#but like DAMN she did not have to hit me with that one-liner like that

[thawthebeez]

"i intend to share my whole life with you" I AM GOING TO BLOW UP WHO JUST SAYS THAT

[fangbangerghoul]

Hi! 5 or 14 for the Rook story time prompts!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING A PROMPT!!! It means a lot! Especially from the post's OP!

I chose to do 14 and I tweaked it a bit. It's my Rook getting ready for a celebration because by the time I would have gotten to the celebration I probably would hit 2k+

This prompt helped me with a scene I was planning for a future chapter in Elgara Vallas so thank you! Everyone also gets a sneak peak of a later scene, so I think that's a win-win.

My Rook's name is Ghoul but is still refereed to Rook by companions.

Prompt under the cut! Feel free to submit one! They are so much fun!

The mirror reflected her appearance with a bit of a shine. The dress she wore hugged her curves lovingly and the lilac color seemed to compliment the flush of her skin. Ghoul was not usually dressed up for occasions like this, but she loved crashing parties. She pulled up the slip of her dress to check how tight the harness was around her thigh; it held two short daggers that would rest between her thighs.

Once all felt right, she leaned in close to the mirror checking the makeup she had applied on her eyes and cheeks. The dark liner made the complimenting browns pop against her citrine irises. Her curls were loose, framing her face and she contemplated whether she would try to tie back her hair. There was a deep royal blue ribbon on the side of her nightstand and she reached for it with one hand while the other wrangled the curls into place. She placed the base of the pony tail high on her head so it would will look formal. Ghoul looked at herself for a moment and wondered what felt like it missing and that was when she noticed her naked ears.

Ghoul was finally finished getting ready for the occasion and she sighed at herself. She knew this fit would either get ruined or slow her down but damn if she didn’t look good. The top half of the dress was thin straps that crossed her chest and held her breasts perfectly in place, revealing not only cleavage but the underside of her breasts as well. The hips of the dress had more fabric as it curved around her and draped down to her knees where the ends of her leather knee high strapped sandals began on her legs. The shiny bits of jewelry that glittered on her body were enough to bring it all together. There was a rust red rope on her floor futon and it was the last addition to the outfit and it held her sword with as much faith as her dress would hold her breasts in place.

She gathered herself and exited out the window of her attic, she made a mental note to consider making the door to her room more accessible at a later point. Ghoul climbed down the trellis that the Fade had manifested for her once she started to live in her room more and as she decesnded the pointed leaves and ends of vines tickled her bare arms and legs. She dropped onto the stone below and that was when she had noticed there was company waiting for her.

“Is that your chosen battle dress, Rook?” Davrin had a curled smile on his face as his eyes drank her in, looking at possibly all the ways this dress was going to slow her down. Or appreciating the view Ghoul despised his poker face.

“Yes, we are crashing an Antivan party!�� Ghoul scoffed at how ridiculous his questioning was, “If anything you have underdressed, Warden.”

His smile did not wane instead widened and the amusement reached his amber eyes making them twinkle in the permanent twilight of the Lighthouse. Ghoul now had her arms crossed debating if the fellow elf was making light of her instead of appreciating her choices.

“When we arrive and I am slaying Venatori you are going to be feeling very out of place in that bland set of armor, mark my words, Davrin.” Ghoul was in front of him now, her finger jabbing at the steel breast plate he wore.

“We will see.” Davrin said and that was when Assan chimed in with his excited chirping before nuzzling into Ghoul’s hip. The griffin was getting taller every day.

“Assan approves.” She said with satisfaction, rubbing his head affectionatly.

“As does Spite.” The gravely familiar voice said with nonchalance until she turned to see him and suddenly Lucanis coughed, looking away, “He wont stop pestering me to tell you.”

Lucanis was dressed almost as formal as Ghoul was, a feathered shawl hid the straps that kept some of his hidden daggers in place. The pants were like a second skin revealing a little more than she was customed to seeing but his blouse was loose with a V neck adding an extra umph to the appearance. He was dressed in various shades of purple as most Crows did, but the colors complimented him in ways she never noticed on other Crows.

“See?” Ghoul pointed a thumb over at Lucanis and gave Davrin a smug look, “I am not the only one who understood the assignment.”

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

Cat and Mouse

A/N: Hey! This is a Peter Parker x Fem!reader this one is based on the 2018 video game version of SpiderMan, cause I had finished the game not too long ago, and I decided to make this. Also I’m not really good at writing out fighting scenes! Hopefully, you still like it! ❤️💙

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!villain!reader

Imagine: (Y/N) is working alone, but like the other villains in the New York, desperately wanting Devils Breath for herself.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Pete.”

“Oh, hey (Y/N). I’m kind of in the middle of something..”

“Looking for this?” (Y/N) asked holding up the red vial of GR-27 or commonly known as ‘Devils Breath.’

“Uh, maybe? Can you hand it over then I’ll tell you?” Peter asked nervously, as she tiptoed towards the edge of the building.

“Come on, you know I’m not going to give it up that easily.” She laughed, as she kept backing up. “You’re gonna have to…”

“Don’t do it..” Peter said almost like a parent scolding their child.

“..Catch me first.” She grins securing the vial on my suit then fall backwards off the edge.

“Aaand she did it.” Peter sighs quickly web-slinging after her. “Come on, (Y/N)! Let’s talk about this!”

“Less talking more swinging, Spider.” She exclaimed, and flew higher up in the sky.

“I need the Devil’s Breath, (Y/N)! That can infect so many people! Just hand it over!”

“You talk way too much.” She says blasting holes in the sides of a couple building, causing chunks of rubble and glass to fall atop of the people below.

Peter quickly swooped in to get move the people out of the way, and it caused him to almost lost sight of (Y/N).

He quickly catches up to her, “This is your final chance! Hand it over or I’m gonna have to get physical!”

“Oh please, you won’t do a thing, but lull someone to sleep with those lame ass one-liners.”

“Hey! Some people really like my one-liners.”

She groans and tries throwing something Pete’s way, but misses and Peter finds an opening. He tackles (Y/N) to the roof of a building and the Devils Breath falls a little ways away, from the both of them.

“Y’know you never were one to play nice.” He says and she rolled her eyes. She pushed Peter off her before bolting for the vial. Peter being quicker shot his web at it and brought it to his hand.

“It’s over, give it up (Y/N).”

“It’s not over, till I say it’s over.” She kicks him in the stomach, causing Peter to drop the vial. She started punching, but Peter swiftly dodges her oncoming punches.

“Come on, you know I can’t hit a lady.” Peter states, “Perfect, then you’ll make sure perfect punching bag.” Peter bobs and weaves, dodging a couple of the hits, but some of the hits to his face and stomach area do land and leave marks and bruises.

Peter then begins to shoot webs at (Y/N)’s hands to hold them down, but she manages to blast through it and stand back up.

They continue to fight, before Pete’s being forced away with a blast from (Y/N). His back hits the railing on the rooftop, causing pain to shoot from his lower back to all different parts of his back.

“Okay, time out. Time out. Maybe we can call a truce, yeah?” Pete says as he slowly gets up. “Maybe we can discuss this over dinner, I make a mean chicken curry..” He says, before realizing that (Y/N) and the Devils Breath are no where to be seen.

‘Damn it.’ Peter holds onto his back as he sits on the edge with his chest against the railing, and his phone started to ring.

‘Yuri..’

“Hey, Yuri.” He said trying not to let Yuri hear that he was clearly in pain. “Did you obtain the GR-27?”

“Spider-Cop has had many, many difficult missions over the years, and this one was no diff-.”

“You could just say, that you lost it.”

“I was getting to that, but when you put it that way. It’s not very fun, is it, Yuri?” Pete replies, before hearing Yuri groan and hang up on him, leaving him badly bruised and dateless.

‘That wasn’t so bad right? At least, I know who has it just gotta find out where she went in one of the most busiest cities. Ever.’

‘No pressure right?’

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

He knows this town, but Kate has spent the last five years navigating unfamiliar terrain and she finally pulls even with him, spots a break in the crowd, and launches herself at him.

They skid into the middle of the street, Robbie already with his hands up in surrender. "Woah, woah woah, Hawkeye, what the fuck?"

"What the fuck me, what the fuck you, Reyes?" She's sitting on him, dirt in her mouth. "Seriously, what the fuck?"

"The fuck did you chase me for?"

There's a crowd around them now and Kate is aware this is a very bad look for her. "The fuck did you run for, jackass? Were you just going to let someone fucking shoot Clint?"

"They wouldn't have shot him."

Kate leans away from him and tries to spit the dirt out of her mouth. "Oh, shit, you're bleeding, dude. Sorry."

He jerks his chin towards her. "Think I elbowed you in the face."

"Yeah, well, what else is new. So what gives?"

"Did it occur to you I might have a reason for not wanting you shouting my name across town?"

"Yeah. It did. And instead of explaining that like a normal person you ran like a bitch. So I decided your reason was probably stupid and I didn't care."

Robbie lets his head fall back to the ground, which is a shame, his hair is looking pretty fantastic and he's getting it all dirty. He covers his face with his hands like if he can't see her, her logic won't make sense. "Why are you like this?"

"Why are you like this?" She retorts. "Anyway, I just hit you with me, not a car, so be grateful."

"It was an accident!"

"I know! It still hurt!"

"Oh, what, like this didn't? Jesus, Hawkeye, I think you mighta broken a rib."

"Oh my god you whiny baby! Person impacting person is different than person impacting car!"

"Is there a problem here?" It's one of those friendly, pillar-of-the-community voices, the kind that clearly knows there's a problem but is nice enough to give you thirty extra seconds to scramble for a bullshit answer. The speaker is also, frankly, one of the most beautiful women Kate has seen in her life, her skin a rich brown that's also golden and the most perfect lips that Kate is not staring at.

"I think we're sorting it out, thank you though." Kate gives her a winning smile and extends a hand. "Kate Bishop, by the way--"

"God," Robbie says into his hands. "Please don't hit on my wife."

"Your what?" Kate is trying to picture it. Flaming skull. Married. She can't.

"Everything okay here, Tommy?" A new voice joins in. This is a Texas-tipped drawl from a man who, while not quite on the level as Robbie's wife, what the fuck, is also pretty damn attractive. Whatever they're doing in this place must be working. So Kate's distracted by the scruff and the gun pointed at her, which, honestly, less interesting than the scruff, so it takes a moment for the words to sink in.

"Who the fuck is Tommy--" she looks down at Robbie. "Please tell me that's a fucking joke, loser."

He finally stops hiding behind his hands. "Loser?"

"I'm tired, okay, the pithy one-liners just aren't coming. Also, you may not have noticed this, but I am being held at gunpoint by a ruggedly handsome man, which is distracting."

Robbie rolls his head back to see who she's talking about and sighs. "Please don't hit on my brother, either."

"Your what."

Kate gives it up as a bad job, just rolls over to the side so she's laying next to Robbie in the middle of the street. "So was this like, Russian nesting dolls of secret identities? Did you see I wasn't really using mine so you figured you'd have two? Was that it?" She asks in an undertone. "Also is your name really fucking Tommy?"

"Yes, my name is actually Tommy."

"My whole life is a lie."

He sits up at that. "I hit you with a car when you were eighteen and that is what is giving you an existential crisis? Girl," he shakes his head at her. "You got problems."

"Yeah, no shit, you think?"

"You hit her with a car?" Big brother intersects.

"It was a kind of falling-hitting situation," Robbie explains.

"He drove me to the hospital," Kate adds.

"The car was fine," Robbie finishes, and Kate's view is distorted because of the angle but she can see the absolutely horrified looks Bro and Wife are giving him and she laughs so hard she can't breathe.

"To be fair," she wheezes, "it was a pretty cool car."

"That doesn't really make it better," Wife points out.

"It does when you're a teenager," Robbie-Tommy says, getting to his feet and offering Kate a hand. She lets him take all of her weight, because he deserves it. "And it was just the once."

He waits til she's steady on her feet. "It was not just the once."

He drops her hands. "What?"

"The alleyway, the pier, below Tony Stark's house, and--that time in the desert!" She smacks his shoulder.

"Desert doesn't count, you'd been buried."

[whyweonlyseeeachotherat]

Daddecember Day 3: Accidents Happen

Glass on the tiles like stars. So pretty for something that meant Meg was so, so fucked. 

“I'm sorry!” She babbled, tongue running away faster than her mind could keep up with as her knees hit the ground with a hard thud, “I'll clean this up, and I'll buy another one, I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot–” 

Cath stared at her blankly from where she stood by the sink. She blinked her heavy lidded eyes a few times, perfect cat’s eye liner all pointy and intimidating looking. She tipped her head back, swallowed the small handful of pills she’d been grabbing from the organiser on the side, and yelled, “Em, Meg’s freaking out again.” 

“What are you doing,” Meg hissed as her heart rate, already racing, decided to go for gold, “He doesn’t need to know, I said I could deal with it.”  Her hands shook, sweat slicked her fingertips as she piled up the tiny little fragments of glass and piled them up in her palm. 

“You are literally having a panic attack because you broke a glass,” Cath drawled, “Of course I’m telling Dad. We all need the reminder that I’m not the only fucked up one around here.” 

 A sharp pain blossomed across Meg’s hand and blood welled up.

Meg gave a slight shrill laugh, “Guess whatever he has to say probably won’t be worse than my mum making me illegally sell twixes that are specifically ‘not for individual resale’ at a dubiously significant markup to seven year olds to replace her favourite Winnie The Pooh mug.” 

“Heinous,” Cath commented.

“Our teacher pretended to call the police when she caught me,” Meg said, “She got her husband to come in dressed up and everything.” 

“Not even the most fucked up,” Cath said with a dark grin.

At the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, she tossed her mess of dirty blond hair over her shoulder, “See you later, fuck-up.” 

Steve walked in then. Or Emrys, she supposed. Seeing as that was his actual name. 

She bit the inside of her cheek as he took her in. Silence stretching like cling film over uncooked turkey - awkward and bulging in uncomfortable places. 

Damnit, someone had to pierce it. “You’re still Steve in my head,” she said, “Sorry about that.” 

He blinked. Most of that amnesiac stupour was gone, he was clear eyed and bushy tailed and no longer prone to wandering naked through the woods of strange fantasy lands. At least, as far as Meg knew. 

“Why… Steve?” He said slowly, “I never asked you that. But I suppose it was my name for a good half a year there. I should like to know your reasoning.” 

“It’s from Minecraft.” 

Steve did not look like he knew what Minecraft was.

“It’s a game where you wander round the forest and punch trees.”  She explained, because it seemed the most relevant thing to mention.

“How… peculiar.” 

“Yet, if your experiences of waking up in a forest with no idea of how you got there are anything to go off, shockingly realistic.” 

He still had scars on his knuckles from that particular experience. He glanced down at them, surveying them under the kitchen light. “Quite.” He looked down at her again, and her heart decided that, in spite of some unfortunate mid race setbacks, it was still in with a chance at winning the whole damn thing. “You’re bleeding.”

She cringed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it, I just have butterfingers, you know? I’ll make sure to be more careful next time, I–” 

“Megan,” He interrupted, “I do not care about the cup. I am concerned for your wellebeing.” 

Oh.

“Come here,” He said, crouching, then helping her stand. “I mean it,” he said. “These things happen to all of us. A cup I can replace easily, your sense of safety is not so interchangeable. This is not your mother’s house.” 

“I hate you,” she muttered.

He looked perturbed, “Did I upset you?” 

She scowled, “No, but if you keep making me cry I don’t have any motivation to get as good at eyeliner as Cath.” 

@daddecember

[azsazz]

CC3 Anon

spoilers under cut

Hiii it’s CC anon. THANK GOD YOU RESPONDED NO ONE ELSE I KNOW IS READING THIS BOOK 😭

I finished CC3 last night and yeah. I enjoyed the pacing at the beginning of this book more than the first two books because we’re already in the thick of the climax and don’t have to build up suspense again but omg it dragged in the middle.

I did not care for Ithan at all I’m sorry. And yes he hasn’t been a pro sun all player in YEARS idk why she keeps bringing it up. I think someone stumbled and he caught her and Sarah went “his sunball reflexes” HES A WOLF HE WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE QUICK REFLEXES. Had him running up and down to resurrect Sigrid and in the end it DIDNT EVEN MATTER.

Lmaoooo Ithan mostly acted ago appropriate if I think about it. He's like 20 I'm assuming since he's around college age. He's def not my favorite character either tbh. Love how everything fell into his lap tho. Literally anytime he was mentioned so was snuball it was so fucking dumb.

I know you like Tharion but can he do anything right omg. Ithan carried him with the Viper Queen. Sathia carried him in front of the Ocean Queen 😭 I WAS SO PISSED ABOUT THE ANTIDOTES OMG and then Ithan went and did the same. I see why they are best friends like wow stupid really follows stupid.

LMAO I love Tharion, yes he'd definitely dumb and needs to make better decisions but I liked how witty he was in the first book. He really needs to stop with the whole woe is me act tho. omg the antidotes shit don't even get me started. half of the stuff that she wrote for the book didn't even matter in the end. like, we could've cut this damn book down 300 pages tbh, nothing would've been missed because nothing made sense even.

I don’t hate Bryce. She did annoy me though. I hated when Aelin wouldn’t tell people about her plans and could not stand it from Bryce here. Her yelling at Hunt about having to face the consequences of their actions. I’m like dude you went to another world and came back powered up. Hunt stayed and was tortured brutally like what? I know why she doesn’t want him to have guilt about it but it’s his 3rd time going through this and failing. And now he has more to lose. Of course he would be feeling a type of way.

I do not like her at all lol. The whole not telling people plans things pissed me off because her loud mouth is not like that. AND THEN SHE HAS THE AUDACITY TO TELL HUNT "OH YOU DONT EVEN WANT TO BE HERE" girl maybe if you told someone the fuckin plan they would feel a bit more confident about going through with it for fucks sake. she's a mean girl and i can't stand her and i don't think she's funny at all she is so cringe to me haha. HUNT HAS ALREADY TRIED GOING AGAINST THE ASTERI AND HE WAS TORTURED FOR 200 YEARS?! Then he gets freed and has to do it all over again?! Like, why are we yelling at this man? of course he's weary.

I’m not the biggest fan of her swagger at times. Like sometimes we don’t need the quippy (read: unfunny) one liners :/

LITERALLY

The STAKES???? Bryce should’ve stayed dead! It would have been a lot more impactful. Even the torturing scenes kind of didn’t hit as much after the fact cause everyone can just regrow their limbs and be fine. No one had a single nightmare about what happened to them? I thought we would see something like that beyond “a glimmer of darkness in his eyes” idk :/

The entire "someone dying only to be brought to life on the next page" has definitely fucking worn off now but sjm apparently can't see that. she created a world with 50+ characters only to not use half of them when it matters. so stupid. Also, i don't remember them being able to regrow limbs tbh.

Maybe the book would’ve been too long but I was genuinely shocked we didn’t get more scenes of anyone on the actual battlefield. We were mostly in the palace after Bryce and Hunt teleported, and then the moment with Lidia and the sprites. But maybe the book would’ve been too toooo long idk.

Yeah there really was only like 60 pages of the end scene. but as soon as i saw the word space i actually almost DNFd it because what the actual fuck was that.

I will say I really like how the male friendships are genuine. I honestly can’t tell you that Bryce, Fury, and June are friends LMAO. (I’m exaggerating but I do kinda agree with this) .

Yeah, i love Ruhn, dec, and flynn's relationship. i think sjm tries to be like "oh yeah girl power, strong fmc's" but there's no women in the books? and they all don't like each other? like danika, bryce, fury, and juniper seemed like mean girls? girls that didn't give a fuck about anyone else? idk. the way that the men to women ratio in her books is very interesting to me. and the fack that EVERY man that comes across bryce thinks she's the most gorgeous girl to have ever lived...fuck off with that logic.

My girl Jesiba :////// She was my favorite for sure. I'm indifferent about her lol. Her entire storyline i feel was just made up like two months ago so she could connect to the other series lol

I do agree with what you said about Bryce (I legit almost wrote Aelin LMFAO) . I was not expecting her to just say no rulers for the Fae at all. But I guess a Senate would be more democratic.

SO STUPID. The Senate (starwars)

Im sure there will be a fourth book but I am so uninterested in Tharion and Ariadne like who caresssssssss. If Im interested in Ithan, it’s because I want to see more Perry. I wonder how connected this world and ACOTAR will remain.

I honestly hope it ends at 4 books. I think that would be a perfect ending because there's four houses. no need for more im already sick of it. yeah i liked perry too. i hope they're no longer connected lol.

Ruhn and Lidia :) but HE LEGIT SHOT HER?? I know she was acting irrationally because of her sons and he wanted to make sure she didn’t get herself killed but then he shot her. Like okay 😭. I think my favorite couples are Bryce’s parents and Lidia and Ruhn. Ruhn just seems so hot 😭.

Ruhn is a winner for sure for sure.

I’m writing too much and I’m scared this app will just shut down so I’ll quit here. I still think the first book is the worst one in this series. But I had fun with this one (despite my hang ups) and I’m glad it’s over (for now :/).

THANKS FOR LETTING ME RANT!!!

THANKS FOR LETTING ME RANT TOO!

CC anon!! I went to goodreads to read reviews of the book and I genuinely cannot believe how many 5 star ratings this book got. I mean, I can and can’t believe it. Atp anything Sarah puts out will average at least a 4 star rating on there and sell a crap ton.

I think people just give her that rating because she's popular, not because they read lol. oh yeah, why do you think she released 5 different bonus chapters. talk about a greedy cash grab. that mentality kinda makes me sick im not even going to lie.

I was reading through the 2-star reviews and someone mentioned their shock at how quickly Ruhn and Lidia resolved their issues which I totally agree with. She said she hated him and would never forgive him for what he did, and she was right! I know why Ruhn did it, but I genuinely still cannot believe he actually shot her, even if she was gonna be okay. That’s a terrible time to be worrying about a wound like that when you want to be at full strength to fight for your children.

Yeah half of the plot lines felt stupid? like what? he couldn't have stopped her any other way...really? i feel like she did not think this book through as well as she thought she did tbh. seems to be her thing these days.

(Even when Hunt said he hated Bryce for stopping him from killing Celestina, I was like Oh!)

OMG THAT WAS ACTUALLY WILD. YEAH OKAY. I TOTALLY BELIEVE THEY'RE MATES.

The reviewer said Sarah should have left their relationship on the rocks so we could get Ruhn groveling in the fourth book, and I can’t get that idea out of my head. ESPECIALLY with their bonus scene. Idk if you’ve read it but I was like ??? I like them as a couple and I like their story, but it did seem like it was all patched up insanely quickly. Like if you shot me then the very LEAST you could do is get my kids to safety. That alone would not necessarily make me forgive you.

I didn't read their bonus chapter but i can't believe they moved in with each other literally after like two days of knowing each other in real life. bro, you just found out she has two kids? you don't know the woman at all lol. no, everyone has to have a happy ending by the last page of the book or else. lol. no suspense.

[mywifeleftme]

355: Motörhead // No Remorse

No Remorse Motörhead 1984, Bronze

I heard British comics writer Warren Ellis tell a story about hearing a horrible banging in the hallway outside his flat late one night in the mid-1980s. When he poked his head outside to give the noisenik hell he discovered Lemmy wandering around smacking the walls with a wooden cooking spoon. After he managed to get the metal legend’s attention, Lemmy waved the implement at him and snarled, “You ever hear of a coke spoon? This is my coke spoon!”

*

This past Friday, I talked to a 50-something punk named Joey P who has 26 Motörhead records on vinyl (including the coveted leatherbound version of No Remorse). If you ever want to have a long conversation with Joey P, I recommend starting with a riff on if Ronnie James Dio was a mob-connected / Rat Pack wiseguy, and then letting him go into antiquarian detail on which Motörhead records are kind of underrated (Another Perfect Day), underrated (Bastards), and really underrated (1916). Love that guy, and I think he’s mostly right. 26 is probably too many Motörhead records even for me, but they are one of those long-running, very sonically consistent bands who turn their deepest fans into sommeliers. I can hold forth about the subtle differences in tasting notes between an Ace of Spades and an Iron Fist (let alone a departure like Orgasmatron!) while an outsider looks doubtfully into their two indistinguishable cups of Jack and Coke. A band like this gives men of a certain age a way to sniff each other over when they meet in a clearing, a low-impact ritual of butting heads.

*

For years I remembered a story I thought one of my friends had told me about running into Lemmy at the Dominion Tavern in Ottawa towards the end of his life. He was miserably drinking white wine on his doctor’s orders, not looking for conversation. The image always struck me as both funny (I cannot imagine the house wine at the Dom having a nice finish), and sad (the day Lemmy Goddamn Kilmister lets anyone tell him he can’t have whiskey!). I think I’ve repeated it once or twice over the years as an example of how age mellows us all, but when I asked the pal I thought had told me, she denied it (though she did add that her ex told her Lemmy’d gone to see “the rippers in Aylmer once”). So, I dunno, maybe he escaped the fate of the Dom Chardonnay.

*

Speaking of fate, Lemmy was a damned sharp fellow beneath all the drugging and boozing (who else could’ve written the lyric “Fourth day, five-day marathon / We’re moving like a parallelogram”), and he rightly figured his label had pitched doing a hits compilation in 1984 because they thought the band was washed up. (The limp sales and savage critical reaction to Another Perfect Day having had something to do with that.) Kilmister insisted on inserting a side’s worth of new songs onto the double LP comp to emphasize that Motörhead remained very much a going concern. Of the four, only the brilliantly dumb “Killed By Death” became a classic in its own right, but the new tracks showed the band were still capable of churning out the sound that had defined them with undiminished ferocity. They never lost it.

*

I do know a woman who hooked up with Lemmy towards the end of his life (if anything in rock and roll can be believed, she had about 1,000 peers. It was like a more pleasant [?] Germs burn). They went home from the bar in Montreal and drank whiskey, and then she split in the morning without leaving her number. She thought the story was funny and I thought not leaving a number was a pretty good flex, but at the end she still gave a bit of a wistful, “I know he probably wouldn’t have called me anyway…”

*

Lemmy picked the songs for No Remorse himself, and even provides short annotations in the liners, so if you’re going to quibble with the selections, you’ll have to take it up with the mole man. (As he says of “Like a Nightmare,” a left-field inclusion, “This was one of my favourite B-sides. Everyone didn’t like it, but seeing as I’m the only one of the old band left, here it is!!”) There are a load of Motörhead compilations out there (I’m partial to 2000’s lavish, oddly-sequenced double-CD The Best of, since it’s the one I had as a kid), and as Joey P will tell you, they did lots of good stuff after 1984. But if 1) you only need one Motörhead record on wax, 2) you’re mostly into the original lineup, and 3) you want something reasonably comprehensive, No Remorse is a no-brainer. It has a few relative duds (“Louie, Louie”) and lacks some absolute classics (“Dead Men Tell No Tales”; “Tear Ya Down”; “City Kids”; “Love Me Like a Reptile”; “White Line Fever” etc. etc.) but why complain given the teeth-rattling abundance there is? As Lemmy says, “Here is Motörhead as you’ve come to expect them. Write your opinion on a Beatle wig and send it to someone who gives a damn. Even if you get us banned, we ain’t gonna stop!”

*

Motörhead were obviously a legendary live act, and they were my first metal show (on a bill at Detroit’s Pine Knob with Dio and Iron Maiden). They played a lot of arenas, but they made the most sense in small theatres. Bigger venues tend to dwarf them, like a small motorcycle gang trying to take over a castle. In a theatre, or better yet a bar, they own the place like The Wild Ones. I don’t remember much specific from their Pine Knob set, except that before closing with “Ace of Spades,” a song Lem was famously bored of playing every night, he told us all, “You’ll know this one, sing along if you want, I won’t be able to hear you anyway,” and then abruptly launched into that hellbent bass riff. Then he disappeared (probably there was some walking beforehand, couldn’t tell you for sure).

*

Lemmy’s funeral was livestreamed back in 2015, and it’s genuinely one of the sweetest, silliest things I have ever watched. The altar features flower arrangements in the shape of the ace of spades; an iron cross in place of a crucifix; two Marshall stacks; a pair of Triple H’s wrestling boots; a 3D-printed urn in the shape of his cavalry hat; and a mirror with a big line of speed on it. Everybody cries, many of them the sort of people the PMRC would’ve expected to burst into flames if they were to enter a church. Everybody talks about how genuinely nice he was. His girlfriend Cheryl, a job that earns you instant and eternal That Poor Woman status from all who observe, gives a super brief statement: “Lemmy loved me, but his greatest love was his fans and his music. I remember saying, ‘Baby, stay home, don’t go, skip this tour. And he said, ‘Baby, I can’t. I love my fans.’” (Imagine that being an interaction between two genuine living people—yet I believe it.) Apparently, he was an absolute pinball fiend. His bootmaker gives a speech. Somebody reads some limericks Lem wrote. What a life. What a story.

*

“Can’t get enough / And you know it’s some righteous stuff / Goes up like prices at Christmas! / Motörhead / Remember me now / Motörhead, alright"

355/365

[leadenn]

OH YEAH!? YOU WANT MY THOUGHTS? YOU WANT MY THOUGHTS!? (I did that AND some, oops)

Absolutely adore your fic front and back. The entire concept had me intrigued, and once I started reading, I was OBSESSED. Legit, I would talk to my friends about it, talk to my shower, talk to my Twitter mutuals about it.ALSO ALSO I adore how you write monologues, it's so funny and so descriptive, makes me feel things good things. Every single one of them you write so well, like YES he would say that! I see a lot of Raph and Leo being writen so off, like their manorisms are so yes, I could see him doing that. Casey is so cool and I adore his relationship with Abby, big bro and lil sis, he would give the world for his sister and she would love the world for him. You feel me? Oh and I love how all of them just were like "yes Abby is my favorite little sister, I would kill for her", so fucking obsessed. Casey and Abby have gone through so much shit and I'm so happy for them being around people who love and care for them. Leatherhead and Casey and Abby and Mikey are so sweet. Leatherhead is also a sweetheart, he's so nice and the way you write him makes me melttt, I become a pile of mush 🫠Mikey and Him are soooo sweet too and I swear to god you have changed my ENTIRE perspective on those two as a ship its incredible, like before I ddint even THINK that much about it, but here I am in my notes app with a full on page of how to implement leatherhead in my au AND in my fanfic, the note title is legit called 💥THAMK UOU LEADENN💥 also just read the newest chapter came back to edit this, YAY! FUCK YEAHH!! Those twoooo OUGHHHH!! The inner monologues you write are so fuckin good, like I can read that thing good without getting confused and having to re read, I understand it because you explain well! The scenes play out good and are incredibly funny or incredibly sad or both. Like holy shit. Also the way you write and hint has me going "WHAT? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? WHA WAIT WHA??" like I end up shocked eyes open. I also enjoy your writing so much I usually don't venture off into the collection of other stories unless they still include my favorite character but with how you write I just love everyone so much I'm like eating that shit up, full course meal gourmet food 5 stars. I know you get a lot of Mikey stuff so I left him for last on how much I fucking LOVE HIM HES SO COOL like mental stuff aside his one liners and his kick ass brain lines are awesome oh my god he comes off so damn cool like daaqmnnn who made you king of Antarctica, lord of coolness. I love his inner monologues so much, its so funny and so real like, "Yeah he underestimated how much of DICK the forest would be." Had me HOWLIBG, first thing in and I get hit in tge face with another real as hell Mikey line. That was actually one of the things that keeps me reading, what drew me in when I first found your amazing story. He'd just started spitting facts and a gnarly backstory and in my head I was like "ohhhh shittt!!" I get so excited every time an update comes out, goddamn chapter 5??? I am so goddamn proud of you for reaching 61 CHAPTERS AUGH I can't stress this enough you are doing AMAZING, you're writing so much and it's terrific every single time, every single comment, kudo, fanart, just everything, you deserve it. You're so awesome-sauce! I think I would bite the dust if I wrote as much as you, as much as I love it I am already struggling with getting past 5k words. Anyways, your writing genuinely is my coffee in the morning especially when I've run out of coffee and my phone is the only thing that morning to bring me joy. Also you intimidate me, most fanfic writers do but the moment you interacted with an account, boss music started playing in my head

I think I'll combust if I proof read this so before the guy in my head backs out I'm just gonna send it 👍😩👍

*pukes in joy*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[pink-bird-30]

Titans 4x10

SPOILERS AHEAD

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Oooooooohhhhhhhh what an interesting episode indeed!

I knew that we would get a fun episode when they decided to have a crossover with Doom Patrol.  I have not had the pleasure of watching Doom Patrol yet, but I have loved these characters since Titans season 1.

“Mowing Mother nature’s Bush”

Cliff lines are always out of pocket, but this one was honestly great.

I thought it was interesting how Gar created this “home” and made it half nature and pulled Cliff, Larry, and Victor into his version of Doom Manor.

But I was so happy for how excited Gar was to see Cliff and Larry, his little jump hop into Cliffs arms was too cute!

Oh, and the playfulness between Gar and Vic, it was really fun to see.  I felt like I was watching an episode of Teen Titans with those two.  I’m really glad we got to see them on the screen together, even if it was for a short while.

Okay, we gotta talk about Connor Luther, aka Anti-hero Era Connor.

I gotta say, I like that Connor was being straight forward with Sebastian, giving him an out from doing something that he doesn’t want to.  Although I for sure knew he had ulterior motives from the second he sat down at that table with Sebastian, but damn.  Anti-hero Connor is something else.  Straight up taking over Lex Corp, taking the throne as CEO…wow.

What a man.

But the next scene between Sebastian and Mother Mayhem was brutal.  We all knew she was using him since day one, but the hurt on Sebastian’s face when he hears her degrading words,

“You are nothing”

My soft spot for Joseph Morgan had me jumping from my seat ready to fight.  All I knew is that Mother Mayhem was NOT going to have a good mother’s day and I’m glad he burned her to a crisp.  She honestly deserves worse.

But ding dong, the witch is dead….at least for now….

As I have mentioned before, Bernard always has great one liners,

“Bald headed psychopath”

Too good.

The scene with Kori, Dick, and Rachel was interesting.  I think this is the first season where this trio sticks together the most.  But when Rachel tells Dick she was better off dying than Kori, and Dick saying no one is dying, does this mean Dick has finally comes to terms that maybe someone will die?

First it was him denying prophcies,

Then it was denying more prophecies,

And now he thinks no one is going to die.

My man, we have 4 seasons of batshit crazy situations, you’re telling me at this point where the Titans are on the losing side of things you don’t think that someone will not die? *eye roll

Now we have Kori entering Gar’s World and Dick and Rachel running off to dabble in dark magic.

What is this show?!

We have Kori entering “the red” and popping Vic in the face, which was hilarious.  I’m glad Gar and Kori reunited again, that made me very happy.  My little mother son duo back together again.  

But honestly, I bet when Kori realized she was stuck in another random place again, she must’ve been sooooo over it.  She just escaped Caul’s Folly and now she’s stuck in this house Gar created.

Can we agree that Vic is 100% smitten with Kori?  Like look at that man gazing at her when she hands him the bag go cold peas.

Same, Vic.  Same.

The conversation between Kori and Gar was important.  We can see Gar told Kori she was there for a reason and that there is something she needed to work through.

Alright,

The tennis scene, absolutely amazing.  Gar and Kori were kicking ass while Vic and Larry were struggling big time.

But they brought up that thing.  The thing in the DC universe that a lot of us don’t talk about because it is a touchy subject and has always been up for debate….

But why did Cliff need to bring up the p*nis debate, just whyyyyy.

Moving onnnnn,

Kori and Gar’s heart to heart,

“I love what he’s trying to destroy”

I-

I teared up, I won’t lie.  That entire scene hit me right in the heart.  Kori needed to forgive herself for not killing Sebastian and I’m glad we were able to acknowledge it.  I trust Kori’s judgement and her not killing Sebastian may or may not be the best thing, but I guess we will find out.

Now let’s go to the deep dark hell Rachel and Dick are dealing with while Kori and Gar are having a grand ol’ time.

First off when that witch says,

“Your weapon is your love for this child”

*Screams into the void

OOOOMMMMMGGGGG

LISTEN, THE UNHOLY SOUND THAT CAME OUT OF MY MOUTH WHEN THE WITCH SAID THIS UGH.

I ceased to exist.

And then the black goop that Rachel threw up and turned into a creature I’m pretty sure I’ve seen on Buffy the Vampire Slayer…girl.  I cannot.

We have Kori and Gar off in lala land, and Dick is fighting a demon, pure chaos and I am going to miss this so much.

Over at Lex Corp,

Sebastian tainted his game and now everyone is a martyr for his cause?  Bernard is in a coma from this game and I am unwell.  Poor Tim.

Going back to Kori and Gar.  When the room starts to close in on them, and Gar and Vic start to go at it, I had a moment where I was so sad that this was the only interaction between these characters.

Ryan and Joivan have such great chemistry, and I wish we had more time with them on screen.  But the few moments they are arguing and then bonding over a movie were awesome.

And of course, Vic saying “booyah” was icing on the cake.

Side note, does anyone else think Dick’s friend in London was Constantine? 

Anyone?  Just me?  Okay.

I love Connor’s face when he realizes he fucked up.  Like he is witnessing Sebastian take over the world and can do absolutely nothing about it.  For a hot moment, I really thought we lost Connor, but when Tim tried hacking into Lex Corp’s firewall, I was so happy Connor had enough sense to help out the Titans.  This gives me hope we will have Golden Retriever Connor back soon.

Also, the way Tim waited for Kori’s permission to commit a felony, top tier respect for mother.

Finally, Dick was able to slay the monster which woooo, but I cannot shake what the witch said to Dick about Death not forgetting him…I pray that is not foreshadow….

When Sebastian realizes the connection between him and Rachel is severed, 

“I can’t feel Rachel”

and then the words from Mother Mayhem echoing

“Without Trigon’s power, you are nothing.”

Shoooooo Today’s episode is going to be wild…

Let’s see how 4x11 goes.  And then there is only the Finale left, I cannot believe we have been on this journey since 2018…

Until next time, let me know how you guys felt about the episode!

[arc-misadventures]

Rebirth au: why is Jaune’s dad being an a**hole and not want to train him? And how does Jaune bypass this obstacle? Also curious whether Jeanne sticks to her promise and backs him up in order to change their parents’ mind. Even if not, I’d imagine he has enough knowledge to train himself or find someone who gives a damn about him and is willing to train him.

He gave the typical Dad excuse of: “Because I said so.”

Why are all of you so upset?!

United We Stand Together~!

Acheius: Hey, Jaune, want to play catch son?

Jaune: No.

Acheius: What? Why not, it will be fun!

Jaune: Bevause I said so; end of discussion.

Acheius: What?

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jeanne since you want to go to, Beacon how about I start giving you some lessons?

Jeanne: Mmmm… No, no thank you.

Acheius: But, how are you going to become a, Huntress if you don’t train?

Jeanne: I have some ideas on how.

Acheius: But…

Jeanne: Sorry, Dad, I’ve got stuff to do.

Acheius: But, Jeje…

Jeanne: End of discussion.

Acheius: …

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jaune, how goes the homework.

Jaune: It’s going okay.

Acheius: Do you want some help with it?

Jaune: Uhh… Yeah, yeah I would.

Acheius: Great! Then…

Jaune: Can you ask, Saphire to help me out? She’s really good with this stuff.

Acheius: Oh, I was wondering if I could help you instead…

Jaune: No thanks.

Acheius: But…!

Jaune: End of discussion, Dad.

Acheius: …

~~~

Acheius: Hey, Jeanne, want to watch a movie with me?

Jeanne: Mmm… No thanks.

Acheius: But, it’s your favourite, ‘The Princess Knight.’

Jeanne: I don’t want to watch a movie right now.

Acheius: But…

Jeanne: Dad, I don’t want to watch a movie: End of discussion.

Acheius: Why do you two keep saying that?

~~~

Jaune: Why did I even like this movie…?

Jeanne: The explosions, and cheesy one liners?

Jaune: I’d buy that…

Acheius: Hey, you two; I want you two to do the dishes, okay?

Jeanne: No.

Jaune: Don’t wanna.

Acheius: Hey, I’m not asking, I’m telling you to.

Jaune: Still don’t wanna.

Jeanne: End of discussion, Dad.

Acheius: Okay! What’s up with you two…?!

Juniper: Jaune, Jeanne; can you two do the dishes please?

Jeanne: Okay, Mom!

Jaune: This movie’s pretty lame anyway.

Acheius: Lame? And, why are you listening to your Mother, and not me?

Juniper: Because they like me more than you.

Acheius: Since when?!

Juniper: A couple of weeks ago.

Acheius: And, why do they like you more?

Juniper: Figure that out yourself.

Acheius: …

Acheius: Oh no…

Acheius: She’s angry with me too…

~~~

Jeanne: Oh crap?! Ooph!!

Jaune: Jeanne you’re over exerting yourself again.

Jeanne: I know, I know… Haa… I just…

Jaune: The muscle memory is too strong?

Jeanne: Yeah! That’s it, I’m not thinking, just reacting to your attacks. Haa… We’ve been at this for two years now and, I still haven’t ‘fixed’ this…

Jaune: Maybe that’s something you can’t fix; It’s like a well worn glove that you’re used to wearing, it’s just that you’re not big enough to wear it properly.

Jeanne: So I won’t be able to fight like I used too until puberty?!

Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.

Jeanne: NahhhHHH! I didn’t start puberty until I was thirteen! And, my boobs got really big when I hit sixteen! I better get my aura unlocked when I’m twelve because my back won’t be able to tale it!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay… Want to go back to training?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Curse the future, and my gigantic boobs…

Jaune: Can you stop?!

Jeanne: Okay, okay… Ready?

Jaune: Ready.

Acheius: What are you two doing?!

Jaune: Training to become, Hunters.

Acheius: Both of you?

Jeanne: Does it not look like we’re training together…?

Acheius: But, how are you two training; There’s no one to teach you?

Jaune: Internet.

Acheius: The internet?

Jeanne: You can find a lot of things on the internet.

Acheius: Okay…? But, who said you could train?

Jeanne: Do we need a permission slip, or something?

Acheius: Your fine, Jeje. I’m asking you, Jaune. Who said you could train to be a Huntsman?

Jaune: No one did. And, before you give me some sort of remark of, ‘Because I said so.’ You said you wouldn’t train me. Not that I couldn’t get training.

Acheius: Grrr…! Stop training with your sister! You are not going to become a Huntsman, Jaune!

Jaune: Why?

Acheius: Because I said so!

Jaune: No.

Acheius: No?

Jaune: No, I won’t stop training just because you said so. You’re more than happy to train, Jeanne, but you refuse to train me; Why?

Acheius: I don’t want you to become a Huntsman that’s it…

Jaune: Because…?

Acheius: I just don’t think that you’re capable of becoming a, Huntsman that’s why.

Jaune: I’m not capable? Huw… Please give him your sword, Jeanne.

Jeanne: Damn, I was hoping I wouldn’t lose that bet.

Jaune: Catch.

Acheius: W-What?

Jaune: Pick it up.

Acheius: Why…?

Jaune: You don’t think I can become a, Huntsman. I think I can. So, pick up that sword, and prove me wrong…

Jeanne: Damn… Is this how you made a harem…? By being so intense it’s hot!!!

Jaune: Shut up, Jeanne.

Acheius: Why… Why are you doing this, Jaune! Why do you want to become a Huntsman?!

Jaune: …

Jaune: I want to be the hero; I want to save the day, save the girl from the creatures of the darkness. Be the knight in shining armour in the stories, Mom told us when she tucked us in at night. I want to be the hero, simple as that.

Acheius: What?! Do you have any idea that…?!

Jaune: That the story of happily ever after isn’t true? That the hero is betrayed by the people they chose to protect? That sometimes the hero loses? That the story of a hero is a lie? I know that dad. But, I don’t need to be the worlds hero, or something as spectacular as that; I just need to be one person’s hero. That’s enough for me.

Jeanne: Caring, courageous, and selfless too… Gods if you weren’t my brother…

Jaune: Shut. Up. Jeanne…

Jeanne: Right, sorry…

Acheius: No! I won’t it! I won’t allow you to become a, Huntsman!

Jaune: Then you better cripple me because no matter what you say nothing is going to stop me!

Acheius: If that’s what it takes, so be it…

Juniper: ENOUGH! Enough! Enough…

Jaune: Mom?

Acheius: Juniper?

Juniper: Acheuis… He’s an, Arc… Just telling him you won’t allow him to train, just because you said so, won’t stop him from training. Just because my dad said no, didn’t stop you from marrying me now did it.

Acheius: This is not the same! Becoming a, Huntsmen is…

Juniper: We are both, Hunter’s, Achi. We both come from a legacy of hunters, a legacy that our children wish to carry on. So if you don’t want, Jaune to become a, Huntsman. You have to tell him the true reason you don’t want him to train. You have to tell them about him.

Acheius: But…! They’re just kids!

Juniper: And, they deserve to know. They’re old enough to know, and understand why you don’t want, Jaune, just, Jaune not, Jeanne to become a Huntsman. Because if you don’t you’re going to push, Jaune away even further than you already have.

Acheius: …

Acheius: Haa… Jeanne, Jaune, get your siblings; We’ll talk more when we’re all in the living room…

Jeanne: Okay…

Acheius: Come on, Juniper… Let’s get ready…

Juniper: It will be better when we tell them, dear, it will.

Jeanne: …

Jaune: …

Jeanne: What the hell was that about?

Jaune: I don’t know, but whatever it was, wasn’t good… Come on, lets get the others; we have a history lesson to attend to.

Jeanne: Alright then…

[hrpayo01]

After re-reading and rewatching the whole series back to back as an adult, I actually appreciated the movies more than I have before (and I already loved them). I noticed the creative changes that they took and honestly, most were for the better.

What I wish they kept: Katniss and Peeta's picnic in CF. Peeta losing his leg. Katniss stroking Peeta's hair in Mockingjay. The real reason Gale was whipped (homie wasn't heroic, he just got caught)

Things they changed that I loved: Effie, Cato's speech before he died and how Katniss showed him mercy by killing him quickly, the revolution, Coin's speech at the end: "May your aim be as true as your heart is pure" (chills), explanation of what will happen to Katniss post Coin instead of the trial.

There are a few more, subtle changes/deletions that I agreed with so it look better visually but I truly enjoyed the portrayal of Katniss and Peeta in the films. I also liked the girlbossing of Katniss because, well, she was, and there were so few female leads at that time, at least ones that were done well.

They nerfed Peeta a bit, he had so many more lines, more appearances, but Josh's performance, his portrayal, the fact that he's the same height as Jennifer, how he was more innocent and charming than a smooth talker with one liners... I actually prefered that. I trusted movie Peeta so much more, if I'm being honest. I also like the subtle changes to Peeta's lines and the additional dialogues.

"I'll take the bow"

"That'a night lock Peeta, you scared me to death! Damn you" / "I'm sorry"

"If you would stop looking at me like I'm wounded, I could stop acting like it" was a much better version to me.

"What did he want?" / "To know all my secrets" / "Have to get in line". Cute.

Peeta's (added) speech to Katniss in Mockingjay, about how their lives were never theirs but she can change that by killing snow. That was powerful and sincere. Reinforces how good he is with words, how he was the only one who could get to her.

The added: "I'm not gonna lose you again" / "If I see you again, it will be a different world" and THAT HUG.

The hug when he returned to 12 and told Katniss he was sorry...

Honestly, they made up for it. Since Katniss was so skeptical and in denial in the books I can't help but take on some of her suspicion. In the movie, Peeta's kindness and innocence was clear as day.

Jennifer also did a fantastic job. She CARRIED the ship especially when people say that the director wanted Katniss to be more badass and even asexual. That they didn't want to focus on the romance. Jennifer really conveyed that "he fell first, she fell harder" acting. You could see the subtle difference in THG when Katniss was "acting" and when she's genuinely smitten. In CF you can see the shift in their relationship. Peeta hitting the forcefield was even better in the movie (the smile, the kiss, the trembling). The pearl scene was cuter and softer. The kiss at midnight was more convincing. The final scene in Catching Fire: "promised you would save him over me, you're a liar" was chef kiss.

The longing in Mockingjay, her face everytime she sees Peeta on screen. Their goodbye hug in Capitol. And how she looked at him in the epilogue. Jennifer's gazes conveys as close Katniss' inner dialogue about Peeta as she can without doing a voiceover. And her, looking at Peeta in meadow...

Idk, I just really loved the movie too. And I loved who Katniss and Peeta were in the movie. It was a faithful portrayal but it was also different enough that I could tell them apart. Double the fun.

everlark has been my number one literary ship since my tween years but it's insane to me that their movie version made me feel nothing. i can write novels about book everlark and then i can also see why movie only watchers don't see it for everlark. it's the girlbossing of katniss and reduction to peeta to just one of the love triangle guys that really did it to me.

[shwazzberryswriting]

Cramped Spaces 3

Pairing: Jisung x Femme Reader | [Y/N]

Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Idol NCT, One Shot, Smut Heavy Fluff, Sequel Fic, Late Night Confessions

Summary: Two best friends + one sleeping bag = an unforgettable night Cramped Spaces 1 | Cramped Spaces 2 | Cramped Spaces 4 | *Cramped Spaces 5*

Word count: 2.6k

Rating/Warnings: Not Beta Read, Mature Sexual Themes and Explicit Sexual Material: Heavy Petting, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Grinding

If any mature/sexual themes involving Jisung makes you uncomfortable please do not read or interact.

Minors DNI! 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: With the cliffhanger ending, I knew a part 3 was bound to happen 🤭. Thank you @kodasity for asking for a part 3! 🥰💗💓 That really encouraged the ideas to come. This couple's journey has been so much fun to write! Thank you so much everybody for reading my fics! 💞🤧🥰 I am stunned every day you all read my writings, and give me so much love and tell me that you like my writings. 🥺 I appreciate anyone reading my fics. Every thing else is just the greatest gift ever, so it leaves me speechless. 🤧🌼💗 I am astonished, especially because I don't know how much longer I can keep this going (burnout is a real thing), but it's been so much fun these past few weeks!!! 💗🌼✨🌼🎀🌼💓

Apologies in advance for any mistakes and I hope I did justice to the fantasy to everyone who's checked this series out!

If you want to send in a Request ➡️ 💚

Please let me know of any technical errors or if you have feedback/questions

The lamp sat at the right side of the tent, beside the front opening. She was on the left side, at the back of the tent, her back facing the cramped space. She heard Jisung move around, saw his shadows move around.

Her body was hot and her ears were sensitive, picking up on all the noises. Owls hooting. Crickets chirping. Water gurgling. Tree leaves shaking with the winds outside. Jisung’s sweats rubbing against the plastic liner of the tent.

Eyes shut, she ran her fingers through her hair. She and Jisung weren’t just friends anymore, but they weren’t exactly dating. It wasn’t like whatever happened between them in Chenle’s car qualified as a date by any means. But she saw Jisung in an entirely new light, and it made her mind go fuzzy…those damn flies buzzing in her ears.

“Are you going to fall asleep like that?” His voice was low, casual. It sent adrenaline rushing up her back, making her nipples perk up. Swallowing the soft whimper at her throat, she pressed her arms against her chest, silently asking her nipples to behave.

“I have night rituals,” she said, hands fumbling for the zipper to her backpack. Pulling out a small white bottle of her night cream, she heard Jisung shake the sleeping bag behind her. Free hand on her left cheek, she felt a bump. As if she needed another problem. “Do you have pimple patches? I didn’t pack mine.”

“Are you breaking out?”

She turned her head around to see him bent over beside the lamp, digging through his large black bag. His back was curved, shoulders hunched over. With his shirt hanging loosely off his body, she wanted to run her hand under his shirt, feel his firm muscles. The heat between her legs made her cheeks turn hot too. She turned back around, hands in her lap.

“Um, just a pimple by my cheek. I keep touching it.”

He sat down beside her, his face hidden in the shadows.

“Do you need help? It’s dark.”

Blood rushed up her face. He held her face in one hand, thumb under her chin, as he placed a clear pimple patch on her cheek. Her misbehaving nipples ached as more blood rushed down her chest, feeling the pad of his finger pressing against her cheek. His eyes drifted to her lips, and she felt blood rush down to her groin, making her clit ache.

“Thanks,” she said softly, pulling away from his touch.

“So,” he said, scooting away from her, sitting down on his butt, hands planted behind him, “I’ll lay my towel on my side of the tent and you can have the sleeping bag.” Heat hit her cheeks. She reached out to the navy blue sleeping bag and unzipped it. Looking at him, her face flared with heat. Her chest hurt as her heart was beating fast, like a woodpecker knocking its long beak against a tree.

“It gets really cold at night this high up, we should share the sleeping bag.”

His eyes drifted down her body. Instinctively, her body flared with discomfort.

“I mean-” The warmth between her legs made her squeeze her thighs together, her eyes down at her lap. “We’ve slept on the couch together a few times.”

He pulled the lamp close to him before getting into the sleeping bag. Her body was hot, nipples perked up, as she got in. Goosebumps formed up her body as his body’s heat radiated onto her. She shook, hands and head buried into his chest, when she felt his arms wrap around her body.

“Wh-what-” she stuttered out. She stopped when she heard him zipping up the sleeping bag behind her. Her whole face flared up.She was horrified that she’d misinterpreted his actions. “I-I could have done that. I mean, thank you.”

“Are you comfortable?”

She shifted, feeling little space to move between their bodies and legs. All they could do was sleep on their sides, but trying to sleep face to face felt extremely intimate, something lovers do.

It reminded her of the desire to rest her head on his chest. Something that began recently. She’d want to do it when she was lying in bed, hearing Jisung walk around the apartment in the middle of the night.

Carefully, she shifted her waist, right side of her hip rubbing up against Jisung. Hot blood rushed up her head as she moved her whole body around, pressing her back to his front. A dizzying, hot pride washed over as she felt his cock stiffen against her ass. His cock’s heat warmed her ass.

“I am,” she said at last, softly, sweetly. She couldn’t help herself, hearing him groan into the back of her head, hot breath tickling her scalp. Her hips bucked back and forth, her ass rubbing his cock harder. “Are you comfortable?”

Wordlessly, she felt his hand on her hip move down her pelvis, fingers pressing against her core, going down, deeper. She whimpered, eyes shut, as she felt his hand cup her core. His breath at the back of her ear.

“Things are different now,” he said softly against her ear. Wetness hit her neck, his lips sucking on her sensitive skin.

“Jisung, don’t,” she said softly, hand grasping his wrist, shoulders hunching. Goosebumps were traveling down her back as his hand grazed up to rest on her hip. “I like you, Jisung. I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“OK.” She felt his cock grow hotter, pressing harder against her.

“I’m not going to have sex with you, you know.” She grabbed the zipper tab, and unzipped the sleeping bag. She sat up, turning around to shove his shoulder.

“I didn’t think-” he said, sitting up, hands grabbing his pillow to throw over his lap. “I’m sorry.”

His apology had been a whisper, having barely reached her ears. Chest hot, feeling tight, she pressed her arms against her breasts again. Her nipples were hardening, the air outside of the sleeping bag chilly. Jisung’s floral musk was all she could focus on, the scent filling her nose. Saliva was filling her mouth, making her swallow continually.

“I like you, too,” he said. She felt his hand touch her knee. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

She leaned forward, seeing the shape of him in the dark. Her lips landed on his chin, making him give a guffaw. He moaned into her mouth when her lips found his, her hand on his neck.

His arms were wrapping around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. His minty breath filled her senses as she opened her mouth to kiss him better. She swiped her tongue against his lips, getting a small noise out of him. Her nipples ached at the whimper. His lips captured her lower lip before he opened his mouth to glide the tip of his tongue against her lip.

Hand cupping his cheek, she broke the kiss. His fingers curled against her back, arms pulling her tighter against him. She planted a soft kiss on his lips, and turned her head away as he tried going in for more. His lips were on her neck, humming into her, driving her wild.

“Jisung,” she cooed out softly, hand raking through his soft tendrils. “How can that feel so sexy?”

His tongue wet her neck. Even that drove her wild, her clit aching as blood coursed down to her core. She gasped out his name as he sucked on her skin.

“If you mark me I get to mark you too.” Her hands were in his hair, her whole body glowing in heat, in need of something to hold herself steady. The sharp sting on her skin throbbed when his teeth raked against her neck. “Do you remember when we went clubbing for the first time and I got a hickey from-”

She moaned, loud, feeling his hand back at her core. His thumb, mostly likely by luck, found her clit and was pressing hard on it. She bucked her hips against him, getting him to groan. His cock stiffened against her, growing hot.

“I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t bring up their past, especially exes they’d dated. She kissed his lips. “Can I mark you, Jisung? It’s not fair if I’m the only one with a marked neck.”

“Would it be OK if I bring up my ex-”

“Shut up, jerk.”

One hand on his shoulder, the other grabbed the back of his head, she pushed forward and licked the crook of his neck. He moaned. She licked his neck again, tasting his musky skin. He grunted, hands holding her hips tight, as she sucked on his skin, teeth tugging before she released it to lick it.

She released him to move up and kiss his lips. They pressed their tongues together, gently pushing in and out of each other’s mouths, her mouth moving to capture his bottom lip every few seconds. He broke their kiss, hand on her neck.

“You’re a good kisser,” he said breathlessly, resting his forehead against hers.

She touched his lips with her thumb, feeling the saliva wetting his lips. Her body was becoming hot, sensitive to every touch between them. Her mind struggled to focus, similar to sleep, except her heart was beating so fast because Jisung’s cock was warming her ass.

She wanted to fuck him. She wanted to fuck him so much. It was obvious he felt the same. But they weren’t prepared for it. She wasn’t. The furthest she’d gone with a guy was everything she’d done with Jisung; he’d surpassed her exes somewhere along the ride to the campsite.

The swath of flies were buzzing in her head, and she wanted to be rid of them. There was no condom, and Jisung had as much experience as she did. Their first time in a tent with Chenle and his girlfriend just meters away sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

Heat surged into her core along with her nipples. He’d shifted his hips under her, his cock twitching against her ass. She grabbed his wrist at her hip.

“Jisung, what’s a part of my body you’ve been wanting to touch?” She directed his hand to her ass, fingers releasing his wrist to direct his palm and fingers to caress her ass cheek. She moaned softly, face pressed into his chest, as his hand moved under her shirt immediately to grab her breast. “Of course.”

“Your tits are hot.” His breath was beside her ear. His long fingers and large palm moved back and forth, squeezing one breast before moving to grab the other. His hand stilled, and he took in a deep breath as her hand reached under his shirt and grazed up his abs to his chest, caressing his pecs. “What are you doing?”

“You play with mine, I play with yours?”

“OK.”

She was on her back. His body was over hers. He widened her legs so he could position himself between her legs, placing his hands on the inside of her thighs. His hands immediately moved to lift her shirt up to her neck. His breathing was heavy, and she bit down on her lip, stifling her moan when his hands grabbed her breasts, fingers squeezing her soft mounds.

His lips warmed her skin. Tongue wet her nipple, making her core ache. She threw the back of her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a whimper as he pinched her right nipple. Her nerves shook and heat spread into her core.

He hummed into her breast as he kissed it. Raking her fingers through his hair, eyes shut, her whole body lit up with his warmth. It took everything in her not to shove him onto his back and straddle him. Ride him until she came. His teeth raked against her nipple, making a white heat snap deep inside of her. Her chest shook and she gave out a cry.

“Hey,” he said softly, moving up to touch her cheek, “do you want our friends to hear us? Chenle’s going to make fun of us.”

Her mind was entangled with angry, happy, horny thoughts. With her hands at the front of his shirt, pulling it up, she turned onto her side. She planted kisses on his chest when she hiked his shirt up to his neck. His chest was hot, skin smooth (though the goosebumps that formed on his chest tickled her lips), tasting musky and slightly bitter. His hands caressed her head, fingertips massaging her scalp.

Tongue gliding against his hardened nipple, she hummed softly against his chest. She swirled her tongue around the hot bud before sucking on it. He gave out a loud cry, hips thrusting against her. Her whole body was vibrating, sweating from head to toe.

“We have to stop,” he breathed loudly, hands cupping her cheeks. She tilted her head up, capturing his lips. He broke the kiss as her tongue swiped his lips. “[Y/N], if you don’t stop I can’t stop.”

“And?” Her hand glided down the side of his body. He shivered, hips bucking against her again. Her whole body radiated with his body’s heat.

Her mind spun as he rolled his body over hers, one arm around her waist, the other grabbing the back of her right thigh. His chest was pressed against hers, his heart beating so fast she touched her hand against it, her whole body shaking.

“OK, you’re right.”

Her mind was overfilled with so many thoughts, feeling so hot, she could hardly move. Jisung got off of her, moving the pillows around. Taking in heavy breaths, she pulled her shirt down, licking her lips. Her body flared in heat. She could still taste the special blend of Jisung’s musk and sweat in her mouth.

“Are you going to be OK?” she asked softly. His cock had felt extremely hot and stiff against her.

He gave out a dry exhale.

“You’re cute when you care this much.”

She felt her face turn hot, goosebumps forming up her chest as she sat up. Quietly, she got into the sleeping bag, his back to her front. She pressed her body tightly to his, arm around his waist, face pressing into his back.

“I’ll be OK,” he said, his voice reverberating against her forehead and chest. “[Y/N], can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?” She exhaled deeply, ear pressed to his back, listening to his heartbeat.

“How long have you liked me?”

“Have you been thinking about that a lot?” she asked, the tips of her toes stroking against his calf. She knew it would just be a matter of time before he’d start asking her such questions, but she didn’t think it would come so quickly.

“I asked you first.”

“I think for a while. I don’t know when it started. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been wanting to kiss you though. I didn’t want to spend this weekend without you.”

“It sounds like you like me a lot.” He laughed as she pressed her fingertips against his side, tickling him.

“How long have you been day dreaming of sucking on my tits? Hm? Answer that.”

His hand grabbed hers, entangling their fingers together. She stopped moving, suddenly aware of his breathing, his chest rising slowly. He squeezed her fingers before resting their clasped hands down at his hip.

“I’ve liked you since that day we fixed the toilet seat together.”

She buried her face into his back, warmth riding up her shoulders. She wanted to cry. His words were so soft. And they’d replaced the toilet seat the second week they’d started living together. He’d harbored a crush on her for much longer than she did.

Her whole body was buzzing, radiating with his warmth, but it wasn’t irritating her anymore. It drew her closer to Jisung. She wanted to hold him forever, speak of sweet nothings with him eternally in the dark. Holding him in her arms seemed like a decent bargain. She squeezed his hand, resting her ear against his back again.

“Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night.”

---

Thank you for reading!!! 💚 Part 4

[tortoisesshells]

2022 Fanfic Year in Review: tortoiseshells on AO3

Thanks for the tag @hmsannlett!

Total Completed Works: 6.

Word Count: 6,925 - strictly from completed works; 105,996 including chapters from Customs and Duties.

Fandoms I’ve Written In: Pirates of the Caribbean, The Blackwell Series, Fallout 4, Band of Brothers (specifically for @mercurygray‘s The Darkening Sky-verse), 1899

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?: Less, honestly. Real Life Issues have really eroded my down time and mental space, and while I’m grateful to have the opportunity to take care of my family, I do miss the space I had before.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?: I love all my children equally. Customs and - uh, hang on. the ink on my hand is smudged.

In all seriousness, though, Customs Ch. 22 “Unused to Home” or [Nellie “Sustained Mental Breakdown” Treat Has A Bad Time] was my favorite single chapter to write, since I finally got to jam the last bits of her backstory in there; my favorite completed fic was probably et mūtam nēquīquam alloquerer cinerem, because I love untranslated Latin and trivia about Boston and the history of the Bonus Army, and unfortunately all twelve of you who read it just had to go along with it.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Goals For The New Year?: Either I finish Customs or Customs finishes me. Curse of the Black Pearl turns 20 this year, and it would be thematically appropriate for me to finish in time for the Big Anniversary. That, and I really only have to [checks notes] figure out the entire back half of that Fallout 4 fic about the putative shore whaling economy of post-apocalyptic Massachusetts that exists only in my imagination and as a flimsy excuse for Piper Wright/OFC.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?: lol. Probably Customs, but pretty much everything else I was lucky to break 50 hits and 4 kudos.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: I was never expecting great things for a short character study of the most unpopular character in Fallout 4 but, in the words of the man himself, goddamn. I suppose getting hit with some weird bot or glitch that gave me more kudos than hits on bear your neighbor’s burden is some consolation but ... it’s really not.

Most Fun Story To Write: had you not better make One of us, which features teenage Elizabeth Swann’s growing pains, Captain Johnson’s history of piracy, musing about sharks via shark-tooth fossils, and the as-yet only canon-to-the-original-AU appearance of the late, lamented Captain Samuel Treat. I had fun with the character voices and it was nice to have Samuel doing something other than being dead in a Boston graveyard.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: I could stand here joking about being even more emotionally shut-down than either of my protagonists in Customs, but I suspect I’ve done that before. Lauren Blackwell’s inner monologue in save me, damn you, for all that I’m not an unwilling psychic in 1970s Manhattan.

Biggest Disappointment: well, it happened two days into 2023, but Netflix canning 1899 was a little bit of a let down to my fic-writing ambitions she says, with dozens of tabs on late 19th century liners and hydrography and radio technology open.

Biggest Surprise: I wasn’t expecting to get into a new fandom with about a week to go in the year, and it feels almost like cheating to say that 1899 was a surprise, since it hits a lot of my narrative buttons. But, yeah, for the sake of argument (and undercutting my own surprise because me? using Emily Dickinson for a fic title? vintage Mercy Street.) covers the Abyss with Trance — So Memory can step.   

Tagging: @mercurygray, @theonlyredcar, @shoshiwrites, @jomiddlemarch, @r-osehips, and anyone else who wants to talk!

[razrbladekiss]

TYRANTS | Chapter Seventeen - Crazy Bitch

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: smut, angsty violence, some sickening fluffy shit, a side of isla we haven’t been acquainted with yet. usual SOA shit. enjoy!

Even hours later, he could still feel it.

The rigid flesh, tightening beneath his palm. The unyielding grip on her wrist—undeniably too strained—just desperate to draw her back in, but jostling her instead.

His heart sank when Isla’s face fell. When her eyes grew congested with tears, and all color drained from the glowing apples of her cheeks, Tig’s chest tightened.

It wasn’t anything that he did, he was certain. But it was something so innocent, so harmless, that triggered a clear memory of something malicious.

And it puzzled him, then. Because the feeling of his hands on her—something she vocally adored—shouldn’t have inspired such a reaction. Especially when it was only meant to be gentle.

He pondered the thought, sipping on his beer.

As he watched his brothers charm Luann’s girls with their incredible one liners and stupefying personalities, Tig simply wondered about his hot date.

Who had yet to show her face.

“You’re not still hung up on what happened earlier?” Clay asked as he took a seat beside his dejected right-hand, silently hoping that Tig’s mood had been a result of some other fervent force.

But, alas. The downtrodden Sgt. At Arms’ one and only conversation topic—and train of thought, apparently—centred around Isla fucking Telford.

“She didn’t get pissed at you for touching her.” He asserted, taking a swig of his beer. “She ain’t seen me and Gemma go at it like that before. Probably shook her up.”

Tig grunted, knowing that there was most certainly some truth behind Clay’s words.

“And she had an unwanted visitor today, who obviously left her a little,” he rolled his eyes, “a little highly fuckin’ strung—“

“She wasn’t highly strung just ‘cus he turned up. Or after you and Gem fought.” Tig defended. “There was something else eating at her, but I just don’t know what.”

Clay reclined a little bit, extending his legs as he leaned backwards on the taught leather couch.

“Yeah, there was something else alright.”

“What?”

“You.” The President unintentionally confirmed the spitting suspicion that Tig had.

The one thing he had ruled out, too. Because he couldn’t possibly be the reason why Isla was so fucking fraught. Right?

“Don’t act like you didn’t already know that.”

He was so breezy, so nonchalant. It made Tig anxious.

“You flipped out on her, jackass.” Clay took another pull from his Budweiser. He rubbed at his lips with the back of his hand, watching Tig’s facial expression scream unease.

“Didn’t flip out on her.” He stated, shifting his focus to the front door of Caracara as it swung open and hit the wall—revealing everyone’s least favorite porn star setting up shop by the entrance.

Ima.

“Shit, if Isla or Tara sees that gash—“

“A cat fight is the least of your worries tonight, Tigger.” He told him, enjoying the sudden tension. “You practically jumped down Isla’s throat ‘cus you’re jealous that Jax was fighting her battles. Or whatever it was that you said.”

Tig grumbled, loathing his past self for confiding in Clay this afternoon.

“And she was already pissed at you—“

“Yeah, because of you and Gemma going at it out in the damn parking lot.” The Sgt. snarled, pushing away from the couch when he felt the conversation start to run its course, and his patience begin to ebb away.

He knew that blaming his current issue with the woman he adored on the couple’s fiery spat was completely unreasonable. But it was the only thing that seemed to bring him some sort of closure.

Because if he didn’t go after Clay—didn’t make a point of putting his President first—then Isla wouldn’t have felt the need to make any remark, and he wouldn’t have gotten overly defensive.

Like he always did. Because he was fucking insecure.

Insecure that Jax had gotten to pummel Steven into the gravel outside of Teller-Morrow, pulverizing the bastard that bust open Isla’s heart, and not him.

It was pathetic, and he recognized that. Isla wasn’t his. She wasn’t his girl nor was she his old lady, but he still felt this overwhelming urge to protect her.

And he didn’t do that today. Jax did.

But Isla was more than capable of shielding herself, and Tig was about to witness that first hand.

“Invite only, bitch! Get your ass out!”

Ima’s cheap heels clicked angrily across the gravel, rounding her car as she shuffled toward Isla.

She had only abandoned her spot at the table for five minutes.

Amused, Isla stood in the doorway with her black jacket wrenched between her hands and her latex dress glittering beneath the string lights hanging outside of Caracara.

She looked…divine. Completely and utterly divine, while simultaneously dressing absolutely nothing like her usual self.

Something that she was certain would leave Tig speechless.

“Seriously, Isla, you’re not on the fucking list! You didn’t confirm your RSVP, you’re not allowed in—“

“I’m Tig’s plus one.” She threw over her shoulder, strolling through the studio door. “And Luann’ll want me here. She loves me—“

“You wish.” Ima growled, curling a hand around Isla’s wrist.

Big mistake.

The pompous woman squeezed her skin, refusing to let go despite the fervent force with which Isla shook her arm.

“Let go of me, you slut!”

“Not until you get the fuck out!”

“God!” Isla squeaked, backing into the black curtain separating the makeshift entrance, and the studio space where the party was currently commencing. “Get your filthy fucking fingers off of me!”

“No!” Ima continued to pinch, stomping across the linoleum floor at the same pace that Isla was backing up toward the gathering. “Just ‘cus you’re wearing a tight little dress doesn’t make you hot shit, bitch! You’re not invited to this party—“

Agitated, the blonde’s head tipped backward. She yanked her arm viciously, managing to evade the strangely violent hold the pornstar had on her.

Ima stumbled backward, dramatically hitting her ass against the drinks table.

“Listen to me, bitch.”

Isla’s dainty, ringed forefinger pressed against her exposed chest, hoping to leave a crescent mark where her nail had driven into Ima’s flesh.

“I don’t give a damn about your list, alright? I’m with the club, and I’m not gonna let some pathetic—barely fucking legal—five dollar whore tell me otherwise.”

With an undeniable air of intimidation—a completely Gemma-esque malevolent glare—she stared her down. Until she was visibly cowering beneath her hold.

“Now get the fuck away from me before I tear each of your tapes out one by one.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ima snarled, pushing herself forward so that they were literally nose to nose. “You don’t have the balls—“

“Try me.”

“Try you?” She chuckled, pulling back. “I’d love to see what you’ve got, Isla. I’m sure you’re a little firecracker when you set your mind to it.”

“I don’t have to set my mind to it, Ima, you’re already testing me pretty bad today.”

“I am?” The bitch asked, watching a small audience gather behind.

The audience that consisted of Jax, Opie, and a very concerned Tig…Who struggled to keep his eyes on Isla’s hands and not her ass.

“I’m sure your boys would love to see how vicious you could get. I bet they’d be real proud of their Sam Crow princess if she started attacking the pretty blonde girl—“

Isla’s chuckle mirrored hers perfectly, totally unaware of the three behind her ready to pounce had anything more physical transpired.

“Do not flatter yourself. I wouldn’t go so far as to call you ‘pretty’, nor would I waste my energy on ‘attacking’ you.”

Relieved that she wouldn’t be taking any manual action, Tig exerted a deep, satisfied sigh. And maybe it was mainly to steady himself after a potential altercation, but seeing Isla in such a skimpy number had his heart racing, regardless.

Taking a moment of calm was needed.

“And, I can speak for both myself and Tara—y’know, the girlfriend of the man you’ve been creaming over—when I say this: we are not pushovers. We are not the women you think that we are, and you, especially, will not be able to do whatever the fuck you want around us.”

“Is that a threat?” Isla snickered.

“Absolutely.” The shorter blonde deadpanned, hoping to pierce the eyes of the soulless cunt with her big cerulean hues. “Go for either of us again, and see where it gets you.”

Entertained by the cockiness exhibited by the girl that was widely known for being too nice, Ima tried to slip away.

But not before Isla snaked a hand around her bicep, yanking her close. She ghosted her lips over Ima’s ear, hoping that the feeling of her hot breath against that patchy tan skin made her uncomfortable.

“I mean it. Watch your step.”

“Or what?” Shakily, trying to steady herself, she quizzed.

“Or, you’ll meet the Colt Pony that I keep in my purse.” She hissed, letting go.

“You’re a damn joke—“

“Get outta here.” Isla waved a hand, throwing her coat atop the director’s chair beside the punch bowl. “Don’t you have paying customers waiting for you out there?”

Ima’s nostrils flared as she stomped away, making a beeline straight for Luann to tell her about the altercation with Gemma’s favorite girl.

But Isla couldn’t find it in herself to even pretend to care. Not about Ima, anyway.

“Do we need to start putting you on a leash, Cujo?” Jax snarked, urging her to take a deep breath before turning on her heels.

Really, he was the last person that she wanted to see today.

Well. The second to last person.

“You’re so funny.” She spat, staring him down. “Remind me to make a note of that one.”

Opie’s head tipped toward her, his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s gotten into you lately, Isla? You seem so—“

“So sensitive.” Jax finished Opie’s sentence, lauding the look of disgust that both of his childhood best friends exhibited.

And Tig was too enamored with Isla’s sumptuous form—watching her chest sporadically heave while constricted by such a tight-fitting garment—to consider the weight of what the VP had uttered.

“You’ve always gotta drive that knife a little deeper, don’t you?”

Jax shrugged with both hands in the pockets of his kutte.

“Fuck you, you sanctimonious prick.” Isla bled out, watching Opie’s face fall as he came to the realization that she wasn’t finished yet. “I was actually gonna thank you for kicking Steven’s ass today. But now I hope that he presses charges.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Tig finally stepped in, stopping her before she could dig the metaphorical knife any further into Jax’s chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Nah, she does.” The blonde disregarded the word of his brother. “She’s always been the same when it comes to Stevie, ‘cus she’s never managed to get over him.”

“Fuck you.” She repeated, feeling an almost painfully unbending—completely brutal—fury wash over her.

He knew that was never the case. Jackson Teller knew the troubles and trauma with which Isla had to live at the hands of the man she was once completely besotted with.

And, yet, he said that. Such a vile thing. A nasty, malicious riposte that seared its way into Isla’s mind.

Something she wouldn’t forget.

“You’ve gotten much too complacent lately, Jax. And this ain’t a good look for you.”

Opie shook his head, silently agreeing with the woman whose look of anger—pure outrage—perfectly mirrored her old man’s. Teeth clenched, brows furrowed as her eyes narrowed, and her chest continued to rise and fall.

He ducked away, then. Leaving the two blondes to it.

“You’re spending so much time trying to outsmart Clay, that you’re actually turning into him.”

Tig’s heart was in his throat, watching them. Knowing that neither would back down until a screaming match had taken place, or until Isla was in fits of tears.

“Could say the same about you with Gemma.” Jax said. “Spending that much time with my mother is doing a serious number on you, Isla.”

“She’s better than Clay.”

“Is she?” He asked before taking a step toward her, but Tig put an arm out. He held his palm against Jax’s chest for a few seconds, hoping to keep him stationary.

Because he didn’t want to see a fight break out between two lifelong best friends, nor did he want Jax to be the fucking reason for Isla’s emotionally turbulent, ire-fueled outburst.

“I really don’t have time for this.” Isla stated plainly. “Jax, unless you’re gonna say something interesting or important, can you please get out of my way so I can enjoy this party.”

He thought over her request for a few seconds. He wondered whether provoking her further would have been worth his while, especially in front of such a vast audience.

“Maybe you should just let her go, man—“

“This ain’t got shit to do with you, Tig.”

Are you sure about that, brother? The older man thought to himself, though he simply presented Jax with a tight-lipped grimace.

He didn’t need to know that he was what had provoked such a reaction from Isla today.

“Don’t talk to him like that, asshole. He didn’t do anything wrong.” She upheld, defending Tig for the second fucking time today.

Despite him not being deserving of it.

“But Jax is right. This is between us, Tig. Maybe you should go get another drink, or something.”

“Yeah.” The blonde agreed with her. “Maybe you should go find Ima, help you loosen up a little. She fucks real good—“

That was it.

Blinded by the most irate stupor—an incandescent haze—that had appeared out of nowhere, Isla felt her arm raise before she had the chance to process what she was actually doing.

Within a flash, her palm had crashed against Jax’s cheek—leaving a pungent crimson print that looked remarkably painful to touch.

But, like most things tonight, she didn’t give a damn about it.

She was too overrun with emotion, too galled to think before she acted out and caused her friend actual bodily harm.

And though she knew just what had bothered her so much, Isla didn’t know how she had gotten so wound up that the only viable outlet for releasing any and all anger, came in the form of hitting somebody that she loved.

Immediate regret.

“Isla!” Chibs called, snapping her out of it. “The hell are you doin’?!”

Tig just watched. As Bobby held a cold compress to Jax’s cheek, Tig watched Isla—uncharacteristically malicious, but completely bursting with remorse—seethe beneath Chibs’s hold.

And he couldn’t seem to focus on her for too long, not without feeling himself wilt with each passing moment, so he took a step back. Tig set down his beer, straightened himself out, and made his way to the back of Caracara.

Leaving a hole in Isla’s heart.

“Love.” Her father gently shook her shoulder. “What did you just do that for?”

“She did that ‘cus she’s a crazy fucking bitch—“

“Shut up!” She yelled, feeling another surge of rage after heeding Tig head toward the back room. “Jax, you know why I did that!”

Holding the ice pack, he ambled toward her. “No, I don’t!”

“You are so fucking stupid!”

He blinked at her.

“Do you need me to slap the other cheek, Teller?!”

“No, I just want you to tell me why you slapped this one!” He gestured to the already bruising red mark against his flesh, wincing beneath his own touch.

She grimaced, being able to feel Gemma’s impending castigation whenever it would be that she’d catch sight of the monstrosity decorating her son’s face.

“What you said about Ima, idiot! You’re a fucking pig!”

“What?!”

“You know what!” Isla barked back. Fuming. “You have a girlfriend now, Jax! You can’t go boasting about how amazing other girls are at riding you!”

Finally, he had realized his mistake. As it came hurtling toward his face.

“Tara is too fucking good for you.” Viciously, she hissed.

She had started to get herself so worked up over the thought of Tig potentially sleeping with one of Luann’s girls, Isla had neglected to realize just how harsh she had been.

Though Jax had completely deserved such punishment, she was still remarkably sorry for all that she had bellowed the second that it came barreling from her lips.

But she was more irked than not, now. As she shook Chibs off, stormed past the small crowd of people, Isla was furious.

Maybe, it might’ve pertained to the incident with both Ima and Jax this evening. Maybe that had gotten her blood boiling more than she had even realized.

Or, maybe, Isla was so fucking angry because Tig—at the slightest, most minuscule of brawls—had slipped away for some relief from a woman that wasn’t her.

The heels of her stilettos thrashed against the ground—her heart beating so incredibly malevolently that it felt as though it would break free from the constraints of her ribcage—as she made a very pointed beeline for Lyla’s dressing room.

She couldn’t remember a time when she was so overrun with pure, unadulterated passion. An animalistic fury that dominated each of her five senses, overwhelming her to the point of hyperventilating.

It felt primal. Dangerous. Like any and all semblance of equilibrium that she could cling to had just vanished, taking her morals with it, too.

Because she had never gotten so dyspeptic over a fucking man before. A man like Tig, no less.

But the worry she harbored—the hurt she felt whenever she thought about him with somebody else—had started to dissipate, to promptly diminish, when the strongest pair of hands—specifically a pair that her body had started to remember—clamped down on her waist.

It was the feeling of his rings skating across the black latex—that barely constituted as a fucking dress—that sent her reeling.

Isla pushed her spine into him, holding herself firmly against his sternum as he backed them both into the room to their left.

“I don’t appreciate getting manhandled—“

“I don’t give a fuck about what you do and don’t appreciate.” He growled, slamming the door shut with the toe of his boot before releasing her waist from his hold. “You ain’t considering anyone else’s feelings, then why the hell should I consider yours?”

“Screw you.”

“Oh, my fucking pleasure.” Tig snapped and wrapped a hand around her throat, nudging her toward the dressing table. “I’m gonna screw all of that rage outta you, Isla, ‘cus you’re starting to piss me off.”

She snorted a laugh, gasping when his grip consolidated.

Though, she still remained poised.

“I’m starting to piss you off? You’re the one that got all insecure because you couldn’t protect me from Steven, and turned into a little bitch over it—“

“Hey!” He yelled, drawing her closer until the tips of their noses were almost touching. Isla shivered. “You watch your fucking mouth before I do something that I regret.”

“Like what? Make me cum?” She taunted, feeling the fingers around the base of her throat tighten. “C’mon, Tigger. Show me what the big bad biker’s made of.”

Irascible. Tig was fucking irascible.

As she stood somewhat steady beneath his unyielding grip, her heart pounded. Hard.

His teeth ground together, jaw clenched. “I’ll show you, alright.” He said.

Tig released her throat from the relentless hold that he’d had it in, resuming a comfortable grip against the back of her neck with one hand, and the other planted firmly atop the latex constricting her waist.

Isla moaned at the sensation. When he wreathed his fingers between her curls, Isla whined and lilted until their lips collided in the most bruising kiss that they had ever shared.

It was ardent, undeniably feverish as their bodies writhed against one another. Tig started to tug at the zip that sat at the middle of Isla’s spine, while her arms fell over his shoulders.

He began to heave the material, desperate to release her luscious torso from the confines of such a lurid outfit. Something that just wasn’t her, but looked splendid regardless—he thought, anyway.

“You wear this to impress me?” He mumbled, with a smile, against her mouth, which resulted in a slew of broken moans from the half-disheveled blonde as the latex came loose. “I love it. Makes your tits look amazing.”

“I know.” Isla retorted, letting her dress fall to the floor.

The oddly potent breeze against her bare bones—as she appeared nude beneath her “clothes”—didn’t bother her when she heeded that Tig was totally unable to tear his eyes away from her chest.

To say that it’d had the desired effect would have been a vast understatement. The man was speechless.

“What made you wear this tonight?” He asked, pulling away from her to unbuckle his belt. “What happened to those pretty little cardigans? I love those too.”

She scrunched her nose up, pushing her loose locks to sit over her shoulder. “I thought that if I dressed like a slut tonight, you’d fuck me like one.”

His movements hindered, then. He hadn’t expected her to come out with such a lewd statement. However, he lauded it.

“But you haven’t yet. So I guess the dress didn’t work.” She pouted, taking advantage of the slight height difference to look up at Tig through those long, thick fake eyelashes.

“You’re being a bitch tonight, so you’ve gotta wait.” He growled, dropping his jeans. “Patience, Isla. Ever heard of it?”

“I have. But if I’ve gotta wait, I might as well just fuck myself.” She quipped.

Isla hiked her right leg up, letting her thigh rest against the dressing table that she was leaning on—leaving her almost completely exposed to him—and leaned backward on her elbows.

“I bet I could make myself cum harder than you could.”

“Bullshit.” He snapped while unbuttoning his shirt, almost scaring her. “Nobody could ever make you cum harder than me, Isla. Don’t fuckin’ lie to yourself.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me, baby, ‘cus you haven’t even tried to fuck me yet.”

“Patience—“

“Just shut up, and wreck my pussy. Now.”

Tig snorted a laugh, but realized that the goading would only persist if he held off any longer.

And as much as he knew that it was killing her, it was killing him a hell of a lot faster.

“Y’know, I ain’t a fan of giving people what they want.”

“Could've fooled me.” Her dig was doused in a salacious passion, an almost delicious affection, as Tig spat into the palm of his hand and began to stroke the length of his cock.

Isla smiled.

“I’m real wet already, Tig. There’s no need for that.”

“You are?” She nodded, reaching for his biceps when he took a step closer to scrutinize her warmth. “Let me see.”

On instinct, Isla spread her legs with a wicked little grin.

And beneath the light of Lyla’s dressing room—the acrid shine against four off-white walls—Tig watched as her cunt glittered. As it seeped arousal, sending a flash of heat to the tip of his dick.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He managed to muster out, letting a finger run through her folds as he lurched forward and Isla’s breath began to hitch. “You’re soaked, baby girl.”

She moaned at the pet name. Moaned at the way his thick, ringed finger slid over her warmth and into her pussy. But only for a few seconds.

Because he couldn’t wait any longer, now. He had to fuck her, and his insatiabile appetite was painfully perceptible as he grunted and groaned while taking himself in the calloused palm of his hand.

“Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard.” She begged, tipping her head backward when he began to tease her entrance with the head of his prick.

He loved how vocal she was. How she enjoyed telling him just what she wanted. How she wanted it.

“I’ll fuck you hard, alright.” Tig confirmed. “I’ll fuck you hard and fill you up, and send you on your way back into that party.”

“You’ll fill me up?” With an air of almost complete innocence, she looked back at him with those beautiful doe eyes that burned holes into his goddamn soul. “You’ve never done that before.”

Slowly, he eased his way in. Though, with the liquid desire pouring from her pussy at a rate of absolute fucking knots, he didn’t really need to steady himself.

“There’s a first time for everything, Isla.” He crooned, leaning over to press a sloppy kiss against her lips.

The move also provided her with the opportunity to wrap both arms around his shoulders, and become acquainted with the not-so wonderful dressing table she was currently bare atop.

“Remember what I said.” She mumbled into his mouth before pulling away, moaning sweetly when he quietly began to slide in and out. “Hard.”

“And remember what I said.”

Isla’s eyes rolled, though the prurient blaze within the fissures of her abdomen had steadily begun to kindle.

“I know that you’re not big on giving people what they want.” She mumbled and tensed her cunt, feeling his rhythm hinder. “But I think that I should be the exception, don’t you?”

“Not when you hold my cock in a death grip.” Pissed, he spat. Though the admiration for her that washed over his rugged features told Isla otherwise.

She pressed all ten of her perfectly manicured, powder pink acrylics into the leather encasing his back as he started to hasten his ministrations and hit against her cervix. Before pulling all the way out, and pushing all the way back in.

Isla felt as though she had died and gone to heaven, getting screwed by Tig while still enveloped in his kutte. The weathered vest that hosted his Sgt. At Arms patch.

There was something so remarkably sexy—stimulating, perhaps—about scraping her fingernails over the reaper that sat comfortably against his spine.

Leaving little—completely temporary—crescent shapes in the leather. His leather. As she marked her territory.

“Of course you’re the exception, angel.” Tig promised, picking up his pace.

He hit deep into her, letting his cock relentlessly poke at the deepest, spongiest part of her cunt. Where he was certain that he could go no further.

Despite this arrangement of theirs only being drawn up more recently, Tig had spent the entire time that they had shared together learning her.

Learning every last inch of her body. Appreciating how she was just so responsive—to quite literally fucking everything—and spurned the thought of silencing herself while experiencing the immense pleasure that Tig was more than capable of providing her with.

Everything about her. Every mannerism during sex, every sound and movement and even the ridiculously pompous comments she’d let slip inside of the bedroom, turned him on improbably.

Isla Telford hosted—and provided him with—the most incandescent lust, a spitfire so undeniably fervent that it never burnt out or dimmed that same way his feelings for Colleen did.

And it might’ve only been a few weeks—a month, at most—but she was already making her imprint on him.

Tig had never wanted to be branded, to be marked up, by anything that wasn’t the reaper before.

But she was different.

So different, in fact, he didn’t give a morsel of a fuck about the risks and consequences that could come along with…well, coming inside of her. Not anymore.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re so big.” She praised, pulling a hand away from his neck and slapping it against the counter. “It feels so good, babe.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” Isla continued to whine as his cock felt like it’d started to split her open, spearing her out in the back of Luann’s studio.

They’d had sex in the clubhouse a few times before now, but something about being in a more public setting—a room that didn’t host a lock, perhaps—was that bit more exhilarating.

“You want more?” He asked, rutting his hips into her. Letting his thighs hit against hers as she shifted into an awkward position, but the angle allowed him further into her cunt.

Feverishly, she nodded.

“Tell me. Tell me you want more—tell me you want more from the only man that’s ever fucked you this good.”

She gasped, writhing against him as he pushed his torso flush to hers and his cock stilled in the depths of her warmth.

Isla hadn’t realized that Tig had a praise kink. Or, at least, that he got off on the thought of her praising him.

She was going to use it to her advantage, now.

“Oh, I want more, alright.” Feeding into his craving, she said. “I want you and your huge cock to take me on the couch, now. I want you to have your way with me, and fuck me real hard ‘til I can’t stand.”

Breathing a little more shallow—sporadic—he nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” She spoke in a dulcet tone. Almost a whisper. “I want you to spit in my mouth while you’re balls deep.”

He nodded again, sliding his hands beneath the plump cheeks of her ass and pulling out. She whimpered at the loss of contact.

“I can do that.”

Isla smiled, holding onto his neck as he shifted her from the counter and to the pert red couch that sat in the far corner of the—oddly spacious—room.

“Wait—before I do anything.” Reluctantly, Tig pulled himself upward a little bit—all the while laying her down and kneeling against the leather. “I’ve gotta ask one thing.”

“What?”

“Birth control—do you use it?”

She strived to contain a chuckle, raking her nails over his forearms.

“No.” Isla lied, pulling him closer. “I was just gonna trap you when I get pregnant after my pussy swallows your load.”

And as if he could even consider Isla being so fucking stupid, his face fell. Tig’s features fell hard and fast, and Isla couldn’t remain so casually cruel.

“I’m kidding.” She said. “Of course I use it. I’ve been taking the pill for years.”

“Oh.” Relieved, he breathed out. “Well, in that case…”

Without reluctance and a whole lot of haste—remembering once again that time mightn’t have been on their side—Tig pushed back into her core. To the absolute hilt.

Until she was squirming beneath him.

“Shit—please fuck me.” The begging came naturally, her pleas overly seductive and completely unintentional as the words simply bled from her tongue.

“I’m fuckin’ you.” Tig growled, letting his hands take purchase on her waist. He curled his fingers over the beautiful curve, holding tightly against her skin.

It gave him the perfect amount of leverage—of grip—to just slam into her. Recklessly.

“I said that I wanted it hard.” She taunted, feeling her teeth chatter together whenever she shut her mouth.

Because he was going at it hard. Tig wasn’t taking it easy on her. But she wanted more.

Isla had always been greedy in that aspect. She had always taken whatever it was that she could get, even if it meant that she turned into a depraved version of herself in the bedroom.

Or Lyla’s dressing room.

“Shit.” He hissed, pulling her into him and pushing into her.

It had only been a matter of minutes, but he could already feel himself unraveling. Isla too. Because it was so hot. Both literally, and in terms of their sex, and neither wanted to hold out for too long.

A quickie—something that they didn’t loathe the thought of, but would definitely rather avoid—had to suffice, tonight.

“Your pretty little pussy is driving me insane.” Tig blurted out honestly, thrusting like his life depended on it. “Never fucked such a tight cunt before.”

“Nobody holds a candle to me.”

“Nobody does, you’re right—“ He grunted, though it turned into a throaty—completely gravely—laugh the second he heard the music from outside.

It hadn’t been an outstanding factor thus far, but the song…

“What one is this?” Pretending as though he couldn’t heed Crazy Bitch a damn mile away, he raised his qualm.

Squinting, holding tightly onto his back when he hovered over her, Isla’s nose scrunched up.

“Don’t know.” She moaned out, recognizing that her release was most certainly on its way. “It’s a Buckcherry song, I know that.”

He hummed, half satisfied with the response.

“Crazy Bitch—what Jax called you earlier.”

She rolled her eyes.

“This’ll make me think of you, now.”

“Why?”

“‘Cus, like the song says, you’re a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I'm on top of it.”

“God, you’re a pig.” She said, though her lips curled upward. Lauding the thought of this song reminding him of her.

A woman whose being was most definitely not the intended target audience. Because she was so poised, so subdued when it came to almost every last endeavor.

“But you’re about to make me cum.” Isla mumbled, wrapping her legs around the tops of his thighs. “And you still haven’t spat in my mouth—“

Tig quickly seized her face within the palm of his right hand—forcing her to hollow out both cheeks—and lowered his head.

“Surely you didn’t think I forgot about that?”

With those big, blue doe eyes, she stared back at him.

He tsked.

“Open your mouth.”

She furrowed both eyebrows. Her mouth was already open. But Tig, once again, hummed his disapproval.

“Wide. Open it wide.”

Isla conformed, almost dislocating her jaw in the process.

But it was so, so worth it. To see the lust, the pure, unadulterated rapture sailing over his sweat-slick complexion as he gathered saliva on his tongue, Isla didn’t give a damn.

In a flash, Tig was spitting directly into her mouth—one of his most favorite parts of her—and her eyes had begun to roll backward at the immense sensation.

He wondered why he hadn’t done that before. She was so responsive to it.

“Oh my God.” She moaned, writhing helplessly. “I’m so, so close.”

“C’mon, baby girl.” He said, remembering the not-so subtle way she shuddered beneath his tight grip when he uttered the phrase earlier. “The sooner you cum, the sooner I can fill your cunt.”

“Oh, I bet all of those girls are gonna be real jealous ‘cus I’m getting a belly full of Tigger juice—or whatever it was that Clay called it—and they ain’t.”

If she hadn’t been so goddamn exhausted—so spent after getting the life, literally, banged right out of her—she would’ve cringed at the line she had just dropped.

But she was riding the crashing wave. Nearing her impending release. And she felt wonderful.

“Make me cum, please.” Isla begged, squeezing her legs tighter around him. “Daddy, please—“

“Oh, you’ve had it.” In the most authoritative tone he could’ve possibly adopted, Tig said. “You little slut, you’ve fucking had it.”

A praise kink and a daddy kink? Isla was discovering more and more about Tig as the evening was progressing.

Not that she was sorry about such a thing, though.

And he wasn’t sorry—at all—for the ruthless thrusting, jabbing, shoving, driving that he was doing in order to get her to squirt over his cock.

“Fuck!” She squealed, feeling the ravine of pleasure weep from between her legs as he continued to hit her sweet spot. “Shit, Tig, I’m—“

“Making a hell of a mess.”

“Yeah.” Breathlessly, she muttered. Completely unbothered. “Are you ready to finish?”

“Not yet—“

“C’mon, daddy.” She satirized, feeling his prick stutter against her walls. “You’ve gotta cum in me. Let me know that this pussy is only yours.”

“You already know that.”

Isla’s head shook. “You’ve been too scared to do it inside me, haven’t you? That’s why you never came in my cunt before. ‘Cus you’re afraid—“

“Shut the fuck up.” He demanded weakly, digging his fingers into her waist.

Tig lazily slid in and out of her a handful of times, before he couldn’t hold off any longer. He couldn’t bear the goading, or the pressure building inside of his stomach.

He had to let it out.

He had to spill his seed inside of Isla’s pussy. He had to watch as threads and beads of cum painted her walls, and seeped right out of her as she laid on the couch weak.

Weak and weary. Cum drunk.

“God. You’re so fucking beautiful with my load all over your pussy and thighs.” He said, kissing her lips while he pulled out.

She smiled against his mouth, moaning sweetly because it was so soft. So delicate and warm, and something she wanted to savor the feeling of. Not something she wanted to rush through, or take advantage of.

It was really very intimate, actually.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, barely breaking away.

“For what?”

“For fucking me.” Isla said. “And for also bringing me down a few pegs earlier. I was pissed ‘cus of what happened with Gem and Clay, and I took it out on everyone. So I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He told her, leaning backwards on his knees. He reached for her dress and his jeans that sat in a pile on the floor, bringing them onto the couch.

Tig handed Isla the little latex number before he was sliding from the leather, pulling on his pants.

“It’s been a weird fuckin’ day, Isla. You acted better than I would’ve.”

“Yeah, well.” She shimmied the black fabric over her head. “I didn’t actually have my gun in my purse so I couldn’t have acted like you—“

“Hey.” Tig’s brows knitted together. Though he smiled. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” The habitual taunt in her tone had returned as she dressed herself and stood up, cringing when she felt it.

There was a lot more than what she had first thought, actually.

He pointed at her left leg. “You, uh, you got a little something.”

“Fuck off.” She snorted, zipping up her dress. “I can’t believe you’re making me go out into that party with your jizz all over me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Isla lilted, extending an arm to grab her purse. “I do love it…but, you know what I love more?”

Confused, he shrugged. But she lifted a finger when he opened the door, and the most ridiculous metal song that Juice could’ve possibly added to Luann’s playlist came flooding into the room.

“Is this…Pussy Liquor?”

“It is.” Swelling with pride, she smiled. “Let’s get back out there. I love Rob Zombie.”

1:40 AM

And though she had made an internal vow to herself to not drink so much alcohol at these functions, Isla was still found stumbling out of Caracara attached to Tig’s right arm.

He was her saving grace, tonight. The only somewhat abstinent one on the premises, and the man who had marked her as his just three hours prior.

She was grateful for him tonight. More so than usual.

“You’re hammered.” He joked, holding Isla upright as he helped her toward her front door. “I’ve never seen you so drunk before. Not even after all that tequila.”

“Well.” She hiccuped. Tasting bile. “I was trying to keep up with Bobby and my old man—there’s no way I was gonna be good tonight. Not like you.”

She fumbled with her keychain, jamming the master key into the lock.

“Why are you still relatively sober, anyway?”

“Who else was gonna take you home?” He stated offhandedly, though Isla felt her heart skip a beat at his earnestness.

Tig loved to drink. He loved the subtle notes of vanilla and caramel that came with a bottle of Jack, or the intensity of a double vodka—something that she would always argue both smelled and tasted like wallpaper remover.

But tonight, as he elucidated, drinking wasn’t in his best interests. Not when Isla needed to get back, and he had a duty of care to make sure that she was not only taken home, but that she safely arrived at her front door.

And he didn’t trust anybody else to keep her safe.

“I’m sure I could’ve gotten a cab—“

“No fucking way.” He nudged her inside, making her aware of the small step between her front door and the hallway. “Cab drivers are sketchy. I’m not letting you risk your fuckin’ life by getting into one of those things.”

She snickered.

“I’m serious, babe.” Tig upheld, lifting her jacket from the floor when she carelessly flung it to her left. “You can’t trust those strange guys to take you home, and you won’t have to either. As long as I’m around, you know I’ll be your ride.”

Isla laughed to herself again, kicking off her heels. “You’re a great ride, Tigger. The best I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, gesturing for her to walk over to him. Well. Stumble, in her condition.

“The best, huh?” He asked, enveloping her waist with his left arm while Isla wilted beneath his right hand as he pushed splayed blonde hairs from her forehead.

She hummed and nodded, softly biting her lower lip.

“And you’re the best that I’ve ever taken for a ride, y’know?”

“Oh, flattery will get you nowhere.” Isla joked, leaning into his chest. “But, on this one occasion, it might get you to my bedroom.”

Tig held her close, just admiring how fucking beautiful she was when she was quietly laughing. How, despite being absolutely shitfaced, Isla managed to look so poised. So elegant.

So perfect.

“Is this one of these subtle hints of yours?” Asked Tig. “Is this you telling me to take you to bed?”

“Yes…” She said, unable to keep herself upright. “To fuck, or to sleep. I don’t care. I just…”

“Need to get upstairs.” He mumbled, recognizing that Isla had started to turn a…strange color. “Are you—“

“Gonna puke? Yeah, I think so—“

“Alright, angel.” Tig said feverishly, gently kicking open the door adjacent to the living room. “Quick. Before you hurl all over that pink rug.”

“With all due respect.” She grabbed the wooden frame, stepping over the threshold that led to the staircase. “There’s more chance of me throwing up on you than on my $300 rug.”

“Three hundred dollars?!” He exclaimed, pacing upstairs behind her. “Christ, Isla. That’s insane.”

“It was an investment piece.” She grumbled. “And three hundred isn’t that much. I’ve seen Gemma blow a grand on a purse before now.”

“Still.”

Her eyes rolled, though she didn’t care to add any more to the conversation. Because Isla felt bad. Like vomit would start to spew from the deepest caverns of her stomach, and her body would begin to convulse bad.

“Unzip me please.” She asked him when she stilled outside of her bedroom, feeling that horrifying churn in her abdomen.

Tig did as asked, speedily freeing her from that delicious number. But, now, he didn’t care to act on any prurient impulses. Or feed into his insatiability.

He just wanted to make sure that she was okay.

Isla shuffled into the bathroom—hoping to become acquainted with the toilet bowl before she released the contents of her stomach—and he rummaged around her pajama drawer.

Because she was naked. She was completely bare and vulnerable, and he knew that Isla wouldn’t have wanted him to see her like that—especially without anything covering her frail frame.

He pulled out a svelte nightdress adorned with pink peonies, something cute to take the edge off, he thought.

“Isla—“

“Don’t come in here!” She barked defensively, lifting her head for a moment to heed him about to make his way onto the tile.

Tig heaved out a deep breath, still walking into the room regardless of the fact she was currently oozing venom.

“Please…Go. I’ll be out soon—“ Unintentionally, she cut herself off. As she released more intoxicants from her system, Isla’s eyes bled streams of tears.

She sighed, letting her back hit the radiator when she fell to the side. Completely limp.

“C’mere.” Tig gestured for her to shift to the right so he could slip the garment over her head, mindful of the way any sudden movements could’ve had the propensity to trigger another eruption.

“Better?”

“Better.” She confirmed. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me.” He chuckled, getting to his knees.

Tig wrapped his digits around the messy tresses that had absentmindedly fallen over her back, chest and neck, and bunched them into one of the scrunchies that Isla had left beside the sink.

“I should be thanking you for defending me earlier. With Tara, I mean.”

“It was nothing, she was being a bitch.” She waved him off, feeling an unwavering chill wash over her. “And speaking of bitch, before you say it, yes I was jealous when Jax suggested you go find ‘n fuck Ima.”

He nodded, lauding the inebriated honesty. “I know.”

“And if I wasn’t so drunk right now, I never would have admitted to being jealous of her.”

“I know.” Tig acknowledged again. “But I told you, baby, you got nothing to worry about.”

“It’s just my thing. I’m always worrying about us.” Sadly, she admitted. “It’s just ‘cus I love you so much. I’m just a little anxious sometimes, that's all.”

If she hadn’t noticed his face falling, then she definitely heard the way Tig gasped out. Or, she might’ve noticed the crimson burn brightly over his cheeks, nose and forehead.

Fuck.

“I guess love makes people do and think stupid things.” She laughed before lurching forward, holding tightly onto the toilet bowl.

And he knew that she was absolutely hammered—that she probably wouldn’t remember the way she said those words, or how they made him feel, in the morning—but Tig still felt his heart palpitate inside of his chest.

Because she loved him. After only such a short time spent together, Isla really loved him. And, the most insane thing was; he loved her.

A fucking lot. Maybe even more so.

“I love you, too.” He said softly, running his hand over the curve of her spine. “And I mean it, Isla. So don’t go thinkin’ I’m gonna fuck anyone else, ‘cus I won’t. Not now.”

She couldn’t muster enough strength to nod, or to even respond with anything aside from a little hum. But he knew that she was biting back tears…And so was he, then.

He hadn’t felt this way before.

Ever.

Not with Colleen. Not even with Fiona.

God. Isla truly was such an important facet of his life.

“I’m yours.” Tig vowed, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. “Always.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all! 

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 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass. 

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you. 

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

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