#his smoking habit is modeled after my own by the way so take that as you will

[willowlevulett]

The second part of my self-indulgent Jayce smokes sadly on the balcony drabble. Truly, this man can not be written without a desperate longing for his lab partner. Small CW for a small reference of Jayce's canon attempt.

-

The balcony door clicks closed. Jayce feels his throat close along with it.

The freezing air wraps like a wreath around the soft brown hair of his partner, puffs of white smoke from his lips. Puffs of white smoke from Jayce's. Despite everything, all he wants is to know what it tastes like if those clouds meet in the middle.

Despite everything, he wants to press his palm back to the side of his throat for the entirety of whatever was to come. He wants to feel the words Viktor was about to press into the distance between them. If they are to be seperated, deathly final and with a flourish, Jayce wishes he could enscribe each syllable to the harsh callouses on his fingers.

Dramatic, Caitlyn would tease him.

Viktor, despite the surely audible thrash of Jayce's fast beating heart, simply sits and does not speak for several minutes. He stares forward, his eyes focused in a way Jayce knew that he was not on this balcony. Not really. He was a million miles away, dissecting and ripping apart something with his teeth. Savoring each mouthful before he would even think to bring it to Jayce. So he waits, like he always does.

He busies himself with straightening out the mess he made. The one he can at least. The ash tray, now chipped but intact, returns to its spot on the small side table. He scoots his chair back into the position it was before and tosses the chip of glass from the tray into the small trash can where he throws his cigarette butts. It is finished woefully fast and Viktor still isn't looking at him.

He lights another cigarette, angling his chair away from Viktor and blowing the thick smoke out over the side of the balcony. The freezing wind whips it away and ushers it off to better things. His sighs through his teeth. This was stupid. He should just shatter this silence between them. He usually does whenever he messes up bad enough for Viktor to have to gut and clean the imagined Jayce in his head. Looking for clues in the bloodied carcass of his imagined partner of how he could be so stupid. Usually, Viktor would give up, hands buried deep in his spectral innards and demand that Jayce give him the taste of the real thing. And Jayce does, every time.

Jayce would let Viktor rip him open from sternum to hip hone. Would let him dig through as he pleases, caress organs and sinew with the methodical care only Viktor is capable of. Precise and calculated movements, laced with warmth and that small smile Jayce loves so dearly.

Jayce wants to scream 'tell me what to do and I'll do it. I would tear myself apart to keep you warm'.

He keeps his goddamn mouth shut and takes another drag.

"I hate that you got an apartment with a balcony."

The silence stretched for so long, the statement said so briskly that Jayce once again startles.

He huffs a humorless laugh, smoke bleeding through his lips as he repsonds.

"Come on, Vik. You know I'm too dramatic to settle for my own balcony."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little cold to be funny. What did you need? I know you need something. You got that look in your eye like your knee deep in my fucking brain stem." Viktor doesn't turn his head but his eyes shift, giving him an incredulous side eye like Jayce should have no idea that he does that. Feeling bold, Jayce steadily meets his sideways gaze, dares him to deny the assessment.

"I can guess but I always prefer to get my dress downs directly from your mouth." This makes the side of Viktor's mouth quirk. Jayce almost hopes he takes the bait that statement creates. At least it would make this conversation more bearable.

He doesn't.

"What you said." The pause afterward makes Jayce want to tear his hair out. God, he could feel that this conversation was going to be a sputtering engine. Roaring to life and then choking out black smoke, stuttering to a stop in painful stalls.

"You can't just," he bites down onto his lower lip, running it between his teeth before releasing it, "say things like that."

Jayce wishes Viktor would take him between his teeth. Leave dents and marks in him until Viktor was satisfied.

"But it was cruel of me to send you away like that. I apologize."

Cruel is how Viktor still hasn't fully looked at him. Cruel is the unsteady breath Jayce is taking and the pinprick of tears behind his eyes. Cruel is the freezing night air that rushes in the space between their bodies.

The conversation sputters black smoke.

Finally, after one long drag, Jayce rubs his temple and manages to push the words out, "Okay, well, thanks for that. And I am sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I'll keep my feelings to myself from now on."

Viktor seems to crumble in on himself at that. The side of his face looks pained which confuses Jayce. Is this conversation not a continuation of the rejection he received last night? What did Viktor want from this? It certainly wasn't what Jayce just said.

He could feel the cogs slipping in the machine but he couldn't see where it was misaligned. He needed to tear the hatch cover off, get his hands dirty, and potentially mangled in the process.

Well, if there's anything Jayce is good at, it was certainly throwing himself into the blazing heat of forward motion. What were a couple more scars anyway.

"Why does it make you so uncomfortable? Is it truly so horrible that I feel this way for you?" He meant to sound firm, maybe even stern. Instead he sounds petulant, small. The last part of the sentence whispered with a mortifying crack in his voice. He also realizes he hasn't said what he means. Not really. He knows his eyes poured out the truth like a weeping wound, staining Viktor and the couch below them both. But there is a misaligned cog here.

"Viktor, I-"

"I can't." Black smoke, a click of a tongue in frustration, the restart of the engine, "You can't play with me like this, Jayce. You can't look at me like all the hookups you sweep off their feet in bars. I can't be that for you." It was his turn for his voice to drop down into quiet and small. The voice crack sending painful shivers down Jayce's spine.

The statement is so confusing to him at first that he simply stays still for a second, his cigarette dropping ash between his thighs. Can't be that for you and all the hookups you sweep off their feet.

What?

"What?" The misaligned cog in the conversation catches him in the meat of his thumb, ripping out a chunk and sending his heart into a painful squeeze.

"You think that I- oh gods Viktor please look at me."

Finally, oh finally, Viktor turns and his molten honey gaze burns into Jayce. If he was a funeral pyre, Jayce would light the wood himself.

"You think I want a quick, messy fuck?" He huffs out a laugh at the thought. Gods, no. Jayce wanted to bash his skull open and leave his cerebrum as an offering at Viktor's feet.

"Well it makes the most logical sense. You were inebriated and looking at me like-" he clears his throat awkwardly, "like you wanted to eat me alive. After all these years? Of me quietly- well it made the most sense. And I got, emotional. Angry." He shakes his head as if this was the most ridiculous part of the situation, him being angry at Jayce.

"Quietly what, Viktor."

"Please, Jayce."

"Quietly what?"

The wind stills, as if holdings its breath along with the two men on the balcony. Jayce was and always will be reckless.

Jayce slides down onto his knees, the cold ground immediately biting through his jeans and into the bone. He puts his hands forward, clasped as if in prayer, onto Viktor's lap. When the other man startles and looks down at him with a wild look in his eye, Jayce slips his prayers between them, grabbing firmly onto Viktor's hands. His breath, tinged with cigarette smoke and the heat of his emotions boiling over in his stomach, puffs up into the face of the man he's so desperately in love with.

"I am in love with you. So painfully, so wholly that those words aren't enough. If I could tear out my heart and let you inspect it for defects, for a lie, I would. If I could carve your every breath into my ribs, I would. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." He shifts on the ground, pain pulsing up from his right knee. A crunching noise reaches past the pulse pounding in his ears, and he realizes that there was a tiny shard of glass under that knee. He hopes the wound scars.

"I don't care what you have 'quietly' been feeling this whole time. If it's a fraction of what I feel or simply tolerance. I don't care. I'm done folding this away and trying to be normal. I will be whatever you want me to be. A lover, a partner only in the lab, your bed warmer on cold nights. Whatever you want. If I could hand over my soul for you, I would"

As soon as he finishes his dramatic speech, he realizes he means it. More than anything, he means it. He feels insane. He is insane. Those are insane words to say to someone, no matter how entwined you are with them. Despite this, he wants to say more. Needs to say more.

"I don't want to eat you alive." Jayce presses a kiss reverently to Viktor's red tinged knuckles. "I want you to eat me alive."

Black smoke clears, the engine clicks into gear. Viktor's hand snakes out from Jayce's grip and latches onto his chin, a mirror of last night but flipped on its head. Last nights grip was stilling, horrifying, causing him to beg for forgiveness before even knowing the sin. Instead, this touch was electrifying, a potential. A spark for a wildfire that Jayce's mouth stretches open to catch on his tongue. Viktor's thumb sweeps to the side, catching on his lower lip and staying there like it was always meant to.

"You mean it." His mouth is apage in awe, his breath ghosting past his lips and puffing over Jayce's face. "Fuck, you really mean it, Jayce."

And like god sending rain down to parched earth, Viktor presses his freezing, chapped lips to Jayce's. The spark alights on Jayce's teeth and burns through him in a blink of an eye, a gasped breath pushed against a closed mouth.

The kiss descends quickly from the press of lips Viktor might have meant it to be into Jayce desperately angling his head upwards, greedily sucking Viktor's bottom lip between his. Determined to feel where his teeth had sunk into it just a couple minutes earlier. It tastes like smoke, like hot iron, like day old coffee. He drinks it down and begs for more, pressing upwards so his hands can slip from Viktor's lap and into his hair. It's sweaty at the nape from a day in the lab and tangled from his incessant play of the strands there. It's everything Jayce thought it would be. Viktor gasps against his mouth, and that too is everything Jayce had hoped it would be and so much more. Hot and humid breaths passed between mouths. Teeth clicking in a desperate attempt to get closer. Viktor's hand tangling in the fabric of Jayce's sweater, tugging insistently forward, forward, forward.

They break for air out of necessity, but Jayce doesn't let them separate. He buries his face into that column of throat he so desperately wants to map with his tongue.

"I fear more talking will be needed." Viktor out of breath, chest heaving panting breaths that Jayce can feel where his lips brush his neck.

"After. Whatever you need. But after." And Jayce pulls his face down to his once more.

[olympeline]

I’m in the mood for angst so here’s my take on the biggest personal demons of each member of the humanverse!FACE family. They’d be a close and loving unit but with some thorny issues to overcome before they get their happy ending:

Francis: Eating disorder. I imagine him working in fashion and no atmosphere is crueler when it comes to weight than Parisian cat walks. Even if he’s a designer and not a model, the pressure for the “face” of the Bonnefoy brand to stay slim and attractive would be huge. A lot of starving himself, living on coffee, awful fad diet “cleanses,” and even popping pills at his worst. Not to mention smoking like a chimney for the appetite suppressant. He’d also have some issues with helicopter parenting with the thirst for perfection leaking from work to family time. Not in a cruel way but more overbearing and micromanaging his sons’ time to try and give them the quote-unquote “best start” in life.

Arthur: Substance abuse. Guy was a punk in his teens and early twenties and the addiction got its claws into him good and deep. Mostly alcohol, but occasionally he might slip into harder things. Arthur would try to kick the habit again and again after Alfred and Matthew are born but would fall off the wagon many times. The twins learn early that if Papa isn’t home and they wake up to sounds of throwing up, they’ll need to make their own breakfast.

Alfred: Undiagnosed neurological condition and then a different kind of eating disorder when he gets older. The former being something with mania and difficulty focusing. Alfred is smart but school would be a chore because it’s so hard for him to sit still. And growing up watching Francis and Arthur’s various issues with food (and drink) left a dark impression. Alfred finds solace in sports when school is tough but the desire to be the best sets him on a path of impossible physical standards. Then he cracks, stuffs himself, falls into a cycle of binge and purge, and Arthur isn’t the only one throwing up and trying to hide it by running the taps to muffle the sound.

Matthew: Glass sibling syndrome. Alfred and his problems monopolised the family focus growing up and Matthew had to make do with what was left over. This left Matthew quiet and anxious but also defeated and with deeply buried anger and resentment towards his twin. He learnt young that trying to compete for the spotlight was pointless so why bother. That rage and bitterness simmers, deep down, and the rest of the family are shocked when quiet, gentle Matthew is suddenly lashing out and getting into fights when he hits his mid-teens. Matthew never learnt how to control his anger and now it’s controlling him.

This family gonna need some serious therapy I tell ya hwat 🥲

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

hi:) making a request for a henrietta x goth lesbian reader!! they’re all hanging out and the boys are silently fighting over the reader, but the moment henrietta makes a move, the reader like IMMEDIATELY shows interest.

I LOVE HENRIETTA SO MUCH IF SHE WERE REAL ID MARRY HER

This was so funny. It kinda gives a little more backstory of my headcanons of them and being grown up.

~~~~~

It had been too long since the goths had actually been around each other. Everyone dispersed after highschool, and with the parting of ways came the familiar drifting of friendships. Not that they didn’t speak with each other, but they only spoke once or twice a month, usually to inform each other of how adult life was going and how their careers were. Michael was the lead singer in a band, Henrietta was an indie model/aspiring clothes designer and Pete was a semi-popular painter with a healthy sized following, and each of them hardly had anytime to follow through with their plans on being close until the end. Which was okay, because they’ve settled on monthly meetings back in their hometown just to catch up.

Pete was the first to arrive seeing as he stayed in South Park. He shared a house with his uncle and saw no point in moving away. Too nervous for big cities and too lazy to go to college, he stayed in his quaint little town, going about his daily life as usual and never complaining, happy to stay where he’s comfortable.

Michael was second, seeing as he moved just a few cities away. He ended up in Denver, Colorado, a large but humble town. There is where he found a few people who needed a singer for their band, and he applied and forgot about it. After getting the job and releasing an album or 2, their band, The Velvet Pulse, began to rise up the chart, and Michael was satisfied with his future.

Henrietta was the last to arrive. After graduating, she moved to Los Angeles, California to pursue a career in fashion design. There was never a large variety of gothic clothes that she could wear comfortably, so she decided to start her own brand. She picked up modeling for some indie clothes brand on the side, finally content with her life.

They met at the Benny’s, as they always did. Everything still looked the same, the wall behind their normal booth still stained yellow from their underage smoking habits, remnants of the times they were the closest with each other. The lights were still obnoxiously bright, the menus were sticky, the coffee burnt. It was disgusting to outsiders, but to the Goths who had come back after so many years away, it was home. Michael sat beside Pete, Henrietta in the bench across from them. The trio were happy to finally be back together, even if they only had 5 days to visit.

“And then we went to New York, and kinda traveled down the east coast.” Michael was telling the two others of how his current tour was going. “The only reason I’m here is because after our show in Atlanta, I kind of maybe snuck away and got on a flight over here. The bus is on its way back, but I wanted to go ahead so I could spend a few days back home before it got here.” he finished, taking a swig of his black coffee. Pete and Henrietta smiled, greatful that the tall goth was still humble. “So when you said you were joining a band, did you expect for it to take off?” Pete asked, lifting his own mug to his lips. Michael shook his head, brows furrowed in thought.

“Not really, but I didn’t care for the fame. I was honestly just bored and sent in an application. Don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative for where we are now, but I do hate not being able to go in public anymore.” Michael lamented, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s the price you pay, though.” he added, looking down at his cup. “Well, I’m very proud of you,” Henrietta said, shooting a smile at the man, “And Pete, I’m proud of you. Your art is amazing. I’ve been keeping up with your posts on instagram and I’m always blown away.” she turned towards the red and black headed goth. Pete grinned shyly, his cheeks turning red over the compliment. “Thanks, Henri. That means a lot. How are things going with your business?” Pete asked in return. “It’s going, that’s for sure. I started selling some of my finished clothing to some boutiques in LA, and that’s really taken off. Overall, I’m pretty happy about how things are going.” the woman replied, tracing patterns on the table infront of her.

The three continued chatting, not stopping even with the bustling of people around them. Every now and then, the old waitress, Betty, would come and refill their mugs. She had become timid in her older years, no longer fussing at the trio and acting cold to them for just drinking coffee anymore. Instead, she welcomed them warmly, seemingly happy to see her once annoying customers. “How are you kids?” she asked, stopping by their table for the 3rd or 4th time. They struck up conversation, reminiscing on how they used to act hostile towards each other, laughing about the good old days. “Well, I’m glad that you’re all back in town again. My niece is coming to work in a few minutes, she just started and I’m still training her. I hope you don’t mind if she stops by with me.” the waitress informed, before walking over to another table.

Michael, Pete and Henrietta dived back into their own conversation, once again not paying mind to anyone around them. They were absorbed in each other’s lives, wanting to know everything that one another was doing. They could have stayed like that for hours, drinking their bean water all day and all night. Well, that is, until they heard a timid voice that pulled them from their conversation. “Would you like some more coffee?”

The voice wasn’t the same as the old lady’s, and they all turned their attention to the person it came from. At the end of the table stood a young woman, no older than 22. Her (h/c) was pulled up away from her face, a few strands of loose hair falling against her forehead. Her eyes, warm and inviting, were a beautiful (e/c) hue, complimenting her (skin tone) skin. She wore the same blue waitress outfit, complete with a pair of white shoes. In her hand, she held a freshly brewed pot of coffee, a soft smile playing on her lips. Michael couldn’t take his eyes from her, and red began to creep over Pete’s cheeks. The pair stared at her, unable to find the words to talk, stricken by her beauty. Henrietta glared at the duo, a silent way of telling them that they looked like idiots and they needed to get it together.

“Yes, please, if you don’t mind.” the woman finally piped up, drawing her friends out of their love dazed states. The new waitress happily refilled their mugs, turning away from them and moving to the next table. Henrietta grabbed her coffee cup, bringing it up to her mouth. “You guys looked like complete idiots.” she noted, taking a sip of her drink. Now boths men were blushing, looking down at the table while mentally beating themselves up. “Dude, she was beautiful.” Michael finally said, coming to his senses. Pete could only nod, not being able to get her eyes out of his mind. Henrietta rolled her eyes, shaking her head at them.

“Would it be weird to ask for her number?” Michael asked, a grin crossing his face. Pete’s head snapped up at that, his eyes casting a glare to his taller friend. “I don’t think you should. She probably wouldn’t be interested in you.” the shorter male noted, drinking from his cup. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked defensively, his attention turning to Pete. The man shrugged in response, setting his cup down. “Well, you’re out on tour for months on end, you barely answer your phone as it is, I just don’t see how that would work out.” Pete replied, casting a glance to Michael. The curly haired ravenette raised his eyebrows incredulously, scoffing at his friend’s words. “Listen, you can be jealous or whatever, but I think I have a better chance with her than you do.” he noted, playing the same game Pete was. Michael’s retaliation only added fuel to the fire that was already forming, and soon, the two men were bickering quietly with each other, giving reasons as to why they would be better and reasons the other didn’t have the chance.

Henrietta sighed, her eyes rolling once again. While Michael and Pete were distracted with each other, the goth woman scanned the room, looking for the new waitress. Her eyes landed on the young woman behind the bar, washing dishes as she listened to the older waitress training her. Quietly, Henrietta slid out of the booth, not gaining attention of the two men who were still quietly arguing, and made her way to the bar. Perching herself on the seat infront of the two waitresses, she waited until they took notice of her at the bar.

It was only then that Michael and Pete had turned to Henrietta, wanting to see who she thought the waitress would pick, and noticing that the goth woman was gone. They looked to each other, brows furrowed before scanning the room. Hearing the familiar laughter of their friend, they both turned towards to the bar in time to see the young waitress writing something on a napkin, passing it to Henrietta before giving her a shy smile. The goth woman stood from the bar, walking back over to the booth where she was previously sat. The two males attentions were on her, watching as she nonchalantly picked up her cup, raising it to her lips. “The answer is neither of you. She’s a lesbian.” Henrietta smirked behind her cup, flashing the napkin the waitress had given her, a name and a phone number written in pink on the white paper. The men could only gawk, their cheeks turning red in embarrassment at the fact they acted like stray dogs fighting over a piece of meant. At the end of the night, they left, Michael and Pete having apologized to each other and now playfully giving the silent treatment to their female friend, who turned and shot the waitress a wink before leaving the building.

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Leave It By Degrees #4

The unhinged love story loosely based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost that I can't get out of my head.

Synopsis: "How are you going to keep that?"

AO3 post from here!

Previous story from here!

No sex. No porn. No wanking. No phone. No digital devices. No social media. No alcohol. No drugs. No smoking. No Substance. No women are allowed in the Villa. (No men for Benedict). No work. No family issues…   

“How many no’s do you plan to include in this list, dear brother?” 

Anthony glared from his thick-framed glasses, closing his bulky volume of The Brothers Karamazov, carefully placing a leather bookmark on the pages. 

“Read the next page, there’s more.” 

Wake up at 5:00 in the morning. Only drink water. Complete the morning stretch and weight training by 6:00. Cold showers only. Complete 10km run. Meditate for three hours. Fast Every three days. Study Japanese for three hours. Journaling in the morning. Practice trumpet. Yoga. Pirates…

Benedict went through the 95 contents of the list, and as he read on, he could feel the three sheets of paper become heavier and heavier in his hands. 

“This is quite a list, brother. Might I ask how you made this?” 

“Well, it’s a combination of Andrew Huberman’s morning routine, Kelly McGonigal’s the Willpower Instinct, added with the basic ideology of tantra, which has roots in Hinduism and Buddhism; the term referring to “Text, theory, system, method, instrument, technique or practice… ”

“Sometimes I forget how nerdy you are, brother.”

“Call it thirst for knowledge and self improvement.”

“And so you say, brother.” Benedict shook his head, dropping the list on the table between them. “By doing all this, you think you can get over her?”

Anthony nodded grimly. “Why do you think I would even do this?”

“Perhaps you’ve lost your mind after five bottles of whiskey.”

“My mind had never been clearer than last night, brother.” Anthony grunted. “If it were not for the whiskey, I wouldn’t have planned this,”

“Brother, you are going to the Maldives.A Fucking beach resort. Probably full of hot models and influencers that will just drool at your mere presence. I doubt you could keep the oath even a day.” Benedict continued, munching on raisins, “Plus, why do I have to be dragged in your sadhana?”

Anthony simply rolled his eyes, and returned to his book. “Brother, you seem to have forgotten that you were the one begging me to take you with me.” 

Damn. He remembered. 

Since meeting the love of his life, his muse, and his inspiration four years ago, his artist career had been going on the rails; first making it through the Wells Art Contemporary, then having a piece submitted in the National Gallery, and even getting a solo feature in the Art Monthly. He had been trying to keep himself away from his hedonistic habits, the pills, weed, and alcohol. But there were just some nights that he just couldn’t resist the temptation. And yesterday was one of those nights. Anthony had given him a call from the pub, half crying half laughing on the other end, presumably drowning himself in whiskey. Benedict had been sent to pick him up, only to get terribly drunk with Anthony again. The new gallery was coming up in three months, yet Benedict found himself at quite a loss, feeling absolutely blank facing the white canvas. His latest submissions had been relatively well received ,with positive reactions from viewers and good sales, but some critics had slandered his work; criticizing that it never had originality. And for all those reasons, Benedict had decided to get wasted with his dear brother. (After 5 hours, Simon had come to the pub, dragging the two men into his Lamborghini.)

The breakup must have been rough, Benedict had thought as he watched his usually disciplined brother lose himself in intoxication. From a brotherly standpoint, Benedict could see that Anthony had been serious and committed in the relationship in his own way, but it wasn’t enough for the uprising pop star Sienna Rosso. During that night, Anthony had dabbled about relationships ruining his life and the necessity to improve himself to the highest potential. For those purposes, he declared firmly that he was going to go on a digital free Celibacy, and Benedict, who had been utterly drunk, had agreed to go with him. More accurately, he might have pleaded. Benedict wasn’t really expecting his brother to remember his oath, much less drag him into the private jet to the Maldives on the very next day. 

“Come on, brother. You’re self-employed.” Anthony had grabbed him in the neck and plunged him into the car. “I’ll do my journaling, yoga, running, and meditation, and you can set up a studio in a villa.”

Apparently, the digital free rule had applied the moment they boarded the plane, the TV screen in front of him had been covered by a black cloth, and even the music plug had been closed as well. 

“Woodson, and you agreed to do this?”

Benedict turned his head around to the only employee from the Audrey Foundation, who sat timidly in the 4-box seat at the far end of the jet, quietly tapping away in his silver MacBook. Poor man, Benedict thought to himself, his own life being at the mercy of one Anthony Bridgerton. 

“Uh, um, yes, Mr. Bridgerton.” He fumbled, adjusting his brown frame glasses nervously with his fingers, “If m,Mr. Bridgerton chooses to pursue a goal, it is my greatest interest to support him in any way possible.”

“Yet, I see you working on your computer.”

“Mm, Mr. Bridgerton had asked me to do a briefing every morning from the day before, and I’ll be the one correspondence for M, Mr. Bridgerton in case of a family or a corporate emergency.”

“The list specifically stipulates no work.”

“Benedict, I’m running a company with a hundred thousand employees on my shoulders.” Anthony said, settling himself deeper in his seat, “It’ll be worse for my mental health if I don’t hear from the company at all. This was decided with my therapist, brother, and we both agreed that once a day would be suitable…”

“Yes, yes, I get that, but why did you have to bring Woodson? If you just need a briefing every morning, just open up a computer or get a call! You didn’t have to bring the poor fellow all the way to a beach resort to just work and do a celibacy with a grumpy boss…”

“It’s a digital-free holiday, Ben,” Anthony grunted, not removing his eyes from the book. “It won’t be digital-free if I open a laptop.”

“And getting a briefing every morning counts as not working? It’s only been three minutes since we boarded this plane, and you’re already breaking the oath you firmly declared…”

“Mm, Mr. Bridgerton.” Benedict slightly raised his eyebrows as Woodson interrupted his words, but Woodson continued awkwardly, “I, I’m from Maldives, Mr. Bridgerton. I was born and raised there, and Mm, my parents and my sisters still live on the mainland.”

“Oh.”

“Woodson is merely an emergency liaison, and nothing more.”

Anthony growled from the back of his throat, and Benedict understood that it was Anthony telling him to shut the fuck up. Benedict couldn’t suppress a smile, as authoritative and grumpy as his brother could be (99% of the time), the attentiveness his brother had over his siblings and his employees was something that Benedict greatly respected and deeply admired about his elder brother. While Benedict tended to focus on one thing and one thing only (being an artist, it was a positive trait), Anthony had keen eyes on everything and everyone all at once. Benedict knew the Audrey Corporation would have been in shambles if Anthony hadn't been the firstborn.

Come to think of it, it was the first time in six years Anthony had even chosen to take a holiday. Since he took over the company at the age of 26, Anthony had chosen to devote body and soul to his father’s legacies, working non stop to keep the company running. Nights and Nights of negotiations and board meetings, conferences, while supporting his seven siblings and keeping them from falling apart from the sudden death of their father. There was always a sense of guilt he felt towards his brother; the way Benedict had chosen to run away and escape from the responsibility, while Anthony took all the burden of the family on his shoulders. 

“I will swear to the Celibacy oath, brother. Also the drinking, smoking, and the pills. Digital free oath as well.” He kicked his brother’s feet playfully with a grin on his face, Anthony eyes stayed on the book, but he saw a satisfied nod. “You have my full support, and I concentrate on my art as well.”

“Good.”

“By the way, brother.”

“Mm?”

“Why did you laminate this list?”

“I plan to take it everywhere with me.”

“What kind of CEO uses a laminator?!”

“Benedict, this was made by the latest model I specifically ordered from Japan that has 6 rollers which rapidly increases the speed of each process; the biggest length taking up 0.6mm, Benedict…”

And Benedict spent the next ten hours on flight listening to Anthony ramble on about the difference between a six roller laminator and the two roller version, the concept of hypersexual society and its effects to the modern toxic masculinity, and how the transmutation of sexual energy enhances their prana/ life energy. Six hours in, Benedict had begged on his knees for a glass of whiskey, but Anthony had apparently had banned them from even bringing them in on the plan. 

Fuck, he thought. This was going to be harder than he thought. 

Apparently, it wasn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be. The Soneva Fushi was a frequent place the Bridgertons had stayed in, being the very place their parents had honeymooned. Benedict had joined the family vacation there every year until he left the house at 18, so he knew the way around the place. The presence of Anthony was not intimidating as he had anticipated, but more soothing. He noticed that it had been years since he spent time with his elder brother, and found themselves chatting about their father and the childhood memories they shared. The time their father had taken out to hike. How he had taken them to horse riding. His terrible pranks using glue and shoes.

 Even at a beach resort, Anthony was the epitome of self-control and discipline, waking up at 5 o'clock sharp every morning. Anthony was kind enough (?)  to rip Benedict from the sheets every morning, dragging him to the beach for a morning jog. It was incredibly refreshing to start the day, with the morning light and the ocean breeze on his skin, and Benedict had never felt so fit and clear minded. Perhaps he was reaching his higher self, as his brother had said. 

However, no matter how healthy, how sober, or how disciplined he was, when he returned to the studio he had set up in the sunroom of the Villa, Benedict was still in front of the white canvas, staring at the endless white. To pass the time, he continued sketching, walking around the beach, the lobby, the bar, sketching the people around him, but when he sat in front of the canvas, he could do nothing at all. 

“You have to call me Benedict, Woodson.”

“Mm,Mr. Bridgerton, I really cannot.”

“But I’m not your boss, there’s no need for formalities.

“I,I must pay my respects to every m,member of the Bridgerton family”

“So you wouldn’t respect me if I wasn’t a Bridgerton?”

“I, I, I, I cannot answer that question, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“So you don’t respect me.”

“I,I call you Mr, Bridgerton to show my respect, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“You call my brother Mr. Bridgerton, how do you make the difference between us two?”

“W,well, I use the higher tone when I call Mr. Bridgerton, and I use a lower tone when I am referring to Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Woodson, I truly cannot hear the difference. Which is which again?”

“Benedict, stop interrogating my subordinate.”

After a week in the Soneva Fushi, the morning briefing had become a regular routine for the three, with Woodson running over the emails and the calls from the company as Benedict and Anthony grimaced over the caffeine-free herbal tea. The brief that morning had been the usual, nothing particularly important but Benedict noticed that Woodson tumbled on his words more than he usually does, especially on the M’s, and tripped several times on the S’s he normally flows smoothly.

“Anything troubling you, Woodson?” Benedict casually asked, trying to keep a light tone. 

“Uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh………………” After that, there was a long pause. Benedict noticed that the birds were exceptionally chirping away happily that morning and Anthony took a nice long sip of mint tea from his mug, 

“I,I, I…..I've been getting multiple emails from the Gunningworth Foundation requesting a direct meeting to negotiate a deal with Mr. Bridgerton.”

“The Guuningworths?” Anthony raised his eyebrows suspiciously, sitting up from his seat, “I don’t think we ever had any deal with them.”

“Oh, no no no no, Mr. Bridgerton!!” Woodson shook his head fervently. “It is a deal for Mr. Bridgerton.”

Benedict chuckled softly seeing his brother's ears turn slightly pink as Anthony buried himself behind the newspaper. 

“I’ll remember that I’m referred to by the lower tone, Woodson.” Ben clapped his hand on Woodson’s shoulders, “Perhaps about the patron contract?”

Woodson scrolled through the screen, his brown glasses nearly slipping off from his nose. “Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“How much is Gunninworth willing to pay to my dear brother?”

“The email says that the amount would be negotiated, but coming from the Foundation, I estimate an amount of several hundred thousand yearly.”

“Perhaps this is not a bad deal for you, Benedict.”Anthony closed the newspaper, setting the mug on the table. But, Benedict simply looked out in the distance, watching a young couple snuggle together in a hammock on the beach. “ Gunningworth Foundation is a prestigious institution; especially in the arts division.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Any reasons?”

“I refuse to be controlled by an authority.”

“Benedict.”

Benedict signed at his brother's condescending tone. 

“I’m not a big fan of Araminta Gunningworth.”

As childish and immature his little brother sounded, Anthony could understand Benedict’s disdain. Araminta, being the substitute chairperson in the Gunningworth Foundation was a frequent guest in the London socialite; Anthony had greeted her several times. But there was a certain coldness to her that he could not decipher, the complete opposite from Benedict’s gentleness. Anthony also knew how much his brother hated control and restrictions, so it would be better for him if he wasn’t under a contract….

“And few associates from The Gunningworth Foundation are visiting this very place today.”

“WHAT?!?!”

Both Benedict and Anthony spilled the tea from their respective cups. Poor Hugh, the emails he printed out several hours ago from his house were drenched in ill-smelling liquid. 

“Isn’t that close to stalking?”

Benedict sputtered, his eyebrows knitted in a deeper frown.

“Unless the team forcefully tries to invade the Villa, i, it does not violate the law.”

“Jesus,” Benedict rolled his eyes. “This kind of behavior is the exact reason I don’t want to be involved in the contract, invading a private holiday just for a painting.”

“There is no need to respond to their offer,” Woodson continued firmly, “if any of them does something out of the line, I will call the security and the police immediately.” 

“Thank you, Hugh.” 

“B,but I recommend staying out of bars and restaurants, or lobbies, Mr. Bridgerton. They might be lurking everywhere to lure you into the deal..."

-------------------------------------------

“Oh, Posy.”

Sophie could only sigh when her step-sister told her that she had booked three weeks in Soneva Fushi, not the one night stay she had originally planned.

“Poses, it’s a business meeting, not a holiday…”

Sophie groaned over her laptop screen recalculating the budget as Posy happily packed four bikinis and several sets of summer dresses in her suitcase. Beach towels, sandals, sunglasses, Posy’s red globe trotter travel suitcase were almost overflowing. 

“Oh, come on Sophie, it’s not every day Mom lets us go to a Beach Resort for a meeting. And I’m sure Benedict Bridgerton would want to talk in a relaxed environment, not in a stuffy suit.”

“But three weeks, Poses? There was no need to book that many days.”

“Sophie, do you really think Benedict Bridgerton would compromise in a day when he completely ignored your emails for the past months?”

“You have a good point, Poses.” Sophie had to smile, neatly folding the floral Guchi summer dress that was thrown over the floor. “You’re right. I’m might have been too overconfident,”

“Oh, and Sophie, I booked the three-bedroom Villa!”

“The suite?!”  

There are some times Sophie could forget how bold her stepsister can be. On usual days, Posy is just a sweet little bean, cute and bubbly, living in her own world of warmth and happiness. It was fascinating how different she was from her mother and her sister; but after 10 years of being by her side, Sophie had understood that her bubble of joy and happiness was also her defense mechanism, protecting herself from the snarks and the quips she often got from the family. She was mostly shy and hesitant around others,but every once in a while, she would make everyone’s mouth drop in astonishment. Like the time she said she was going to go to the Antarctic for her graduation trip. Or the time she got an alligator as a pet. 

“Poses, I love you, but imagine the cost, the expense! The finance department would be at their wits end when they see the bills.”

“I might have used Mom’s credit card?”

Sophie knew that Araminta never checks her credit card accounts. 

“Posy, you badass.”

Sophie did also not imagine that Kate would be showing up in the airport with a beautiful off shoulder teal summer dress. With a white Rimowa suitcase and Saint Laurent shades, she might as well have popped out from a summer cover of Vogue magazine. 

“Sophs!”

Sophie had been greeted with a big bear hug, already feeling the tropical breeze in her coconut and Lily perfume. 

“Kate, I thought you had work…”

“I’ve been working my ass off since I joined the Danbury Associates,” Breaking away from the embrace, Kate elegantly sipped on her chai, “I asked, and Agatha was more than willing to give me three weeks off.”

“But, the money, Kate…”

“I’ll pay for my own food and other expenses. Don’t worry about that.” Kate told her reassuringly, “Posy gave me a call a week ago, telling me that there was a spare room.”

“Oh, Posy.”

As Sophie quickly turned around, she saw Posy smiling from ear to ear, beaming in her beautiful yellow dress. 

“You helped me so much for the preparation, Sophie.” Posy shyly continued, taking her arm. “I heard you talking on the phone with Kate about the breakup, and inviting Kate was the only thing I could do.”

“Oh, Posy, you didn’t have to do this,” (Oi!, Kate interjected) Sophie wrapped her arms around Posy’s neck, giving her the biggest hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Posy. We’re going to make this deal, and prove Araminta wrong, okay?”

“Sophie, you’re choking me!” Posy giggled, wiggling around in her arms. Kate smiled softly at the sisters but quickly tossed her empty cup in the bin. 

“Come on girls, we’re going to be late. And I’ve been dying to go to the new airport lounge that reopened last January…”

As the three girls headed to the baggage inspection arm in arm, Sophie was beginning to regret she had only packed her navy suit and her formal black shoes in her suitcase. 

With Posy and Kate by her side, the ten-hour flight had passed in a second, reviewing the profile report she had made on Benedict Bridgerton while sipping on some glasses of wine. Posy had booked first-class seats, and Sophie was more than happy to get some sleep in the fully flat seat. Even after the ten-hour flight, she felt no fatigue or discomfort, she was in the best condition she could ever be. The Maldives had welcomed the three in the most pleasant weather possible, not a single cloud in the sky, the bright sunlight shining on their respective suitcases. 

Kate and Sophie could only stand in awe as they were taken to the private lounge in the airport, the clear blue ocean spread before them at the window. The surface of the ocean glittered and shimmered in the radiant sun, and the water was so transparent Sophie could even see the bottom of the ocean, the sand and the rocks gleaming like crystals.  

“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been Sophs.”

“Ditto. Ditto, Katie Cat.”

“Oh, this is only the beginning, girls!” Posy chirped happily as she munched on the cookies on the counter, “It only gets better from here!”

And as Posy had said, it only got better, better and better. Taken to the island on the private airplane, (“I didn’t even know these kind of things existed,” Kate muttered.) the three arrived in the Soneva Fushi. Dazed by the extravagance and the beauty of it all and the sweet tropical breeze, Sophie had taken the welcome drink unconsciously, clinking the glasses together. The Villa was exceptionally gorgeous as well, the one that was built over water, and as the footman opened the door to the Villa, Sophie just stood there in awe, taking in the beautiful scenery before them, the deep blue ocean and the clear sky opening before them. Both Kate and Posy squealed with joy, and quickly stripped away their dresses and divided into ocean.

“Heaven.” Kate declared, putting her gorgeous hair into a bun. “Heaven on earth have I experienced.” 

“We have to go to the beach, Katie.” Posy continued, quickly adjusting her ample bosoms in her lacy white Bikinis. “Oh you’re going to love the spa here, and the restaurant…”

“There’s a spa?!”

“Yes!!”

“Oh my god!”

“I know!”

“Sophs, come on, you have to jump in!!”

“I’m not wearing a swimsuit!!” Sophie laughed, no she wasn’t risking her to ruin her only New Yorker suit, “Besides, Poses, we got to get going.”

Posy groaned, dunking her head into the water. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Kate asked, settling herself in the deckchair. 

“I’m planning to go to the bar or the restaurant to get a chance to meet them by chance.”

“Sophs, as a lawyer, I have to advise you that is dangerously close to stalking.”

“It is, isn’t it?.” Sophie sighed, “but since he’s been ignoring all my emails, that’s the only plan I could come up with. If I could get a chance to talk to him once,”

“You think one chat could bring him to the table?”

“I did my research, Katie Cat.”

Kate only hummed in response, feeling that perhaps she shouldn’t inquire too deeply on her friend's measures. 

“So Posy, can you take the restaurant for me? I’ll take the bar.”

“Can’t we go to the spa first?” Posy gave a small wine, but Sophie gently shook her head.

“The faster we finish this job, the longer we can enjoy the holiday, Poses.”

“Fine…” Although in grumbles, Posy reluctantly got out from the lagoon, taking a towel from the rack. 

“I’ll join you in the bar at eight, Sophs,”

Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Kate, you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine on my own…”

“I just want to get drinks,” Kate laughed softly, putting shades on her eyes, “Won’t interfere with your work.”

“To get laid with some rich money?” Sophie grinned. 

“Oh, I’m still keeping my oath, Sophie.”

“That’s my girl,”

“Good luck Sophs.”

“Fingers crossed.” 

But even after 3 hours of dwelling inside the stalls, there was no sign of one Benedict Bridgerton. Sophie could feel her confidence shrinking as hours passed, and Kate gently rubbed her shoulders as the clock struck eleven.

“It’s only the first day, Sophs. You have more opportunity to find him in the next few days.”

“I just knew that he was going to be here,” Sophie said softly. “I thought I knew.”

“Sophs, hours of research on the internet doesn’t mean you could fully predict every inch of their action.”

“I was just being delusional, I guess.” Sophie signed, “I’m just going to finish this one drink. You go ahead, Katie. I’ll catch you up in the room in an hour.” 

“Will you be alright on your own, Sophs?” Kate gave her one of her teary puppy eyes, and Sophie simply giggled, softly shoving her shoulder playfully. 

“I’m all right. Night, Katie Cat.”

“Night, Sophs.” Kate left her side, gently touching her waist on the way out, and as soon as Kate was out of her sight, Sophie hastily took the pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Lightening the tip with a cheap lighter, she contemplated her thoughts.  She thought Benedict Bridgerton would appear here, she had a weird hunch that he would. Perhaps she was overconfident, she thought to herself, thinking that she understood everything about him after just one night…

Would he recognize her if he saw her? But she oddly knew that he wouldn’t, she didn’t miss his drunk slurs and blood shot eyes that showed his intoxication, and Sophie even hadn’t taken off her mask mid-coitus. It was four years ago, and it would be a miracle if he even remembered her….

“A lovely girl drinking all alone in the bar? It would be a crime to leave you all alone, my lady.”

[clowningaroundmars]

Fuck it

Burners hcs

Chuck my beloved 🩵

-Chuck’s anxiety spikes out of control sometimes and so he’s often up and at ‘em even at like 4am just mechanically coding well into the morning just bc he can’t sleep. Other Burners have TRIED to help him fall asleep and they’ve had varying levels of success but no one really knows how to combat Chuck’s insomnia for sure

-Older Chuck smokes weed like a chimney and you cannot convince me otherwise, that boi self medicates like his life depends on it. His whole room be dank as hell

-Messy af room btw, but there is def a method to his madness. Wires and car parts EVERYWHERE tho and also scraps of cloth that he cuts and sews shittily for his LARPing stuff. He still loves it tho

-I love the hcs floating around that he can be very assertive when he wants to be, and likes to take control every now and then :) I’ll leave it at that for now :)

-Chuck tried making a racing game for the Burners, and he got so far as figuring out how to model everyone’s cars but eventually gave up on that passion project after the race in Blonde Thunder. Even just being behind a virtual wheel was too distressing for him LOL

-He’s canonically a cyborg and spends time looking up, downloading, modifying random codes for his own internal wiring. He “mods” himself sometimes and as anxious as he can be, he’s very confident in his programming skills and trying out sketchy codes on himself

-That being said, he’s kinda insecure about being part-robot. No one but him and maybe Mike knows exactly how much of him is metal, and how much of him is organic. He keeps that info to himself bc of self-doubt. Who knows how the rest of the Burners will treat him if they knew? It’s bad enough that he doesn’t know how to drive!

-Besides programming, Chuck actually does try to take up a bunch of other hobbies like learning to play a guitar, a keyboard, trying to improve his sewing skills so he doesn’t just make messy stitches on LARPing costumes, painting, doodling etc etc but like Mike always says “sometimes being a Burner can get in the way of personal stuff”

-PIERCED CHUCK PROPAGANDA!!! I definitely buy into it!! Chuck may hate getting tattoos but this dude gets pierced up later on, I JUST KNOW IT. He has a cool collection of piercings on his ears (daith, triple helix, industrial, orbital etc etc) as well as tongue piercings and… other piercings 😏

-I truly believe that Chuck ran away to MC first— before Mike— and then they met up again there when Chuck heard about a “cadet who saved an apartment full of ppl”

-He ran away in the 1st place after believing that he “lost” Mike when Mike got promoted from being a jr cadet to a full cadet. They hung out together a lot less after that and Chuck couldn’t ignore the evil he was finding as he was training to be part of R&D… so he dipped, terrified and lonely

-Jacob “adopted” Chuck immediately after taking pity on him. One could only watch a scrawny blonde kid stumble around Motorcity and get picked on for so long lol

-That makes Chuck Thee Original Burner!! Fight me about it

-Chris P. confirmed that Chuck knew about cars even while living up in Deluxe, often bragging about how well he’d drive if he ever got in one. It was Chuck who introduced the concept of cars and driving to Mike in the 1st place when they were younger

-Chuck is JUST AS protective of Mike as Mike is of the Burners, that’s his childhood friend!

Mike 💚

-Has his cadet days drilled into his bones unfortunately, this poor guy always does his bed up military style, wakes up at 6am SHARP every single day and works out first thing in the morning. Still, the routine helps a lot and it’s one of the only habits he appreciates from his past

-Has nightmares not too often but… when they hit, they hit bad. Sometimes he just decides not to sleep at all and just joins Chuck on a couch somewhere

-I truly believe he has ADHD!! I’m integrating that into my belief system fuck it

-Bc of that, he often forgets to take care of himself. And not even in the bad I’m-gonna-do-this-dangerous-thing-that-might-kill-me kinda way (well most of the time) but the oops-I-forgot-to-eat-and-it’s-been-8-hrs-since-my-last-meal kinda way. Chuck definitely helps remind him to eat and take breaks, otherwise Mike’s gonna jump into another hours-long errand run across Motorcity without even eating a peanut

-Mike’s super grateful for Chuck, they’re opposites in the way where they complete each other. Chuck eats CONSTANTLY and likes to nap often, Mike basically paces himself on Chuck’s schedule when he’s feeling all out of wack and can’t take care of himself. Chuck happily bosses Mike around and makes him do some self care when this happens

-Older Mike might have some reservations about drugs n shit (good ol Deluxe conditioning in his skull) but he’s not an asshole to other ppl about it. That being said, this mf smokes cigs like a chimney and loves them. Cigarettes are the only thing he smokes, he doesn’t like being not-sober bc it makes him feel like he’s out of control (and the Terras drugging him in “Mayhem Night” didn’t help with that either lol)

-Where Chuck’s room is messy and chaotic, Mike’s room is scarily perfect. He stress cleans so ofc his room is gonna look pristine! Neatly folded sheets and shoes all in a straight line near the door, clothes all hung up perfectly in his closet just like in his cadet days. Not a wrinkle or a spot to be seen anywhere

-Likes to garden as a stress-reliever as well. Mike’s gotta use his hands and get his body moving or else he’ll Explode. He joins Jacob in his supermarket or just does chores around the garage whenever he can

-Burners know that the neater the hideout looks, the worse Mike’s mental health is tho. It sucks, they’re still figuring out how to help calm him down sometimes

-Funny, but for a guy who’s so sunny and upbeat all the time, Mike fuckin LOVES scary dark music. Grindcore and black metal are his top fave genres, much to Chuck’s chagrin. Chuck doesn’t hate metal, it’s just that listening to terrifying hardcore music while Mike’s doing donuts mid-air in Mutt after going 325mph absolutely doesn’t help calm his nerves

-Mike is… not very good with emotional stuff. He’s also shown in the show to be a lil short-sighted and DUMB as hell when it comes to taking social cues (the employee at the refinery acting weird and CLEARLY reading from a cue card in “The Duke of Detroit Presents…”, Chuck’s personality doing a total 180 IMMEDIATELY after Julie brings in the Kaneco booster… like Mike why in gods name would you miss those obvious signs) and it’s probably bc he was trained to be emotionally stunted as a military boy. He still tries his best tho <3

Dutch 💜

-Chuck and Dutch are the bestest buds aside from Chuck n Mike, don’t @ me. They work on the Burners’ cars all the time, how could they not be! Dutch is always giving Chuck props on wiring and upgrading the cars and Chuck thinks that Dutch’s designs and mechanical skills are godly

-Dutch eventually takes their art off the paper and walls and moves onto tattooing after seeing so many Motorcitizens rocking cool art on their arms. They start just like any other teen tho: shitty stick n pokes

-Eventually, the other Burners want tattoos on themselves too (well not Chuck cuz he’s a weenie LOL) and Dutch is more than happy to provide. Even Mike asks for one, much to everyone’s surprise. Julie gets a couple tiny ones where she can easily hide it from her dad. And everyone gets a Burner tat, absolutely

-Ok yeah I also integrate “Dutch is an enby” into my belief system. Sue me. He doesn’t believe in the concept of gender, just goes by he/they for convenience but I really think he doesn’t give a single fuck about it all otherwise

-They start learning from Tennie after going steady in their relationship, and they bring back all the sweet Cabler’s knowledge into the Burners’ car upgrades

-Claire and Dutch start chatting about fashion one day while Julie runs off and leaves them to hang out. After that, Dutch is much more mindful of his wardrobe and even hits her up sometimes to swap fashion ideas and tips

-They love customizing like, everything ever that they can get their hands on. Dutch’s room is for sure the most tricked-out one in the hideout, complete with custom furniture, decked out wall of lights (that Chuck helped program to feature Dutch’s art on it) and more art on the walls than anywhere else in the garage. It’s Dutch’s own slice of heaven

-Older Dutch also partakes in the smoking of the zaza, so him and Chuck just chill out in their lil weed corner outside (bc Mike and Julie hate the smell so no smoking indoors!) just puffing on blunts and showing off new bowls and bongs that they recently bought

-Dutch goes to Chuck to figure out how to establish a private non-traceable line so he can call his family every now and then without alerting Kane grunts. He updates them about stuff (and privately tells Dar about Tennie lol)

-Dutch picked up ROTH’s body after a battle against the Kane bots, intending on studying the metal polymer stuff Kaneco makes to use on the Burners’ cars. But then ROTH woke up, the battle completely wiping his intended functional coding and shocking the hell out of Dutch. But ROTH didn’t attack, and then slowly but surely everyone got used to having a floating Kanebot cluelessly wandering around the base. Dutch decided to paint the bot so he doesn’t keep surprising everyone LOL

Julie 💛

-She’s a weeb idgaf if everyone else thinks so too, it’s my hc now. She pirates and downloads shitty old anime onto drives with Chuck’s help and brings them up to Deluxe so she can watch them in secrecy

-Julie has a room in Deluxe ofc but she also has one built for her down in Motorcity as well. She thinks that the room that she has freedom to decorate and customize is way more “her”. She’s got anime figurines, posters that Dutch painted for her (featuring her fave anime characters ofc), plushies practically spilling out from the shelves, and she’s so happy that she gets to have a room where she can really be free!

-Julie pops the collar of her vest, inspired by Mike

-Idk what kinda music is allowed in Deluxe (probably nOT MUCH) but anyways Julie discovers pop and techno in Motorcity and literally cannot shut up about it afterwards. The other Burners do not really share her enthusiasm for Kpop but they try to be supportive nonetheless

-Jules is oddly enthusiastic about music in general. How could she not be, after hearing only pleasant elevator music all her life? She obsesses over playlists and makes ALL the playlists for the Burners

-She’s the sentimental one for sure. She hoards more stuff in her room in MC than in Deluxe but either way, wherever she makes a space for herself, it’ll always be filled with photos and doodles and lil gifts she receives from other ppl. Even 9Lives has a couple toy charms dangling from mirrors and compartments lol

-Julie loves makeup and painting nails, something she got from Claire. She tried to hide it away from the Burners to “fit in” and then immediately blew that cover once Dutch broke out the nail polish and started to paint their nails one day. After that, she teams up with them to paint everyone’s nails and does cute designs

-She DID know about Mike before formally meeting him after he defected. Ofc, she’s always been observant even tho Kane always tried to hide her away from the public. After Mike ran away to MC, Julie watched it all go down from her dad’s security cams and followed him down there. She has to pretend she doesn’t even know much about Mike, despite having access to his files

-Mike and Julie are The Shippers and wingmen of the group FOR SURE. I know this is kinda canon but idc, you can’t convince me they don’t get together and gossip about other ppl’s relationships all the time. Mike only knows about other ppl having crushes just bc of how observant Jules is

-Julie’s stolen cop car isn’t from Deluxe, it’s from a junkyard in Motorcity. Cops were disbanded in MC a while ago— courtesy of the gangs lol— so that meant easy pickings for Julie

Texas ❤️

-Born and raised in Motorcity (confirmed by creator), Texas helped run his family’s automotive business fixing up cars from junkyards and selling them/their parts (mostly to the Duke lbr). He was the only Burner who had a car even before the Burners formed

-He was The Ride before Mike and Chuck finally built up Mutt and got her running properly, but his car wasn’t Stronghorn just yet, just a custom car cobbled up from various other car parts that he borrowed from his dad

-I truly do believe Texas has a huge family with like a million siblings and that’s why he’s able to get away for long periods of time and do crazy stuff with the Burners all the time

-Potential angst right there… maybe. Cuz he doesn’t get enough attention at home being one of like… 7 or 8 kids or something 😅

-Chris P. said Texas’ parents are the total opposite of him and are intellectuals. Maybe they’re also from Deluxe (R&D even) and couldn’t see themselves having children safely there after Kane went crazy with power, so they ran away to MC and gave birth to their kids there. For as long as Texas can remember, his dad ran the auto shop and his mother headed the Motorcity development council. His parents are VERY involved in the community but… not very involved with the family

-I LOVE the idea that Texas and his siblings are all named after the states. I feel like Alaska, Iowa, Delaware, Georgia, Arizona, Nevada, Dakota, Nebraska… even Maine are cute names!

-Yknow what… those all sound like girl names lowkey. What if Texas is the ONLY brother in his family which is why he hams up his masculinity so much? Hc accepted. Texas and his 7 sisters, I dig it

-Hear me out. Texas initially taught Dutch the basics of constructing a car, transferring and modifying engines, etc etc but Dutch is a smart cookie and eventually their knowledge surpassed Texas’

-Texas is the movie buff of the group and fucken loves sci-fi, old westerns, martial arts, noir and thriller movies. His room is overflowing with movie memorabilia, posters, and shitty crayon doodles of his movie heroes. Any time he’s got downtime he’s always on his lil VR movie headset goggles rewatching something called “5 Dragons of the West: Journey to the Gold Snake” or something

-Texas, like Julie, doesn’t live in the Burners Hideout since he always just goes home after the end of the day. Only Mike, Dutch, and Chuck live there full-time. Julie has the room she stays in sometimes, Texas crashes on a couch (probably where his workout gear is) if he’s too tired to drive back home

-Mike got his adrenaline junkie habits from riding in Texas’ car before building Mutt

-Older Texas absolutely gets tatted up. AND he starts wearing more muscle shirts to show them off ofc!

-Texas is ridiculously emotionally intelligent, even tho he’s a knucklehead most of the time and I believe it’s bc he’s got a ton of siblings. He’s also one of the middle children too, so he’s capable around lil kids as well

-Texas can’t spell bc he’s dyslexic

-Junior and Texas absolutely have SOME history together. Maybe they even grew up together, as that’s not so far-fetched since ppl might buy cars from Texas’ dad’s shop to enter the competitions in the Mama’s Boys Arena

Jacob 💙

-Obviously The Dad of the group of ragtag kids. Mike and Chuck aren’t the only kids that Jacob’s helped out of the rubble of MC, but they are the only ones who stuck around. Yes, Jacob’s an old crazy coot but he has endless patience and plenty of seaweed casseroles for everyone :)

-Motorcitizens know him as The One Who Helps Orphans, specifically ex-Deluxians since he’s one of the only elders who’s been up in Deluxe and didn’t disappear amongst the Motorcity population yet. In “Off the Rack” there’s a split-second where Jacob’s shown greeting the recent Deluxian defectors at Antonio’s, I feel like he takes responsibility over helping Deluxians integrate into MC

-Bc of that, he’s got some p sweet connects across the city. Jacob’s got doctors and nurses, librarians with info, and resources all on speed dial just for the kiddos

-Jacob was the 1st person to show Mike what a car was irl and showed him how to drive in Sasquatch. It was Mike and Chuck who figured out how to build Mutt in the 1st place tho, and they took lots of inspo from the old car magazines lying around Jacob’s office in the supermarket

-The lil haunted house the Burners built for Halloween for the kids of MC was Jacob’s idea :)

-Doc Hudson and Jacob absolutely hook up after Hudson gets settled in MC, sue me. If you cringe at the idea of two old men bumping uglies, you are weak and will not survive the winter

-MC basically celebrates every holiday with a parade or a giant block party somehow, and the city’s first Pride Parade did not disappoint. Jacob made sure to sign the kids up for a spot in the parade and helped them build the float. It got crashed by Kanebots (of course) but the Burners saved the day (again!)

-Jacob stays away from the Burners’ main living space but still lives close by to check in on them every now and then. But he gives the boys their privacy for the most part

-Jacob DOES have Texas’ parents on speed dial as well. Which he uses to threaten Texas into behaving every now and then, but it’s no use. Everyone knows he never calls anyone’s parents unless it’s an emergency lol

[alwaysthesitter]

The last person he had been expecting to have this sort of conversation with was Billy Hargrove. Though Steve did everything in his own power not to show his emotions, to hide himself from others, he didn't have a wall up nearly like the younger man. Still, he was starting to recognize that him and Billy hid their emotions for entirely opposite reasons. Billy, it seemed, was doing it to protect himself - look out for number one, so to speak. Steve, well, he did it because he never wanted to burden or worry others in terms of his own bullshit.

If he was going to have this conversation, he needed a fucking cigarette. He didn't carry a pack all that often now, again, protecting others. Not wanting the kids to ever see him smoking and role model after him when they clearly looked up to him so much. Dating Nancy had also forced him to kick the habit a little, but in times of high stress he would often turn to the cancer stick. "Got a cig?" He asked, holding out his hand before the other answered, because he knew Billy well enough. He'd been Billy at one point, to some extent.

"Yeah, I really loved her." He finally stated once he'd gotten the nicotine fix, lighting up the cigarette and bringing it to his lips, pulling out a drag and blowing out as he stared up at the sky with a shrug of non-chalance. "Thought I'd marry her at one point. Have a family. I'd never felt that for anyone else in my life. And can't say that I have since, either." He had thought maybe he could get that way with Robin, see her as more than just a girl to flirt with, but well....that had happened.

He listened to the curly haired male, brown eyes blinking as he attempted to focus, taking drags of the stick between his fingers every so often. Blinking a few times, he shook his head, snorting out a slight laugh. "Dude, half that shit just went totally over my head." He waved his hand a bit - he knew he was slow, he knew his brain didn't catch up often, he'd been told more than enough. "But I can tell you, from what I'm hearing, that sounds like a lonely life."

His found family were everything to him. He didn't know where he would be without them, or if he'd even still be here if he were being honest. "I think that's something else that would be worse than dying to me. Loneliness." He felt it every day, waking up in a house that his parents hardly occupied. It consumed him. He couldn't imagine making that his entire personality trait. "I think some people are worth the risk."

He had heard rumors and seen the aftermath. It was quite the gossip of Nancy arriving with Steve but leaving with someone else entirely. The trail of that heartbreak was one everyone's lips. Heartache had seemingly been the reason he had lost his throne. But truthfully, Billy doesn't fully understand it—he'd rather die than give anyone that power over him, allow his vulnerabilities and soft underbelly to be shown to anyone with the ability to gut him.

Disappointment and hurt was a fucking bitch, that was something Billy could attest to. He knew of the type of hurt Steve probably had felt. That shit was debilitating. And after that experience Billy had hardened. Nothing else was allowed to break down his heart's armor. He couldn't afford that—especially, right now.

"You really loved her then?" He's not asking to be cruel despite how it may seem. He's curious. 'Cause he's pushed all those sorts of things from himself. He was always focused just on survival. Nothing else managed to slip through. At least, not often.

There was shit that hurt more than death out there. Spoken from experience and knowledge. However, all he had was his life. It was the one thing Billy was grasping onto so fiercely. He had hope that nothing else was permanent as dying, eventually capable of getting better and becoming something he could manage to stomach.

Without hope, Billy was certain he might be in the same boat as Steve who was seeing things quite bleak. Or so it seemed. What the fuck did he know? He had managed to survive and get strength from a kid who had decided to show him kindness when he had done nothing to warrant it or deserve it. That had touched some wretched and rotting part of his soul, making this second chance all the more important to him.

"Almost dying kinda put shit into perspective for me." He says softly, almost out of character from how normally he is. Not so awful. A bit more earnest. Far more vulnerable than he'd like but Steve seemed to need it. "Other people are variables we cannot control. If I get too attached to the outcomes of other people I am going to be disappointed 'cause that's just what people do. Can only rely on yourself, depend on yourself, and in the end trust your heart in your own hands. It's stupid as fuck 'cause we shouldn't have to. Sometimes... we just want someone else to be there and take a bit of the pressure off... but no one sticks around for long."

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[meirimerens]

which of the patho characters do you headcannon as smokers, and why did they start/are they addicted/any other self destructive habits they have?

my favorite types of questions. disclaimer i don't smoke and will never start out of choice so my Experiences of cigarette are from living with smokers and all that entails. disclaimer 2 addiction is a serious thing that can ruin your life and if you're looking for a single sign to get yourself help for yours take this post as one. there's life after something like that I prommy.

you've asked about self-destructive habits so mind the subject matter when you read 🫂 ok let's go

Yulia: P2 canon smoker. does it out of nervousness. I think she started after her studies when she didn't have the Frame of academia to hold her steady and started coming undone when she had to like Figure Stuff Out on her own. no other destructive habits per se, I think she might have bitten her nails once upon a time. She also has drinking as a vice and more of a social thing (cf. my. um. yulieva fic) but she's not drawn to the bottle like she is her little cigs. I think she's the closest to being addicted of the group, it's a stress-relief to her and By God She Is Stressed.

Dankovsky: picked it up at university. It was a social thing in the same way that drinking or partying was, and since TO ME he stopped drinking at uni because it gave him Feefees, smoking was the one thing he still held on. He still does smoke in Patho Events time. it's also a stress-reliever to him and God He Is Stressed. It's a way for him to survive like Galas and Dinners and hanging out with hierarchical superiors he can't stand, but having his cigarette got him something to hold on to. he's a pretty self-destructive person in general (cf. patho Swear To God If I Don't Have Something To Show The Inquisitor I'm Gonna Go See The Creator) but I think he does a lot of nervous scratching on the back of his hands as a way to (attempt to) self-soothe.

Burakh to me also took smoking tobacco at uni, but before (and after) that I think he won't say no to like. i think you can smoke some varieties of twyres. i think he can roll a mean twyre blunt. it's a cultural/spiritual thing. not addicted to cigarettes, and twyre blunts (I say blunts bc it's funny but I think you can like. stuff it in smoking pipes and stuff) is not addictive in itself. not particularly self-destructive outwardly, he just bottles it up lol

Eva to me only smokes tobacco in shishas as a social thing, the Broken Heart is canonically an opium and hashish den so I think she dabbles in that. she has her self-destructive tendencies as seen in Patho, I also think she does(/did?) have self-aggressive behaviors.

Andrey looooves his smokies. loves his blunts his opium etc etc. I think he started around 16 or 17. not addicted per se he can quit any moment out of sheer will, he just Doesn't because he likes it. he's more into destruction than self-destruction but I think he bites and picks at his fingers and nails (hence the bandaids on his hands in his P2 model)

Peter. you know that post that's like "hey dude do you have some weed if I don't keep my buddy Kyle baked 24/7 he kills people". that's peter and andrey to me. peter is way more On The Bottle than in smoking (tobacco or not) but he does. he does it as a self-soothing thing, it doesn't work, keeps doing it again. he smokes cigarettes as a social thing from time to time but Technically could stop, in ways he couldn't just stop drinking. he also has self-aggressive behaviors to me.

Grief. cigarettes, socially. not addicted but he won't quit either.

i think Lara tried smoking once and she was like "this shit's disgusting" and she hasn't done it again.

i think the older herb brides can get a little twyre pipe. as a treat.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis

[jjuzoir]

Random Kageyama Tobio HCS

Word Count: 1851

Warnings: just... me being in love with a m*n other than masumi 😔 also! these are my headcanons as in,,, what i personally i think he’d be like ‼️ also me projecting my ideal man into him (as if he wasn’t it already 😋)

A/N: i... i love tobio so much it’s literally unreal... i couldn’t wait for a request (i’m still working on the remaining 4 too lolol) so take me projecting my love for tobio >:(

— Kageyama normally wears loose fitting clothes or athletic-style clothing. His favorite go to outfits tends to be a loose tee, some loose pants with an obnoxious Nike logo he swears are super cool but look like two garbage bags sewed together, and running shoes. Throw a hoodie in there for colder weather, even then he still manages to look good.

— He takes very good care of his hair, like freaky good care, because of Miwa. Once she enrolled in cosmetology school and she saw Kageyama use the same baby shampoo from when they were kids she freaked out (if she’d been any later he’d start using 3-in-1) and chewed his ear off about hair care. His hair is super shiny and there’s literally no freeze, he uses nice smelling shampoo and conditioner too. Ugh, I love him.

— He has a very sensitive nose but it gets clogged easily so he doesn’t notice much unless it miraculously unclogs itself and he’s complaining about everything.

— “Eh! Hinata, why’d you smell like a fucking axe bottle?!” “Why does no one say anything about Tsukishima smelling like strawberries?” “Yamaguchi smells like... milk.” “Hah?! Sugawara smells bad-?!”

— He says he’s a picky eater to appear cool but as long as you don’t say what’s in the food he’ll down it. He’ll say he doesn’t like carrots but if you give him a salad with carrots he might even say “it’s the best salad he’s ever had”.

— He’s a hot sleeper, and not in the “oh he’s sexy” type of way. I’m talking, he’ll sweat buckets if he sleeps with anything other than a flimsy white t-shirt and his underwear.

— Might be me projecting my love for bunny teeth but he has bunny teeth, his front teeth are a bit bigger than average (not to the point it’s super noticeable but it’s still something Miwa teased him about), his aunties probably squeezed his cheeks and called him “baby bunny” when he was younger.

— He doesn’t go to sleep later than 9PM, he thinks if he does it’ll ruin his schedule (which it will) and fuck up his body - he’s seen Miwa screw up hers after she pulled a bunch of all nighters in her third year in high school and has been afraid since.

— The type to forget people were coming over and come out of his room shirtless asking for his clean underwear.

— His sister forced him to let her cut and style his hair which led to many questionable hairstyles. Tsukishima is genuinely so grateful to Miwa, especially when she was first starting - he’s got some pictures of Tobio with the shortest most embarrassing bangs ever saved in his phone in a file for blackmail if the need for it ever presented itself.

— Likes pissing people off on purpose sometimes, during one of the training camps he probably walked into the bath with socks on and was made fun of but out of spite he just… never took them off. Said he’d done it on purpose and all too. Tanaka cried out of fear for like a hot minute when he saw him standing under the shower with Iron Man socks on.

— He’s so petty too, if you make fun of him for messing up he’ll remember until you embarrass yourself to make fun of you. And when I say he remembers, I mean it - he can’t for his life remember when to use make and do in english but he remembers when Hinata made fun of him for wearing different socks back on their first year and yes he will bring it up on their second year when he did the same thing what are you going to do about it?

— Probably got scouted for a modeling agency once and began running away because he thought they were trying to kidnap him.

— If he had Tiktok… he would’ve gone viral after posting a video of him practicing, he posted for a while for fun and to flex on people that he was hot but then he saw a comment saying they wanted to drink his milk under a video of him drinking milk and he deleted his account, he can’t buy from that brand for a while.

— He’s got a video of a gorilla walking in two legs saved on his phone for when he’s feeling down and watches it whenever he’s not going well. People think he’s texting his S/O but no, he’s just watching a gorilla walk like minecraft Steve.

— He can’t pose for pictures to save his life, his default pose is an NPC stance with his arms stiffly hanging down and his eyes wide in surprise, don’t ask him to smile or else he will look like a serial killer.

— He’s got a bit of baby fat on his cheeks that won’t disappear no matter what. It’s become a pre-game ritual to pinch his cheeks. He’s also got dimples you can really only see when he smiles naturally but he doesn’t know and he’d get shy if he knew and try covering his face so don’t tell him, that’s a fact he told me so himself.

— Cannot dance to save his life. He’s so long (?) his limb control is non-existent, it appears in game and vanishes when he steps out of the court. He really just bounces on his heels and moves his arms like a t-rex, don’t ask more of him.

— Buys his clothes one size bigger just in case and Miwa teases him saying he’ll need them when he gets old and fat.

— Gets asked out often but always rejects, then has the audacity to complain he’s never dated anyone like he hasn’t turned down half of the school's population.

— Can’t sing. He’s got a nice speaking voice but ask him to sing and he’s out of tone, out of sync, out of breath, and out of the room in 5 seconds.

— Sugawara joked about having him singing as his alarm clock and Kageyama actually believed him, probably sent him a new recording as a gift after he annoyed him during practice.

— Surprisingly funny when he wants to but most jokes fly over people’s heads since he seems so serious most of the time, it annoys him to no end. Yachi still struggles differentiating when he is and isn’t joking because his tone literally doesn’t change at all and she doesn’t want to offend him.

— When he was younger he liked to collect rocks, not even the pretty ones he’d pick the most average, raggedy rocks off the ground and clean them up and tuck them to bed because he saw Miwa play with her barbies like that. Still owns his first rock, he named it “Johnson” after Dwayne Johnson, aka the rock (he’s had to explain it so many times he’s exhausted).

— Accidentally drank expired milk once and didn’t notice until his stomach began hurting and he thought he became lactose intolerant and he was inconsolable for days until he realized it had expired like a month ago - he went on a milk shopping spree and the milk sales that week saw a 20% rise from the last few months.

— Tobio had bad handwriting until he was in Junior High because his teachers couldn’t understand him and had him practice calligraphy, his handwriting is now one of the prettiest ones in the team and he’s the official inker of the VBC posters (as designated by Goddess Yachi Hitoka herself).

— His biggest fear for a long time was getting eaten by piranhas because he saw it happen so often in cartoon shows he genuinely thought it was going to be a bigger deal than it turned out to be but for like a solid 6 years of his life he avoided suspicions puddles just in case.

— Kageyama has a habit of rolling and unrolling his sleeves when he’s deep in thought, it soon made way to a habit of checking his wrist watch (he absolutely has a wrist watch, you cannot change my mind on that) but not actually reading it.

— His nails are very pretty, like most setters, he takes very good care of them. They’re filed down to a perfect length and he puts oils and creams, his hands in general are so nice. He takes a lot of pride in them, you know his cuticles are pushed back and trimmed and he could absolutely be a hand model. Kags’ hands are calloused, he’s a volleyball player of course they are, but it’s not to the extent of Ushijima or Daichi’s hands.

— Talking about hands, it’s probably one of his favorite features on people. He loves holding hands with his S/O and tracing the wrinkles in their palm, being able to interlock fingers with them and feel the bumps in them.

— Mumbles to himself when in thought too! Very nonsensical if you’re not informed on what he’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about you he’ll mumble your name or something like “pretty eyes”.

— Has a very healthy diet, like extremely healthy and thought out. He won’t eat anything too sugary or that could throw off his body, but he does have cheat days (which are rare but exist). He also doesn’t drink much soda or alcohol (once he’s of age).

— Things like smoking are a big no, he takes so much care of his body he wouldn’t even touch a cigarette or be near a smoking area, lowkey paranoid of ingesting the smoke too.

— When he’s older I can see him having a dog and a cat, the dog would be a big dog; if they stood on two paws it’d be the same height as you, he’d name or something like Tobias and think he was super clever and funny, the cat would probably a small cat he’d name Milk (it probably would be a black cat too but he does not care).

— Probably tried baby formula because he heard it was a substitute for breast milk. No further comments on this.

— I feel like he doesn’t listen to music, but if he had to choose something he’d pick instrumental music - not orchestral music or anything like that - but more of a chill, no deep meaning just guitar and piano track. I could see him listening to Shego Sekito or Joe Hisashi on occasion, he might even listen to some 2000’s pop if he wants something to pump him up during training (he works out to Brittney Spears’ “Womanizer”).

— A cuddle-bug when he’s sleepy, he’ll throw himself across his S/O and not move at all, he just wants to stay there and not move ever again (or at least until he’s not feeling like passing out). He’ll like to wrap himself around them and cuddle their neck, he’ll attach himself to their arm like it’s a lifeline.

— In other words, Kageyama Tobio��� b-boyfriend material.

[clockworkowl]

I don’t know why but I have spent way too much time developing a headcanon about how just about everyone behaves when either they are ill/injured or you/other characters are ill/injured. Will this lead to me actually writing a fic? (the odds aren’t great given how long it’s been since I’ve even written anything with my own characters let alone trying to stay true to the sketch of someone else’s) Who knows, but I guess this is the closest I’ve come to writing anything at all in far too long.

Sholmes:

*I think we can all agree that Sholmes is the absolute worst when he’s sick.

*He’s totally the type who being the slightest bit ill turns into a complete dramatic bitch and hams up the tiniest of colds like he’s about to die from the consumption. He lightly groans as though the effort of extending his arm fully to take a Kleenex out of the box himself is too much. Like my old rat D’onofrio his breathing is fine if he has no idea you are home, but the second he notes your presence every breath is a wheezy death rattle until you come and worry and fuss over him until his attention meter is full up.

*But also as soon as there’s something he actually wants to do he’s magically cured and runs off without even putting on a coat.

*In a modern AU he for some reason spends a lot of time on WebMD either convincing you that his allergy-related headache is a rare usually fatal disease. Or that you probably have a rare malady that is exacerbated by eating pheasant he should probably go ahead and eat your pheasant because he’s only thinking of your health.

* When you are sick it is unpredictable at best, but it depends on how sick you actually are. There will probably be a variety of dubious cures and tinctures which you should probably ignore unless Iris made them.

*He has literally tied Kazuma to a bed (this will make more sense shortly).

*He will also somehow claim to find Ryunosuke’s take all the meds at once approach reasonable.

Kazuma:

*Asogi is also a terrible patient who will drive you to want to drink, but in the opposite fashion to Sholmes.

*He’s the ‘it’s only a flesh wound’ type who will thoroughly ignore any and all evidence of illness or injury claiming he is perfectly fine and hale until he is half dead with it and passes out

*Even after he regains consciousness will continue to argue that he will be in tomorrow he only needs to run it under a cold tap.

*You will have to tie him to a bed to get him to take doctor’s orders, and then he will be sullen about it.

*Once you get him into a room and confiscate clothes he could go outside in where he is sulking he will change tactics and he will order you around a lot trying to make you angry enough to throw your hands up and let him take care of himself, except with Ryunosuke who he knows this won’t work on so he just tries to wheedle him into bringing his clothes back and makes double entendres and suggestive comments about being tied to the bed.

*When it is you who is sick he will become the overbearing one and you won’t be sure whether that is because he worries about you or because it’s revenge for when he was sick.

Ryunosuke:

*Ryunosuke is challenging when he’s ill because he will acknowledge the illness and neither exaggerate or ignore it, but he is too concerned about whether it inconveniences everyone else for him to be ill, so he will try to downplay or hide the fact he’s as sick as he is.

*He’ll try to get well as quick as possible hence doing dumb stuff like taking all the meds at once.

*He can be reasoned with, like you could convince him to go home and take a day off, or that if he shows up sick he’ll get you all sick, but he’ll try to work from home or come back before he’s 100% or he’ll also try to prevent anyone from helping him because he feels like he’s causing extra work or that he might get someone sick.

*Can also be intimidated into being a good patient with the threat of a Susato Takedown or Barok just glaring at him until he caves.

*When you are sick he worries over you and runs around trying to make everything easy for you. Sholmes will take advantage of that to the max, so he must be sent elsewhere to avoid that.

*Once threatened to tie Kazuma to the bed so he would follow doctor’s orders. Once he realized how suggestive that sounded and got flustered he gave up on that plan (even though everyone agreed it was actually the only plan that was likely to be successful.) Now they rib him about it every time either he or Asogi get ill.

Susato:

*Susato is level-headed and actually a fairly good patient to no one’s surprise, provided she is the only one who is ill.

*She will also be worried about being an inconvenience, but has the sense to do what’s needed to get better and then tries to make it up to everyone after even though no one thinks that’s necessary

*She won’t let anyone help her though unless she really needs it. As she doesn’t want them to get sick or to fuss.

*If others are sick she will tend to put them all before her even if she’s sicker, and gets stubborn about this. This has led to at least one occasion of Sholmes dropping the theatrics and Kazuma acting like a model patient at the same time.

* When you’re sick she is no nonsense and actually helpful. She spends a lot of time shooting down Sholmes’ webMD self diagnoses, and makes Ryunosuke give her his prescriptions so she can administer the dosage because she doesn’t have time to drag him to the hospital. She has also had to threaten the Susato takedown on Kazuma more than once if he doesn’t go see the doctor today.

Gina:

*Gina is in the Kazuma mold of patient, except when you finally force her to act like she is as sick as she is, she turns into Sholmes.

*When you are ill she is aggressive about you taking care of yourself and worries, she has a lot of past trauma with people dying from her time trying to take care of her orphan army in the rookeries.

*Is not above threats, guilt-trips, and shooting you with a smoke grenade full of vitamin c or eucalyptus vap-o-rub mist.

*has pickpocketed Ryunosuke’s prescription to give to Susato more than once to avoid him taking them all at once.

Iris-

*When ill Iris is a lot more like Susato, but she totally tries to invent her own tea-based cures, and she will also downplay or hide that she’s sick because she doesn’t want anyone to worry about her, but doesn’t go overboard with it the way Ryunosuke does.

*She is pretty much immune to Sholmes’ theatrics at this point, but sometimes will make up new imaginary web md illnesses that he might have to amuse herself.

*She will mother you with tea-based or soup-based cures which you will be safe consuming and will make you feel better emotionally if not physically, but often physically as well.

*Has also modified one of her smoke grenade guns to fire eucalytpus vap-o-rub mists, and also so they can knock Kazuma or Gina out safely and temporarily so they can be made to convalesce when they are being extra stubborn.

Barok-

* somehow Barok is the best patient of all of them. It’s probably the only time that he is truly polite and courteous with no sarcastic requests for forgiving discourtesies.

*This comes from some combination of Klimt telling him as a boy about a noble’s responsibility to the people of his estate (and his actually taking this concept to heart unlike a lot of nobles) and the sheer number of times he has had to rely on doctor’s, nurses, and staff due to the numerous attempts on his life over the years.

*He will downplay the seriousness of an injury especially out of habit and so as not to worry those who he cares about (though he finds it shocking always that anyone cares about him) but he will always get it seen to and respect orders provided they come from a professional and there are reasons given.

*He will insist that his staff gets things if he needs them and not you, but this is because he wants the staff to feel comfortable and he pays them extra compensation for it. Were he contagious he would not allow them but would pay their wages for them to be away from his home. (This is a big secret and his staff is very loyal to him even without this money. It’s just like the chalices and vintages all the theatrics of it is to fund these families of artisans. Charity without charity.)

*When you are sick, except maybe Sholmes who he just can’t even, he is kind and no nonsense. He thinks you should come to stay in his guest room and been seen by his doctor, that way you’ll get the best care and recover quicker. He’ll have his staff take care of you (but also report back to him if you aren’t being cooperative. He will tell you to think nothing of it, you’re friends and he’s rich and has no family left (except Iris and she doesn’t even live with him) so what else would he do with it, besides it provides wages.

*He is not above intimidating Ryunosuke (sometimes also Gina ) into convalescing as they should.

*This doesn’t work with Kazuma who he had also considered tying to the bed, but instead decided to let him have it his way and then when he got bad enough and passed out took him to the estate anyway and made sure the doctors told him exactly how much longer he had to convalesce than he would have if he’d listened to Barok in the first place.

*He brings this up every single time so they can just skip to the part where Kazuma sulks and is a grouchy patient.

*Is the only person that doesn’t join in with the group pastime of ribbing Ryunosuke about threatening to tie Kazuma to the bed To make him follow doctor’s orders.

[ijustwant2write]

Model Wife-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @nofckingfighting​)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I HAVE ALSO CREATED A PROMPT LIST HERE IF YOU WANT TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM THAT)

Masterlist

Requested by @justsimplyme93​: ‘Hey! How are you? I read the last tommy shelby one you did and i love it. Could you do another arranged marriage with tommy where he still go’s to lizzie and the reader asks to speak with him.’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Cheating, sex, swearing, arguing slight violence

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sipping on my tea, I looked around at our guests in the house, all members of the ‘Grace Shelby Institute’. We had to keep up appearances, and although both Tommy and I hated socialising with people who used to turn their noses up at people like us, they were the ones providing the money. Normally, we would keep most events out of the house, but Tommy had pissed me off, and seeing as he was too busy to help organise it, I made all the arrangements; being petty was sometimes the only way I could get back at him.

“Mrs Shelby, what a lovely home you have! And the decor for today is just lovely.” an older, highly posh woman gushed to me.

I smiled.“Thank you. I am quite proud of myself.”

“I have not had the chance to speak with your husband yet. It seems he keeps vanishing into thin air.”

“Yes, he does have a habit of doing that.”

Knowing that there was no point in trying to track down Tommy, I suffered through an awfully dull conversation with the lady, having to disguise my boredom with polite smiles as more women joined us. They were all much older, I had seen a few young women here, all married to very rich men who were twice their own age; I suppose I couldn’t judge, it wasn’t like Tommy and I were actually in love.

“You know Mrs Shelby, I have always wondered how you met a man like Thomas Shelby.” one of the women said.

She was bold to say something like that, especially to me. I refrained from sighing as I started to recite the story Tommy and I made up.

“Well, it seems very cliche, I must say. We met when he was meeting with my father, obviously wanting to unite our businesses. I ended up being in the right place at the right time, we easily fell into a conversation with each other which was unfortunately interrupted by my father. Thomas was very confident to take me out to dinner, right in front of my father may I add! Surprisingly he was a charmer, and I guess we just fell in love along the way.”

The ladies all cooed, some covering their heart with their hand as if it were the most romantic thing they had ever heard. It was all bullshit. We had to make it as vague as possible, make sure that they had nothing more to gossip about. Both Tommy and I had been married before, they were our real loves; and both had been murdered by a rival, but who received more sympathy after they died? And who was called vicious, degrading names when she re-married to a wealthier, more powerful man? People of ‘society’ were disgusting.

“Finn,” I called out as I approached him, luckily escaping the women,“have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” he smirked.

I smiled back, ruffling up his hair to annoy him.“The one I’m married to.”

He quickly smoothed it back down.“Not sure. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Alright, just keep an eye out for him, yeah?”

Although it wasn’t uncommon for Tommy to disappear (especially to avoid these groups of snobs), he had been gone for a while. He may have been frustrated by my choice of venue, but he would still inform me if he had to leave for business. This made me all the more suspicious.

Leaving the main room, I hastily walked down the halls, leaving the noise behind me. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, wishing that I didn't have an idea of where he could be...and who with. Brushing past staff carrying food and beverages, I made my way upstairs, checking our bedroom first. He was the lowest of low if he was up here; luckily, they hadn’t used this room. Checking through our bedrooms, it was only two doors down from our own when I heard heavy breathing. Taking a deep breath, I gripped onto the handle, bursting in and confirming my suspicions. 

“If you’re almost finished, we have guests waiting for you downstairs.” I stated, averting my gaze away from the scene before me.

Lizzie had been bent over the bed, with her dress pulled up over her hips (how classy), and my husband right behind her. She bolted upright, shimmying her dress back down and pulling her underwear up; even after being caught in the act, she looked smug, head held high as she walked past me. Looking back at Tommy, he had an annoyed expression as he did up his trousers. I didn’t want to speak to him, but he called me back before I had a chance to leave.

“We need to speak about this.” he said.

“We do. But not now, not whilst I am hosting this event for the organisation you created for your dead wife.” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind me.

Luckily I had put a time limit on the event, and this time there was a genuine smile on my face as they all left. That was before I remembered what I had witnessed earlier. It was going to go down much messier than I first anticipated, especially since the tension between us had been building up after I caught them in the act. My footsteps were heavy on the way to Tommy’s office, not even bothering the knock before entering. In his usual spot at his desk, whiskey already poured, there was no reaction from him when he saw the fury in my eyes.

“Glad you’re settled for the evening.” I spat, hands on my hips as I stood opposite him.

“This is about earlier?” he coughed.

“What else would we talk about?”

“I’m guessing it has upset you.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He didn’t reply, instead lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy, I understand that there is that bullshit saying ‘all men have urges that need to be fulfilled’, but it doesn’t mean you can disrespect me in my own home.”

“Your home?”

“Yes, my home. I’m here a lot more than you are anyway. And of all the times to be fucking her, you chose the annual Grace Shelby Institute meet up?”

“Don’t say her name.” he mumbled.

I scoffed.“It’s the only way I can get your attention nowadays.” 

Tommy raised from his chair, still smoking.“Attention? Since when have you ever wanted my attention?”

“We both knew that this marriage wasn’t based off of love, nor were we ever going to fall in love along the way. However, I have been nothing but a model wife to you. I keep up appearances on your behalf, I make up excuses for your disappearances, I also ensure that your reputation isn’t tarnished by people speaking about you behind your back! And if that doesn’t deserve some fucking respect then I don’t know what does! Also, don’t you think I miss the touch of a man? How many times have I come across men that have shamelessly flirted with me whilst you’re not around, and how easy would it have been to sneak away for just a moment to gain some satisfaction?!”

I could feel my face burning up as I ranted, hating that I wasn’t gaining any sort of reaction from him. Was he this blank with Grace? Was he this blank with Lizzie?

“So you’re asking me to stop seeing Lizzie?” 

“I’m not asking you that, because even if I did, you would keep doing it anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I just want respect. I don’t deserve to be humiliated like this.”

“No one knows.”

“Your family does! And even if they didn’t, that means I don’t deserve respect?”

He sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You said it nevertheless.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Really Tommy? I want some common fucking decency.”

“Ask and you shall receive.”

I groaned, leaving before I said something I truly regretted. He was acting as if he didn’t give a shit (which he probably didn’t), which only angered me more. Who would want to be stuck in such a place? Letting out an angry scream, I picked up an expensive vase, raising it high above my head before throwing it on the floor with all my might. The pieces glided out across the hardwood floor, some spraying onto my shoes. A few servants rushed in, obviously alarmed by the noise. Instead of apologising, I marched past them, heading up the long stairs and to the bedroom; I would have preferred to grab the leftover bottles of champagne as a nightcap, but exhaustion from my anger would have to do.

Tommy still slept beside me that week, he still ate breakfast with me, sometimes dinner if he wasn't busy. He also tried to have normal, short conversations with me, though even when we glanced at each other, the tension was thick between us. It pissed me off that he was acting normal, and I knew that's why he was doing it...making me even more mad.

"I have a potential business partner coming here today." He informed me over breakfast.

"Why are they coming here?" I asked.

"I couldn't have a meeting elsewhere."

"I thought you said you don't like bringing business home...though come to think of it, you don't really do that either."

"Glad that's settled then."

I assumed that Tommy would want me out of the way when this 'partner' arrived. A good place to go was out to the stables, tend to the horses to take up time. However, I wasn't in the mood for riding or mucking out, instead opting to watch them be trained for racing. Leaning against a fence, I wasn't surprised that my mind was elsewhere, wondering why Tommy was still being so nice to me. We very rarely argued, mostly because neither of us wanted to face the problems at hand, especially when there were more pressing matters to deal with. But after yelling at him like I had, I expected some sort of silent treatment, or even for him to avoid me completely.

"Mrs Shelby?" a butler said from behind me. He continued as I turned around."Mr Shelby's meeting was to commence at twelve, but he is not here at present. However, his business partner has arrived. And..."

"And?"

"And Mr Shelby has asked that you keep him company whilst he is gone. He has assured me he shall be no longer than half an hour."

It was highly unusual for me to meet any of Tommy's associates. This meant that the man couldn't be any sort of threat, he wouldn't expose me like this. Following the butler back inside, I followed him to the parlour, preparing to act as a good host and a good wife.

"I'm sorry that my husband has kept you waiting, he's never been great with time keeping." I said as I walked in, the man having his back towards me.

As he turned around, my eyes widened, as did his.

"Christopher?!" I exclaimed.

"(Y/N)?!" He smiled, rushing towards me.

"Is that really you? What are you doing engaging in business with the Shelby's?"

"My firm is expanding, for some reason Thomas Shelby stepped forward and offered to become partners. I haven't heard about you for years!"

"Neither I about you. Ever since you moved away, we lost contact."

"And now you're the new Mrs Shelby. Bit risky isn't it?"

I laughed."Come sit down, u want to hear everything you have been doing since we last saw each other."

Christopher was a very old friend of mine. We had known each other since we were eighteen, becoming friends after our families were connected through business. We had been young people wanting to rebel, wanting to have fun; we were never in a relationship together, though we would sleep with each other, spend long nights out drinking with our friends. As a lot of my friends went off to get married to higher business men, he was still there, until I selfishly left him behind to marry my husband, the man I truly loved. I had loved Christopher, not so much as someone I wanted to spend my life with, though neither just a friend; it sounded more complicated that it was.

"You know, I always felt slightly bad for marrying and leaving you like that." I admitted.

"Only slightly?" he nudged me.

"It's not my fault I fell in love! We both said that we would never marry each other, it wasn't right."

"No, you are correct. Though, that didn't stop us doing things that couples do."

I giggled."And we did that a lot."

"I'm sure Mr Shelby keeps you busy."

"He would...if he was ever here. Though even if he was..."

"(Y/N)?"

"I've said too much already."

"Have the two of you ever...or haven't rather-"

"No we haven't. And I am telling you this in full secrecy, it must never leave your lips." I pointed a finger at him, becoming serious.

"I promise. I would never do anything to expose you like that."

"Thank you Christopher." I laid my hand on his thigh, thinking nothing of it until he placed his over mine.

Slipping away my hand, I looked away from him, feeling how intense our eye contact was becoming. It was stupid that my heart was beating faster, I was becoming hot under the collar over the tiniest amount of contact.

"I'm assuming your wife knows who you are making a deal with?" I said to start the conversation again.

"There is no Mrs in my life at the moment. I'm afraid work came first and well...there has never been much time."

"Oh Christopher, that's no excuse! Let me guess, you've lost your charm?"

"It's been working on you, hasn't it?"

He got me again. Glancing around, I saw no servants, though I wouldn't be surprised if they were eavesdropping. However, it was Tommy and I that employed them, if they wanted to lose their job, that would he the way to do it. Standing up, I gestured for Christopher to follow.

"We're going on a walk." I announced.

"What about your husband?"

"He will be ages before he gets here. And I'm allowed to show my old friend around the place."

We headed out of the front door, and without saying anything, I guided him down the path that led away from the house.

"(Y/N), I thought you were showing me around your home?" Christopher pointed out.

"I am. We're just starting at the beginning."

"What is that...hut?"

It was a small stone shed, one that would have been used to either keep guns or tools used to maintain the land, keep it tidy. Tommy had another one built closer, initially wanting to knock it down but soon forgetting about it. Now it was empty, the only things remaining being a desk and a chair. It was in front of the trees, slightly hidden by them. You would have to have a sharp eye to spot it, whether you were walking or driving by. Using my shoulder to budge it open, I stepped inside, closing the door after Christopher walked in.

"(Y/N), I'm not stupid, I know why we've come here." He said, staying close by me.

I hesitated to speak, knowing that I hadn't thought this through properly."Christopher... I wouldn't be doing this if-"

"Your husband is Thomas Shelby, this is dangerous for both of us."

"It isn't. He's allowed to go off and do what he wants, because he's Thomas fucking Shelby, and he's a man. Even if he found out about any of this, he wouldn't hurt someone if I asked him not to. He's good to me in that manner."

His hands came up to either side of my face."I'm worried about you, I've never seen you so..."

"Desperate?" I clung onto his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I couldn't believe it was you when you walked in. You're still as beautiful as you were when we were eighteen."

Although he was being a sweetheart and I hadn't received such compliments in a long time, I was inpatient. We both knew where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be as romantic or adventurous as it used to be.

Hungrily kissing me, his arms wrapped around my torso, reaching down to my arse as I pulled off his coat. Pulling away for a moment, he pushed me towards the desk, helping me scramble on top of it. My legs instantly spread as I ruffled up the bottom of my dress, using one hand to grab the back of his neck and kiss him again. I felt his hand slide up my thigh, gasping as he pulled my underwear aside. The sensation filling my body had been badly missed, and I felt myself writhing against his fingers. Leaning back against the wall, I moaned loudly, heavily breathing as I grinded my hips. He slowed down his movements, knowing how much it was frustrating me.

"Christopher..." I struggled to say."Fuck, please...don't stop."

He leaned in to my neck, sloppily missing it as he spoke in between."I loved teasing you like this."

I groaned as he removed his fingers, instantly reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. Before I could take a turn to torture him back, he pulled me off the desk, quickly turning me around and bending me over it. I yelped out in surprise, smiling at the thrill of it all. He tapped my legs apart, moving my skirts out of the way. I felt his skin on mine before he thrusted into me, making me cry out in pleasure. It didn't even matter if anyone could hear us, I hadn't fucked for God knows how long.

He was slow at first, building up the feeling that was in the pit of my stomach. I moaned out his name, reaching back to grab any piece of hm. He had a tight grip on my hips, especially as he started to quicken his pace. The noises escaping his mouth were somehow exciting me, I needed to feel and hear all of this. The pinching of skin from his hold didn't bother me, both of us shouting out each others names along with profanities before he came, but he kept going until I did too. With both of us finished and out of breath, Christopher gently collapsed over me.

"Fuck." I sighed as he pulled out.

Shakily straightening up, I made sure I was dressed correctly, kissing him gently one last time. My body couldn't believe what it had just gone through, and it already wanted more. Before we could say or do anything else, we heard the distant sound of a car, and it could only be headed this way.

"Shit." Christopher stressed, hastily getting dressed.

"It's OK! It'll be OK, Christopher!" I tried to calm him down.

"He's back already!"

"We'll head back and act like nothing happened. I was just walking around with you."

Making sure we both looked normal, we nervously made our way back to the house. My legs were still shaking as he speedily walked, but I said nothing, seeing the stress and fear plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr Alexander, I see you have met my wife." Tommy was stood in the foyer, unnaturally smiling.

"We actually know each other. We grew up together." I explained, standing beside him.

Then it clicked.

"If you don't mind, I just need a quick word with my wife."

Christopher nodded, politely smiling at both of us before following the butler to Tommy's office. He turned to face me, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You invited him on purpose." I said.

"You might want to go lie down for a bit." He didn't say it maliciously, but I was still wary.

"Tommy, please don't hurt him. I initiated it, please don't-"

"I'm not going to do anything to him. He's done what I thought he would do."

"I'm confused. Why would you want him to sleep with me?"

"You said so yourself, why should it just be me doing what I want? You're Mrs fucking Shelby, you've got the power." He started to walk away, leaving me to still think about what he had done.

Still shaky but reeling from the events that unfolded, I ended up smiling."That scheming mother fucker."

[venushasvixens]

Ch. 7 Hound Dog - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

The biggest thanks to @tebdundy for the amazing editing, I was literally jumping out of my seat, it was amazing. Thank you for everyone for pushing me to get this chapter out! Next chapter will be one step further. Enjoy!

WARNING: 18 + NSFW including masturbation, fantasies and angst

You’d been on the Bebop for two weeks. You had only bagged a couple of minor bounties, making much less of a contribution than you had hoped for, but a contribution nonetheless. The crew had gotten used to you. All except one.

And he wasn’t planning on getting used to you anytime soon.

Spike lay on the couch in the living room, meditating on the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Music played softly through his headset, a sultry, meandering jazz melody. He had the ship to himself for the day. Jet and (y/n) were running some errands, Faye had gone shopping, and Ed and Ein were doing their own thing, probably leaving a trail of chaos and destruction.

(Y/n) and Faye had tried to convince Ed and Ein to stay on the Bebop, but Jet came to their defense. He argued that they needed to get out now and then, or else they would go crazy. Spike didn’t have the heart to tell Jet it was far too late for that. Spike stayed behind to “watch the ship”. Privacy and solitude were rare on the Bebop, so he jumped at the opportunity for a relaxing day alone.

He had been spending most of his time in his room since you had been living on the ship, so he was happy to spend some time in the common areas. Once you got back, he thought, it’s back to my room I go.

It was nice to have a change in scenery. He was getting tired of taking his meals and smoke breaks in parts of the ship that you didn’t inhabit. He knew it was childish, but Spike didn't want to interact with you. He had decided to avoid you, counting down the days until you left the ship for good.

Spike tried to justify why he didn’t want to be around you, but in reality, he didn’t know. He kept thinking back to the night of the fire. You were only supposed to be a short fling, a one-night stand and nothing more. It seemed like you both understood that and were happy with that arrangement. You had both been egging it on. He didn’t care about you hunting the bounty on Faye, that was hers to worry about.

With something that’s only supposed to last for a night, there’s no point in getting attached. There’s barely any room to get attached anyway. But now, you were near him, a whole ship filled with lots of literal room to get attached. He had to push you away before anything could start.

Even after all these years trying to be completely numb to everything, especially human emotion, it pained Spike to hurt you. It got even worse when he would catch you staring at him. It was the same look you had when you lost your ship. Confused, but full of longing. He never acknowledged you. He just turned his head the other way.

After he closed the door to his room, he could live in his thoughts, feel his emotions. If he thought about you around others, he’d imagine they could peek into his head and see how much you were on his mind. The memory he spent the most time on was the first day you were on the Bebop.

You came down the stairs wearing his shirt and old shorts, asking about lunch. A few buttons were undone, revealing your collarbones and just a tantalizing sliver of your chest. The shorts showed off your alluring legs, which looked supple and soft to the touch. Your hair was messy, sticking out in all directions, and you were rubbing your eyes sleepily. Spike was so grateful that he was alone in the living room, that he got this memory all to himself. You were truly a sight, both elegant and adorable at the same time.

He craved to see you like that again. You were always attractive, but this one specific memory was one he loved. He imagined you sleeping next to him looking like that, with your arms wrapped around his torso and lost in pleasant dreams.

Stop it.

Opening his eyes, Spike stared at the ceiling. Feelings that were so hated, so feared, were coming back. He had succeeded at repressing them for a while after his departure from the Red Dragon Syndicate. Freedom came at a cost. Spike learned that people would do anything to save themselves, even if it meant cutting and running from the person that “mattered” most to them. It was a memory he tried to forget, but a lesson to be carried for a lifetime.

That was it. Why he pushed you away. He had no trust in you. You would be gone soon anyway, so there was no reason to put effort into getting close.

Spike put out his cigarette and grabbed his radio. He trudged up the stairs to his room, wishing he could avoid the inevitable emo self-therapy session. He was so used to bottling up his emotions that thinking about his dilemmas out in the open felt like a crime. If he didn’t get it out now, it would bother the hell out of him until he blew up at some poor, unsuspecting victim.

Letting the door close behind him, Spike plopped his radio on his desk. Shrugging off his jacket, he laid back on his bed to think.

He had been hurt before, so many times. It happened to him so often in the past that another heartbreak felt overdue. Spike knew that but kept thinking that it would be different with you.

You were already different from the others. You kept to yourself, didn’t argue with Jet or Faye. You were a model crew member. You wished everyone, including Spike, good morning and good night. You followed the rules and did as you were told. After a hunt, you still brought home food to everyone, even when you had lost the bounty. You were kind and caring and great to be around and beautiful...

Spike sighed in frustration. It was getting harder to deny how much he wanted you. He groaned into his pillow. Sitting up, he realized that just laying there wasn’t going to help anything.

I need relief, he thought. Even if it was only for a second.

Reluctantly, Spike indulged in fantasies about you. It was a nice pastime in moments of stress, though he realized it was going to be hard to get rid of this habit after you left.

Spike saved his fantasies for himself, like a treat. He wanted to savor every sweet, delicious, moment all to himself. Oh god, he was desperate for more. Everything about you, your voice, your body, even the way you walked, turned him on.

You seem stressed, Spike could hear you say. I can help with that, you whispered.

Spike knew what he needed to do to ease this tension. He glanced at the clock. You and the crew wouldn’t be back for another hour. Plenty of time to do what he needed to do.

What could’ve happened if your ship hadn’t caught fire? Spike thought.

The memories of that night kept coming back. Your hands trailing down Spike’s chest were constantly on his mind. The pressure of your fingertips, the hazy look in your eyes, your flushed cheeks, and your wet, intoxicating lips begging for his... Too much to bear while laying completely still.

A haze settled into Spike’s head, blurring his thoughts. He needed more.

What could happen if no one was on the Bebop when you came down wearing his clothes?

Spike would pick you up, tossing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Marching to his room, he would throw you on the bed, slamming the door behind him. Prying your legs apart, he would want to taste every drop from your aching, wet pussy. Your sweet, soft moans would bounce off the walls, his name dribbling out of your mouth like honey. He could only imagine how you would beg for him to pound into you, your tight walls clenching over his rock-hard cock. Gripping onto your hips, he would spank your ass, listening to you cry out for him to let you cum.

Cheeks hot from his lustful thoughts, Spike lifted his hips to wiggle down his pants to his ankles. He palmed himself through his underwear, imagining that it was your hands instead. He could already feel his cock throbbing, begging to be played with.

He tugged his underwear down, letting his cock spring free. Spitting into his hand, he lathered his saliva all over himself, from the base to the head. Pumping himself, Spike dove deeper into his imagination. He would love to see you riding him, the thought of your pussy moving up and down on his cock and the sight of your tits bouncing sent ripples through Spike.

Huffing softly, he winced and groaned, his hand never tiring to find his orgasm. God, if you were here, the number of positions and rounds he could go. If given the chance, Spike would fuck you until the end of time. He desperately wanted to touch you. He wanted to feel the softness of your tits, to feel your nipples harden at his touch. Or his fingers rubbing your sensitive clit, your pussy desperate to cum on his cock.

“I-I just wanna..” Spike moaned softly, letting his daydreaming slip into reality. He imagined his pleasure as your own, the thought of your head bobbing up and down on his dick brought him closer to cumming. He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, precum already spilling out.

He imagined the feeling of your tongue flattening to lick and swirl around him, licking from the base to the tip and taking all of him to the back of your throat. He would watch you take him, while your hazy eyes gazed up at him. With his fingers tangled in your hair, he would guide your head to the speed and pressure he wanted.

You would look so pretty with his cum spilling out of your mouth. Watching as you tried to catch your breath, he wouldn’t be able to resist tasting himself on you. God, that was hot to think about. He surprised himself with thoughts like that. Spike hadn’t felt like this in a long time and certainly had never thought like this before. You awoke new fantasies and kinks inside him, and he wanted to see what else you could do.

He imagined running his tongue over your sensitive clit, pinning your shaking legs to the bed. Flipping over so you could ride his face, smothering him in your wet pussy. Running his hands down your sides feeling the heat of your body against his.

Picking up the pace, Spike sucked his breath in through his teeth, warmth slowly building inside of him. All he could think of was falling right over the edge, losing himself in his pleasure.

He was getting so close, the height of his bliss sky high.

“Oh yes, (y/n)...” Spike moaned. Fuck holding all of it in, he thought. Every single room on this ship is going to hear and know who was making him feel good. He winced, unable to stop loudly repeating your name over and over.

He was so close. Every scene, fantasy, and memory came crashing down, flashing behind his eyes all at once. A ball of ecstasy rolled down Spike’s spine, through his stomach, and into his cock. He wanted you to feel this with him, for this feeling to last forever. You both reaching orgasm, the crescendo of intensity reaching its peak.

“G-god, (y/n) I-I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

“What the fuck?”

Spike had been so focused on his fantasy, he hadn’t heard the door opening. He didn’t notice you standing in the doorway, shocked to see him playing with himself while moaning your name. Your jaw was slack and your cheeks were bright red, embarrassed, and trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. Stunned, you incredulously repeated yourself.

“What the fuck?!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Spike fumbled with his belt, desperately trying to pull his pants back up. “(Y/N), I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were-“

When he looked back up, you had disappeared from his doorway. The heavy door to your room slammed shut, the clank echoing through the hallway.

This was definitely not a daydream.

[vicarfelix]

Dockgazing

Vicar Max x Fem! Captain

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,725

“You’ve been gone for quite some time. We were getting worried.”

She took a long drag of her cigarette, loving and hating the way it burned when the smoke entered her lungs. She was high above the floor of The Groundbreaker, sitting on the edge of one of the balconies that were stationed around the higher levels of the ship. Her feet dangled over the edge, but not so far that she was at risk of falling to the ground.

She wasn’t even sure how she ended up there. She had taken some time to wander around Chief Junlei’s impressive ship, exploring some of the areas that she hadn’t yet had time to see yet. She stopped by Martin’s stand, buying a pack of fresh cigarettes before swinging by The Lost Hope for a bottle of Iceberg Whiskey. 

Eventually, she found herself inside of the more isolated parts of the ship, climbing a ladder and sitting out on the ledge to enjoy her smoking habit in peace. She figured if she was going to pick smoking back up again, she might as well wash her guilt down with something as equally toxic. Alcohol in Halcyon was far different than anything that Earth had. Actually, everything in Halcyon was different from Earth. For a colony that was supposed to be modeled after her home planet, she just couldn’t seem to find comfort there.

The Captain had gotten used to Halcyon over the course of her time post-hibernation. She supposed that Mock Apples were close enough to the organic apples that she used to enjoy on warm summer days. She had learned to stomach Saltuna and that it was just as good as the canned, processed fished that she was used to. And the Spacer’s Choice cigarettes curbed her occasional craving just as well as any cigarette brand.

She held the Spacer’s Corona lazily between the index and middle finger of her right hand, watching the trail of smoke that suspended from the end of it as it slowly burned down. She took another drag, one that was less deep than her previous one. Her cheeks hollowed ever so as she let the smoke sit in her chest for a moment before exhaling it through her nostrils. Oddly enough, before she was hibernated for 7 odd decades, The Captain only smoked when she was overly stressed. Back then it was only a couple times a year, but now she could easily go through a pack a day.

She definitely tried not to, considering that she knew all the harm that it was probably doing to her. Although, Phineas had mentioned once in passing that she was pretty much immune to stuff like that now. The Captain somewhat doubted that, but she used it to her advantage whenever she started feeling bad about smoking. The Captain kept the bottle of whiskey close to her, the cool material of the glass being pressed against the side of her thigh. 

She had made it through maybe a third of the bottle, and she was feeling the beginnings of a buzz. She would take a few inhales of her cigarette, take a sip, take a few more inhales, take another sip. She had been in this rhythm for a little while as she watched Junlei’s mardets and the occasional travelers walk down the promenade below her. She could see the entire center of the ship from where she sat. She couldn’t help but grin at the sight of the blinking LED signs above the Rest-N-Go and the Medical Bay. 

She thought about how she wasn’t exactly the most normal human being. She was the captain of a “borrowed” ship and a crew of pirates and orphans. She was a strange person indeed who was leading an even stranger life. Not to mention that she was romantically involved with one of them. On the surface, the Captain was confident that she wouldn’t want to change a thing about how her life had gone. She liked being a captain and she was grateful for the experiences that it had granted her. But there was one thing that just always bothered her. Something that rested far below what others could see.

She missed being able to enjoy life.

Groundbreaker had become a favorite of the Captain’s over the course of her journey. She had made many friends and allies there, and aside from her own ship, it was the only other place that she felt safe. But even then, she always made sure that her handgun was ready to go at any moment. She hated feeling like she had to be on edge all the time. She didn’t like having to make sure that she was constantly aware of what and who was around her. She couldn’t even sit in a bar to unwind because she was constantly on the lookout for someone who might try to take her or her crew out.

She was an enemy of The Board, and in turn, her crew wasn’t on their good side either. She knew what kind of organization The Board was running. The Captain hated to admit it or even think about it, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she or one of her crew ended up dead at the hands of The Board. She always made sure to lock the ship completely down at the end of every night, no matter where they were. The Board was everywhere...or at least, it felt like they were. 

Maybe the Captain’s paranoia was getting the best of her.

Still, she had found ways to take the edge off, even for a short period of time. She had just taken another sip of whiskey when she heard footsteps approach from behind her. Normally, she would’ve scrambled from her resting position with her gun drawn, but these footsteps had a distinct sound that she had learned to trust. The steps were heavy, but graceful and sometimes had a bit of a shuffle depending on the situation. She didn’t even turn her head, continuing to survey the promenade below her.

“Hey, Max,” She greeted, knowing that he’d take that as an invitation to join her.

The Captain had left her crew back on The Unreliable several hours ago, telling them that she’d be back shortly. Time had just slipped away from her once she had found the hidey spot she was in. 

“Captain,” He returned, sitting next to his girlfriend, “I believe that you told me that you were quitting.” He remarked, referring to the half-smoked cigarette still in her hand.

She gave him a slight smirk, his dazzling eyes shining with admiration.

“I believe that you told me that you were afraid of heights.” She remarked, glancing downwards to indicate to him that they were indeed far from the ground.

He fought the shiver that threatened to vibrate up his spine. He couldn’t deny that he was timid when it came to being high in the air. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but at least where they were now, the only way he could fall would be if he fell forward...so he was okay.

“I’m not a fan of them.” He admitted, eyeing the bottle of whiskey on the other side of her.

She seemingly read his mind, wrapping her hands around the bottle and handing it to him. She scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he took a gulp straight from the bottle as she had done. Max wasn’t usually keen on sharing drinks with someone else, but considering that drinking out of the same bottle as her wasn’t much different than kissing, he didn’t mind. He felt a warmth spread over his chest as the liquid burned going down his esophagus, the alcohol pooling in his stomach.

“How’d you find me up here?” The Captain asked.

“Oh, please. I could spot you in a crowd of thousands,” He claimed, pressing his lips to the top of her head, “You’ve been gone for quite some time. We were getting worried.”

The Captain had no idea how long she had been sitting up there. Time always seemed to slip away from her when she was trying to unwind and reflect.

“I’m sorry. I just found my way up here and got comfortable,” She admitted, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright.” He said simply, not wanting to break her serenity too much, “How are you doing?”

Whenever Max asked her that, she knew that he was really asking about her wellbeing in regards to the mission they were on. Not that he didn’t care about her in a general sense, but he knew the toll that this had taken on her....on all of them.

“I’m doing okay,” She told him, “Just missing home.” 

He nodded. He knew all about her story and how she ended up in this position to begin with. She had been holding on to a string of hope that she might get to return to Earth. She said a silent prayer every night that she’d be able to leave Halcyon behind, and maybe even get the chance at a new life with Max...but she was beginning to realize that might not be in the cards for her.

“I understand. Is there anything I can do for you, darling?” He questioned, wanting to comfort her as best as he could.

She shook her head, finishing off the last of her cigarette with an extended exhale.

“No, it’s okay....just stay with me?” She meant to say as a command, but it came out as more of a request.

He shrugged his shoulder to get her to lift her head so he could look at her, pressing a kiss to her lips. He tasted the whiskey, the smoke, and all of her that he had grown to love. He adored his Captain. He couldn’t live without her. It killed him to know that she was in pain and there wasn’t anything he could do. He wanted to take all the bullets for her. He wanted to be the one to bear the burdens that had been thrown on top of her. 

He wanted her to be happy.

For now, being in her presence and loving her was going to have to do. But at least it was something he could do with ease and without hesitation. 

“Always, my Captain.”

[hargrove-mayfields]

okay so I know it’s been ages (I totally lost this in my drafts. oops!), but a while back I wrote this drabble and @trans-siberian-marching-band left a comment that inspired this follow up!

“When you were growing up, did you ever want siblings?”

They’re out in their backyard, something that still makes the both of them emotional, the fact that they have a space together that they can call theirs, sitting on the porch swing under the stars, just talking.

It’s funny, there was a time when they couldn’t ever do this kind of thing without something to smoke, only ever having these deep conversations because of the Chocolate Thai that Steve used to like so much, but they can’t really do that sort of thing anymore for the sake of Billy’s lungs.

Which, Billy knew well things weren’t going to be the same once he got out of the hospital, and he was okay with that even, after so long a recovery, it just worried him a little, to think he wouldn’t be the same person. But Steve, he had a way of proving him wrong, always showing him that even if things changed, they still had eachother, and that was what was most important to the both of them.

It wasn’t just the photo album thing either, it was keeping up all of their little traditions and habits, different as they may be now, and making dozens of new ones, building a life together and showing him that this was okay.

“More than anything.” Billy responds to Steve’s question, a little wistful. Being a big brother used to be what he would wish for on every birthday candle or shooting star that went past his window.

Steve hums and sits back a little further on the swing, looking up at the sky, “I bet you liked it a lot when Max came along then.”

And he doesn’t mean to, but Billy scoffs, says a bit harshly, “No way, I hated her guts.”

“Oh.” Steve looks over at Billy, a little put off by his answer if the slight frown on his face is any indication, but he shares his own thoughts all the same, “Well I always wanted a little sister.”

“I did too.” Billy admits, making Steve look even more confused as he asks him, a sort of confrontational edge to his voice, “Then what was wrong with Max?”

Billy sighs. The reason is something he’s never shared with a single soul, never scribbled in the pages of his diary, or even mentioned in a prayer. He looks up at the sky with Steve, and tells him, his voice so quiet the emptiness almost swallows his words, “Momma was five months pregnant when she left. I couldn’t stand Max because she wasn’t my real sister. Wasn’t my Raini.”

Billy was eight years old when his momma had told him that she was pregnant, explaining all about what that meant as she was tucking him into his bed each night, when Neil would stay late at work, even later at the bar.

She would take extra care to always tell him how he was going to be such a good role model for his baby sister when she came, and even taught him about all the things you had to do for a baby. He couldn’t have been more excited.

But instead of his family getting bigger, four months before he’s supposed to be able to meet the baby, it gets smaller. His momma, trying to make sure that her husband wouldn’t be able to control her pregnancy or hurt her baby, takes off with most of Billy’s things packed in her car and nothing more than a promise to be back before the end of the month.

Except, that doesn’t ever happen. His dad moves them all the way to the other side of the state before it can.

Little Billy hadn’t known what to do with himself. He was beyond devastated, even more so when he found out over the phone his momma wouldn’t be able to make the trip to come get him like she had initially promised, and that he’d have to live with just his father from then on.

It’s a horrible thing, for a child so young to realize he’ll never see his mother again, never have the things she took with her to cherish, never meet the little girl he was so excited to be a big brother to. Billy honestly doesn’t think Neil ever even found out that his mom was pregnant.

With time Billy would forget a lot of things, trauma blocks and so many months in a coma a major hindrance on his memory, but he could never forget his baby sister.

Steve brings him back out of his head with a simple question, so much concern written on his face it makes Billy’s stomach turn, “You never even met her?”

“Nope. Lost contact with momma before she was even born, so.” Billy says, scrunching up his nose when it burns with tears, the one sure fire giveaway that he’s upset that Steve never ever misses.

“Well you should find her now.” Steve says, but despite the heartfelt nature of his words, the suggestion is immediately turned down with a, “It’s not that easy.”

“Well know her name, don’t you? Raini?”

“Yeah, Raini Mae, but I have no idea what her surname is. She never met Neil so she’s probably not a Hargrove, momma’s maiden name was Ellison, but maybe she got married again after Neil.” Billy explains, frustrated that Steve’s telling him all the same things he’d been thinking about for the last twenty some odd years, “Hell, it’s been so long, maybe Raini’s even married by now.”

“Please, Billy. You have to at the very least try.” Steve says, taking up Billy’s hand in his.

“Why? So I can find one more person who was supposed to care about me and never did?” Billy asks, and they both know that’s unfair, but he’s stubborn, hurt by what happened and terrified of finding out something he doesn’t want to know, “I love you, but I’m not doing this for you.”

But Steve, he isn’t letting this go so quickly. This is the only thing that Billy still kept a secret from him after all these years, this has to be important. He thinks hard about it, and offers hopefully, “Would you let me though? Would you talk to her, even just one time, if I found her for you?”

Billy looks at him, his eyes shining with tears that had been waiting to fall since he was just a kid, and he nods, “Of course I would.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Steve’s says determinedly, his mind made up. He was going to find Billy’s sister, no matter what.

[cherrybracelets]

Heat Waves

weed dealer!mgg x reader 

masterlist | requests

word count: 5.5k | warnings: 18+ content! drugs and alcohol mentions and usage. no smut but partying!

summary: your brother has a new roommate, and fuck, you might be in love with him? 

song inspo : heat waves - glass animals 

an: this gif is how i imagine him in this fic like w glasses but way less nerdy ahahha ok well whatever idk if im gonna continue this or just leave it as is lmk what yall think ok byeee

You stumbled up the steps of the subway, the heavy cardboard box you were holding slipping out of your hands as you made your way above ground. You tried to adjust your grip on it and almost fell backwards, shaking your head in frustration. The box was filled with all the random shit your brother had left at your place over the past few months as he was trying to find a place to live, sleeping on different couches of random friends. It was almost all useless stuff, which made the fact that you had to hand deliver it all to him even more frustrating.

You walked tirelessly down the street, gripping harshly on to the box. You pushed your way through people, not caring at all that you probably looked insane as you yelled for people to move so you could just get there and fucking put this box down. You finally came upon the building, sighing with relief as you set the box on the steps and rang the buzzer.

“I’m here,” you groaned into the speaker, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Hello!” A cheery voice responded over the intercom. A voice that was definitely not your brothers. “Who exactly is here?”

“Oh, sorry- I might have the wrong apartment. Is this 4B?”

“Yeah! You must be Danny’s sister. Come on up.” The door buzzed loudly as it unlocked, and you grabbed onto the handle quickly, lugging in the box behind you. You were extremely grateful when you saw the elevator, quietly thanking the universe that you didn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs with this thousand pound box.

You took the elevator up to the fourth floor, your body exhausted as you leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. You closed your eyes, hoping that maybe a five second nap could give you your energy back. But unfortunately, the elevator stopped and opened its doors, urging you to once again pick up the box and be on your way. You dropped your head to the floor and sighed, using the last of your energy to pick up the box and walk down the long hallway to apartment 4B.

Thankfully the apartment wasn’t too far from the elevator, and you only had a short walk until you came upon the door of his new place. You noticed a welcome mat on the floor that read ‘Bachelor Pad’, and you rolled your eyes at the pure douchiness of the thing. God, your brother was a prick. But, nevertheless, you loved him, he was family. Despite being one of the most annoying people you’d ever met.

You knocked slowly on the door, excited to throw the box into someone else’s arms and run home. It was your day off from work, and all you wanted was to throw on some sweats, eat frozen mac and cheese and watch Jeopardy until you fell asleep on the couch. The perfect day.

The door swung open, and the man who was definitely not your brother stood on the other side, a large smile plastered across his picture perfect face. His messy curls hung across his face, and he pushed them away before reaching out to you to grab the box.

“Let me get that for you,” he said quietly, literally lifting the weight off your shoulders as he grabbed it effortlessly. The muscles in his arms protruded as he set the box down on an old dining table they had set up in the kitchen, a cluster of mismatched chairs along with it.

“Thanks,” you said back, your eyes still trailing over his body, watching him closely. “Is, uh, is my brother here?” You stuttered to get your words out, your eyes still locked on the model-like man in front of you.

“No, he just ran out actually. Went to pick up a couch or something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. He told me he would be here!” You shook your head in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest, which pushed out your cleavage slightly. You caught the man glancing at your breasts, and felt your heart start beating a bit faster. He wasn’t even trying to the fact that he was staring at you. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. He really was supposed to be here to get this.”

“It’s not a problem at all. He told me you’d be stopping by. I’m Matt, by the way. I’m sure he’s told you about me.” He stuck out his hand, and you reached back and grabbed it. His hands were soft, but the tips of his fingers stained black, the familiar site of a smoker. The air hung the smell of stale pot smoke, so it was pretty easy to put together that he was a heavy weed guy. 

“I’m (Y/N). And, uh, no, actually. He hasn’t told me, like anything about you. Just that he knows you from work and you’re a ‘pretty decent guy’,” you laughed, letting go of his hand but desperately wanting to hold on to it forever. You didn’t really understand why, but something about his touch was so comforting, it made you feel like coming home after a long day.

“Uh, I was just about to smoke a bowl actually, if you’d like to join. Your brother told me you smoke,” Matt said, motioning to the coffee table covered in various paraphernalia.

“I don’t make a habit of smoking with strangers,” you responded sharply, realizing immediately how bitchy you must’ve sounded and wishing you could take it back. You scrunched your face a bit, cringing as you replayed the sentence over and over in your head.

“But I’m not a stranger! I’m Matt! Besides, this is fantastic stuff- I just got it from my guy the other day, knocks your socks off,” he giggled, his eyes wide as he wanted to desperately for you to say yes.

“Well, I guess I really can’t say no to free weed,” you shrugged, following him over to the old couch they had set up in their under furnished living room. It was exactly how you pictured your brothers apartment to look- disappointing and not at all coordinated.

“Sorry about the place, we’re trying to make it look nice but we’re not exactly interior decorators.” He shook his head as he looked around the room, before picking up his freshly packed bowl and lighting it.

“Yeah, it looks pretty frat-housey in here. I would expect more from you, but not from my brother,” you giggled, taking the glass pipe from Matt’s hands and enjoying it yourself.

“Why me?”

“Well... I don’t know...” you stuttered, shaking your head and trying to pull together a sentence. “You just seem to have... more style, I guess. Seem more put together.”

“I appreciate that. I do try extremely hard to not look like a douche.” He smiled kindly at you, his eyes shining with the reflection of the lighter as the two of you continued to share the bowl.

You made small talk for a bit, feeling the calm of the marijuana taking over your body. The old couch suddenly became much more comfortable as you sunk back into it, staring at the patterns on the ceiling. Matt was talking quietly behind you, trying to tell some story about him and your brother; but you were only half listening, losing yourself in your own thoughts of him. Thinking about the softness of his lips as he inhaled and exhaled, watching his hands flex tireless to work the lighter, noticing how his body seemed to relax more and more with each hit.

He tilted his head towards you, flicking the lighter with his thumb and escaping in the flame. He had lost himself in it, a comfortable silence coming down over the room. You watched the flame, too, trying to see whatever beauty he saw in it- but you weren’t feeling anything, and getting pretty antsy. You turned away from him, staring into the kitchen and hoping to see something edible from this distance. You weren’t sure what kind of food two men like this would bring into their home, but you were sure it was nothing good. Your stomach grumbled at the thought of something to eat, and you fell back into the couch with a groan.

“You okay?” Matt whispered, turning his face towards you and staring at your eyes.

“Mhmm,” you responded, not having the energy to respond at the moment.

“You are extremely beautiful,” he mumbled, his eyes exploring your face, finding themselves locked on your lips no matter how hard he tried to look away.

“What?” You snickered, replaying the words in your head, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be weird. It’s just shocking to me how beautiful you are. Like a piece of art; I can’t take my eyes away.”

“You’re joking.” You rolled your eyes at him and pushed his arm playfully, trying to hide the obvious delight in your face.

“Why do you think I’m joking?”

“I just don’t hear that very often.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He frowned, looking down at his hands and playing with his over bitten nails.

“Sorry, I mean, I appreciate it of course. Fuck, sorry, I get so awkward when I’m high. Not very good at holding conversations.”

“Well, now that we’re friends I’ll make sure to remind you how beautiful you are as often as I can.” Matt placed his hand on yours lightly, at first only as a friendly touch, but feeling a comfort in the embrace. His thumb moved slowly, the small movement between your flesh overwhelming you with desire. Your eyes were locked on his, an intoxicating silence overcoming the room. You opened your mouth to speak, not sure exactly what to say, but the sound of the door unlocking breaking you from your daze. You pulled your hand away from his quickly and jumped off the couch, watching as the door opened and your brother walked in.

“Heyo!” Danny, your brother yelled, greeting the two of you with a large smile. “I see you’ve met my sister!”

“Yes, uh, yeah. We were just chatting,” Matt said defensively, trying to avoid eye contact with you.

“I was just waiting for you to get back. That’s all.” You responded, nodding your head quickly.

“How sweet! Just in time to help me get the new couch up!”

“Absolutely not. I brought your box, that's all the free labor you are getting out of me.” You laughed awkwardly, looking back at Matt, who was still avoiding you.

“Alright, whatever, but don’t ever ask me for anything ever again.” Danny rolled his eyes, throwing his phone down on the counter and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow night for my party?” You asked, heading towards the door.

“Oh, right! I almost forgot. Is it cool if I bring Matt?” 

You looked at Matt, who finally looked back at you, and you nodded slowly.

“Of course. I’ll see you guys then.” You smiled at the two of them, gave a small wave and left, closing the door loudly behind you. Fuck. What the fuck was that? Was he flirting with you? Or was he just high? You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the wall, trying to compose yourself before heading home.

***************

There was nothing that stressed you out more than when your roommate threw her chaotic ‘get togethers’ every other Friday at your place. It was always an exhausting mess, and now you had to think about Matt coming along as well. You hadn’t stopped thinking about your weird intimate moment together, and the thought of seeing him again made your stomach do backflips.

There was something about him that made you feel so comfortable, so at home. But he’s friends with your brother... he has to be a scumbag. Right? And what kind of guy just walks around telling random girls they’re beautiful. He was definitely just trying to sleep with you. Which of course you wanted to sleep with him too, obviously. But he was the kind of guy that you could find yourself falling for, and getting hurt, badly. He was the kind of guy that would break your heart. You could tell. And you could not let him in, no matter how much you wanted to.

Tonight has to be all about ignoring him. You cannot let him be alone with you, because the moment he’s alone with you and starts calling you beautiful again with his pretty face and intoxicating voice and touching your hand... you were playing a dangerous game. You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, trying to push the thoughts of him out of your head when you were interrupted.

“What are you doing? I told you to get the cups set out like 20 minutes ago!” Your roommate rolled her eyes, pushing you to the side and laying out the cups herself.

“Sorry, Callie. Just a bit distracted today.”

“I can tell. What’s going on with you? You were weird all night last night.”

“Just tired I guess. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go set the drinks out.” You walked away quickly, hoping she would be too focused on her party planning to ask any more questions. Whenever you told her about a new guy, she was stupidly optimistic. And you really didn’t need her telling you to go for it when your brain was giving you the exact opposite advice. She just shrugged, turned around and went back to mindlessly setting up. You felt relief wash over you as she looked away, and you could once again get lost in your own thoughts and anxieties.

You mindlessly laid cups and other dumb decorations out, Matt’s face continuously crossing your mind. You found yourself smiling every time you played his words over in your head. His voice like silk as it wrapped around your body, warmth flowing through you as his lips whispered ‘You are extremely beautiful’ over and over again. You felt your heart racing, and you took a deep breath as you were brought back into reality by the vibration of your phone in your pocket.

You grabbed it, only to see you had multiple missed calls from your brother. ‘Fuck’, you thought. He knew, he somehow knew about your little flirt session with Matt. You shook your head in distress, preparing for the oncoming conversation as you reluctantly pressed the answer button and brought the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut to bear the impending rage from your brother.

“Jesus, I've called you like 18 times? What’s your deal?” He laughed, his voice full of his normal light and cheery tone. You took a sigh of relief after you realized he didn’t know a thing.

“Sorry, uh, helping Callie set everything up. Must’ve put my phone down and forgot it somewhere.”

“Well I need to know what liquor and illegal substances you’d like me to bring tonight- I’ve only got like an hour!” He said urgently.

“Uh, honestly whatever you want. We’ve got a few bottles here but nothing you’d like, probably.”

“You sound distracted, you all good?” You could head the concern in his voice, and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

“Everyone keeps asking me that today and it’s pretty annoying. I’m just trying to set up a party I don’t really want to be involved in and everyone keeps bothering me!”

“Jesus, grumpy pants. Looks like someone needs a nap... or a blunt.” Danny laughed quietly, and you bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling at him again.

“Sorry. On edge today. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“No worries. I’ll see you later, okay? Try and cheer up a bit by then, I’d like to make a good impression on Matt.” Danny hung up quickly after that, and the word ‘Matt” kept ringing in your head over and over like a church bell. You put your phone down on the table and looked up at Callie, who was adjusting your work on the cups table.

“I need a drink,” you groaned.

“A little pregame shot, I love it!” She squealed, prancing over to the bottles and pouring shots for the two of you. You downed yours quickly, letting the liquor burn through your insides. You were hoping, after enough of it, it would burn through any thoughts you had of him. 

After another shot, the next hour before the guests arrived flew by. Callie put on some music and you danced your worries away, deciding which outfit to wear by rampaging through your closet. You kept fighting the urge to look as sexy as possible, one half of you wanting Matt’s jaw to drop as soon as he saw you, and the other half wanting him to ignore you all night. You couldn’t resist the temptation, though, and chose an extremely well fitting and low cut dress that accentuated all of your best features perfectly.

“God, you are literally the perfect specimen,” Callie giggled as you walked out of your room to show off. “Who the fuck are you trying to impress?”

“No one!” You responded, raising your eyes at her. “Can’t I just look good for myself?”

“Not that good. That is for someone. I know you.” You were saved by the ringing of your doorbell, and you smiled, relieved.

“Whatever you say. Go welcome your guests,” you motioned to the door. Callie just rolled her eyes and walked gleefully over to the entryway to welcome your first partygoers.

A few more groups of people rolled in, and you paid no attention as you were too busy making yourself another strong drink. You poured sloppily into the cup, giggling as splashes of soda and vodka spilled down the sides of your cup.

“You better watch out there, pretty girl. Making quite a mess.”

You turned around quickly, Matt’s voice making you jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled brightly, his perfect face begging to be touched, adored, kissed. You looked at every part of him, every beautiful part of him, stuttering to get words out.

“No... you’re... it’s okay. Sorry.” You put the bottle back down on the table and picked up your cup, taking a large swig, and nearly gagging on the taste of the strong liquor.

“Can I get in there and make a drink?” His eyes travelled up and down your body, his lips slightly pursing at the sight of you. You felt your heart pounding through your chest and he eyed you. His eyes finally locked on yours, his gaze paralyzing, your body refusing to move.

“Of course. We have lots of options. Anything you want,” you managed to squeak out, still unable to draw yourself away from his gaze. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and he smiled slightly, reaching his hand out to grab a bottle. For a split second you thought he was reaching out to touch you, and when you thought about the feeling of his skin on yours, you felt yourself melt. Desire and craving washed over your body in a wave that you couldn’t push away even if you tried.

“Thank you. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).” He finally looked away, and began walking back towards the small group of people who had gathered in your living room, including Callie and your brother. You felt relief as you were able to breath again, your body relaxing as he got farther and farther away. You waited a few moments before following him to join the rest of your friends.

“Ah, there you are, my sister!” Danny yelled, wrapping you in his arms so abruptly that you almost spilled your drink everywhere.

“Hey bud!” You hugged him back, grateful to have someone here to take your mind off of Matt.

“We were just about to play a fun little ice breaker game, since Matt is new to the group and all,” Danny motioned to Matt, who smiled and waved awkwardly as everyone stared at him.

“An ice breaker, really? What is this, college orientation?” You joked, taking another swig of your intensely strong drink.

“Shut up. Don’t be such an ass.” Danny rolled his eyes and pointed to an empty seat, and you realized it wasn’t worth fighting him. He loved to play stupid little games like this, that everyone else dreaded. But you have to admit, everyone always ended up having fun at the end of the day.

“What’s the game, Danny boy?” Callie cooed, getting comfy on the couch between a few of your other friends. She always had the biggest crush on him, although you forbid her from ever getting near him. It wasn’t her, you loved her and would love it even more if she was your sister. But he was such a dick, you knew he would break her heart, and you would not stand for that.

“Easy, everyone shares one surprising fact about themselves.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I have any,” someone moaned, and Danny just laughed.

“No worries, plenty of time to think. I can start. Uh.... I slept with my professors wife in college as revenge for him giving me a C- on my final.” Danny smiled proudly and took a long swig of beer. The group around you just groaned in disgust and laughed, but you knew the story. That wasn’t the entirety of it at all, in fact, Danny had fallen desperately in love with this woman and she crushed his heart by choosing her husband over him. But he would never tell all of that, because that doesn’t sound cool. Apparently you weren’t the only one who knew the truth, though, because Matt instinctively turned to you and looked at you in a way that read, ‘This guy is so full of shit.’ Apparently Matt and your brother were closer than you though, if he told him his biggest secret. 

“Hmm, Matt, I think you should be next. Only fair since you’re the new guy.” Danny turned to Matt with an excited face, like a little kid on christmas.

“Oh man, alright. Well, I guess one thing that people have a hard time believing about me is that I am a bit of a hopeless romantic. I believe in soul mates, love at first sight. All of that bullshit. I’m a sucker for it.” Matt looked right at you as the words spilled out of his mouth, not even trying to hide the obviousness of what he was trying to say. You tried your best to look away from him, but you couldn’t pretend his words weren’t entrapping you.

“That’s super corny, bro,” Danny laughed, pushing Matt slightly. He just shrugged, and took a sip of vodka straight from the bottle. Danny bothered a few more people about their secrets, and you listened intently to stories about shoplifting and coke addictions, trying to avoid his obvious gaze. You knew he was staring at you, his eyes burning holes in your body as the liquor started to flow through him. He wanted you, he craved you, in a way he had never experienced before.

Love at first sight had always been a myth to you; something in books and movies. Fiction. Until you heard the words slip from his mouth. Love at first sight, soul mates. It was all impossible. But why couldn’t you stop thinking of him. Why did his state send shivers through your body? Why did it feel like you had been waiting for him your entire life, even though you just met?

“(Y/N)! It’s your turn!” You heard Danny yell, bringing you out of your thoughts once again.

“Uh... what’s going on again?” You murmured, the alcohol overcoming your brain as you tried to remember the dumb activity you were being forced to participate in.

“Alright, you might need to slow down on the drinks girl.” Callie laughed, pointing at the cup in your hand.

“I’m fine. Just lost my train of thought!”

“Tell us a surprising fact about yourself,” Matt chimed in, a flirtatious smile plastered across his face.

“Uh, right. Well... I have a really huge record collection. It’s kind of my hobby.” You shrugged, nodding your head slowly as the group around you seemed let down by the less than flashy secret.

“You’re kidding! I collect vinyls too. I have like a thousand,” Mattresponded, his eyes lighting up at the realization that he finally had a way to talk to you.

“You should show him your collection, (Y/N), it’s ridiculously impressive,” Callie said, nodding in excitement. Your heart stopped at her words, hoping that Matt would say ‘Another time!’ and you would forget about the entire interaction. But you knew he would take up any offer to be alone with you; and a part of you was hoping he would.

“I’d love to see it,” Matt said slowly, his voice now a serious tone as he waited nervously for your response.

“Uh... of course. Does anyone else want to see?” You asked, in one final last ditch effort to protect yourself from being alone with him. But the room had already moved on from you, and no one even heard you ask the question. You looked up at Matt, his perfect smile once again showing itself.

“Guess it’s just you and I, pretty girl.” He whispered to you, his hand on your shoulder. He leaned in as he spoke to you, as if to keep the nickname a secret. You looked around in hopes that someone noticed, someone would put a stop to it. But everyone had already moved on, started new conversations, brought themselves deeper into a state of inebriation. No one saw either of you, and you could easily slip away into the night with him. 

You stood up slowly, and motioned for Matt to follow you into your room. He eagerly followed behind, not a single soul in the room even realizing you were leaving. You felt your heart pounding in anticipation and nervousness, not knowing how the next few minutes would play out. You took a few deep breaths to control yourself before opening the door to your room and letting Matt follow.

“Open or closed?” He asked, his hand gripped on the door handle as he awaited your response.

“Closed. I don’t like people seeing my personal space,” you said, moving over to the shelves that held your vinyls. Matt nodded and closed the door lightly, following you over to your collection. 

You walked to the corner of your small, cluttered bedroom. Sat in the corner was multiple shelving units, all packed high and bending under the weight of your numerous records. Next to the shelves was a small desk, which your record player sat beautifully on top of. Your room was overwhelming to a stranger's eye, but every single thing in there had a purpose, to you. It was your sanctuary. And it wasn’t a place you regularly invited strangers. You barely ever let Callie or Danny in there. But seeing him stand there, gazing in fascination at your records, felt very comfortable. You knew that he would respect your space, and not question it. It was a nice feeling to be able to share something so private with someone. 

“Wow... this is amazing (Y/N)... you have fantastic taste in music,” he whispered, running his hands up and down the records.

“Thank you. Some of them I don’t really listen to, they’ve just been collected from garage sales and thrift stores over the years.” You watched him in awe, every feature glowing in the low light of your room. He smiled at certain titles, pulling things out delicately to look at the covers. He was beautiful, perfect. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Do you wanna smoke a blunt?” He asked, turning to you in excitement as he pulled out a bag of weed from his pocket.

“Of course. Just crack the window,” you responded, your eyes still locked on him.

“Perfect! Let’s listen to something, too. Do you mind rolling so I can pick something out?” He asked, handing you the plastic bag. Your hand touched his as you grabbed it from him, and you felt time freeze as your skin made contact. He was warm, soft, angelic in his touch. You wanted more, you craved more. But you let go, pulling yourself away.

You watched him pull out various records and contemplate what to put on as you carefully rolled a blunt to smoke. His face was focused and concentrated, and the furrow in his brow made you smile. You couldn’t help but smile around him. He finally pulled out an album you immediately recognized as (Y/F/A).

“How did you know?” You asked, watching him as he delicately took the record out and placed it on your player.

“What?” He giggled, biting his lip as he looked up at you.

“That's my favorite album.”

“You’re joking. It’s mine, too.” He looked up at you, your eyes once again meeting. You didn’t need to speak to know what was going through his mind. The two of you were both thinking the same thing. He broke the stare first to start playing the music, his hands gently placing the needle on the record.

The music began quietly, but filled the room around you. You lit up the blunt and began to smoke, a wave of happiness coming over you as you took in your surroundings. A beautiful boy, your favorite music, some fantastic weed. It was paradise. It was pure bliss.

You smoked the blunt in silence, both of you taking in the beauty of the music, no need for words. You watched him, his movements, enthralled by his every move. The light from the blunt lit up his face in an almost angelic way, making your heart race every time he took a puff. The more high you got, the more you wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him, love him. Love at first sight, it’s bull shit, right? But what if it isn’t? What if it’s sitting right in front of you?

“Dance with me.” Matt said, standing up quickly and reaching out his hand.

“I... what?” You asked, giggling slightly at the man who was standing in front of you.

“Dance with me. You know you want to.” He raises his eyebrows at you, hand still stuck out waiting for you. You rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips as you grabbed his hand and stood up. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. The smell of smoke and mint immediately overtook you, the warmth of his body wrapping you in comfort. Being in his arms, it was the most calming feeling in the world. It was the best feeling in the world.

In that moment, nothing else mattered to you except being with him. You would do anything to hold on to that moment. You reached your hand up to his face and touched it gently, the softened of his skin flowing on your fingertips. You brushed the few stray wisps of hair away from his face before bringing your lips up to his.

There are many different types of kisses in the world. You first kiss, which is awkward and usually terrible. A sad kiss, one where you know it will be your last kiss for a while. A lustful kiss, where you can’t keep your hands off of each other and want nothing more than to rip clothes off. But this kiss... this was a kiss you had never experienced before. It was a kiss that filled your entire body; flooded you with light and calmness, made every bad thing you’ve ever felt disappear into thin air as your lips pressed against his. It was a kiss that you knew was saved especially between two people who were meant to be. A kiss between soul mates.

As your lips worked effortlessly with his, everything else in the world disappeared except for you and him. You melted into each other, two paints seamlessly coming together to create a beautiful piece of art. You never wanted to let go of him. You never would, if it was up to you. But you needed a second, a second to catch your breath, a second to ground yourself back to reality.

You pulled away from him, your hands still locked in his hair and his on your waist. “We should go back out there. We don’t want to look suspicious,” you whispered, suddenly remembering the circumstances that led you in here in the first place.

“Of course, that’s for the best. But I promise you this is not the end of us.” Matt kissed your cheek and winked flirtatiously before heading back out to your living room. You sat quietly for a moment, your heart racing and your breathing unsteady. In that moment, you knew that was it. That was the last first kiss of your life.