest fries in the world” are that good, old and new glittery roulettes, jeff the yorkshire terrier, multiple mama bonding, a copious amount of art and food being made into each other, looking back on your childhood memories and realizing your mom was going through it and actively shielding you from that, a healthy dose of living your teenage years as an adult, and, of course, that time ed got mildly, technically, kidnapped by a bunch of highschoolers

another fun part of it is that it’s a double feature!!

anne bonny’s parents want a relationship with her again. they’re learning, and trying to do better. they’re sorry. she hasn’t seen or spoken to them since the christmas dinner she got up from their table and left, and that was several years ago. after months of awkward ocasional phone conversations, they’ve invited her and her partners for thanksgiving in their home in north dakota. what the fuck. this is a story about growing up close to your dad and losing it because of who you became, and what happens after your parents decide to genuinely put in an effort to be better people. featuring: knowing you don’t owe your relatives a relationship with you while still deciding to give them a chance after they took the steps to not suck without forgiving and forgetting, mar read being ready to Protecc they way my cat napoleão gets ready to pounce at the slightest provocation, your parents expecting to relate easier to your boyfriend then to your nonbinary partner but then your boyfriend’s a working class floridian cowboy, the worst documentary on polyamory you’ve ever seen, your parents leaning for the first time people don’t need to get married to have meaningful relationships while marriage discrimination is still bad, the mortifying ordeal of finding out queer people are not a monolithic hivemind, and, of course, your partner softly gluing rainbow stickers from a gas station store all over your other partner’s face because he was very sad he was mistaken for a Straight.

[dragon-of-dreams]

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

 Wordcount: 2,800

 In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

           After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

           What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

           According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

           You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

           You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

           Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

           So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

           Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

           You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

           “Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

           “Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

           On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

           The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

           At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

           As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 19

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot That is Rapidly Getting Out of Hand Dear God Why Please Help Me

Warnings: Complicated Morality, Lots of Stockholm Syndrome, Addiction, Possessiveness, Vampires (Reference to Biting, Blood-Sucking and Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

Previous   Masterlist          Next

“In common, huh?” you echo, dubious, still trying to maintain an air of bitterness. You cross your arms over your chest, wiping at the sticky tear lines on your face. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s another moment of quiet between the two of you. Jungkook just looks too genuine, sitting not two feet away, braced for rejection. With his shoulders hunched, head down, doe eyes wide...he looks just as small as you feel. You’re all too aware he could probably bench press you, even without the ever-mysterious vampiric powers, but here and now...Damn him. You don’t really want to go back inside yet. That’s for sure. Eventually, you decide you’ll take the distraction. As long as you keep the somber mood and keep a distance, you’ll be able to talk yourself out of wanting in his pants, surely.

“Fine. Shoot. What’s the first thing?”

“Neither of us had a good life. Before. Full of drunks and shitty living situations and especially a piece of shit car.” 

That makes you snort. “Definitely the car?”

His small grin is toothy, more pleased and relieved than you care to notice that you took the bait. “Oh, yeah. My dad’s truck. It was an old, old model. Discontinued. He never had the money to get the stupid thing fixed. Everytime I stole the keys off him, part of me prayed this would be the time it just finally fucking exploded. Take me with it, maybe.” 

“You stole your father’s keys?”

“He would pass out in the kitchen every Wednesday and Friday night.”

  Oh. This feeling like guilt flashes through you. You’re pretty sure you have more in common with his father on this point. Again you think of the woman in the video and your throat constricts.

“I think I was like that, too,” you admit, quiet.

“Well, that’s a difference between us, then. I didn’t drink until after I turned.” 

“Wait, can vampires drink alcohol?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, tossing his hair. “Not really. Can, but anything but blood makes us way sick. Taehyung chugs energy drinks sometimes, and it knocks him out with killer migraines for like, days at a time. Anyways.” 

You refuse to let the mental image cheer you up any, but it is a funny little thought. Almost endearing. “Anyways,” you agree.

“I helped my dad with his police work sometimes. He’d pull me out of class and I’d do odd jobs around the office. Busy work, mostly. Get him coffee, that sort of thing. Organized files. So when a boy from the local university went missing...I was one of the first to know about it. One of the newer classmen, by the name of Kim Taehyung.

This isn’t a big town. Sometimes people go missing, y’know. Runaways, mostly.” His head bobs, his eyes going wistful. When he gestures, it’s like he’s practicing well-rehearsed excuses at the empty space he’s addressing. “I thought about it, from time to time, being one of them. But the strangest thing was that his best friend started acting...weird.” 

“His best friend.” 

“Wanna guess?” 

“...Jimin?” 

Jungkook glances back at you. His brows twitch upwards. “That’s the one. He didn’t come to the funeral service. Didn’t have anything to say about the day Tae vanished. Refused to go to counselling. And they never found the body. A few months later? Park Jimin also disappears.” 

He cocks his head, casting a look out over the grounds. “A year goes by. Two. Three. Their photos stayed on the corkboard in the office hall, but nobody saw their faces anymore. The Kims moved out. The Parks stayed a long time. I mean, a real long time. I heard rumors about Taehyung’s family, familiar kinds of rumors, but Jimin’s family was the kind you see on TV. They never really stopped looking. They funded a huge search. Reward posters and everything.” 

He shrugs, eyes flicking downwards, to idly watch his fingers rubbing at his own knuckles. There are scars there that you didn’t notice before, mazes and crisscrosses of scuffs and scrapes that must tell impressive stories of their own right. You want to kiss them. All of them, one by one. You want those fingers in your mouth—  

A shiver runs through you and you use the motion as a coverup for a hard blink, twitch of your head. Focus. Pay attention. Sad. Somber. Listening.

“The money would’ve been useful. Buy me a car that works. A ticket out of town. Somewhere nobody knows about ‘Officer Jeon’s fucked up kid’. And the thought of reuniting a straight A, straightlaced kid like Jimin with his loving family? Maybe go full Annie—get them to adopt Taehyung while I’m at it? Give somebody else a chance with a good home, loving family? I had all kinds of fantasies. I couldn’t even think that they might have been dead. Or worse.” 

  Or worse? You shift, damning the carousel underneath you for easing into a screech when you dare to move your weight. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill creeping up on you. It’s cold out here when you aren’t stomping and crying. You aren’t going to scoot closer to Jungkook, not even for warmth. No matter how cold it gets. You don’t want to tuck your head into his chest and inhale the source of that faint smell drifting your way on the breeze. You don’t. Don’t want to put your fingers in his hair. Don’t want to…taste. Any of him.

  “Yeah,” Jungkook affirms the frown on your face with a scoff, for entirely the wrong reason. “Yeah. Worse. Because the second thing you and I have in common is we both headed into something we weren’t prepared for.” 

His tone goes soft, his brows pulling together. You can see something dark, something buried, clawing its way up his body and sinking into his shoulders. It makes him smaller. Pulls him into himself.

“I found them. Took a lot of digging through sightings, sudden shipments of online orders of things like video games and comic books to a supposedly abandoned park, a lot of sneaking and some illegal stalking. My theory then was that this ‘Jin’ guy was maybe a murderer. A kidnapper. I could confront him, put him away, make everyone happy. Make pops proud, for once, just in time to put him to the back of an exhaust pipe.”

He takes a shaky breath. “You don’t...changing isn’t a quick thing. You don’t just wake up like this. It can take months. Months where you don’t know who you are, where you are. You’ll bite anything with a pulse. The first time I walked into the park was the last time I had one of those.” 

He rubs at his shoulder, remembering an old wound. You scratch at your neck. 

  “It wasn’t his fault. But Jimin came out of the dark, right at me, all wild eyes and crazy hair. I don’t remember much about when I came to, except the awful, awful way my blood stained the grass. Shitty Jungkook ruins somebody’s lawn, I thought. I know someone was crying, holding me. It was raining so hard, but all I could hear was sobbing. Apologizing.  

At some point, I know Jin asked me if I wanted to live. And I remember thinking, do I? Don’t I? Why would I do that?” he scoffs again, the sound painful. “It’s not like anyone would miss me. At least up on that fucking corkboard...maybe there’s where I’d finally belong. I passed out again before I could give them my answer. I hoped they’d kill me.” 

  He’s quiet for a long time. You don’t want to feel bad for him. But that anger, that helplessness. You’re right, and your experiences aren’t the same. 

And still, he isn’t wrong. You do have a lot in common. 

“They kept you,” you say finally, no small amount of irony tinging your voice.

“Yeah. With Namjoon gone, Jin didn’t have Jackson keeping an eye out for him inside the police force. The minute he figured out who I was, he’d already decided what he was going to do with me.” 

You shift again, subconsciously rubbing at your arms for warmth. A moment of silence passes. Crows, far off in the park, hold a brief council. The sound of their chatter echoes off the miles of rusted metal and climbing vines. When the wind blows again, the trees answer with a subdued counterargument of rustled leaves. You and Jungkook are alone in the world. 

   “So. That’s the second thing.”

“Hmm?” He snaps out of his reverie, throwing you a confused look with a wide blink. You return his expression with a wry half-grin. 

“The second thing we have in common. A lack of choice.” You clarify. 

Jungkook’s face softens, shoulders dropping. He turns, shuffling his arms out of his jacket. When he scoots forward, the carousel squeals its disapproval, but you both ignore it. Your pulse quicks in your chest, your neck, the mark at your chest thudding in time with the beats and you flinch back from him, staring. Waiting. But he reaches behind you to drape the biker jacket across your shoulders. He tugs it forward with a kind of clumsy, unsure care. Like if he pulled too hard you would shatter. His warmth envelopes you with a ‘whoof’ of air, drowning you in that heady scent you now recognize is not, in fact, cologne. You can’t help but close your eyes and inhale, deep. There’s no question in your mind that you could track him across the continent with this smell. Jungkook. 

Your head snaps back up, eyes flying open, coming to just enough to be embarrassed. But he’s focused on trying to fix the clasp at the top of the jacket, secure it just enough to keep you warm. His long fingers fly across the leather, unsteady, searching, but determined and eventually it clicks into place. He pauses, obviously satisfied, but doesn’t move back. His hands hover. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. 

  “Jimin and Tae worked the hardest to make me feel welcome. Let me stay in the extra room instead of the bedroom. Kept an eye on me while I was changing. Bailed me out when I almost got caught,” he mumbles, as if talking to himself,  “And as for the station, I still work there sometimes. I do what Jin wants. What we need. Move files, edit paperwork, run plates. Nothing big, but enough to help keep us hidden.”

“That’s good of you,” you reply, hushed. “You sound like you figured it out eventually…” It’s impossible to think past the phantom feeling of his lips against your skin. The taste of his tongue. The taste of…your eyes flick downwards, a flush travelling up through your neck before you can stop yourself. When you meet his gaze again, he’s darkly intent. You don’t imagine he can’t guess what you were thinking of. 

“Do you want my advice?”

God, you can still feel him. Every breath draws him through the roof of your mouth, floods your veins. Are you leaning forward? It’s hard to tell. Suddenly you’re too warm. “Hmm?” 

“My advice,” he reiterates. He moves so subtly that even the beast beneath you only mutters a brief complaint. It takes him close enough to you that you could press your lips to his neck if only you leaned upwards. “Considering how much we have in common.”

“Please.” 

“Think about yourself, first. Fuck everyone else.” You wish he would. “Ask yourself what you want, when you don’t know where to go. What to do.” 

“And what do you want?” you ask, low, watching his eyes cast to your lips with a familiar sinking feeling. He hums, thoughtful. The sound lights warmth in your chest, his breath a cool huff against your mouth when he exhales. 

“I want to be selfish,” he murmurs. He leans forward. 

He stops. You stop. The both of you look down in unison.

Your hand is on his chest, splayed against the grey t-shirt fabric. Why is it there? 

Jungkook blinks, owlish. “...No?” 

What? No, what? Oh, right. Right, yes. No. 

“No.” You can feel the distance between you. Can taste every single inch that separates you from his body. Your palm on his chest burns, tugged by pure magnetism.

“...What do you mean ‘no’?” “I mean I’m—” What do you mean by ‘no’? It should be yes. Yes, yes, yes, Jungkook, yes, more, yes, please. Right here, now, outside, where everybody can see, where it’s cold and the carousel screeches with every movement and— “I’m saying...no. This time. No kissing.” 

The thought runs visibly around his head. He watches you like he’s pondering the spin of the world on its axis. 

He blinks again, hard. When he speaks again, it’s in a shocked, conspiratorial whisper. “No kissing, ever??” It’s an effort not to laugh at his scandalized expression. 

“N-no kissing. Right...right now. I’m trying to make choices.” 

“Choices.” 

You wrack your brain to remember what it was you said to Jin. “I...I want to know who I was. And I want to choose who I am now.” 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s tongue rolls over the inside of his mouth, his eyes casting down and to the side, brows furrowing. Finally, he nods. “Okay.” 

  He leans back, away from your hand, and it takes more effort than it should to return the limb back to your side. 

“But you said that you didn’t get much from that video.” Jungkook shifts again, shoulders hunching. He’s back to looking small. Awkward. 

You worry the inside of your cheek. Your hand comes up to tug absently at the jacket draped over your shoulders. You want to bury your face in it and drown in his scent. “...Yeah. I really didn’t.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I dunno. I thought maybe I’d look for myself online?”

He snorts, once. “You won’t find much beyond what the news stations are saying. It’s all the same shit. I tried.” 

“Did you?” 

The boy sitting across from you shrugs, suddenly incapable of looking at you directly. He’s a young man again, not a demon, not a devil. Young and unsure, in the presence of something bordering on intimate. Sections of his hair flutter in the wind. He squints. “Curious. Before Jin grounded us.” 

That gets a laugh out of you. “Right.”

“Heartless. Heartless man.” 

A murderer. A kidnapper. Is that your Jin? Someone who asked to hold you. Prepared your room with all the excitement of somebody expecting someone long lost and beloved. Someone who kissed you softly, gently, like he was losing sight of the horizon.

Sat with you while you tried to find reasons to hate him, and at every turn offered you a way out, if you wanted. Understood when you didn’t. 

The same man who treats you like a pet. The same man who changed Jungkook without his permission. Uses him like a pawn. Uses you like an accessory.

Somehow, he’s both of these people. 

You and Jungkook share in another moment of quiet.

  “Wait. Plates?” You break the silence suddenly, turning to look at your companion once more. 

“Hmm?”

“You run plates. At the station.”

Jungkook purses his lips. Sniffs, runs his arm under his nose. “Yeah. Sometimes. Takes about a day or so, but it helps keep tabs on other covens.” 

“The video,” you breathe. Excitement doesn’t come easily to you. Not when it isn’t about getting your next fix. But here, now, it blossoms in your chest, pure and energizing. “Wait, Jungkook, the video. If I got you the license plate from my shitty car, could you run it? Get—get information on it? ”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I could do that.”  

“Really?? Jungkook, that would mean everything to me!” 

The smile that he hides in a shrug of his shoulder is shy. When he snorts, it’s quiet. His ear flares up into a fiery red that casts down the side of his neck. Suddenly he’s having trouble looking directly at you.

“Okay.” 

  This could be it. You can get Jungkook to run the plates, get your name, location—maybe even your records? The mugshot. The police station would have the information you’ve been looking for. Who you were. Where you came from. The identity of the woman in the video, of you. Somehow, you’re closer than ever. 

“What do I get?” Jungkook’s voice interrupts your daydreaming and scheming. 

“Hmm?” 

“We’re collaborating now, right? You and me. Since you agree we’re similar.” 

You can’t get a read on him. His tone is breezy, but...you know better than to assume what that might mean. “Right…?” 

“So what do I get for helping you? If we’re like...partners, now. Y’know.” 

Partners... Right. Right, that sounds good. That actually sounds very good. But there are alarm bells sounding off in your head. Your throat goes dry and you try to swallow past it without making it too obvious the effect he’s starting to have on you again. 

“What, um,” you try, slow. “What would you like?”

His teeth gnaw at his lips. He blinks out over a patch of grass, and it’s a wonder it hasn’t caught aflame yet with the intensity of his stare.

“Can...can I have a kiss?” he says after a beat. “Could you...choose to kiss me?” 

Is….is he making fun of you? But the way he looks to you is genuine. Way too genuine. Excited. Hesitant, but hopeful.

“A kiss?” 

“Yeah. Can I have one, if I help you? Just a kiss!” he clarifies hastily, hands coming up in defense. “We don’t have to do anything else, if you decide not to.” 

If you decide not to. Dangerous. Dangerous. There’s no way he can understand how thinly you’re teetering on that line as is. But…is this him, trying? Offering you a choice. Maybe not much of one, but it’s a start. You could tell him no, if you wanted. Warmth spreads across your chest, climbing up to your face. 

Do you want to tell him no? Or do you want to kiss him? It’s no contest. No contest at all. Your mouth opens. Shuts.

“Yeah. Okay. If you run the plates for me, I’ll...we’ll have a kiss.”

“Is that okay?” He really has no idea how okay it is. How entirely okay it is. 

“One kiss for now,” you amend, slow, trying to hide the nervous grin that wants to climb its way across your face. “A-and one for later. If you do it. When you do.” 

“Two kisses, huh?” Jungkook replies. His brows flick upwards, playful. “Greedy…” His eyes cast down you for a half second and you have to tamp the desire to add one for the road.

“Selfish.” you correct. His expression scrunches into a wide, happy smile. One that weirdly tugs at your heart. 

He nods agreeably. “Selfish.” 

He scoots forward again, leaning. 

You arch up. 

When your lips meet, it’s chaste. There’s no hurry. No desperation. You kiss at his lower lip, ignoring the chill that breaks across your skin when he hums, content. Your eyes flutter closed. You focus on the warmth of him, the taste, god he tastes so sweet. How soft his lips are, how soothing his mouth as it caresses yours. 

When you part with a sigh, you realize his hands are hovering. They drift back down to his sides. A thrill runs through you when you understand that was him obeying your boundaries. A cognizant effort, to keep himself from touching you. From taking things too far. Can you do the same? Your eyes drop to half mast, pulling your lip through your teeth. You can still feel him. Taste him. You’re so close. You want him so badly. You want his hair between your fingers, his body on top of yours, his tongue, his teeth, his cock. 

You’re choosing, you are, but god, it’s so hard to make the right choice.

He watches you toy with your thoughts. He licks his lips, nervous, but doesn’t move otherwise. 

  Suddenly, your stomach breaks the quiet, growling loudly. Jungkook legitimately shrinks back in surprise, staring at your belly before bursting into laughter. The sultry spell is broken and replaced with horrific embarrassment on your part and comical shock from him. 

“There’s no way that was you!” he says between cackles, reaching to poke at his jacket.

Mortified, your arms automatically shield your torso, but he needles you anyways, grinning. Brows up in his hairline, eyes narrowed to slits with the force of his prominent smile. 

“What, are you hiding a lion in there? Holy shit!”

“It’s hard to keep track of mealtimes!” You protest, slapping his hand away. A giggle snakes through your tone. “You’d know that if you still ate!”

“I never sounded like that!” 

“That’s a lie and a half!” 

  He laughs again, throwing his head back, and you can’t help but laugh along. He turns the rock back forward into a standing motion, the momentum carrying him back onto his feet. One of his hands buries into his jean’s pocket. The other reaches familiarly towards you.

“Come on. Jin stocked the kitchen for you. Real food this time, not just crackers.” 

“Oo. Fancy.” You rub absently at your eyes, still a little sticky from before. 

“Only the finest. You go and get something to eat, I’ll get a screenshot of the license plate from Jin. Teamwork.

Partner,” he adds, careful.

“Alright. Partner.” You take his hand and pull to stand beside him, tugging his jacket more firmly around your shoulders. His smell wafts around you, holding you like you wish you could hold him. His palm is warm and dry, his fingers holding yours delicately. His answering smile is like the sun, his eyes squinting with the strength of his childish joy. His teeth glint briefly. You shiver and look away.

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[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

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Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When the Weight Comes Down - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: This series features a very inexperienced and shy reader. Not so mouthy as my usual fare but I hope it’s still fun. I couldn’t resist a hot biker Steve spin-off. Most of this is already written and it’s looking like seven chapters total. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter One: She Didn’t Know

There's a lot you can see when there's nothing to do

💀

You stared out the window as you stood at the sink, your hands pruned in the lukewarm water as you scrubbed the last of the dishes. You could hear your mother in the hallway, wiping the walls. Again. Five, six times a day, she’d wipe down every inch of the place; gather up your father’s empties, and vacuum the old cigarette-scented carpets.

You didn’t remember a day in your life when your mother wasn’t manically tidying every inch of the place. Even when her lip was swollen or her eye was blackened. It was a religion to her. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all. One of her many lessons.

She rarely left the house anymore. She had never been eager to go beyond the peeling walls but as you got older, she grew more reclusive. She got her check from the government, your father too, though his was often spent on beer and smokes. Some of hers too. 

The old house was ramshackle but someone had to pay for it. You’d worked at the bakery since you were sixteen; more than a decade now, closer to two. An excuse to get out as much as a means to pay for the roof over your head. Babs was like a second mother to you and always let you bring home the stale muffins and cookies.

Your eight hours was a brief respite from the home which had been your childhood prison. The cell without a door. Birch itself was impenetrable. Those born there seemed destined to die there.

You’d dreamt of leaving for years; in that very spot, as you washed the dishes and stared out at the lush grass. You’d float away to a world where you had the strength to walk away; from your paranoid mother and your volatile father. 

You belonged there though. You couldn’t leave knowing your father would beat your mother without a buffer between him. You knew one day the beer would push him over the edge. To leave would be to condemn her.

You pulled the plug and dried the plates one at the time, then the cups and the old bowls that belonged on a thrift shop shelf. Well, that’s where they came from. Your mother never bought nice things; your father would only break them.

Finished, you closed the cupboard and found your mother in the living room, sweeping the crumbs from your father’s old recliner into her hand. You straightened the pillows on the sagging couch and stood on the other side.

“Should I leave the leftovers in the stove for Pa?” You asked.

“It’s late,” She checked the old clock. It was broken. She stood and cupped the crumbs in her hand. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost nine.” You yawned. You would have to wake up at five to get to work to do the opening bake. “I should probably lay down soon.”

“Would you grab some more vinegar tomorrow?” She asked. “And… a new mop.”

“What happened to the old one?” You blinked.

She looked down guiltily. Another casualty to your father’s temper.

“Ma,” You sighed. “Why do you let him break everything.”

“Better than him breaking me,” She muttered. 

You hung your head and touched your forehead. You wanted to ask her why she stayed, but you had too. You were little better than her. You were both stuck.

“You didn’t give him any off your stipend, did you?”

She frowned. She had.

“The electricity is due,” You said. “Tell me you held onto at least something.”

“I’ll pawn another ring.” She mumbled.

“No,” You waved her away. “No. Don’t.”

“But--”

“I’ll figure it out,” You huffed. “Like I always do.”

You left her there and went to your room. You closed the door and turned on the small lamp beside your bed. You reached under your pillow and pulled out the cracked copy of Frankenstein. 

You remembered when you were fourteen and your mother had found it there. A girl at the grocery store had told you she was reading it for class. You always wondered what they did at the school. Your mother schooled you herself. Times had changed and kids were rotten. She didn’t need you corrupted by the wilting branches of Birch.

Your mother had never read it herself so she confiscated it as filth. A monster! Well, you had sneaked into her room and stolen it right back. You were smarter after that; you hid all your good books as you kept the bland ones on your shelf.

Even when you were of age, well beyond truly, you wondered what other people did. Normal people. Working at the bakery, you made up a story for each customer who came in. And when you walked by the bar with Cleopatra over its door, you dreamt of the Egyptian queen and her many lovers. The world was behind a glass; passing you by as you stood still.

You sighed and opened the book as you laid back. A monster betrayed by his creator. So despised and reviled that his heart turned sour. A monster who was more human than his maker. A being who only wanted love. A soul destroyed by neglect.

You didn’t recall falling asleep but when you woke, the crickets chirped loudly outside your window. You yawned and sat up. The light from the living room streamed down the hall and under your door. You marked your page and tucked the book between your bedframe and mattress.

Your mother was in the living room. She sat on the couch as she held a framed cross-stitch and wove roses into the faded white cloth. You checked the time on the kitchen stove. 1:47 am. 

“Why don’t you go to bed?” You asked.

“Your pa hasn’t come home.” She said. “You know I worry for him.”

“It’s not even last call,” You countered. “Go, get some sleep.”

“I’ll wait for him.”

You chewed your lip as you put your hands on your hips. You went to her and stilled her needle.

“He’ll be home in a couple hours.” You assured her. “Besides, you know how he is when he’s drunk.”

She looked down and pulled away from you. You shook your head and crossed the room. As you entered the hallway and headed for the front door, your mother rose from the couch and her soft footsteps followed you. 

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“To get him, so you can sleep.” You shoved your feet into your shoes.

“Oh no, don’t do that, sweet pea,” She said as she clutched the wooden frame. “You’ll only make him mad and, oh, I don’t want you in that bar.” She lowered her voice as she came closer. “It’s full of those bikers.”

“So, go to bed,” You turned to her.

She scrunched her lips and you knew she wouldn’t. 

“Fine,” She relented. “But don’t talk to anyone. There are dangerous men there.”

You stared at her for a moment before you turned and pulled open the door. Your heart beat furiously as the screen door clattered behind you and you tripped down the front steps. You’d only ever walked by The Asp but never went in. You’d seen the men who went in and out and mounted their big bikes, but you kept to the other side of the street.

The walk wasn’t very long, like any in Birch. The spotlights illuminated Cleopatra’s breast and the snake at her throat. You stood on the curb as you thought of crossing the street. Just do it. You’d just get your father and go. That was it.

You hesitated and nearly fell as you stepped down onto the road. As you came up on the other side, a shadow moved and you flinched. A man in leather stood beside the door with his thick arms crossed, a bandana over his thinning hair. You stared at him and then door as you stopped before it.

“Well,” He said. “You going in?”

“I, uh, yeah, I’m just… getting my father.” You explained.

“Right,” He scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck.”

You pursed your lips and pushed through the door. Inside it smelled of alcohol and sweat. There was a group of men at one of the round tables and a couple around the pool table. Your father sat along the bar, two other drunks not far from him. He sucked on a brown bottle as he grumbled to himself.

You swallowed and made yourself step away from the door. You neared the bar and a woman looked up. She didn’t look very happy as she asked you what you wanted. You shook your head. You’d seen her before. You were sure she worked at the diner but you must have been wrong.

“Pa,” You leaned on the stool next to your father. 

“Huh? What’r’you doin’ here?” He slurred.

“I’m here to take you home.” You said.

“Sure,” He laughed. “Got ‘nother bottle then I’ll go when I feel like.”

“Ma’s waiting,” You insisted. “Come on.”

You tugged on him and he knocked over his half-finished beer. You stepped back at the splash and he staggered to his feet.

“You little brat, I tol’ya leave m’alone,” He snarled. “Fuck’s sakes.”

“You’re drunk. You’ll be lucky if you make it home,” You argued. “I’m trying to help… you got beer at home.”

“And you,” He sneered. “I dun’ wan’ drink there.”

He wobbled on his feet and caught the edge of the bar.

“Beer,” He ordered the bartender who looked over his shoulder. She didn’t move. “S’matter, I got money.”

A man with dark hair shifted in his seat as if to stand and another nudged his shoulder and rose instead. He was tall, a thick beard to match his light brown hair, and blue eyes which sparked as he rounded his table. His jacket was marked with the badge of the club. You grabbed your father’s elbow and he shook you off.

“Looks like you’re done for the night,” The man said as he stopped in front of your father.

“I don’--”

“Excuse me,” The man interrupted his argument. “It’s not a request.”

Your breath was caught in your chest. You’d never heard anyone speak to your father like that. 

“I’ll… I’ll get him home,” You said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” The man looked at you. “You don’t need to apologize for him.”

“Come on,” You whispered and grabbed your father again. 

He followed you. Barely. He stumbled halfway to the door and swore as he fell to his knees and nearly took you down with him. You bent and tried to pull him up and he batted you away as he rolled onto his back. His eyes were almost entirely closed as his hand fell to his stomach and he gave a loud snort.

Two boots came up on the other side of him. You looked up. It was that man again.

“I’m sorry. He fell. I’ll get him up.” You pulled on your father but he was too heavy. You could barely get his shoulders off the floor.

The man grabbed him and lifted him easily. He stretched his arm around your father and you stood.

“I’ll help ya, doll,” He smiled. You couldn’t.

“Really, it’s fine. He’ll wake up and--”

“Let me help you, doll,” He hushed you. “You’ll never get him home by yourself.”

“I can’t--I--” You gulped. Your mother had told you not to talk to anyone. You looked at your father. The man was right. You’d never get him home. “Okay. Thank you.”

He nodded you out the door and followed as you scurried ahead of him. Your father’s feet dragged heavily and you cringed. As you came out into the cool air, the man stepped up beside you, your father on the other side of him. You turned him in the direction of your house and he dragged your father along.

You were quiet. You didn’t know what to say. Perhaps it was better you said nothing. At the bakery, it was easy. You just had to ask people what they wanted. At home, neither of your parents said much; least of all, your father.

“So your Dorritt’s daughter?” He used your last name. “Old man ain’t very talkative.”

You nodded and kept your eyes on your feet.

“Your name?” He ventured. You cleared your throat before you found your voice to answer him. “I’m Steve.” He offered in return.

You were silent again.

“I don’t know you,” He said. “I know everyone in Birch.”

“Well, I… I don’t go out much, I guess.” You replied.

“Oh shit,” He scoffed. “You were the girl who was home schooled.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

“We were always jealous of you,” He chuckled. “Hated going to school.”

“I still-- I still had class.” You said. “Just… my ma was my teacher.”

“Ha, wouldn’t expect him to be teaching grammar,” He gestured to your father. “You still live with them?”

You scratched your neck and nodded.

“Nothing wrong with that. Just curious.” He said. “Kinda… respectable. Helping them out and all.”

You were too ashamed to tell him that if you didn’t, no one would. That if you didn’t, your mother likely wouldn’t be able to keep up much longer.

“You’re like your pa,” He mused. “Not much on talking.”

“Sorry,” You said softly.

“But you’re a lot more considerate,” He said. “Apologizing for nothing.”

“So--”

“There you go again,” He laughed. “Look, doll, it’s fine. You don’t gotta talk. Don’t gotta apologize.”

You continued on and your house came into sight. Your father’s old mower rusting in the moonlight as the broken Ford loomed in the driveway. You helped Steve get your father up the front steps and opened the door for him. Your mother appeared in the hallway and gasped as she saw your father and the man who held him up.

“Ma, he’s just helping me get Pa home,” You assured her. “You know how he drinks and--”

She nodded frantically and backed up into the front room. You waved Steve through and directed him to drop your father on the couch. Steve looked around and his lip twitched. His eyes returned to you, clung to you, and he smirked.

“Well, you have a good night, Mrs. Dorritt,” He nodded to your mother then you, “And Miss Dorritt.”

“You too.” You breathed as your mother squeezed your arm.

He turned slowly and you both were still as you watched him go. The front door shut and your mother rushed down the hall. She locked the door quickly as you peeked around the door frame. She turned back and pushed herself against the door.

“I told you not to talk to anyone,” She said.

“I didn’t mean to. Pa, he just, keeled over, and Steve--”

“Steve!” She stormed towards you. “That man was one of those bikers. You better leave him alone. Pray he leaves you alone.”

“I didn’t--”

“Bad enough your pa goes down there,” She slipped past you and looked down at your father. “He’s better off drinking on the porch. No one to knock him one.”

“I wouldn’t blame them if they did,” You hissed. “It wasn’t me, ma. It was him.”

“I told you not to go,” She snapped.

“Yeah, I know,” You sighed as you turned to head back to your room. “You told me.”

[narcosmx]

dating pacho herrera would include...

a/n: yall asked for it and i am here as your humble servant !! i tried.... to make this gender??? neutral ??? maintain pacho as my lgbtq k i n g while also feeding yalls thirst... i just um devolved sorry about it again everyone 

first.... and foremost the looks he would fucking give you.... the way he looks as you is enough to make you fucking weak in the knees i swear to god 

him looking at you from above his sunglasses, eyes are racking over your body esentially eye fucking

but his expression never flinches, just a curious look and would probably only offer you this little.. croocked smile

i can just see him giving this little nod of acknowledgement if you notice him eye fucking you 

dancing !!! with !! pa cho!! he would always take you out dancing...whether it be at a club, parties, in the living room i just your go to date activity 

anyways he’s always leading because come on

always has you up against him, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, this would be when he whispering dirty things to you

subtle ass grabbing.... grabbing you by your neck and the small of your back...

idk why but i get the feeling pacho would be a very quiet boyfriend in public, content sitting back and letting you be the social one, sits on the couch man spreading and keeps an eye on you

pacho gives lingering kisses, like he’s ghosting against your lips and your pouting trying to catch his lips again but also just chuckling at seeing how desperate you are

pacho likes coming up behind you to hold you, like if you’re ever just there talking he would come up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, lips against your neck

why do i have this idea of like you tugging pacho around; like he pretends that he doesn’t like being dragged around town by you but deep down you know he loves it 

so it’s you walking in front of him and holding his hand and him in the back shaking his head and chuckling at how excited you are about something 

pacho would be very... alert whenever he’s with you he’s protective in the fact that he’s constantly reading situations to see if emotions are escalating

if he feels like something is even the slightest bit out of control he’s carefully placing you behind him “calma, amor, que no pasa nada”

just slow, very calm, and gives people this a stare like “don’t you fucking start this”

controlling the situation with a fucking LOOK

OooOOOoOOoo but if someone did fucking hurt you dear god he would burn down all of fucking colombia if he needed to or if he just fucking felt like it 

and the image of him coming back to you after murdering literally anyone, not a hair out of place, making sure his shirt isn’t wrinkled but there’s blood on his face and you just come up and like clean it off with your thumb 

why am i so fucking extra??? but his love language would probably be physical touch or quaity time 

i feel he wouldn’t be like overly affection, not much for pda (( unless you’re dancing )) but he’d want to be touching you... he needs to feel you and know you’re there, know you’re still with him 

but also quality time being the way he shows he loves you, doing everything he can to be back home at a certain time and calls murming an apology and telling him how he’s going to be home as soon as he can... wouldn’t be too sappy but his voice would def be softer

he’s the one kissing your hand all the time though

pacho has a thing for watching you do things, for example

he will gladly grab a drink, sit on the couch and watch you put on this little fashion show with the new outfits he just brought you

also  has just as much fucking fun watching you undress 

putting on little shows for him are his favorite 

does... he also... like watching you do ... um other things???

lets say it together everyone, voyuerism k i n k 

him walking in on you trying to get yourself off and he silently watches from the door, leaning against the frame casually

if you notice him he tilts his head and is like “no, no, siguele, como tu piensas que te puedes cuidar solo/a” and sitting at the edge of the breath and watching VERY carefully

watches you when you’re riding him, watches you as you suck him off and i just PACHO WATCHING YOU

get a feeling he lives for you walking around in his shirts

i am having so many unholy thoughts but sucking pacho off while he’s on an important phone call HOLY 

everyone can fight me because pacho would be so into telling you how good you are and how good you look but i mean that’s after he’s had you beg for you to touch him 

why.... just why do i have the imagine of sucking on pacho’s finger as he gives you this like smug smirk ????

[slaveformingi]

You Belong To Me (M)

READER (y/n) X KANG YEOSANG (Ateez) Genre: Smut, BadBoy!Yeosang, Angst, Slight Fluff, School Setting. Word Count: 2594 Words. Summary: You find yourself in detention again but this time, you were trapped in detention with one of the schools bad boys, who also happens to be your ex. When the teacher has to leave for an emergency, you find yourself..... well, cornered.

(Author’s Note: Fix On! Majority of you wanted a bad boy Yeosang smut so here it is! Hopefully it is up to your expectations. For those of you who voted for Wooyoung, I’ll be posting his smut as soon as I finish it <hopefully tomorrow> 

PS: I think my writing is getting worst. For some reason, I feel like my English is starting to malfunction. What do you guys think? )

## “What did I even do to deserve this?” 

Your fingers tapping on your wooden desk. Eager to leave the classroom as soon as you can.

“You know what you did young lady. Now please stop tapping the table and keep quiet.”

You let out a heavy sigh. You were in detention. Again. The reason this time is because you yelled at your teacher and called her a whore for making you run laps on the field when you told her you didn't feel like it. 

You were the girl that everyone was afraid of. You weren't a bully nor were you rough with people, you just prefer to keep to yourself. But from time to time, you would pick a fight with who you felt was trying to use you or someone who generally pisses you off. That’s one of the reason why people would avoid you and why they were intimidated by you.

The teachers couldn't tame you, the more they tried the more you rebel. Your parents had long gave up on trying to turn you into a proper well-mannered girl yet you were just to stubborn. 

You were always alone and you never thought you needed anyone, until you met Kang Yeosang.

Yeosang was a rebel, he only played by his rules. He was also part of a very violent and popular gang known as Ateez, which was known to vandalise and terrorise the town you live in. He was known to be a very good fighter, very quick on his feet. 

You both crossed paths when you both got into the same fight with some other students. He took interest in you and you ended up dating. For a moment in time, you started to become more soft-spoken and cheerful. He was the happiness you didn't know you needed. He was always there for you and he always had your back. 

That was until you discovered that he was flirting with other girls behind your back. When you first heard about it, you thought he was just messing around because he was bored or something. But then he started to do it more often, he was even flirting with girls in front of you. That’s when you thought enough was enough, you loved him with all your heart but you didn't want to risk getting yourself hurt by him. So you decided to end things with him a few months ago.

He was shocked at first, thinking that you were joking. He kept on appearing in front of your house and contacting you as if you were still together. You resorted to more drastic measures, which included kissing another guy (who was totally a stranger to you) in front of him and saying that you’ve never loved him (Which was a total lie). But it worked. You finally got rid of him.

Ever since that happened, you didn't talk to each other. You ignored and avoided each other. There were times when you noticed he was making out with other girls in front of you, which you assumed was his attempt on making you feel jealous but you hid your jealousy from him.  You went back to being your cold self. You hid your jealousy by acting strong, fighting and rebelling whenever you can. Which brought you to where you are today, in detention.

But you weren't alone, out of everyone in the entire school, you manage to get into detention with the one and only Kang Yeosang. He sat a few seats behind you, his head buried in his arms on this desk. 

(Authors note: Idk how to properly describe the position but it’s like the one where you put your head down on the desk to sleep.. so yeah, that position)

“Miss Jung, can I please leave now. I need to get ready for a date.” you asked in your sweetest and politest tone. Attempting to escape the class.

Yeosang’s head shot up, he heard what you said and shot you a dirty look. You didn't notice this because you were looking at your teacher, hoping she would let you go. Yeosang’s hands turned into fist, he didn't like the thought of you going out with someone else.

“I’m sorry y/n, but you still have 2 hours of detention left.”

You sighed and stared out the window. Your brain searched for ideas on how you could escape the class. You didn't actually have a date, you just wanted to leave the room before Yeosang does. 

Suddenly the PA speaker boomed ; “All teachers please report to classroom 8B for an emergency meeting with the school board. Thank you.”

You couldn't help but smirk. It was as if someone had heard your pleas. 

“I need to go, you can leave now but both of you will have to replace another 2 hours of detention tomorrow.” 

With that your teacher packed up all of her stuff and rushed out of the room. You could hear the sound of her heels running down the main hall.

“Finally.” you said as you slipped out of your desk and dashed to the door to escape the class, but before you could step out of the classroom, you're hand was pulled back and the door was slammed shut.

You groaned in pain as you pulled your hand back. Your body was suddenly spun around and the next thing you knew you were facing Yeosang.

“What the fu--” 

“Where do you think you’re going, y/n.” Yeosang’s eyes were full of anger and hatred.

“Out.” you replied nonchalantly as you crossed your arms.

“What's his name?”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently. 

“Who’s your date?!” he snapped. You smirked, you knew you had pissed him off.

“Why do you care?” you asked “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

Yeosang kept quiet, you could see the rage in his eyes. He roughly shoved you against the wall, you could feel your back hitting the hardness of the wall. You moaned in pain before you shot him an annoyed look.

“What the fuck Yeosang?!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” he said, his face was serious.

“You don’t fucking own me.” you said staring into his eyes. 

“You belong to me!” he yelled at your face as he pushed your back to the hard wall again, trapping you between his hands.

“Fuck you Kang Yeosang.” you said as you grabbed the collar of his school shirt and pulled him closer to you. “I can go anywhere and everywhere I want. With whoever I want.”

You both stared intensely at each other before he let out a growl and crashed his lips into yours. You gave in to the kiss. You could feel him smirk against your lips. You closed your eyes as he pulled your body close to his, your hands started to roam his body.

“You’re mine and you know it.” he spoked against your lips and slipped his tongue into your mouth. His hands sliding down your waist, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Missed me?”

You shrugged your shoulders with a smile. He let out a small chuckle before making his way to your neck, planting small kisses. He soon found your sweet spot and started to suck on it. A moan escaped from your lips.

Yeosang smirked again, he let go go you for a moment and went to the classroom door to lock it. You laughed as you grabbed his hand and pulled him back into a kiss. He smiled, kissing you back as he held onto your waist. 

Your fingers slowly made their way to his jacket, sliding it off him and leaving him in his shirt. You kissed his his jaw and moved your fingers played with his hair.

He moaned before pulling your hoodie off and letting it fall to the floor. You attacked his neck, sucking and kissing it earning a moan from him. You unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his slightly toned abs, your hands slid over them.  

Not wanting you to be in control, he pushed you up against the wall and slid his hand between your legs, playing with the hem of your underwear. His hand started to roam between your inner thighs. You instantly squeeze your legs together, trapping his hands between your thighs, inches from your throbbing heat. You both stared intensely at each other, he ran his thumb along your thighs, trying to get you to open up for him.

You bit your lip as you gave into him, spreading your legs open to let his hand free. You realised that you missed his touch, you miss his voice, you missed every single thing about him. It didn't matter that you were in class and that someone could catch you both, all you could think about was how much you wanted Yeosang. You felt yourself getting wet. He looked at you before running moving his fingers upwards.You let out a small moan as they landed on your underwear. A smirk appeared on Yeosang’s face.

“We need to be quiet.” he whispered your ear.

His hand began to move, his eyes were locked on yours, waiting for your response. His hand began to rub more fiercely, causing your breathing to get heavier. You tried your best to keep quiet but you didn't know if you could contains your moans any longer.

He moved away from the wall and grabbed your ass, lifting you up and carried you to a nearby desk. You grasped the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. Yeosang moved your underwear aside and you felt his fingers coming in contact with your heat. The cool air hit you, making you more aroused.

“I’m going to fuck you on this table so hard that you won't be able to walk anymore.” he whispered in your ear.

He ran his fingers around your entrance, his thumb flicking your clit. He was teasing you. You felt a knot in forming in your stomach, your body was becoming numb. Yeosang slid two of his fingers inside of you, making you jump. 

“I’ve barely started yet you’re so wet for me already.” 

He thrusted his fingers deeper inside you. You bit down your bottom lip, trying to suppress your moans. You watched as pulled his fingers out and brought them up to his mouth, his lips wrapping around them, taking in your taste.

“I almost forgot how good you taste.” he said with a smirk on his face. 

He slipped your skirt and underwear off in one go and threw them across the room. You got up from the desk and pushed him against it. You planted kisses all over his torso as you made your way down, carefully stopping above the waistline of his pants.

“You know I hate being teased babe.” Yeosang groaned.

You smirked as you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down his legs. You tossed it to the pile of clothes that was already on the floor. You looked down at his boxers, you could see his bulge. He let out a groan when you pulled his dick out of his boxers.

His dick was thick and throbbing in your hand. You licked his tip and Yeosang’s eyes instantly shut. You began to pump your hand around his shaft as you dragged your tongue around the tip of his dick. His pre-cum started to lick as you kept on pumping him.

“Oh god, y/n.” Yeosang groaned as you took his dick into your mouth, taking as much of him as you could.

“Fuck babe.” he moaned as you swirled your tongue around his shaft.

Your head starting to bob up and down.You could feel him starting to twitch against your cheeks. 

“Fu--fuck, st-- stop.” He demanded as he pulled your head up. In one swift motion, Yeosang switch places with you and lifted you up on to the desk.

“Yeosang.” you moaned out his name as he started sucking on your clit. Your hips bucking towards his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his neck, pushing him forward so that he could give you extra friction. Yeosang moaned against your clit, sending vibrations in your body. His tongue deep in you. You started to tremble when you felt your orgasm coming.

“Nuh uh uh.” He said as he pulled away from you, flipping you into a doggy style position, “You can only come when I’m in you.”

Yeosang parted your legs. He lined his dick to your entrance, teasing your clit with the head of his dick. 

“Please Yeosang, I need you right now.” you begged. 

Yeosang smirked as he pushed himself inside you. You moaned as you feel him starting to thrust into you. You forgot how big he was, you felt as if he was about to rip you into half. His balls slapping against your ass, his hands were on your breast as his brushed his thumb over your nipples. You arched your back, writhing under him.

“Omg Yeosang!” you moaned, not able to contain your nosies any longer. He loved the fact that he made you feel good. He trusted harder and faster into you, hitting your g-spot every time. You could feel your orgasm coming.

“Fu-- Fuck babe, you feel so-- so fucking--- good.” Yeosang said in between thrusts.

“I’m clo--close.” you moaned out, your walls tightened around his dick. He groaned at the feeling of it. 

“Yes babe, I want to feel you come all over my dick.” He says as he picked up his pace.

“Fu--Fuck!” you moaned out. Your orgasm hit you and your vision goes white. You could feel Yeosang’s thrust getting sloppier, he was close. You felt him twitch inside you. His eyes were clenched shut and his head was tossed back.

“Fuc--Fucking hell babe.” Yeosang groaned as he released himself in you. He thrusted into you a couple more times, riding his high before pulling out of you. He plopped down on a nearby chair, not even looking at you. Once you caught your breath, you picked up all your clothes and started to get dressed. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he caught your arm and pulled you back to him.

“I have a date remember?” you said teasingly.

“Screw that guy.” he said as he kissed you passionately. “You belong to me and to me only.” you let out a small laugh. He cupped your chin and made you look at him.

“I’m sorry I went around flirting with other girls. I really love you, y/n. With all my heart. You are the first person to make me feel this way and I was honestly so scared at first, so I decided to become a dumbass and fuck around with other girls. Truth is, you are my weakness and I love you so so much. I know it’s going to be hard but can you give me a second chance? Can you please forgive me. I don’t know wha---”

Before he could continue rambling, you pulled him into another kiss.

“I forgive you Yeosang and I’m willing to give you a second chance.” you said, his eyes immediately lit up. “But...”

“But?” Yeosang asked with his head tilting.

“But if I see you running around and flirting with other girls, I will take things into my own hands and cut your balls off.” you said threatening him.

Yeosang let out a laugh before pulling you into a hug.

“I promise I won't babe.”

[roscoe-me-and-this-fuckin-kid]

My Ryden Recs

not in any particular order

The Heart Rate of a Mouse Series (11/10)

~513k words

Ryan "Heterosexual" Ross and his incredibly popular prog rock band, The Followers, start their summer tour for their new hit album "Boneless" in June of 1974. However, Ryan begins to take a shine to their new roadie, the ever mysterious Brendon No-Last-Name-Given, who dodges questions about his past and flaunts his flamboyant homosexuality. After an assault by a member of the supporting act, Brendon and Ryan get their payback, and begin to bond. But much to Ryan's confusion and alarm, he starts to want something he can't let himself have, starts to feel something he can't let himself feel.

--Okay I kinda lied. This list is in no particular order EXCEPT for this one. This one is the best. Anna Green owns my ass. I'm not someone who's picky about first vs third person, but if you are, then just this once throw that out the window and read this utter masterpiece. Ryan's character development throughout is so touching, but my god he fucks up a lot. One of my friends who has gone through the process of buying the physical copies and annotating them says that Ryan majorly fucks up over 50 times. Emotional rollercoaster straight ahead!--

Freaks (7/10)

~45k words

Ryan's face was permanently disfigured when he was 12 years old, and since then, the only person who has ever stood by his side is his best friend Spencer. After earning the nickname "Freak" in high school, he finally accepts that nobody will ever want him, or ever treat him normally again. But after an accident that lands him temporarily in the hospital, he meets Brendon. They get along great, and Ryan begins to fall in love. One small problem though:

Brendon had been recently blinded. Neither of them know if it's permanent, and Ryan is sure that if Brendon knew about his face, he would leave him forever.

--I really liked this one. It makes you sit on edge and every single time you think that Ryan will finally confess and tell the truth, he blue balls you like an asshole. This story is so sad and so sweet, I definitely recommend. Also, there's some background Joncer, which is really cute. Definitely a worthy read if you're looking for some angsty fluff. Oh, and a little aside: the author, spazzyskittles on LJ, actually beta-ed a lot of Anna Green's Ryden fics, including THROAM! So do with that what you will ;)--

The Red Eyed Owl Series (10/10)

~403k words

As one of the best players of one of the best National Hockey League teams, the Chicago Hounds, Ryan Ross has everything he could ever want. Young, famous, and free to do whatever he damn well pleases, the world either wants him or wants to be him. But after a leg injury that could potentially ruin his career, Ryan begins to realise that perhaps he doesn't have everything. Perhaps some things can mean so much more than women throwing themselves at you every chance they get and receiving bottomless drinks at sports bars. Perhaps he could fall in love.

--This was actually recommended to me by @wandering-verses and it was 100% worth the read. I broke out crying in the middle of class during the second book, and I cried again at 3 am when I stayed up all night to finish it. It's one of those that fucks you up so bad that you can't read anything else for a little while after finishing. Now, both the authors are from Spain, so English isn't their native tongue, but it's so well written that I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't read the notes at the very beginning. An all time Ryden fave.--

Missing In Action (10/10)

~204k words

In where the American Civil War goes differently, the nation once known as the United States of America is instead separated into two: DURA and Beauregia. The latter didn't change much in terms of their economy. Slavery is still legal, and the kingdom is ruled under a tight, Christian monarchy. Their king is Boyd Beauregard. His only son, crown Prince Brendon Beauregard, heir to the throne, resides in the highly respected Saint Francis' Academy. DURA on the other hand developed quickly, a democracy founded on new technology and equitable ideals.

Everyday, bipartisanship seems farther away from grasp, and DURA, realising that cooperation is impossible, creates the DURA investigative bureau. Identifying the crown prince as the Royal Family's weakest link, they realise that he could become an infinitely invaluable asset to them. Agent Ross, under the pseudonym "Ryan Hastings", is chosen to go undercover, enroll in Saint Francis' boarding school, infiltrate the Prince's friend group, and gain his trust by any means necessary.

--I'm ashamed to admit that I let this one pass me by for a while. I read the words "American Civil War" and I automatically assumed that this would be a mid 1800's Civil War fic about closeted gay soilders, and I'm not against that, but the premise didn't really interest me. But once I finally caved and started reading, I quickly realised not only was the premise entirely different, but it was really fuckin' good. Read this!!!!--

Esoteric Contagion (8/10)

~18k words

He wakes up with a note stuck to his forehead that reads, “You traded your memory in a spell. It was worth it.” The note is signed George Ross. He wonders if that’s his name.

In which things are lost and gained and remembered and forgotten, in that order.

--Despite being the shortest on this list, I loved it to death. You will cry so hard, I promise. This story is so sad. The author can deal so many shocking blows in less than 20,000 words, and you will be completely invested. I don't want to spoil anything, but it's massively underrated, and it will fuck you up.--

Two Vatos Locos Series (7/10)

~311k words

When you have your first dream with your soulmate, everything changes. But after years and years of watching all his friends have their dreams and fall in love, Ryan started to wonder if he would ever has his dream. At twenty, Ryan started to get desperate. He went to doctors, therapists, even a fucking palm reader. No one could tell him what was wrong with him. There was only one explanation: his soulmate had to be dead.

Ryan spent endless hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, begging, wishing, praying to have his dream and meet his soulmate. One day, with blood gushing down his face and vomit coating his tongue, his prayers were finally answered.

And now, as he stares at this scared, helpless boy, with bloodied rope burns around his wrists and tears staining his cheeks, he wishes that they never were.

--The title "Dos Vatos Locos Lleno de Carnalismo y Inamorates" roughly translates to "Two Crazy Dudes Full of Carnality and Infatuation," which is definitely accurate. I did enjoy this fic; it was cute, sad, and very interesting, but if you are interested in reading, you will need to be patient at times. Some passages seem like filler and the writing in a few places is kinda dry or cringey. But it's still overall a good story though. WARNING: Brendon is underage for most of this fic, but nothing sexual happens until he is of age.--

The Way Home From Nowhere Series (9/10)

~158k words

After his parents find out about his relationship with another boy, Brendon Urie makes a snap decision to flee from his abusive home. After a quick makeover to hide his identity, he decides to thumb a ride. He starts living the life he never even dreamed he could. Talking openly about things like sex, condoms, and homosexuality- he's happier then he's ever been.

There's one problem though.

His new roommates, Ryan and Spencer, have no idea that he is the missing Mormon boy from the nearby town of Summerlin.

--Ladies and gents, welcome to my first ever Ryden fic! This will always be a favourite of mine. Both Brendon's arc and Ryan's are are so heartbreaking, and there were so many times that I wanted to reach into the story and give Dallon a hug. So many tragedies in this story, and not all of them solved. I don't have any empathy for Brendon's parents in this story, but I feel so hard for his siblings, and for Marc. I just wish they knew. This story is so heartbreaking and yet so happy. Will play with your emotions like they're a shiny new toy.--

Filthy Lucre (10/10)

~362k words

Ryan Ross is living the American wet dream. He’s rich, he’s good looking, he gets paid just to turn up at parties and he spends his days drinking, doing drugs and climbing into bed with eager and willing boys and girls. His parents and PA beg him to quit, and his brother turns up his noise at his destructive lifestyle, but Ryan is desperate to sink into the void, escape the memories of what his father's friend did to him when he was fifteen.

Brendon Urie is a man bordering on desperation. He whores himself out to millionaire bankers and CEOs to fund his boyfriend's heroin addiction and pay off his ungrateful father's medical bills. Things could be worse, though. He's lucky enough to have a roof over his head, to be living with the love of his life, to no longer have to hook on the street, but instead be privileged enough to turn tricks in the wealthy circles of Wall Street and Goldman Sachs.

Where a broken boy meets another broken boy, and falls in love.

--Normally, I would never recommend an unfinished fic, let alone fic that hasn't been updated in four years, unless it was it was so good and so engaging that it made me literally scream. Trust me when I say that you have not experienced true hatred until you read this fic. I have literally never hated a character more in my entire life, and I know who Dolores Umbridge is, for reference. The best thing about this fic, in my opinion, is that the characters, whether good guys or bad guys, do evil. And they do it on purpose. Because the characters feel and act as though they're real, and real people fucking suck.--

The Black Rose Season (8/10)

~158k words

Ryan Ross' life is essentially over when his scholarship is inexplicably cancelled and he will be forced to pay his way through school. As a young, broke college student, Ryan is desperate to find cash fast, but to no avail. Just when he thinks all hope is lost, a mysterious benefactor promises to pay his tuition in full, on one condition: Ryan is infiltrate Sigma Chi Beta, the most prestigious and cultish fraternity that Swan University has to offer. And if, by some miracle, Ryan succeeds, his mission is clear:

Befriend Brendon Urie, fellow Swan Sigma, and, more importantly, alleged leader of Sigma Chi Beta's secret society, which might not even exist. He is to document his findings, and send them to his benefactor. One small problem though: Brendon fucking hates his guts.

--Did I mention that Anna Green owns my ass? Because Anna Green owns my ass. This one is so fleshed out, and there are some moments where it really spikes you in the chest. Every time that Patrick comes onto the page, my interest piques, and I remember That One Scene™ that completely changed my perspective of him (You'll understand once you read). Besides... college AU? Secret societies? Betrayal? Enemies to lovers? Sexual tension? Need I say more?--

I have more fics to recommend if you guys like this list, so tell me if you want more fic recs

[applepieandacherrycoke]

Golden red

hey! I finally wrote a thing. Based off what (the amazing and wonderful) @thehaemanthus said about the kinda person Cassius should be with (In their opinion.) Not exactly sure where this went, but its a thing now!

read it here on ao3!

301,176 + 215,097 + 258,264 + 381,451 + 123,220 (Might want to talk to the McKoy about that, they've been turning out less as of late, might have some problems with the dirt) + 345,632 + 295,746 + 303,204 + 275,947 + 237,745 =

Math went through Nellie’s head constantly, to the point where sometimes it takes effort to remember to breathe. Numbers and equations knocked around her skull and zipped around like flies, barely giving her a chance to remember them before a new swarm flashed by. She did though, remember them. The adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, keeping one number, discarding another, keeping the probability in mind as the threat of her discovery loomed over her head like the gear-chewer. All with the skill and grace of a Blue.

2,737,482 / 11 (keep the “discard” in case a rainy day comes. Talk to McLaughlin about where to hide it this time, we don't want a repeat of last time) = 248,862 x 10 = 2,488,620 

She rolled the number around her head like a marble, staring up at the ceiling as she layed in the obnoxiously large master bed that threatened to swallow her whole in the pure amount of fluff. She had to admit she liked the comforter, the big thick heavy thing being impossibly nice to curl up with. The sheets were another story, giving her the terrible feeling that she had when her barn was asked to grow cotton in their off year. She despised the stuff. Made her feel like her teeth were vibrating and her ears were stuffed.

240,398 + 338,903 + 244,089 + 400,032 (damn good harvest for McCall, it’s nice to see them bounce back) + 358,904 + 238,490 + 234,549 + 233,420 + 358,934 + 258,089 =

    She should really get up, maybe go get some coffee. It was kinda funny, less than eight seasons ago she would have killed a man for even a sip of the warm shit juice. Now it was something she expected. Granted back then, she would have gotten killed for even looking at the place she lived in now. All the same, she sits up, being blinded by thick red curly hair as it fell on her face, causing her to huff. She moved it aside in vain, shuffling out of the room and being greeted with the house staff, all panicking like the world was ending.

2,905,808/ 11 =264164.36… x 10 = 2,641,643.0, 153,023 more than sector four

Quietly, as to not interrupt them as they scurried and scrambled doing who knows what, she made her way to do her single house chore. Feeding the fish in the strange tank of water and sand the Gold before her had owned. She couldn't tell you for the life of her why; the fish were far too small to eat, and it seemed like a hassle to take care of, but he did and she’d feel bad if she just let them all die. Especially since the staff seemed to enjoy staring at it when they got the chance, watching the fish duck and weave between the rocks. So, grabbing a nearby step stool, she made her way to the fridge. Climbing her way to the freezer and pulling out the small cup of frozen food, careful not to get her oversized sleeves dirty. She closed the door, slogging her way back to the tank with the step stool in tow. Climbing up once again and filling the cup with the salty water inside.

She added for sector six, twirling the twos and threes, and chewing on the seven and eights. Technically she didn't have to do this, she already got the paperwork in. but still it was good to keep in mind. Good to keep messing with. It keeps her busy. It keeps her sharp, not that she really needs it.

    She sloshed the cup around, slowly breaking apart the food and sprinkling it back into the tank watching in slight amusement as the fish began to tear into it. Gently setting the cup next to the stool so the staff could pick it up, she made her way through the hallway and out into the world. Descending the stairway of the large hill the house perched on, she made her way to the local square. Giving vague waves to the Greys on watch and not really paying attention as she lets her feet carry her to the elevator. Descending to home.

Dividing the millions, the seven digit number breaking into pieces, before she smashed them back together.  Ripping and tearing and smashing and comparing. Keeping one number in mind, keeping families and children in her head as the bushels don't split quite evenly. There's quite a lot a person can do with corn, and food is probably the most important.

    She yawned and stretched as the elevator took her down, down, down to the cavernous tunnels below. The artificial sunlight shining dully from holes in the ceiling and walls all the way down the path. She pressed a button on the far side of the elevator, and smiled as a cart came racing to her. The little four wheeling buggy being mostly used by the ranchers, and bringing them down to the tunnels might have been the best idea she's ever had. She enters it, and speeds off, getting closer and closer to the massive barn of McFly, probably. They were closest, maybe, but she was still getting used to their being so many barns and tunnels. Each slightly different than hers. Sure enough, however, as she got closer the large painting of a fly made its way into view, painted crudely but proudly on the side of the metal building. 

She makes her way inside, the door always unlocked, and heading straight to the kitchen, a pot already made and still hot. She made herself a mug, using one of their pure white guest ones, and she took a warm and grateful sip. She closed her eyes, letting the slightly bitter taste and the absolutely wonderful smell wash over her. Lulling her into a sense of peace. Or well, as peaceful as you could get with her.

2,521,603 / 11 = 229,236.640 x -

    “Nellie!” someone shouted, causing her to jump and almost spilled her coffee. She turns, scowling as two men run in, one of them being the plowman of McFly. He was a buggy man, with grays in his hair and scars over his lips. He was admittedly nicer than most plowmen in his sector, but the man couldn't play poker if his life depended on it. A damn shame if there ever was one.

    “By the Vale, what was that for!” she hisses, cupping her mug protectively in her mits as both men loomed over her, (they easily had half a foot on the poor girl. McGraws tend to come out small).  “Bloodyhell y’all, way to make a girl think your tryin’ to kill her.”

“Nellie, where the fuck have you been?” The plowman shot back to interrogate her, before the Grey he was with interrupted him. He had been one of the good ones, back before. The only reason he was still alive, being honest. At least in her book. Mcfly would probably have a very different answer, but he knew the grizzled man better.

“Wait. You were wearing that last time I saw you.” he pointed out, and she avoided his gaze. “McGraw, what day is it?” 

“... Tuesday?” she asked, carefully as she played with the sleeve of the oversized sweater she wore as a dress. She winced at the exasperation and confusion that grew on their faces.

“Mcgraw what the fuck.” the Grey mumbled, as Mcfly buried his face in his hands and groaned in disappointment. She would have shot back about when they held back a meeting for almost two hours because the pair of them were burying their tongue in the other's throat, but immediately ruled against it. Mcfly had told her that in confidence, and the only reason he was married to the rude snobby bitch of a woman was a favor to an old friend. It'd be a low blow to use it against him, against either of them.

“Look! Its harvest! I've got a lot on my mind, n’ so what if I'm a day or two off.” she defended instead, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Nellie it's Saturday!” Mcfly groaned, “Look, we’ll talk about that later, right now we have bigger problems. Somethin’ crashed in the pastures.” 

    She blinks, setting down her cup, taken aback. She looked between the two, “Did we lose anythin’?” 

    “Everythin’ seems accounted for, but it scared McGee half to the mud pit. Spooked their horses too.” McFly told her, as the Grey handed her a pad. On it she saw feed of something entering her atmosphere, with a few scribbles with numbers beside them. She nodded, pretending she knew what she was looking at, before handing it back to him. 

    “Well that certainly ain't good.” she said evenly. “Why haven't they talked to me about it?”

    “They’re tryin’, they’re at the townhall waitin’ for you, brainless.” McFly snapped. And she puts her hands up in surrender. 

    “Fine! Fine. ‘m goin’, ‘m goin’. No need to yell at me.” she grumbled, grabbing her cup and making her way to the door.

    “No ya don’t! Those cups don't leave this house n’ you know that!” McFly reprimanded, and she scowled at him.

    “You ain't my pa!” she hisses. All the same she takes one big chug of what's left and puts the mug in the sink, rinsing it out. Then she leaves, the two men in tow. Picking up her calculations where she left off. 

Tear, rip. Sector seven always gets a little more than everyone else, if only ‘cause they make the best ‘shine this side of the galaxy. The stuff could knock a lesser man flat on his ass but if you can handle it nothing burns faster nor quite as good. Not to mention sector seven was very generous, despite the fact that technically it was still illegal.

    It didn't take all that long to get back to the surface, much less town hall. Admittedly the fight she had with McFly over the results of the last derby did help speed things along. She wasn't five feet away and already she could hear panicked shouting and arguments breaking out, causing her to give an annoyed look to McFly. If only in habit. It wasn't her first gathering with all the plowmen present, but it doesn't mean she likes it. All the shouting and demanding made it hard for her to focus. 

    Sucking it up, she walked inside the hall, and all heads turned to her. Some men nodded their heads, others whispered to their companions. Her plowman was missing, (not much of a surprise) and her girls waved her over as they stood with McGee. She had met the eight women back when she had conned the old house McOester out of their laurel. They had come, like they always do, looking for food and supplies for their families and barns, with nothing but their… to offer. Nellie, her brother's sister to her core, thought this was absurd, and just let them head out with what they needed. They had been by her side since, and without them she'd be in the mud pit seven times over.

    She made her way over to them, giving them a comforting smile in greeting. She gained a few sarcastic side curtsy in return, before Nellie’s attention was taken by the McGee and a little girl, who seemed to be clinging to her father for dear life.

“Nellie! Thank the Vale, you're here. It's worse than we thought.”

“What, did we lose some horses?” she asked, frowning.

“Worse. We’ve got one of ‘em goldilocks out there.” he admitted, causing everyone in the room to burst into panicked mumbling and whispering, one that made her head ache. “The kid saw it with her own two eyes.” he swore to her, scowling at them. They only murmured louder, soft words of doubt and panic. It was quickly becoming too much for her.

“Quiet!” she shouted at them, turning to the girl, as she clung to her father’s leg even tighter. “Tell me.”

“It was massive.” she whispered, like mentioning him any louder would cause him to appear. “Me, a-and Daniel were just goin’ to see what the sound was, n’ then- then we see this ship. N’ there-there was a guy there, workin’ on it. It was big, n’ tall, n’ it’s hair- it was like Ron-”

“Ey! We don't say that name, Milly.” her father scowled, “You know that”

“But it was!” she defended right back. “It was yellow n’ curly, n’ it had that sign on it’s hand! It was one of ‘em!”

Nellie pinches the bridge of her nose; she had hoped to never see a goldielocks again. Before she was able to respond, McKoy scoffed loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

    “Oh please, you called all of us here for the stories of some bloodydamn kid?” he sneered, leaning against a wall. “it's clearly a joke, n’ a pisspoor fuckin’ joke at that. Ain’t been a Gold round here in years, n’ yall know it.”

“Does she look like she’s fucking jokin’.” her father shot back, his daughter pale and shaken. Mckoy took a step towards him, smaller than the man but plenty intimidating if you didn't know any better.

“Watch your tone, son. Your speakin’ to a plowman, bloodydamn it.” he growled, and McGee stepped between them, getting up in McKoy’s face.

“Really?” McFly snorted. “After your harvest, you still call yourself that?”

“You wanna go, fly boy?” he turned, snarling. And Nellie was quickly utterly done with all of this, especially as the faint sound of harmonizing creeped into the air. She could hear soft warm ups of legs rubbing together to and fro and it sent a terrible shiver up her spine. 

“That's enough! I didn't come here to watch a dick measurin’ contest, thank y’all very much. Mckoy, I know you're scared, but that doesn't mean you need to take it out on the rest of us. McFly, low blow. You’re better than that.” she snarled at them both, tired. The singing faded, as did the crowd. She couldn't help her relief. “Now you lot sit tight, chill the fuck out and let me go check, yeah?” 

“You sure about that, kid?” McFly asked, sharing uncertain looks with his fellow plowmen.

“You don't have to if you don't want.” McKoy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck “We could go with ya.”

“Nah, I've got this. Just to check it out” she assured, despite it being less than convincing, she turns to Mcgee “It's a little south of here, ain’t it?”

“Well yeah, but what if there really is a goldilocks,-” Mcgee starts, before the little girl interrupts him.

“It is real! Daniel and I saw it! It was working on its ship n’ everything!” she demanded, before her father hushes her. 

“If” McGee reinstates, “there really is a goldilocks, are you sure you'll be alright?”

“Of course. If it exists and if it causes a problem, well momma didn't raise no bitch.” Nellie nods, shrugging. “I've killed a Gold before and bloody damn it all I'll do it again. Any questions?” No one spoke, no one dared. She had made a pretty good point, and if they were being honest, pissing off Nellie anymore then she already was, was never a good idea. “Thought so. I'm borrowing a cart.”

With that, she left. getting into one of the carts parked to the side of the hall and speeding on south, to whatever the hell crashed into her planet. Rolling over the soft green meadows where the animals graze and roam. The breeze whipped through her hair, and it was almost inevitable that she was to zone out.

Chew, gnaw, gnash them with her teeth. Rip the 5s in half, strip 3s like paper, roll thousands on her tongue. It's probably a good idea to start planting other plants eventually. Pumpkins seem handy, so does wheat. She knows better than to do zucchini, not after what happened with McGregor’s off year.  But maybe soybeans. Or peppers. Maybe start weaning off corn. It's not like they'd notice, not really.

    She used to come up with her brother, when they were able to sneak away. Wayne would've got whipped half to the mudpit if anyone found out, but he loved the stars too much to care. Though she never would admit it, she just thought it was nice to get out of the tiny cramped tunnels. It was where she learned how to play poker, under the pretty night sky.

2s and 11s and different things to notice, funny numbers hidden in layers and distorted to the point others couldn't recognize them if they tried. Eights been having a hard year, and she wonders if she could convince them to nurture trees. Apples, lemons, oranges, stuff like that. They've always been much hotter than the rest of the planet. Might as well make use of it. Besides, how nice would it be to have access to oranges from their own backyard. On that matter maybe she could convince ten to add an apple orchard to the pastures. But where in the vale would she get something like that.

    He was a terrible player, his tells were obvious, and he thought she needed to be gone easy on. Still, he taught her the rules, taught her about tells, and let her know that people thought she needed the help. He taught her puppy dog eyes, he taught her the ways people hid their guilt, and more than anything he taught her the value of pure dumb luck. He was a bloody damn good teacher too.

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

    It was easy to think of him, even when it was just looking out a window. Or when she caught sight of the scars she made on the other plowmen. She can still feel her fingernails in their skin, screaming murder as she tore into flesh and blinked the tears out of her eyes. Her gaze never leaving the taught rope even when the fiddles started. She can still feel the rough unsanded wood of the broken table tear at her palm as she swung it with everything she’s got. It’s other shards layed around, or in the man. She laughed then, as her bat turned red, and so did her vision. She cried then too.

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

    There will always be a part of her that will be bitter. Bitter that they screamed for her, and not for him. Bitter that it took so long, took so many of her friends and family, to finally smash a few Greys brains in. Bitter that she had to bury so many of her people, and she couldn't even bury him with them. Bitter that those stupid Greys had the audacity to get their worthless hides dumped in the same place her brother rested-

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 345394 + 345736 + 382734 + 284759 =

283748 + 338402 + 3705837 + 280928 + 284334 + 394730 + 3453-

    The ship came into view. A small thing, comparatively, that looked like it was better suited for a junkyard than ever being in space. Even when the only thing she had to compare was the scrap heaps that sends the corn to a more important planet. The paneling was peeled off, there were sharp bits of metal jutting out in random places, and one part of the thing was still on fire. That's not even mentioning the bullet holes.

    And sure enough, there was a goldilocks. A big one, (a shirtless one), tinkering with something or other, and even from there she could see this was extremely frustrating for him. To the point he didn't even notice her get closer. His hair was curly and thick, and his body was covered in scars. He had a cleft in his chin, and she got the feeling he thought himself attractive. She also noticed that he wasn't armed, which was probably the weirdest thing about him. She cleared her throat, and gold finally turned to Nellie, his golden eyes taking in her red form.

    “‘Lo, Red. Do you know anywhere to fix this ship?”

    Nellie's eyes flicked to the scar on his cheek. She knew that it was important; how escaped her, but she knew that Ron certainly didn't have one. 

    “Might know a place.” she admitted, careful to keep her poker face. The gold doesn’t speak, waiting for something. The staff once told her that Ron had demanded that they call him, something or other. By the vale they even tried to call her the same shit. She had, of course, shut that down asap, and if she couldn't have been bothered to remember it. Instead, she waits for him to get over himself. It wastes much more time then she would have liked

    “What planet is this, anyhow? My datapad isn’t showing anything.” he asked, shaking himself off and looking around the wide fields

    “Shame,” she scoffed, as if it wasn't her savior. “Well, 'm afraid your guess is as good as mine. Couldn't tell ya.”

It was a lie, a pretty harmless one all things considered, but she had to suppress a smile when he bought it. “Prime. Absolutely marvelous.” He huffed sarcastically. Before sighing. “Well I suppose you wouldn’t, now would you?”

That caught her off guard. She blinked, looking up at him like he just grew a second head. He didn’t seem to notice. “’m sorry?” She tried.

“Oh don’t be. It’s understandable.” He told her, cordially. “I’m sure your superior could help me well enough. Your ArchGovernor preferably, But I suppose any old bronzie would do.”

”I don’t-“ she tried, finding herself getting more annoyed by the minute. It had been a very long time since someone had talked over her, and even then she was quick to smash a table over his head. He just walked past her in his pacing.

“And after that, my goodman, you can take my ship to be repaired. Sooner the better, obviously.” he said, and she sighed. Closing her eyes, “Say who is your arch governor anyhow?”

“... Me.” She told him bluntly, annoyed and caught off guard  and more than ready to smack something. He hesitated, staring at her, before he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Funny, but not the time Red.” he scoffed, “Lysander and I need to get back into space. Not to mention this planet looks... less than sanitary.”

“Excuse me.” she hissed. Staring at him dead in the eye. All notions of a poker face gone.

“Well, no offense to you, Red, it's not your fault of course. But it's like the Golds in charge designed this place to look like a shithole-” he starts, before Nellie saw red and smacked him with everything she possibly could. Even if she did have to jump, it was enough to send him reeling. Which was plenty for her.

“OW! By Jove what was that for?” he hissed glaring at her. Seeming startled when she glared right back. “You dare strike a-”

“Shut it!” she snapped. “N’ listen close cause ‘M only sayin’ this once-!”

“No, you listen to me, Red. I am Cassius Au Bellona, an Olympic Knight and a member of the peerless scarred! I will not sit around and get told off by a- a Red of all things!” he shouted, causing her to take a step back, a sneer growing. “Now take me to your archgovener right this instant or I will have you hang-”

“I AM THE ARCHGOVENER YA PISS DRINKIN’ BASTARD!” she screamed at him, pissed beyond all belief. “AND I DID NOT SPEND FOUR YEARS OF MY LIFE DOIN’ MY DAMNDEST AT IT TO BE TREATED LIKE ANYTHIN’ LESS, YOU HEAR ME!? SON OF A BITCH!”

 What happened next was probably the most terrifying staring contest in Nellie's 50 seasons of existence. Or it would be, but Nellie was too busy silently berating herself over the lack of grace on what should've been her punchline. Really, “son of a bitch” is the best you've got? She didn't even call him one she just shouted it out like an angry grandpa who got kids tracking dirt through his house. By the vale that made her feel old.

“It's goin’ to take years to get that scrap heap off the ground.” she huffed, remembering that he was there after a moment “N’ that's not even considering that our stuff ain’t the best. You'd get there faster if you walked. Luckily for you, though, there's a ship that carries our supplies to Cerce, and she comes round every half year like clockwork. And 'm sure she'd be happy to take you along with her next time.”

“Next time.” he repeated, frowning harder at the sudden shift. She nodded.

“Ya just missed her. Sorry to say, space boy, you’re gonna be stuck here a minute.” she shrugged, and he cursed under his breath. Turning away, he kicked something and silently cursed his rotten luck. Nellie just waited, letting him get it out of his system before continuing. “Now come on, not much daylight left, n’ supper will get cold.”

“I’m sorry?” he asked, face coiled in confusion, and she had to smile.

“No need to be sorry, baby. That shit heap’s still on fire, and I'm worried Im’ma get cut just lookin’ at the thing. Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ you and- whoever the hell Lysander is- sleep in that. What kinda host would I be?” she shrugged. She then shooed him  “Now scoot your boot, Goldilocks. It's hard to drive at night.”

He hesitated. “Are you certain-?” he started before she stopped him with a snort. 

“Spaceman I live alone in the biggest house on the bloody-damn planet, I have room for a guest or seven.” she told him, giving him a look. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn't.”

They entered a staring contest, red meeting gold with much less heat than before. (at least, on Cassius’ side) As terrible as the goldbrows were, she couldn't help but be a little curious about this one. The last time she was this close to one, well she was smashing his brains in, and he wasn't nearly as impressive as this one, that was for sure. Meanwhile he was probably debating cutting her into pieces or something like that.

“Fine then.” he said finally, before storming off to get whoever Lysander was. He was a prick, Nellie quickly decided, somewhat offended that he didn't even say thank you. But she's dealt with pricks before, even ones that could kill her with a snap. At least this time she had some modicum of ground.

182 days x 12 hours = 2184 hours x 60 minutes = 131,040 minutes x 60 seconds = 

She had a feeling that it was going to be a long year. 

… Might want to give sector seven more corn.

[lostlonelylotus]

Another Hiatus?

straight up thinking of taking another hiatus from Tumblr...I hate to, but I’m thinking maybe this place just isn’t good for me, even after such a long time away in the first place. More under the cut, if anyone wants to read it.

So, I struggle with a lot on a daily basis. Things that I don’t even tell what few people are around me in real life, because frankly, I don’t really have anyone to tell that I think would want to help. I’ve had to end a great deal of my friendships because they were unhealthy/toxic and others ended because I’m disabled and cannot keep up with more “social” or outgoing people (which unfortunately is usually interpreted as disinterest because of constant rescheduling or inability to go out).

No one even knows that I’ve started a particularly hard round of chemotherapy that involves painful injections, because I worry that people just get sick of hearing how I’m actually doing versus the image of me they think should be real. I lie and say that I’m fine, when I’m struggling mentally and physically. Very few people know that I’m in such severe constant pain that even with strong opiates, medical cannabis, benzodiazepines and constantly watching my diet, I’m spending 12+ hours a day in bed. I never get below a 6/10 anymore. I can’t remember what anything below that feels like. My body tortures me every waking minute.

I’m back to where I started when I began treatment in 2012 and my mental health has taken a nose dive because it all just feels so futile, you know? Treatment after treatment, surgery after surgery, fighting tooth and nail to have the bare bones of a life only to fail and wind up at square one is...Hell. 

Add onto that, that I can’t get a FT job (so no PTO or good health insurance) despite having multiple degrees and that I had a position lined up before COVID that might now no longer even exist when this is all over + that the Part Time job I have that I love has completely changed now that I’m work from home and I HATE these new tasks and miss my coworkers + that I live with an actively abusive family member + that I have no friends beyond surface-level acquaintances despite so much effort to try and make and keep friends + that I’ve struggled my whole life with internalization of everything...and you’ve got a walking disaster of a human being who should probably nowhere near this site.

My therapist is through the school I graduated from, so I can’t even see them, and it wouldn’t matter because our relationship has progressed too far and they just treat my visits like a social hour and we never even talk about my real problems. It’s pretty damn pathetic when your needs don’t even matter to your therapist.

In real life, I’m a doormat to people’s needs. You need a house sitter? That’s me and they’ll pay me pennies to do it. You need someone to teach your children during COVID because we’re co-distancing? You need someone to drop everything and help you? That’s me. But when I need something, anything? A cup of tea or a genuinely asked “How are you?”? Forget it.

I miss fandom. I miss the escape. I miss the discourse. I miss the photosets and the freaking out over characters. I miss fandom buddies.

My experience of fandom since I last left Tumblr maybe 2-3 years ago has been very solitary. AO3 fics that I *do* comment on or discord servers where I’m one of dozens or more of people that no one can really remember because it’s hard to try to “compete” to be heard with 5 other people who are friends that are talking in depth about parts of fandom that you are new to...that and Google bloody Images have been my fandom for the past 2 years. 

It’s fucking lonely out here. I feel like a fandom cowboy, alone on a prairie, occasionally passing by other cowboys and wrangling the livestock together for a moment before heading on with a half-hearted tip of our hats. It’s more than likely the reason why I haven’t published a fic in nearly 2 years, even though I’ve completed 1 or 2 little ones. I used to write all the time, all the time. Fics, ficlets, drabbles, headcanons. Screaming into the void is so much harder than just sitting there with your eyes closed and pretending there is no void.

I got into Classic Doctor Who and back into a few “older”/smaller fandoms, and when there’s no fic to be had...your only option really is Tumblr. I was writing again (am writing again?), and the photo/gif sets and the meta had me fucking inspired for the first time in...so long. I was addicted to writing again. Wrote more in the last two weeks than I have in years. Started writing a fic that’s already longer than any I’ve ever written before.

I thought I could handle it, Tumblr helped so much before in the Golden Days of Tumblr. I became part of a huge fandom friend group on Skype back then. I had friends. I had true fandom, not this bizarre one-person-imaginings experience of fandom. 

I was able to see something triggering or an opinion I disagreed with or deal with bad anons or any of the bad parts of Tumblr. I was able to see just the good, overall.

But, now, I don’t know that I can? I’m too internalizing now? Someone replies to a post with a minor disagreement and it makes me hate myself. I get a slightly disgruntled anon and I cry. People don’t tag very triggering or super stressful political items anymore, so I can’t “unplug” when I need to avoid seeing things about riots and horrendous crimes against people and so I wind up with an additional panic attack because I can’t do anything about anything. 

I don’t know if the vibe of this place has changed or if I’ve become one of the dreaded and dreadful “snowflakes” who just can’t handle shit. I think both, honestly. 

And it fucking sucks, okay? Because I was starting to get back into the swing of liking this place. I was starting to branch out and reconnect with folks I knew from before that were/are wonderful or make new fandom acquaintances. I had the carrot of having a collection of true fandoms in front of me. Of feeling connected in this time of horrendous isolation (both for the world and me personally). 

But the stick is so much bigger than I remember. So much larger and harder; a tree trunk log instead of a twig switch. I’m not taking little love taps or slightly stinging slaps, I’m being beaten with it. By it.

I don’t know what to do. I want to keep Tumbling. I want to keep building friendships and talking about dumb fandom things. I want to reblog old gifsets and have convos in the tags. I want to share fics/art back and forth. I live for the discussions that I’m starting to have again. I live for seeing 3 bloody notes on an original post I made. I live for knowing that someone, somewhere is seeing something I wrote or made or said and likes it.

I don’t want the internalization of disagreements, of a perceived inferiority to other users, of feeling bad about myself over things that aren’t even a big deal on Tumblr but are to me. I don’t want to feel even more ‘less than’ than I already do.

I don’t want to feel extreme anxiety over the insanity of the world that I can’t escape even on here because tagging is a thing of the past and it’s apparently a major faux pas to ask for tags on triggering content, even if I fully support the matters tagged. I live the insanity okay? I’m a queer, disabled, person of color, in the small-town Midwest living in poverty. I’m not some racist who just doesn’t want to see your protest content. I’m struggling to get by. 

Maybe I’ll just stop producing content? Only reblog and like? Only comb through character tags or chat with some of the fantastic people that have offered? My inspiration is declining, along with my mood.

I’d honestly contemplate a permanent hiatus (just not a deletion) if all of the fandoms that I was in had discords, but they don’t. If they do, I don’t know about them. Though, honestly, discord is not the same, and I always feel even more insignificant there. Drowned out or unimportant. 

Huh. Drowned out or unimportant, that could really be the title of this pity post. Possibly the title of an autobiography, if I was ever self-indulgent enough to write one.

If you’ve read this whole thing, then wow. Thank you, because you’ve just given more of a shit about me and my feelings than anyone in a long, long time. 

This post probably won’t be up long, it was honestly meant to be a pity-party cathartic release of feelings and will, no doubt, make me feel more pathetic the longer I leave it up.

[alenajade]

❛ alexa demie, 19, cisfemale, she/her ❜ was that ALENA MONTANEZ i just saw hurrying across the quad? you’d think they would know what happens when a SOPHOMORE is late to class. then again, the FASHION major has been known to be pretty MANIPULATIVE. maybe being so VIVACIOUS helps keep them out of trouble. i heard that they are BISEXUAL and love DADDY KINK + SIZE DIFFERENCE

ayyye it’s G bringing ya’ll yet another lovable trash heap (i play Ezra too hi) ! figured I’d up my chances of being able to plot with as many people as possible if I had both a male & a female, plus I’ve been dying for a chance to use alexa as a fc so! alena is a brand new muse i’ve never played before & i’m super hype to develop her here for the first time ok so lemme just FINALLY get around to introducing this bitch real quick

OTHER KINKS: CHOKING, ORGASM CONTROL/DENIAL, BODY WORSHIP (REC), FORCE, PUNISHMENT + REWARD, ANAL, SPANKING, MARKING, BITING, HAIR PULLING,  DOMINANCE,  VOYEURISM,  CLOTHES ON, GROUP SEX, SEXUAL PAIN, ORDERS (REC)(GIV), BEING FILMED / PHOTOGRAPHED

alena jade montanez was born that bitch.

 was such a daddy’s girl up until age 6 when he left her, her mom, and her (at the time) 4, almost 5 year old little sister to pursue a new life with his mistress- after that, alena’s grandmother moved in with them, and her mom went through such a transformative stage that she had no choice but to pick herself up and make the decision to raise the strongest, most confident daughters she possibly could, because she never wanted a man to be able to break them the way the one she’d thought was her soulmate had broken her

and that’s exactly what she did 

alena grew up in a small town in pennsylvania; her mom had wanted to move after the divorce, but decided it best for alena not to uproot her when she was already accustomed to the life she had there. her mom made sure she was involved in absolutely everything she could possibly do so she wasn’t bored out of her mind, often driving her miles and miles to bigger cities for gymnastics meets and practices, cheerleading practice/competitions, dance practice/competitions, etc

thanks to child support from her dirtbag dad, who never tried to maintain a father/daughter relationship with her or her sister after she left, and both her mom and grandma essentially revolving their lives around caring for the girls, alena never really wanted for anything- in fact, materialistically speaking, she was spoiled rotten

every toy, every lavish birthday party, every cute little outfit, and as she got older every expensive new makeup release she just had to have, alena always got, and she rarely ever had to make a fuss or ask twice, meaning she was bred into someone who absolutely despises being told no or being told what to do

her mom eventually remarried (alena would’ve been around 8) a dude who alena just never connected with or considered any kind of father figure, but he was loaded, and out of that deal came her step sister around her same age who she loves VERY much (wc!!)

she was head cheerleader at her high school, she was also voted prom queen, but she never wanted to be one of those bitches who peaked in high school, 

so that’s why, even though she partied way 2 much and sucked way 2 much dick to actually be learning anything in hs, she got good grades and always aced her tests because she knew she wanted to be able to go to college and eventually move away- she chose noru bc it’s close to home so she can still visit her mom and her grandma, and ofc bc of its party school reputatuion

she’s a full on bratz doll personified okay she has a passion 4 fashion or whateva, she loves makeup and she’s loved making her own clothes from the time she learned to sew at just 11 years old, which is why she’s at northridge studying fashion- her main goal (is to blow up, and then act like she don’t know noboday) is to eventually get accepted for transfer to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in los angeles and get out of PA altogether 

she hates PA because... well, she feels fucking haunted here. literally and figuratively

lemme explain: my girl sees ghosts- like either she was born with something wrong with her (CW: f u don’t wanna read abt this spooky stuff or don’t believe in the paranormal u can go w/ that & skip this whole part but) she sees ghosts, str8 up, bc it’s been this way all her life, as long as she can remember

the house she grew up in was crazy haunted and that means she saw a lot of creepy messed up shit happen growing up- but the rly fucked up part comes in how, even after her family moved out of their house and into a new place right before alena turned 16... the creepy haunting shit didn’t stop, it got worse, with family belongings going missing, cupboard doors and windows all being found open in the middle of the night, incessant footsteps, whisperings, and unexplainable banging sounds. 

instead of a new environment solving the haunting problem, it was like whatever energy had been in their previous home had somehow attached itself to her. alena started having horrific bouts of sleep paralysis literally every time she slept too deeply or for too long- this has continued into her early adulthood, and because of this she:

!!! literally, doesn’t sleep- like, gets as little sleep as humanly possible, as a person could possibly function on, and she does it with the help of her rampant caffeine addiction and (TW: drug use) stimulant drugs- you will never catch alena smoking pot or wax bc it will make her sleepy and she won’t feel safe

that also means she never spends the night with anyone because then they’ll know how fuckt up she really is, so she prefers to keep things surface-level with most people, putting on an individualized performance for anyone she is attracted enough to to pursue, but never letting it get any deeper than casual sex

loves and is so fiercely protective of all the women in her life!!! is more likely to be leery of or mistrusting with men, but ofc there’ll be exceptions

and YEA that’s p much what i have for her so far, like i said she’s brand new so i wanna do most of her development here in this group but i had to get something up !!

i’m working on a connections page for her but some stuff i’d love off the top off my head are !!! ofc her younger sister (would be not quite 2 years younger than alena, so freshman age/ just turned 18) and her step-sister (would be the same age as her, 19 going on 20), best friends / squad, (she’s a cheerleader but she’s not a captain or anything bc her focus is on fashion now that she’s @ uni), an ex bf/ gf / fling (or 12 ), fwb, enemies w/ benefits, frenemies, exes who hate each other but still fuck, a professor / administrator she fucks on the reg (bonus points if they’re older and/or married), anything ur lil heart desires ok hmu <3

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going back home {Chapter 2}

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 2k

Warnings: pregnancy hormones, pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

“You know your childhood home is for sale?” Claire sat on the patio next to Pope who had decided to catch up with her.

“Seriously?” she asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. It looks bad though.”

“Like every house in this area that’s currently on sale,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah there are not many people moving down here, though there seem to be getting more in the last few years.”

“I mean it’s beautiful here,” she let her eyes wander over the landscape. She had always loved it here. Whole summers were spent on the Morales ranch when she was younger. Could have to do with the fact that Pa’ Morales made the best BBQ ever.

“Yeah it is. Better for your girl to grow up here, than in the big city huh?” he asked. She looked at Pope. He had gotten older. The lines around his eyes deeper than before. He always loved to laugh.

“Yeah. Though I didn’t picture it like that. I…” she sighed, feeling silly for the tears in her eyes. Fucking hormones.

“Hey. It’s okay. You gonna be fine,” his hand came down on her knee, squeezing it in comfort.

“Yeah you all keep saying that but it’s not you who has to push a baby out of your vagina without the father being there. It’s not you who has the responsibility to take care of a helpless kid for the rest of your life. I just… why? Why does he get to decide to walk out of this? It’s my pill that apparently didn’t work but it was him fucking me without a condom. He should take the responsibility just as much as I have to. Fuck…” she let her head fall back.

“Fuck him,” she looked up, hearing Frankie’s voice.

“Fuck him. He’s an excuse of a man. You don’t walk away from the woman you love. From the woman who’s carrying your child. Fuck… I was going through rehab while Liz was pregnant and I didn’t walk out…” he kneeled down next to her. She sucked her bottom lip in.

“I just feel so… so…” she shook her head.

“I know. But you’re not alone. You got me,” he looked at her. He was planning on taking her out for lunch when he walked in.

“But it’s not your job to take care of me Frankie. You got your own family.”

“You are family,” Pope said, now standing behind Frankie. “And if you want us to kill him, just say the word,” he teased and she had to laugh at that before she looked at Frankie again.

“I told you. You don’t want a hormonal woman living with you,” she joked and Frankie chuckled.

“I can take living with a hormonal woman,” he reached up to brush away her tears.

“Now what do you say? Lunch?” he asked and she sighed before she nodded.

“I gotta head out. But i’ll bring the house offers I found over tonight, okay?” Pope asked and she nodded. He smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek before he left.

“I mean it. You’re family. Don’t ever think you’re a burden or alone. We’re here for you. I am here for you, okay?” Frankie said. Claire breathed in deep and nodded.

“Gotta get used to people caring. I was pretty lonely the last few years I guess.”

“Yeah. Better get used to it quickly,” he winked before he helped her out of the seat.

“Gotta get dressed I guess,” she shrugged.

“And I gotta shower. I can smell myself.”

“Yeah. You stink,” she grinned before she walked past him, leaving Frankie head shaking on the patio.

“Lunch is on you,” he called after her and she gave him the finger, making him laugh before he followed her inside to take a shower.

“So what made you open up a gardening business of all things, Morales?” she asked, sitting in the old diner they used to spend so much time in when they were younger. It might be lunch time but she couldn’t wait to have her ordered pancakes.

Frankie shrugged.

“I like being outside, keeps my mind off things.”

“You any good?” Claire teased and Frankie huffed.

“Let’s just say if you need any gardening I won’t be able to help you before the end of the year,” he winked.

“Impressive. I’m happy for you. Even though I still wanna hear the story as to what exactly happened in the last two years…” she said quietly, hearing Frankie sigh.

“Only when you tell me your story.”

She sighed and smiled sadly.

“We have a lot to talk about huh?” she asked.

“Yeah. But in time. Now we gotta eat and then we got to head to the store. Still need some stuff for the BBQ.”

“Fuck how many people are coming to this BBQ? I only have like 5 friends left here and I already met 4 of them,” Clarie groaned, leaning over the shopping cart as Frankie loaded another six pack of beer in.

“Pope kinda invited everyone over he knows so you can get to know everyone.”

“Because I like hanging out with people so much?” she asked, letting her head hang, earning a chuckle from Frankie.

“You and me both. But they’re all okay. Promise,” he squeezed her shoulder in comfort and she smiled a little, bumping her shoulder against his as he came to stand next to her.

“So what else do we need?”

“I got everything. Anything you need?”

“Ice cream?” Claire asked after thinking about it. Frankie only nodded as he grabbed the cart from her and pushed it towards the freezers with the ice cream. Like he had done it a million times before he walked towards the freezer, picking up Claire’s favorite Mint & Chocolate Chip ice cream and threw it in the cart.

“Still your favorite?” he asked as he saw the surprise in her face. She only nodded, a small smile playing at her lips.

“But pick up the mango ice dream too. Been craving that lately,” she grinned and Frankie nodded only before he reached for the biggest container.

The car ride to Frankie’s was quiet, both of them hanging on to their thoughts. It was strange how they seemed to fall back into their old dynamic as if no time had passed. It made Claire aware of just how much time she had spent with him when she was younger.

“This house is for sale,” Frankie said quietly as he stopped in front of the house just down his road.

“Charming…” Claire made a face and Frankie laughed. With lots of imagination she could see herself living here. But not within the next 4 months. This would be harder than she thought it would be.

“Maybe I should have stayed in New York…” she groaned to herself, her head falling back against the seat. She felt a hand on her thigh, her head tilting towards Frankie, unable to see his eyes behind his dark aviators.

“It’s been one day since you got here. We gonna find a house for you,” he squeezed her thigh and she sighed before she looked out of the window again. Frankie felt a weird feeling wash over him, his eyes dropping to the swell of her belly, before he released his hand from her to bring it back to the steering wheel, driving the car the short distance to his farm. A part of him wondered if the choices he made earlier in his life could have prevented some of the stuff he had gone through. Maybe he should have at least tried to go to college. Maybe he would have had a job that wouldn’t have required him leaving for months at the time. Maybe he would have had the guts to tell Claire that he wanted to be more than friends before he left for basic training. But he had found out that she had slept with Santiago, shattering all kinds of hope he might have had, that there was something more between them. To this day he wasn’t sure if maybe there had been more all these years back. He had always been too scared to tell Claire, scared that this would ruin their friendship. A friendship he had missed in the last years. He had wasted years on sleeping with women he never called after until it was a woman, Liz, calling him to tell him that she was pregnant. And he tried to make it work, he really did. A part of him loved Liz, because she was the mother of his child. But that was nothing compared to how he felt when he looked at Claire.

“Is it okay if I take a nap? I’m dead on my feet,” Claire asked as he stopped the car. He blinked at her, so lost in his thoughts. She yawned and he found himself smiling at her.

“Of course. As long as you make your guacamole later?”

She laughed, shaking her head with an eye roll.

“Wake me in two hours?”

“You got it,” he got out of the car, opening the door for her, helping her out. He had noticed her struggling to get out of his truck before.

“Thank you Frankie,” she kissed his cheek before she turned around to walk towards the door. He looked after her until she disappeared inside the house, shaking his head to himself.

“Get it together, Morales,” he whispered to himself before he unloaded the car and got inside himself.

Claire was in the middle of explaining to Frankie how to open an Avocado without killing himself worked, when the door flew open and the Miller brother’s barged inside.

“You got problems with your pipes?” Ben grinned at Claire and she snorted.

“In your Dreams, Miller,” she seasoned the avocados. Frankie shook his head.

“Come on, I show you my pipes,” Frankie teased, making Ben gag while Claire laughed loudly.

“You okay Claire?” Will asked, sitting down at the kitchen island in front of her, after he put the steaks in the fridge. Claire sighed.

“Didn’t think it would be this hard, but Frankie’s a big help,” she smiled a little, tasting the guacamole she was making. She reached for more salt.

“Yeah, he’s awesome. But be gentle with him. The whole custody thing is still pretty fresh,” Will said quietly.

“He hasn’t talked to me about it.”

“He will, I’m sure he will. Just… I mean you probably know him better than I do…”

“I’m gonna take care of him. Promise,” she whispered with a soft smile and Will seemed relieved as he nodded at her.

“Miss Beck. Your pipe problem has been solved,” Ben announced coming back soaked through his shirt back into the kitchen. Claire tilted his head, nodding approvingly at the muscles she could see through his white shirt before she looked up into his eyes with a teasing grin.

“I’ll make sure to preach about your plumbing services, Mr. Miller,” she winked and could swear she saw him blush for a second.

“Enough with the puns, we got a BBQ to prepare. Claire your shower is working,” Frankie emerged from the hallway, pulling a fresh shirt over his head and now it was Claire’s turn to blush before she became very invested in the guacamole in front of her while trying not to think about Frankie’s sunkissed skin on his chest, the little tummy or the dark trail of hair she most certainly didn’t want to lick.

She didn’t see Will’s knowing look before he got up from the seat to follow his brother outside.

Claire was so focused on the guacamole she only saw Frankie’s hand in the last second, slapping it away as he tried to steal a taste of the guacamole.

“Mean,” he pouted.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she grinned before she picked up the bowl to put it into the fridge, bending down to open the freezer for her mango ice cream. Frankie bit his lip as his eyes wandered down her body, averting his eyes before she turned around.

Fuck he wished that good things would be coming to those who waited.

Chapter 3

[niall-is-my-dream]

Lost Without You - Part Two

3070 words

You were sat in the library on Tuesday afternoon with Hannah and Jess. All three of you silent as you took notes from various text books. Pausing to take a sip of your coffee, you took your phone from your pocket and saw Niall had text. A massive smile appeared on your face at the sight of his name.

He had text you not long after he left your dorm room on Sunday evening, a short text telling you how great it had been bumping into you, literally. Since then you had been non stop messaging back and forth.

Replying to his message, you placed your phone on the table and carried on note taking. The library was quiet except for the occasional turn of a page and the scribbling of a pen. Your phone vibrated causing Hannah and Jess to look up, smiling again at Niall's message, which didn't go unnoticed by your friends.

"Care to share?" Hannah whispered smiling.

"No." You whispered back grinning.

"Oh come on, what's got you smiling like that? Clearly a guy!" Jess whispered back.

You didn't want to answer so just shook your head and ignored the question.

"Come on, I've had enough." Hannah said. "We've been here for like 3 hours."

"Yeah, this library coffee sucks, let's go to The Cosy Coffee Corner, no one makes coffee like Audrey." You replied.

 Packing up your stuff your threw your crappy library coffee in the bin before following the girls down the stairs. Niall had text again so you replied again, pausing on the steps.

 "Right, you are telling us who's got you smiling like that!" Jess demanded as they stopped on the steps below you. 

You let out a big sigh before telling them you'd explain everything when you got to the coffee shop.

Audrey had left for the day by the time you had got there, but Margaret her sister in law, was there and sorted the three of you out with a coffee and pastry each.

As soon as your bum hit the seat Hannah had said the words "spill".

"Ok, so there is a guy." You began to explain.

"I knew it!" Hannah yelped.

"Ssshhhh!" You said.

"So who is he? Is it that guy from your design class, Mark or Matt or something?" Jess questioned.

"No, neither of them."

"Is it the guy who sent you the flowers? She wouldn't let me read the card when I was at hers the other day." Hannah said, looking at Jess.

"Yes, but it's complicated."

"Why is he married?! Is it your lecturer?!" Jess replied, her voice getting higher as she spoke.

"No..... God you're not going to believe me any way but it's Niall Horan." You said, making sure to whisper his name.

Both Hannah and Jess just stared at you.

"Niall Horan, as in Irish hottie Niall Horan?! You're joking right?!" Hannah said.

"No, he was at the bar a few weeks ago and some girl was harassing him by the loos. I got rid of her for him and he sent me the flowers as a thank you. Then he turned up here, at the cafe, when I was working Saturday. And then I bumped into him outside Tesco on Sunday. Any way, he came in to mine for a coffee and then we exchanged numbers, we've been texting ever since and we are going to see Lewis Capaldi tomorrow."

You had barely taken a breath, choosing just to blurt it all out to their shocked faces.

"Holy shit." Hannah mumbled. "Are you being serious?"

"Why would I lie about that?" You replied.

"Good point." She mumbled again.

Jess was silent, you could see her brain ticking over in other head.

"And you have a date with him tomorrow?" Hannah asked.

"Well, I'm not sure if it's a date. He said his friends and cousins will be going to the gig to, so I'm not sure."

"Do you reckon he could set me up with Liam? I mean he's single now!" Jess suddenly said.

You just stared at her before you and Hannah started laughing at her.

"For fucks sake Jess." You said shaking your head.

You spent the next 30 minutes talking about Niall. Jess started googling him, checking out the girls he had dated and began showing you Google images of incredibly beautiful models he'd been rumoured to have hooked up with.

"Jess, love." Hannah said. "If you're going to Google him, why don't you do shirtless or dick pics or something?! Googling girls he's been linked to isn't helping." She said, nodding towards you.

It shouldn't bother you who he had dated and been linked to, but it did. They were all stunning and were either models, actresses or pop stars. Which led you to be completely baffled as in to why he would ask you on a date.

"You know, I don't think it's a date." You suddenly said. "I really don't think I'm his type."

"Yeah you are, you're hot!" Hannah replied.

"Yeah and the messages he's been sending are super flirty." Jess added.

"I'm not so sure, I think I'm reading into it a bit too much. Maybe he wants to set me up with one of his friends or something?"

The discussion continued until you were interrupted with a message from Niall.

"Is it ok to pick you up at 6 tomorrow night? Maybe a drink in the pub before we go to the gig?"

"See he wants to pick you up." Hannah said, looking over your shoulder.

You quickly fired back a text saying you could meet him there if it was easier. But he soon replied that it was no trouble and that he would be at your dorm for 6 and that you'd catch the tube to Brixton and meet his cousins and friends there.

"See it is a date." Jess reassured you. 

The following afternoon Jess and Hannah had insisted on coming over to yours to help you pick out an outfit. Which was ridiculous really considering you were just going to wear jeans and a top.

"Jess, we are going to a gig not a fucking night club!" You declared when you saw the skimpy little black dress she had brought over to make you wear.

"Oh come on! You'll look hot!" She replied.

"She will look ridiculous." Hannah said as she rummaged through your small wardrobe. "You should totally wear your vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. I read that he likes them. Would be a conversation starter." 

That was a better suggestion than what Jess had come up with.

You managed to get rid of them both by 4:30pm which gave you an hour and a half to eat some pasta salad you had in the fridge and get ready. Not that it mattered but you shaved your legs, used a body scrub and washed your hair thoroughly before getting out.

Sitting in front of the mirror you blow dried your hair, running the straighteners along it to finish it off. You weren't one for much make up but you used some concealer, a light powder, some eye shadow and mascara. Hannah had chosen your favourite dark blue skinny jeans which you tucked your vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt into. You would finish the look with the black leather jacket your parents had got you for Christmas and your white converse.

Even though the window to your room was wide open, you were beginning to get warm, the nerves kicking in. You stood in front of your mirror, making sure you looked ok and silently giving yourself a pep talk. You were definitely confused as in to whether it was a date or not. As the girls had said, his texts were kind of flirty and he was coming to pick you up alone. Maybe he had a spare ticket for the gig and had asked you on impulse on Sunday, as he had wanted to see you again.

It didn't matter though, Niall was great company and you were looking forward to seeing Lewis Capaldi perform. His friends that he had been at the pub with when you had first met him had been cool, so you hoped they would be at the gig tonight too.

Your phone beeped from your desk, a message from Niall saying he was outside your building. Grabbing your jacket and bag you headed out your door excited to see him.

And wow. He looked good.

His usual dark jeans, a white t shirt and a beige light weight jacket on. His smile lit up his face and you couldn't help but match his expression.

"Hi." He said as he leaned in to kiss your cheek and give you a hug.

Oh and boy did he smell good too, you thought, inhaling his scent as you embraced.

"How are you?" You asked him as you reluctantly pulled away.

"Good thanks."

You walked down the steps on your building, heading for the tube station. It wasn't far and you fell into easy conversation with Niall on the walk there. The streets were pretty busy and you wondered how Niall dealt with being so out in the open, he is quite a recognisable figure. But then again around here in Battersea people were used to seeing celebs and you'd spotted a few on the tube before.

Your conversation didn't falter as you made you way into the tube station, both of you swiping your oyster cards. The tube was busy, but no one looked up at you both. You were thoroughly enjoying standing on the tube for once, holding onto the railing in the middle to steady yourself. Niall's hand was right above yours, his fingers touching yours. His other hand which was casually by his side the entire ride, reached across to you when the tube stopped. Landing on your waist, he held you so you didn't topple when the train reached its destination.

You liked it and you looked up at him and smiled, the blush creeping up your cheeks.

When you got to the pub, his friends had found a booth in the corner. You were quickly introduced to his cousins Willie and Deo, who you'd met before. Plus his PA Tara and a couple of friends, Conor and Gilly. Everyone was really nice and chatty, getting you a beer and asking you about yourself and where you were from.

When you told them you were from a town just outside of Nottingham there was an oooohhh sound bouncing around the table.

"Hey, what's wrong with Nottingham?!" You asked.

"It's a great city, just don't like the football team." Niall replied.

"Me either. Derby fan here." You said.

"Really?" Niall questioned.

"Yeah, my family has a season ticket. I went about a month ago with my Dad. I normally miss out though, as I'm usually working."

Everyone was looking at you and you suddenly felt really nervous.

When Niall explained that he was a Derby fan to, the strange looks all made sense. It wasn't until you started showing them pictures of yourself and your Dad at various Derby games that everyone seemed to warm to you again. They clearly had thought you had said that you were a Derby fan because Niall was, which was pretty lame.

You sat next to Niall drinking your beer and getting to know everyone. Your thighs were right next to each other and every so often he'd knock it against yours. You'd catch his eye and he'd smile sweetly at you. There was definitely an attraction there from you, and you hoped he felt something for you too. But to be honest you weren't even sure if this was a date.

Tara was quizzing you about what you were studying at University and started saying about how she'd moved into this great flat nearby with loads of original features. Although you were listening to Tara as she spoke, you couldn't help but hear Niall's friend whisper that they all liked you. You felt your heart flutter at that moment. 

When you were walking to the venue an hour later, you were chatting with Conor and were shocked to discover that he was in the band that Jess was crazy about. She even had tickets for you, her and Hannah to go in a few weeks time.

"My friend Jess has a huge crush on you! I can't believe I didn't realise it was you. We are coming to see your band in like two weeks."

"Really is Jess single?!" Conor asked you.

"She is!" You laughed, pulling up a picture of you and Jess on your phone.

He asked you to swap numbers and promised to get you three some back stage passes. You knew Jess would be screaming about it when you told her.

"I have to tell you though mate, she did ask me to find out if I could get Liam Paynes phone number!" You replied giggling.

Niall and a couple of the lads went to get drinks at the bar while you and Tara found a good viewing spot. She was a really lovely and sweet person and you had hit it off with her straight away. You had noticed that she got along really well with Nialls cousin Willie and were about to quiz her about it when she asked you about meeting Niall. She knew the story having been told by Niall about the girl harassing him by the loos at the pub.

"I feel bad that shit like that happens to him." You said.

"He deals with it well and it's not all bad, he met you." She replied smiling.

You could feel the blush rise in your cheeks.

"Don't think he'd normally bring us all on a first date but I know he wanted to see you before he went to L.A. on Sunday."

So it was a date and it would seem that having his friends approval about people was a big deal. It did make your heart sink at the thought of him going to L.A. you had no idea how long he would be gone for and you didn't quiz Tara for any details of his trip. It really wasn't any of your business and if he wanted to see you again then you would just have to wait until he returned.

When the lads got back with the drinks everyone chatted amongst themselves before the gig started and you felt Niall's hand on the small of your back.

"Are you ok?" He asked you, his breath warm against your ear. 

You turned to face him and he had a nervous look on his face.

"I'm good, I'm looking forward to seeing Lewis perform." You said, leaning in close to him.

"Yeah me too. I'm sorry it's not a conventional first date, being here with all my friends and cousins and stuff but I wanted to spend time with you before I go away on Sunday." 

"Well, I didn't even realised it was a date." You smiled.

"You didn't?" 

You shook your head.

"Oh um....." He mumbled and moved his hand away.

"Put your hand back." You whispered in his ear, tucking your hand under his t-shirt slightly. 

It looked like any two people in a busy noisy room trying to have a conversation with each other but in reality something changed between you in that moment. His hand went back around your waist as you squeezed his hip discreetly under his t-shirt.

When the music started and Lewis came out, your group cheered the loudest as they all knew him personally. Niall stood behind you, his hand moving around your waist. You felt warm and safe in his arms as you watched Lewis sing, a soft kiss from Niall on the top of your head made you relax further back in his arms.

When the music ended, Niall moved away from you and the warmth was gone. You had been enjoying the way he had held you, and if sensing that, he moved his hand to yours and entwined your fingers together.

After a quick chat with Lewis backstage, in which you completely fan girled over him, you all headed out of the venue. Everyone had work the next day so were going home to their respective flats. With the promise from Conor that he would text you the details for his gig and after swapping numbers with Tara you and Niall got into a black cab. 

Niall reached over and entwined your fingers together again as you chatted about the gig and his trip. Seems he was going to be gone three weeks and you hid your disappointment that you wouldn't get to see him for ages. He was going to finalise details of his album, finish up recording and do some interviews. It all sounded so exciting and you could tell he was really proud of it.

"Can you leave the cab running while I make sure she gets in safe please?" Niall asked the driver as you pulled up outside your dorm.

You thought it was cute that he wanted to see you into your building and were also pleased that he didn't expect to be invited in. It wasn't your sort of thing sleeping with someone on the first date and you definitely didn't get the impression Niall was like that to.

He was nervous as you made your way to your door, you could see him run his hands down his jeans and look around cautiously. It was good to know that even a multimillionaire singer could get nervous when walking a girl home after a date.

"So.....thanks for inviting me. I had a really great time." You said trying to break the awkwardness.

"Me too. And my friends didn't embarrass me too much!" He replied smiling.

"They're great fun, I enjoyed their company."

You were standing so close to each other, the tension unbearable. Just when you thought he was going to chicken out and not kiss you, he reached his hand up to cup your face.

His lips were soft and his breath minty, you smiled into the kiss realising that he had chewed gum earlier to make sure he was prepared. You finally got to run your fingers through his hair, something you had wanted to do since the moment you met him. 

Part Three

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/186790083513/lost-without-you-part-three

[saxonspud]

Outlaw - Born and Bred Chapter 2

Posting this for @arthursgirl because she likes Micah, and he always gets killed off in most fanfictions (especially mine) but for a change, he kinda turns into the good guy in this one.

Casie quietly crept to the tent flap and opened it to peek out. The sun was only just rising, it looked pretty quiet. She crept across the camp to where the horses were hitched. Being careful not to spook them. She looked down the path, she couldn't see a guard. It was now or never. She looked at all the horses. That white one was nice, it would fetch a good price, even if it had no papers, she reckoned she might be able to get twenty dollars for it. That would get her a gun, some bullets and probably a hot meal. She crept over to it and stroked its neck. She had one last check, coast was clear. She unhitched it jumped on its back and kicked it on. It went almost from a halt to a gallop. This was a fine horse she thought. The horse hadn’t gone more than about 20 yards when she heard a shrill whistle. The horse immediately reared up and turned sending her flying as she landed on her back with a thud.

She lay there for only a second, “Crap” she said under her breath. Casie scuttled to her feet, but not fast enough as she heard the whoosh of a lasso then it tightened round her, sending her flying back to floor with another thud. Without a moment to think, she was already being tied up “Fuck off you mother fucking cow-son-of-a-bitch” she screamed. “Fucking perverts, let me go”. Arthur picked her up and held her by the arms, she turned her head and tried to bite his arm, but not quick enough as he quickly move his other are around her neck to put her in a headlock. “Let me go you cock sucking pervert” she screamed and tried to kick him. He carried her back to the tent in the centre of the compound. Dutch Van Der Linde walked out of tent and stood in front of her. “So you thought you would steal my horse, that's a mighty fine way to reward our hospitality isn’t it?” He said. “Let me go you mother fucking son of a whore” She screamed. The man who she had kicked in the balls the previous night walked up “I like her he said, she’s got spunk”. Arthur looked at Micah, not releasing his grip “Shut up, Micah”. Dutch laughed, “now then boys, lets not encourage her”. “Arthur” he said “let her go, I’m not sure I can stand much more of the foul language coming from her mouth”. Arthur threw her on the floor, releasing the ropes as he did. As she landed Dutch put his foot on her arm, applying just enough pressure stop her from getting up. Casie turned to look at him with rage in her eyes. “Get off my arm you...” He glared down at her, “Don’t you dare let another cuss come out of your mouth” he growled. “Least of all directed at me”.  He pressed a little harder with his foot. “Get off, you’re hurting me!” She screamed. “Yes I am” he replied calmly. “And I will until you start behaving like a human being and less like a feral cat!”.

Casie lay on the floor still raging, trying to calm her rage, she knew this law-man wouldn’t let her up and till she did. Dutch released some of the pressure and offered her a hand “Don’t even think about biting me either” he said, softening his look just slightly. She took the offer of his hand, and he released his foot. Once she was on her feet she snatched her hand away.

She straightened her clothes and glared at him. “I want my Pa’s gun, then I’ll go”.

Dutch looked at the girl, Micah was right, she had a helluva lot of spunk. But he thought that may well be her undoing.

He walked back into his tent and came out with the gun. He doubted that it would fire. Dutch handed Casie the gun, she took it and shoved it in her trousers. “Here, take this” he offered her a ten dollar bill. She gave him a filthy look “Keep ya money, Law-man, I ain’t no charity case” she said, and walked down the path out of the camp.

Arthur looked at Dutch and shook his head “That kid is gonna come to a sticky end, if she ain’t careful” he said.

Dutch looked as the small form disappeared out of view. “Not if I have anything to do with it” He said.

Dutch asked Hosea if he would head into town to see if he could find out any more information on the kid. So after a short while he headed into Valentine. He made a few discreet enquiries and returned back to to camp.

“Well that was an interesting conversation” he said to Dutch as he sat down. “She was right about the Sheriff” he said “He really doesn't like her.” Dutch looked at Hosea “What did you find out?”. He asked. Hosea began. “Her fathers name was Jessie Mallard. Name didn't ring any bells with me. He was hung as a horse thief”, Dutch laughed “Figures, she just tried to steal The Count” Hosea raised his eyebrow “I bet that didn't end well” “At least we know she has a good eye for horses” he laughed. Go on then, what else? Hosea continued “she’s 12 years old...” “Only 12” exclaimed Dutch “Where the hell did she learn the language that came out of her mouth this morning” Hosea raised his eyebrows “Anyway, they couldn’t pin the horse theft on her as well, so much to the sheriffs annoyance she walked. Couple of days after her father hanged, she was picked up trying to steal food from the general store. Chucked her in jail for a couple of days, gave her a good beating then kicked her out. Which is when she tried rob us.” “Well after it all kicked off here this morning she asked for her fathers gun, I offered her ten dollars, which she refused and she marched off.” Dutch said. He continued, “she's got a gun, that probably wont fire, and no money. I’d wager, give it a couple of days and she’ll end up back in Valentine jail. I’ll have the boys keep an eye open in Valentine, just in case.”.

Dutch’s prediction wasn’t far off. Three days after she walked out of the camp, Micah and Javier were in Valentine in the Saloon when they heard it kick off in the street.

The store owner grabbed Casie and chucked her out the door. "Get out of here you little thief" he yelled. Unluckily for Casie, the sheriff was standing right outside. Sheriff Curtis Malloy glared at her “You again”. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, I got money” she screamed. “No Doubt, he yelled “but I can guarantee you stole it off someone else”. Casie tried to run but the sheriff landed a boot in her ribs. The kick lifted her enough for her to land on her back with a thud. She lay there gasping for breath for what seem like an eternity as her chest felt like it had burst into flames.  “Leave me alone, you son-of-a-bitch”. She croaked. The sheriff grabbed her by the shirt collar and lifted her so that her feet were about a foot of the ground. He hit her 3 times round the face with his fist. “You’re coming with me you little shit” he growled. He dumped her back on the ground, face down and grabbed her wrists as he tied them together. “I warned you he said.” The deputy gave her another kick in the ribs for good measure. She heard a crack as it broke her rib. This time the pain was too much and for Casie and the whole world went black.

Micah and Javier watched the scene unfold. Javier looked at Micah, “ouch, that was a bit harsh” Micah felt a bit sorry for the kid, he’d been in similar situations, but not when he was 12. Javier looked at Micah. “You gonna go tell Dutch” He said. Micah laughed. “Gonna handle this one myself, that kid reminds me of me, so Uncle Micah is gonna retrieve his niece”.

The sheriff dragged the unconscious Casie to the jail house and chucked her in a cell. He sat down in his chair and looked at the kid. This time he thought, she’s gonna hang.

Casey was cold then she realised. She wasn’t cold, it was the stone floor of the jail cell that was cold. Apart from her chest, that was on fire. She wondered if this is what hell felt like. For the first time in ages Casie just wanted to cry. Everywhere hurt, she daren’t move, this pain hurt something fierce. For the first time in her life Casie was scared but like her Pa always told her, never show ‘em your scared even though you are. When she watched him hang, he just smiled at her, even though she thought he must have been scared. That was until his tongue lolled out his mouth and his eyeballs nearly popped out their sockets.

The pain took hold again and everything went black.

Micah walked into the jail house, and bent over the sheriffs desk. “I’m here for the kid.” He said. The sheriff didn't look up. “Kids not going anywhere, except to the end of a hangman's rope” he replied. Micah sighed “Don’t know what I'm gonna tell her family then” This grabbed the sheriffs attention “Family?” “Yeah” said Micah “Father ran off with the kid a few years ago, been looking for her ever since, heard he’d been hanged so guessed here was a good place to look”. The sheriff glanced over at the kid laying on the floor in the cell. He looked back at Micah “Twenty Dollars and you can take her off my hands” Micah reached into his pocket and chucked the money on the desk. The sheriff tossed him the keys “Go on” he said. “Before I change my mind”

Micah walked out the jail house carrying the kid. Javier had already bought the horses over, just in case they needed to beat a hasty retreat. Micah laid the kid over the front of his saddle. Javier looked at the kid, “is she alive” he said “Only just” he replied “lets get her back to Dutch”

It didn’t take long to reach the camp at a flat out gallop. Micah figured that Dutch wouldn’t be best pleased if he handed over a dead kid. If she was gonna die, it was best that she did it on someone elses watch.

He picked her off the horse walked over to Dutch’s tent Here ya go Dutch” he said. “Present for ya”. “Micah” he exclaimed “What the hell...” “Bought her off the sheriff for twenty dollars, she’s pretty beat up” he said. Micah wasn't wrong. Dutch beckoned to Micah to put her in the tent, where she had slept a few nights before. “Miss Grimshaw” he called “Can you look after her please.” Susan Grimshaw took one look “Mr Bell” she said “please put her on the bed, I’ll take it from here.”

[sunbrights]

inktober #4: freeze

fandom: the magicians characters/pairings: eliot&margo-centric, as all things should be. rating: t

Physical Kids, says the note, scribbled in blue ink and taped to the front door, let yourselves in!

Somebody was bored. There's a lazy ward on the lock and nothing else, so Margo freezes the handle until it snaps off and kicks the whole fucking thing in.

They called it a cottage, which she guesses it is… but the place is a goddamn ghost town. The whole first floor is practically empty— except for Eliot, the tall kid from her PA class, perched behind a depressing-as-shit-looking bar with three empty glasses and a cocktail shaker.

He turns around when the door hits the opposite wall. He's got a tipsy glaze to him, crisp white sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a lit cigarette hanging loose from his mouth. He smiles when he sees her.

"You made it." He spreads his arms lazily, drunk Vanna White showing off a whole fuckload of nothing. "Tada."

"This place sucks," she tells him from the doorway.

He pinches his cigarette between two fingers and breathes in slow, squinting at the ceiling. "There's potential," he decides, blowing the smoke in a spiral. "I'm considering a coup."

"Get on with it, then. Because this shit is not flying with me." She hoists herself onto one of the ugly little stools and dumps her bag on the bar. He plucks the cocktail shaker out from under the straps with a too-cheerful little roll of his shoulders. "How the fuck are you already drunk?"

He winks, rattling his shaker up by his ear. "My discipline was basically a foregone conclusion," he answers. "Sunderland barely needed to test me." He strains the drink out into a wide-mouthed martini glass and considers it, his head tilted critically. It's dark blue and bubbly. "So I've been here. Experimenting."

"Well." She shimmies her shoulders. "Catch me up, then, asshole."

He thinks he's halfway to whatever it is he's trying to perfect. After the first one, she thinks he's halfway to halfway, and tells him so— and that by itself is enough to keep the drinks coming for the rest of the afternoon.

He tests, she tastes. Repeat until perfection.

"What is it?" she asks eventually, when she's rolling up on tipsy, too. It's pretty basic of her, small talk level shit, but whatever. Who doesn't get curious now and then?

"What's what?"

"Your dick size." He grins at her, salacious and delighted, and oh, that's a conversation for another day. "Your discipline, you cock. What else?"

He palms the shaker and turns away from her. His head rolls back and forth, like he's cracking his neck, and then all the bottles slam off the shelf at once, clattering and clanging together, suspended in midair. They hold there for a moment, and then they start to sort themselves, swapping places in clean, sharp angles: first by the type of liquor, then by the color of the label, then by the name on the bottle. When they're finished, they all slam back into place at once, leaving the shelf looking fuller and neater and deliciously coordinated.

Telekinesis. "Simple," she muses. "Elegant." She leans her temple against her knuckles and watches him move along the shelf. "Yeah, okay. I can see it."

He doesn't really react. He just plucks a nice vermouth from its new spot on top and turns back to the bar. "You?"

She pushes her empty glass at him, demanding. He wraps up mixing the latest version for her (what number are they on? who gives a shit) but this time when he goes to add ice, Margo flaps her hand to cut him off. 

She touches two fingers to the base of the glass while he pours. It seems like the sort of thing that should be hard, modulating temperature the way she wants, but it's not. She chills the glass just enough to be perfect, and adds some frost around the stem for pizzazz, some mist spilling from the mouth for intrigue.

He smiles, first at the drink and then at her, surprised and impressed, so she does the same thing to another glass. For him, so that they can cheers on this one. It's not any harder the second time.

Maybe that's the point of it being a discipline: easy when it should be hard. Whatever. She doesn't fucking know. She hasn't decided where she lands on the whole thing yet.

But it makes a damn good drink.