#how it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bitches will wallow in doubt.... bitches will walk around the world feeling like burdens even when someone they

[pepprs]

hi I've been following you for a while and I've never really interacted with you but I want you to know that I'm cheering you on for reading that poem and facing the mortifying ideal of being incredibly known. knowing the person you wrote about is going to be there and still performing the poem is very brave!! you have people in your corner cheering you on. you can do this! (also the line about their dark death is really strong & I dig it)

OH god ok i know exactly what post this was responding 2 and um. yeah im still not over it 😔 but tysm for this message! it’s rly sweet of u 2 reach out!! and im so glad u liked that line... i can’t think abt it w/o cringing but it makes me happy u appreciated it!

[arhvste]

❝ my assumptions based on your fav hq character ❞

these are all in good fun and not serious at all, please don’t get upset by them, my opinion doesn’t mean shit bby :,)

HINATA SHOYO

-> a soft bitch with a big heart. you want others to do well and you love positive attention. you do however, get overworked by emotion and sometimes get played because of how nice you are. judge people a little harsher and don’t be shy to put a bitch back in their place, you got this

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

-> we get it youre a bad bitch but sometimes it comes across like you’re still going through your angsty teen phase. stop that, you’ll get permenant wrinkles if you keep it up. let yourself live a little freely and don’t be shy to leave your comfort zone more often. and stop getting sad over the smallest things okay?

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-> horrible taste in men and you have a degradation kink. you wanna be called a little slut in the bedroom but would cry if you were called it anywhere else. you’re very kind people but you’re constantly putting yourself down and thinking you deserve shit over nothing. be kinder to yourself

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

-> you’re the supportive friend people go to when they need a pick-me-up however, you let yourself get walked over from time to time and it’s not fair on you. don’t be shy to kick a bitch and show them who’s can be the alpha >:) you’re a bad bitch with a big heart and you’re academically stable

NISHINOYA YŪ

-> shush, indoor voices please! it’s okay! we know you’re here you don’t need to shout! you’re probably between 4’0-5’3 and preach personality over looks which is fine because as everyone should. you’re insecure around others and feel the need to have a bigger presence to feel more confident. it’s okay though, i think you’re really hot and you should let yourself feel more comfortable with people you actually like more often.

TANAKA RYŪNOSUKE

-> loyal as fuck and dependable. you’re the bitch people know they can come to should they ever need it. you’re popular and you own every hallway you strut through. you let the feeling of dejection get to you though and worry about how you’re perceived by the people you’re surrounded by especially if there’s a potential love interest in your orbit. calm down and be yourself more, it’s their loss if they don’t fall for you anyway.

ASAHI AZUMANE

-> stop letting people talk over you! you’re that bitch so why the hell do you let people overpower you? you’re hot and you know you’re capable but you wallow up in self doubt and get upset over nothing. remind yourself that you’re hot, loved and talented more often because you need it.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

-> you’re deceptive and it’s not always a bad thing. you’re good at switching up your personality and probably act fake to certain people which is fair enough. you can be a bit of a bitch sometimes but you’re hot and funny so you get away with it. learn to break down your barriers a little more though because when people start seeing your act they’ll become untrusting around you.

DAICHI SAWAMURA

-> OKAY daddy issues pack it up now. no i’m kidding but you’re attracted to mentally stable people with good morals. someone that will take care of you and be there for you. try to be more self reliant and independent though.

OIKAWA TOORU

-> we know you’re hot okay? you don’t need to post thrist traps on snapchat at 2AM every night we get it! you’re a little whiny and bratty but that’s a given. you’re a burnt out gifted child and you were probably in top classes or top league for a sport between ages 8-14 before you started becoming more average. that’s fine too though, just remember you have talents that lie elsewhere you just have to find them.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

-> daddy issues 0.2. you’re bossy and demanding but fair. you judge others accordingly and have a good sense of who’s a good person and who’s not. you need to be more open with people and let more people in though. you’re protective of yourself and don’t let your walls down so easily. soften them and let others in more.

MATSUKAWA ISSEI

-> you’re just here for a good time and a good railing that’s all i have to say.

HANAMAKKI TAKEHIRO

-> you’re the bitch that has to listen to the mattsun stans last hook up. you’re hot too, go have a good time.

KUROO TETSURŌ

-> you’re extremely hot and i would absolutely make out with you right here right now. no i’m kidding. i’m not but anyways, you have mommy issues and you need to get over it. you also need to stop being so analytical of people because some people don’t like being read and you step over peoples boundaries sometimes. control yourself you feral thing.

KOZUME KENMA

-> ah yes. everyone’s favourite ‘i have issues but i don’t want to deal with them, so i’ll be a whore online instead’. that’s a half joke but seriously, you’re doing fine bby you don’t even need to worry. nobodies judging you and even if they are they’re way uglier and dumber than you. even still you should be friendlier to those around you and let your guard down a little more.

YAKU MORISUKE

-> you’re like a little dog. yappy and lively. you’re also very trustworthy and i would tell you my deepest and darkest secrets and feel safe about it. you’re strong willed and put others in their place at ease. you do however, need to be a little more selfish and put yourself first at times. selflessness is great but it’s okay to put yourself first sometimes and you need to do that more often.

LEV HAIBA

-> you’re literally so hot and i’d be begging for your attention. you’re also slightly oblivious and have probably had several people crush on you at once but you’ve ignored them all unintentionally. you need to believe in yourself more and remind yourself that you’re that bitch. you’re capable of amazing things you just need to realise it yourself a little more

BOKUTO KOUTARŌ

-> okay mx mood swings you need to stop acting out over nothing. you’re gorgeous don’t get me wrong but dropping your slice of bread on the floor isn’t the end of the world. get over smaller things quicker and become more aware of your surroundings. you have a really good set of close friends and you’re friendly to everyone around you. you’re very very loved but you need to stop getting caught up over pointless things.

AKAASHI KEIJI

-> you’ve probably been called ‘boring’ before but that’s far from the truth. you make snide comments and you’re witty. you’re one of the most mentally stable people and you don’t get upset over petty argument or fights. you do howver nit pick at situations and get too critical. stop that because you only annoy yourself more and put yourself in a bad mood.

SHINSUKE KITA

-> you scare the shit out of me but in a good way. i’d be scared to talk to you because you’re so perfect? you do tend to come across as unapproachable though but that’s not your fault. smile a little more and don’t be afraid to laugh a little louder. your laugh is so pretty anyway so don’t be shy to let yourself loose a little more

ARAN OJIRO

-> you’re the type of person people think about for weeks after seeing you at the airport you’re that hot. you’re reliable and loved by many. you’ve got a good spirit and you’re mentally balanced. you need to stop overworking yourself though and stop getting too worried for other people in their place. you’ve already got enough on your plate so stop taking other peoples problems when you already have your own.

MIYA ATSUMU

-> you’re a bitch. no i have more to say. you’re misunderstood. you come across as a shitty person but that’s just because you’re passionate and hard at communicating in a way that’s not so blunt. you’re petty and dislikable at first but after a couple of conversations, people find out there’s so much more to you. you’re funny, hot and talented. just remember to work on holding back on the blunt statements a little more.

MIYA OSAMU

-> 2nd best kinda vibes. you ARE the pretty best friend but people always ignore that because you’re kinda overshadowed by others around you. you’re like a diamond in the rough and valuable to those lucky enough to find you and get to know you. don’t put yourself down so much and show others you can be independent and unique because that’s exactly what you are

SUNA RINTARŌ

-> you’re hot and that’s it. you’re probably the type of person to not show up to classes but still manage to pass every exam with ease. you’re almost too cool to approach and people probably think you’re bitching about them when they see you on your phone. what they don’t know is that you’re really looking at pictures of cows that have been washed and blowdried. you probably own a pink princess cowboy hat and your instagram is probably everyone’s pinterest board. just stop slacking off though because you can achieve so much more.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

-> you’re powerful and elegant. you’re very level headed and go about problems the efficient way. you hate time wasters and don’t let people make you their bitch. you probably have a slight god complex but that’s okay because when you’re as hot as you are, it’s understandable. stop being so uptight and sensitive about things though. be kinder to your mind and let go of the things not worth holding a grudge against.

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @tsumue @peteunderoos @tsukkisbean @saturnfarie @dear-kozume @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei @dai-tsukki-desu @angrylittleriri @dearestmegumi @kuxredere @warakou @iss6s @lovinnoya @sophiashortcake @wompwomphq @waitforitillwritemywayout @webworld @brokeasshoee @sunasbabie @rowley-with-ackerman @mjoork @trifliz @curiouslilbeast @ineedsomefoodpls @hp-hogwartsexpress

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

[thisisarcanereverie]

What it Means to be Worthy (Thor x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

THERE IS SMUT IN HERE 18+ YOU THIRSTY SONS OF BITCHES.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up pals) Do NOT read unless you are 18+. 

Also I have never written smut before so I hope it’s ok. I honestly couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t been listening to Deity by Valeree (highly recommend listening while reading the smut. It will probably make it better.) 

“Thor,” you called the God of Thunder, “Thor it’s (Y/n).”

You heard a small grunt coming from the living room as you entered through the front door. You immediately went to cover your nose from the stench that invaded your senses upon entering. 

It seemed as though the whole house smelled of rotten food, sweat, and something akin to a pigs feces. It was a smell that you never quite got used to, even after 2 years of smelling it every day. 

You quietly made your way through the house until you saw a sight you were quite used to seeing now. 

Thor on the ground, shirtless, covered in sweat and grime. His beard was filthy from vomit and dandruff and his hair greasy and matted to his head. 

There had been a time where he cared so much about his hair that he got triggered if you had tried to trim it. 

After 2 years of seeing this scene before you, it failed to surprise you. 

Now it just angered you. 

You knew you couldn’t understand the pain he was in, he lost his entire family, half his people, and Asgard. 

Sure, the people of Midgard were generous and gave your people sanctuary, a place for your people to call home once again. 

But that didn’t stop you from missing Asgard’s golden palace and it’s mountains of lush green forests. How you missed running with Thor and Loki through those forests after dark to get to the highest peak you could to watch the glittering of the gold during sunrise. 

You had been playmates with the Princes since infancy. You had trained and fought alongside them in battle, joined them in celebrations after each conquest, mourned the loss of Frigga with them. 

You went with Thor all those years ago to retrieve Loki and joined the Avengers with him. 

But now the Avengers were gone, long since disbanded before the battle of Wakanda. 

You weren’t angry at him, your anger was towards the cruel fate that had befallen your precious friends. You had cared for Loki, almost as much as Thor if not equal to. 

If you were honest, you weren’t in better shape. Your grief had taken hold of you as well. Your kind smile had turned cynical. Anyone who tried to get close to you often was met with your icy glare and scoff. 

Thor was the only one who brought out the caring person you once were. 

With a deep sigh you expertly walked around the empty booze bottles and to the grieving man before you. Thor may have gotten soft around the middle but he weighed about the same as you slumped his arms around your shoulders. Thor groaned and went pale, his eyes barely opening. 

“C’mon blondie,” you softly spoke, “let’s get you washed up.”

You half dragged the god to the bathroom, he threw up halfway there but you paid no mind. You would clean that after getting him in the shower. 

You didn’t bother stripping him before setting him in the tub. Without warning or mercy you pointed the shower hose directly at his face and turned the water to icy cold. 

Thor yelled at the icy feeling, borderline pleading, for you to turn off the water. However, over the course of 2 years the patience you had for him had worn thin and so you continued to spray until the stench subsided a little. 

Thor was fully awake and sober now, seeing your figure as clear as day tower over him in the tub with a look on your face akin to a mother scolding a misbehaving child. 

Thor felt so small and powerless under your gaze and he loathed it. 

“You could have stopped a while ago.”

“This needs to stop Thor.” 

Your hands motioned to him, Thor once admired those hands and the strength that they had. Now he just found them annoying. 

He found you annoying. 

You came by everyday and pulled him out of his stupor, clean up after him a little, and try to clean him up. You treated him like a child who couldn’t take care of himself and he loathed it so. 

“I am King of Asgard you do not get to tell me what to do.”

“What King would wallow himself in such a way.”

He bolted upright and stood in the tub, successfully towering over your frame, you had gone too far. You didn’t get to say such things to him. 

What Thor didn’t count on was the world getting fuzzy and a little dark when he stood up, so although he towered over you he was as stable as a wind chime. 

You held onto his frame to prevent him from falling flat onto his face. You felt Thor stiffen under your touch. 

You knew Thor was now sensitive and insecure in areas he never was before. 

It seemed like yesterday that he was admiring himself in one of Asgard’s golden mirrors, his long hair had looked like spun gold in Asgard’s sunlight and his figure was that befitting of a god. 

But none of that had ever mattered to you, even when Thor became full of himself to the point of him being ill tempered and arrogant, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever give up on him. 

Not that you tried to give up on him anyways.

Loki had asked you one day why you didn’t. Why didn’t you give up on the golden prince when he clearly would never feel the same way. 

“I love him too much to be without him. Even if that means watching him parade himself around as a peacock and watch women fly to him like bees to honey.” 

Then Thor was banished and the only reason why you didn’t follow was due to Loki’s intervening. 

Then Thor met Jane Foster. 

The memory of the beautiful scientist brought back bittersweet memories. You had never seen Thor so deep in love, and that made you both sad and happy. 

Happy that he finally found someone who could keep him humble and who he loved just as much as you loved him. 

Sad that when you often caught Thor daydreaming, that it wasn’t you he was daydreaming about. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and sat the giant on the edge of the tub while you went to gather fresh clothes for him. 

You gathered a simple sweatshirt and pants for him to pull on once he was finished with his shower. 

As you set the clothes beside the sink you couldn’t help but feel the gnawing feeling in the deepest parts of your heart and the nagging thoughts in your head. 

You knew that Thor was hellbent on this self destructive path and you knew that there was nothing you could possibly do to prevent it. 

It was either you let Thor drown himself in his despair or you let him drown you with it as well. 

You had accepted long ago that Thor would never see you as anything more than what you had always been. 

His playmate since infancy. 

The girl who got a starry look every time he entered a room. 

You had saved up money from the jobs you had worked over the past 2 years, you finally saved up enough to get away from New Asgard. Leave its people to the hands of their self pitying King and Val. 

It wasn’t like they needed you or the other way around. 

No one would notice your absence. 

You began to pick up around Thor’s home, recycling empty liquor bottles and trashing pizza boxes and rotted food. Vacuuming the carpets and dusting here and there. 

This will be the last time you do as such. 

You needed to leave, staying here and wallowing in Thor’s despair and depression as much as your own wasn’t good for you. And you knew deep down you had been enabling him, every time you cleaned his house and washed and fed him you knew that he only got worse and that you were supporting him when you did this. 

You needed to leave for Thor’s sake as much as your own. 

You wondered how long it would take him to notice. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Thor, you doubt he would even care at this point. 

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, having moved into the house closest to his in case of emergency. 

Most of your things were packed and already in your apartment in New York waiting for you. Well things of value, the rest you had sold online, it was amazing what the internet could do. By far one of the greatest inventions on Midgard in your opinion. 

All that was left to do was, pack a few pieces of clothing and toiletries. 

And write a goodbye letter to Thor explaining where you went and why. 

You had avoided writing it, not wanting to say goodbye. Not wanting Thor to not care. 

It wasn’t like you were completely leaving Thor, Valkyrie (Val as you called her) assured you that she would make sure he didn’t starve or drink himself to an early grave. 

You trusted her to make good on her promise. 

You leaving wasn’t even your idea in the first place, Val had tried to get you to leave a year earlier, but you were too stubborn to leave then. 

You grabbed the piece of stationary and began to write. 

‘Thor, 

By the time you're sober enough to read this I’ll already be gone. I don’t predict that I’ll be back. 

Val will be making sure you don’t starve or drink yourself into an early grave in my place. 

I just can’t do this anymore Thor. 

I had loved you since we were but children running around the palace gardens, I still do. However I accepted the fact that you could never see me as anything more than your old playmate and dear friend so long ago. 

I had tried to be by your side in a supporting role no matter how much it had hurt me. 

When you became an arrogant ass I tried my hardest to explain away your tantrums. 

When you came back from banishment I listened to you swoon over Lady Jane Foster with a smile on my face even though it tore me apart. 

I had stayed with you, took care of you. It took me so long to realize that I had just been enabling you this entire time. 

I had been supporting your self destructive behavior and I refuse to play that part any longer. I need to leave, not just for me but for you. 

You need to sort through your emotions, you need to learn how to handle yourself by yourself. You need me not holding your hand when you do that. 

I need to discover for myself what it means to be worthy-’

A loud pounding at your door disrupted your train of thought as you wrote. Normally no one would bother you, not unless it had to deal with Thor. 

The floorboards creaked as you made your way to your door. The pounding had not ceased until you flew the door open to reveal Thor. 

His hair was still damp from his shower and the sweats you had picked out were already stained from the beer he held in one hand. His sky blue eye was hidden behind dark shades. 

“(Y/n),” Thor said, “I need a thing.”

“Thor right now isn’t a good time.” 

“Don’t worry Lady (Y/n) it won’t take even a second I’ll be in and out.” Thor assured, flashing you a smile that could make your legs go weak. Despite how much hurt you were in you were still no match for Thor’s charms. 

“What thing do you need?”

“Just a thing I’ll know the name of it when I see it.” 

You stepped aside as you let Thor in, hoping that he won’t notice the lack of furniture or the note left on the table. You decided to let him be while you went and finished packing whatever was in the bathroom. After that you went back to the living area where you had left the note only to see Thor sitting on the couch, his fingers clenching the paper tightly. He had taken his shades off, the deep dark circles stood out against his skin a tribute to how tired he truly was. 

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sorrow that filled his eyes. red rimmed the blue eye as fresh tears began to fall. 

“You weren’t supposed to read that yet.” 

“And when was I supposed to read it then?! When you were god knows where you will be!” His voice bellowed as tears continued to fall down his cheek. 

“Thor please don’t yell.” 

“No (Y/n)!” he cut you off, “you,” his finger pointed at you, his gaze as intense as lightning, “you don’t get to leave like this. You don’t get to leave me too.”

“Thor I don’t have a choice,” you argue, “I need to let you go. I need to find who I am without you and you need-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED!” 

You could hear thunder roaring in the distance outside, lightning danced around his fingers faintly. Thor had never scared you, but right now you were close to it. 

“Thor,” you say calmly hoping somehow your calm tone will calm the God of Thunder, “I’m sorry for choosing the cowards way, I wanted to avoid this.”

“Did you truly think you would be able to avoid me for long.” The lightning had yet to cease but his eyes seemed to stop glowing ever so slightly. 

“I didn’t think you would have noticed for at least a few days.” 

“Why would you think I wouldn’t notice immediately?” He asked like it was the most incredulous question. He took a step closer to you while you took a step back. Thunder still roared outside and lightning still curled around his fingers. Thor furrowed his eyes in confusion until he finally seemed to hear the thunder storm outside and realize he had scared you. 

Thor had scared you. 

Immediately the pain in his chest worsened with the guilt that he had scared you. That he had so little control over his powers when he was so emotional. Slowly he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath in and out. He then felt his powers subside and the thunder had stopped. 

You could see his shoulders hunch forward with shame and you instictivly placed a hand over his shoulder to comfort him. Thor was quick to envelop your hand with his. Holding onto your hand for dear life. 

Your eyes then met, closer than you had ever been before. 

“What thing were you looking for?” you asked softly, “you said you came over for a thing.”

“I lied,” Thor admitted softly, “I just didn’t want to be alone.” 

The next thing you knew was the faint taste of beer and blueberries on your lips and strong, calloused hands making their way to your shoulders. 

Thor was just as good a kisser as you imagined. Lips moving expertly over your own, moving against yours so desperately. Like a man dying of thirst. 

You knew you should push him off of you, but for one second you wanted to enjoy his lips on yours. Kissing you like you had always wanted to kiss him. 

You moved your lips against his, relishing every moment. Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him again. 

Only when Thor's hands traveled to your waist did you break away. Albeit, you couldn’t push him further than just enough to give you some breathing space. 

“Thor,’ you said, “you’re drunk you don’t want this.” 

‘When will you stop telling me what I want and don’t want.” His lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth and slowly made their way to your neck. 

“Thor I do not want this if your reasoning is impaired.”

“I appreciate the thought dear one, but I only had half a beer tonight.” 

Asgardians could handle their booze well, especially Thor. For Thor to be the least bit intoxicated he would have had to drink 3 large bottles of Asgardian booze. However, when it came to Midgard it took 4 large barrows of Midgardian beer for it to have the same effect on him. Thor mostly drank it for the taste.

“Unless you would rather I stop.” Thor said, before his hands had removed themselves from your waist you stopped them. 

With every ounce of passion in you, you grabbed a handful of his long hair and pressed your lips to his. 

It was a mess of passionate and needy kisses and moans. Thor’s battle-worn hands had roamed over your body in a desperate need to feel you. 

He was quick to rid you of your shirt, hands feeling every inch of naked skin as he could. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. 

You moaned as his hands found your breasts, his large hands covering them over your bra. Your hands made quick work with your bra, removing the suffocating fabric before lifting Thor’s shirt. 

you felt him stiffen as you rid him of his shirt. 

He wasn’t as muscular as he had been 2 years ago, however it took more than 2 years to completely diminish what his body had been. Although his stomach had softened as well as his arms. You didn’t care in the slightest, loving Thor in every shape he came in. 

Your hands lovingly brushed over his torso as you began to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, over his chest, it wasn’t until you were at the waistband on his sweatpants did he bring you back up and kissed you with fiery passion. 

Thor laid you in front of the fireplace that you forgot you lit a while ago. Honestly a little surprised that the fire was still going. 

You didn’t have much time to think about that as you felt Thor’s lips travel  from your neck and over your breasts. Your nails scratched the floor beneath you as you felt him at the waistband of your jeans. 

You felt Thor pause and you looked at him. 

“Are you sure dear one?” 

Your heart melted at the new nickname, as you nodded to him. However that wasn’t enough for the blonde adonis as he traveled up your body and littered your neck in open mouth kisses. 

“I need to hear you say you want this dear one.” 

“Please Thor,” you pleaded as he ground his hips into yours slowly, your hips meeting his as his pace slows even more successfully driving you insane. 

“I need you Thor.”

“What do you need dear one?”

“I need you to finish what we started.” 

With that Thor slammed his lips on yours as he rid you of your pants, underwear included. He leaned back and his eyes drank in your figure illuminated by the fire light. You were breathtaking, any one would buckle at the sight of you. 

Pride swelled in Thor’s heart as this view was reserved for him only. 

Just as you were about to say something you felt Thor’s beard tickle the inside of your thigh and without warning Thor dived in. 

Your hands immediately flew to his hair and grabbed fists full of it, anything to tether you to reality. 

As Thor worked his magic on your bundle of nerves your moans filled the empty house. Thor moaned as your grip on his hair tightened which sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. Thor lifted your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs firmly as his tongue worked faster. 

Just as you were about to reach your blissful release you felt him pull away. Your arousal practically dripped from his lips onto his beard. 

He rid himself of the last piece of clothing before capturing your lips once again. Unlike the kisses from before, this was gentle and sweet. You could taste yourself on his lips as he tenderly kissed you. 

You slowly ran your hands over his chest, committing him to memory. 

Thor pulled away from your lips as he entered you. 

Your mouth let out a silent scream of pleasure as Thor let out a shaky breath of pleasure. Thor waited for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of you around him before finally moving his hips against yours. 

Thor was soft and slow in his thrusts, making sure to worship every part of you. His lips were everywhere, from your face to your breasts. 

You met in time with his thrusts. The only sound in the room being your shaky breaths, moans of pleasure, and skin on skin. And it sounded like a chorus to you. 

Thor’s thrusts became erratic and unyielding, the knot in your stomach was on the verge of bursting when Thor whispered in your ear. 

“Let go dear one, I’ll catch you.”

With that the knot had become undone, leaving your body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Thor had not been too far behind you before he too reached his climax. 

Thor laid down beside you, still coming down from his high. You laid your head on his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

This was everything you had ever wanted, to lay beside Thor with his arm beside you. Well almost everything. 

As Thor began to play with the ends of your head as you replayed the past two years in your head. 

“I think you may have been right.” Thor broke the silence, you lifted your head off his chest to see his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling. 

“When have I ever been anything otherwise.”

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter as unshed tears began to fill his eyes. He refused to cry, not now. 

“I agree that you need to leave dear one.” Thor’s voice cracked, “I have become a pitiful king to my people, but I have been an even worse friend to you.” his eyes left their place on the ceiling and rested on your face. “You have been faithfully by my side ever since either of us could remember. You had defended me when I didn’t deserve it and loved me when no one did. Not even myself.” His calloused hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes away. “you don’t deserve to drown in my despair with me. You deserve a life of adventure and you deserve the time to figure out who you are.” You pressed your forehead to his as tears leaked out. “I need to let you go.”

---

Thor had spent the night committing every touch and every scent to memory. He had no idea when his feelings for you grew to such lengths but he knew now that he had figured it out much too late. 

He wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. 

Thor waved you off at the airport and watched as the metal contraption took you away from his side for the first time since his banishment all those years ago. 

He hoped that if you returned he would be a man worthy of you again. 

Thor only wished he knew where to start.

[lost-souls-wander]

Hunter x Reader

Chapter 1

It happened very fast, and everything went out of control. One moment humanity was just doing its thing and living in order. The next week however, everything had changed for the worst. All because of some kind of green flue. Don't take me wrong, I was concerned in the beginning, the fear of losing my slightly rhythmic life sure had taken its toll on me, especially after everyone around me started to panic, including my parents.

"HANNA! You cant just leave us! HANNA!-" those were my dads last words to his ex-lover and wife as she had taken the car, and drove off with our supplies and food. Dad was a mess after after what happened. He couldn't properly take care of us anymore, he had lost a lot of sleep in a few weeks time, his behavior also worsened. He was quick to anger, and constantly irritated. So I took it upon myself to learn things on my own as he continued to reign terror on the last of his family. I had snuck out just a few hours before sun rise and grabbed my bike. My fastest form of transport at the moment, and made a quick tour to the library, as usual, but my dad never knew. And it was possibly better this way.It was empty and deserted, I could hear a few inhuman groans here and there but couldn't quite picture what these "zombie" like creatures looked like, our dad was pretty much a helicopter when it came to the outside world when the apocalypse hit and mom left. None was allowed outside the house at all, just him. And he alone went scouting for food and food alone, here and there some materials but never something for us, his children.I could see his state worsening by the day, and considered it top priority to get away as soon as possible with as much knowledge on how to survive as possible. The building of the library was thick with a musty sent of old books and dust, lots of iron too, which I could only guess was blood. I stayed away from the strong scent of iron and focused on getting to the herbology section of the library.In these times mankind forgot that the true power of surviving came from knowledge, no knowledge? No advantage. No advantage? Possibly a gruesome death would follow.My hands brushed the polished wood that kept the books in their place on the shelves, thinking of how many people had touched these books, read through them, and possibly never did something with the knowledge inside. It was a shame really. I wanted to perhaps become member of this society and yet here it was, crumbling away at these un-dead. It saddened me a little, and I was horrified for a while when I heard it. What was I gonna do now? My degree in art and drawing was pretty much useless now. At least I could scavenge for a cabin in the mountains and settle down there, far away from society, where no zombies or humans could reach so I could exist in peace.

I chuckled, a mid-tone raspy chuckle filled my throat and echo'd a little through the empty apocalyptic library as I stopped and continued thinking about what to do and where to go. But first order of business was to get knowledge from the books and find a place to escape to. Grabbing my black old school bag I ripped it open quickly, wanting to fill it with the necessary books and just get out of here, The sounds of the un-dead in the distance was off putting, and I wasn't taking a chance to be caught in the middle of a group of them. I might have not seen them. But I knew damn well that from the clips on TV that those fuckers were fast. And me without my bike? Not so much.

I grabbed the books by pairs, quickly turning them to their back side and skimming through what the book would hold.

Edible herbal plants... Seasonal plants... Look alike's and their dangers... Looked valid enough. It went like this for a few minutes until my bag was full with books about surviving in nature, herbs, and making shelters for the night. Although I doubted it would help against zombie apocalypses it was always good to know how to make something remotely sheltering and how to acquire food from its natural source.

I quickly flung my backpack over my back and quickly took in the noise around me, the hoard had gotten ever so closer, and it started to make me anxious. If I didn't get out of here soon and back home I would be in a LOT of trouble, perhaps more trouble than being chased down the streets by a hoard of zombies. So I speed-walked towards the exit, the broken doors were leaning against the framework that had red and black splotches all over it the doors pretty much being smashed in two pieces by something extraordinary big. A shiver ran down her spine, May did NOT want to know what was big enough to do that.

after leaving the library doors she quickly hid in the bushes, peeking in between the leaves to see there was any danger, the branches poked and prodded at her form, the twigs leaving nasty marks on her clothes and bare skin.

There! in the distance she spotted her bike, old and a bit rusty, but it did the job well, I looked around if there were any zombies walking around and about, the road was clear, and so was the road ahead. It was a bit strange considering I hear an entire group of them just a few minutes ago but that must have been the other side of the building, luckily not the way I needed to go in order to get home.

I got partially up and half crouched/ran towards my bike which was placed against the opposite building in an alleyway, the alleyway was filled with trashcans and bags that had been ripped open by rats and other critters that roamed the streets and needed some food. Not that it was of any use now, it was all rotten and left a horrid stench that made my nose scrunch up in disgust.

I got on my bike and quickly started to get home, it was then that I started to feel like I was being watched. I felt it crawling over my skin that there was something or someone watching me, maybe some of the other survivors? or perhaps a zombie? I didn't want to find out and started to bike a little faster.

And then it happened all so fast, an inhuman growl came from my left and I was flung off my bike, panic setting into my very bones as I felt the bike get out of my grip, my face looked upwards as I saw the dark sky with a few light rays from the sun. I felt the cold harsh ground on my back and the air flew from my lungs as I tumbled down the steep hill, the creature flung with me yelping in surprise at it's own actions, we both rolled harshly down the wall of the construction site that was never finished.

I felt whatever air I had in me leave my body as I harshly was flung onto ground and came to a stop on my back, I groaned in agony face twisting in pain. everything hurt, my shoulders were probably bruised beyond belief and my legs felt like they had been ripped off whilst still being attached to me. And don't even get me started on my head, it hurt like a bitch!

I continued to wallow in my own pain for a brief moment until I heard a scream that sounded like it came from the depth's of hell itself, and a squishing like sound like flesh had been impaled on high impact, until all that was left was sound of screams of pure agony.

I didn't want to look at what had happened, I was in so much pain and the adrenaline was so high in my system that I made a run for the hill and grabbed what was left of my bike and just went, the howls of pain in the background growing fainter and fainter as the black concrete enveloped my mind, the scent of iron in the air was even more noticeable than before, and the distant sound of zombies screaming left me in even more panic than before as I skidded to a stop in front of my house, put my bike back in its place and threw myself over the fence to climb in the tree, and get inside of my room.

I did not come down that day for food or anything else.

That night I laid in bed curled up in fear and confusion, what had attacked me? what was it even? was that a zombie?! panic and fear had settled itself deep into my mind, I did not want to go back to the library in fear of coming across whatever that was, but fear soon turned into a guilty sympathetic feeling as I remembered what had happened to it, it had gotten pierced by metal rods and maybe was there, slowly dying, starving to death. If it even was alive that is.

I shut my eyes, letting my dark room filled with plants and comfortable blankets fall from my vision as I let a restless sleep take over me, for the next up coming week I did not sleep well, only thinking about the creature that might still be stuck there. Waiting for whatever was next to come.

[purpletaecup]

2 ☾  it feels like you left a long time ago

Note: please disregard any errors in the pics it’s so hard to find a good fake tweet thing?? lol 

Maybe keeping your twitter wasn’t such a good idea after a highly publicized divorce with one of the most famous men in South Korea, but as a writer, you rationalized that social media is a big part of networking. Despite not following any of the people associated with your ex-husband and his company, news and tweets about them always find their way onto your timeline. Was there any way to somehow mute anything and anyone relating to Min Yoongi? Was there such technology? Every time you log on to hopefully vent or find inspiration or interact with fans, you find yourself digging deep into those tweets and spending hours wallowing in the dull ache that settles in your chest when reading the news involving Yoongi, his new girlfriend, and his friends who no doubt encouraged him to start a relationship with her while they were married. 

The familiar feeling of disgust settles in your stomach and you look out of your window only to realize it’s gotten dark. The sun, the only thing you found comfort in these days, has disappeared and gave way to the same dark sky that watched your life fall apart. The quick passing of time only made you realize that you spent your day being sad again instead of doing something productive, like continue writing in your journal, so you decide the it’s going to be a long night of working and writing again and that meant you had to go out and get some food to sustain you through it all. 

Before getting up, you notice that there are dark gray clouds rolling around. Ah, it might rain tonight, you think. You wouldn’t be out for too long. The convenience store was only 10 minutes away and at most, it would take you another 10 to get your food and go. You pick up the black coat left on your desk chair along with your purse and an umbrella. Going down 11 floors to the lobby of your apartment complex, you see that it starts to rain and it’s getting heavier by the second. It was probably a good idea to drive than walk like you had first intended, so you make your way to the parking garage where you had parked your Rolls Royce Phantom. Not the most convenient car to take in Seoul, but it was the only car you had and you had gotten it from the divorce because apparently Yoongi couldn’t leave you out on the streets with nothing. Thinking about that moment, you scoff. As if giving you the car would make you feel any better about having your heart broken and your life ruined. You hated driving this car, not only because of its luxury but because of your lack of confidence in driving it. Before the divorce, you didn’t drive around much but there was always someone there to help you. Now, you are completely alone in this large city.

 When you get in the car, you check the time to see if you’ll make it to the convenience store before they close. 8:21pm. According to your memory, the store closes at 9:30, so you should be fine, but you hurry to start the car anyways. There is a bad feeling settling in your stomach as you see the rain start to increase more and more, but you decide to ignore it. The goal for tonight was to just go to the store, get some food, go home and maybe write down at least a page or two in your journal. As soon as you get home, you will try to listen to your therapist’s advice to write down how you are feeling and start on the process of ‘moving on’. Tonight would be the start of a new beginning. 

As you drive out of the parking garage onto the streets, you realize that the rain was letting on harder than you thought it was. Seeing this made you nervous, and it made you zone out and think about other things to distract the feeling of nervousness. It was raining on that day too, you think, reminiscing about the day the divorce papers were placed in front of you by Yoongi’s lawyer. He didn’t even have the decency to give it to you himself. Remembering that made you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. That day, you had slammed the door in his lawyer’s face and waited until he left to run out of the house and sit under the pouring rain to cry. In that moment, there was something poetic about your tears being hidden by the droplets of rain falling on your face. 

After that, you constantly asked yourself why you were surprised about the divorce papers when you knew what he was hiding right under your nose this whole time. Though you know Yoongi would never physically cheat on you, he had willingly entertained the feelings of that woman and eventually returned them. They saw each other every day because he was the CEO of the company that she worked in and if there were any rumors about the growing feelings and subtle touches and looks shared between the married CEO of MYG Entertainment and the rookie model Kwon Yura, it would be shut down as quickly as it was brought up because Min Yoongi had that fucking power. He could protect that woman but he couldn’t protect you from the slander you faced when you first started dating, or when you got married. He didn’t protect you when his friends and co-workers constantly snubbed you or indirectly said something insulting about you at company events or Sunday dinners. When he started to drift apart from you, it was obvious. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Late nights at the company turned into never coming home. Taking you to company events turned into not even telling you about them and then eventually turned into him taking her to the events instead of you. On top of that, he never really supported your decision to quit modeling and start writing, so really, should you be surprised that you got betrayed and your heart was trampled on by the man who claimed to love you more than anything in the whole world?

 No, you shouldn’t be surprised. In fact, you should have seen it coming. He was a coward who betrayed you in the worst possible way he could have, and you were a fake who couldn’t own up to your struggles and save the relationship. A pain shot through your heart and your train of thought was shattered by an ear-piercing honk coming from the other side of the car.

 Before you could even get a grasp of what happened, the car overturns and you feel your body being whipped by the force before everything goes numb. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest and you can vaguely see shards of glass cutting into your skin. You can’t feel it but there’s so much blood that you know it’s going to hurt like a bitch, if you even made it out alive. Your ears started ringing from the impact and it became so hard to breathe. 

 You give out a small laugh at the situation. All of the times you thought of dying and you never once imagined a fucking car accident. And on top of that, of all of the things you could have been thinking of in your last moment of life, you had to be thinking about the misery your ex-husband brought you. 

How ironic. 

☾

← masterlist →

 note: reply to this post or message me if you want to be added to the taglist! taglist: @victoriedulce @yoongistruth @rebeccawoodrow

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Hi! I hope you're doing ok and I must say I'm excited to see your requests open again.

Now, if Megatron wouldn't have gone to waste at the end of potp how do you think his get together with Windy would have been? I can only think of her going "hey, you saving the world back there was super hot. Wanna hook up?" 😅 But, I would like to see your more serious version of it

Sure! @baebeyza, tell me how on character I am on this (this bitch is the expert on this ship tbh)

You’d think, with the world finally being fixed, everything would fall back into place, happily ever after, la dee fucking da. But, you’d be wrong. Having saved the world from devastation only meant your problems changed form. It was something Windblade was thinking of, looking back at what remained of their world. Lives had been lost, lives had been born, and the stillness of it all somehow made the victory bittersweet. She should be happy, and in a way she was. But something was itching at her spark. One mech. One mech, who despite the odds, his history, his own team having no trust in him, prevailed through it all. Megatron. Snarky, bitter, while simultaneously holding courage, and bravery in his spark. She looked at him, and he looked at her. They shared a moment. She couldn’t describe whatever it was she felt, but before she could speak, attempting to explore it with him, he scoffed.

“Well. You all followed me into the fray, and we made it by the skin of our teeth. Congrats on not dying. Some of you, anyway. Suppose that’s a wrap.”

He turned around, waved them off, and started to walk away. He was leaving? Just like that? She took a step forward, hand held out to him. What was she even doing?

“The same thing you’ve been doing, Windblade. Doing what feels right.”

Megatron stopped, but he didn’t turn around. He sighed as he looked past all the foliage.

“You listen to your spark. And you think, ‘we can’t just let him walk away, he just saved our cans’. But since I don’t like parades, nor work, you can count me out of whatever ideas you had for me. Send my trophy if you must, you know where to find me.”

He was snarky, he was bitter. But he was noble. He expected nothing. No congrats, not even a place back on cybertron. His reasons for saving all life may have been petty, mere showmanship of his pride, but they did not negate the nobility of his actions. Optimus took a step forward, clearly on the same wavelength as Windblade.

“Megatron. I will be returning to help Cybertron’s restoration efforts. We would love for you to join us. You have proved that you belong amongst us all, if not for your actions, but for your selflessness.”

Megatron groaned, as if he was a sparkling being lectured by his carrier.

“Do you EVER shut up, Optimus? I’ll pass, less you bore me to tears.”

But their optics met. For a brief moment there was a kind, true understanding between them. He kept walking off, but before completely disappearing into the brush, he had just one more thing to say.

“Oh. And take care of that city speaker. I like that one.”

She meant to follow him into the brush, before Emissary held her hand. She looked at him, and shook his head. The rest of them turned, and walked off. There was much work to be done.

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

It had been a few days since she had seen him. At least, in person. Thoughts of him kept plaguing her thoughts, and often times, she felt herself wake up in the dead of night, wishing to see him. At first, she thought it was for the fact that he deserved a home, somewhere besides a stadium to rust away in. Then she made the painful realization; that she loved him. She wanted it to be a lie, something she was saying just to cope with it all. But no. She kept thinking of his snarky little quips, the way he’d throw himself into battle, if only for the sake of getting rid of pests. Kept thinking of his optics. She longed for him. And as much as she hated herself for this, she was going to confront him. She’d be dammed if she let herself wallow in her feelings.

She carefully made her way outside of her new living space (making sure a sleeping Emissary didn’t catch her), and flew off into the sky. She kept thinking to herself, ‘why am I bothering? What do I expect to get out of him?’ Even as she finally landed at the arena, she didn’t know what to expect. But she saw him there, sparring against random mechs that she had never seen before. He threw one of them, making their body skip like a stone across a lake’s surface, and stopping just short of her pedes. Then their optics met. He looked relived, but not too surprised to see her. He pushed the mech aside with his foot, scoffing as he looked down at her.

“If Prime sent you, tell him he should frag off and rust, like the rest of us here.”

“He didn’t send me. I came alone.”

“What? Come to say sorry for doubting me? Save it. I only helped you because I was saving myself many future headaches. I don’t want a parade, a medal, nor your adulation.”

He picked the mech up, clearly ready to throw him with the other unconscious bastards, before he suddenly stopped upon feeling her hand at his shoulder. He turned to ask her just why she was bothering, before he was sent right to the floor. She had punched him, square in the jaw. He looked up at her, watching her take a stance. She couldn’t believe it as much as she could. She just knew that fighting would get his attention. That fighting would get him to look at her. He chuckled, before standing up. She realized just how angry she was at this point. He was a terrible, awful mech, and they both knew it. So was it her spark longed for his?

“I’m here to fight. Let’s go. Unless you’re scared.”

Megatron grinned.

“Alright, city speaker. Let’s see if you can fight as well as you speak.”

It was suddenly a brawl. He may have been bigger, older, but he was no less agile. He wasn’t afraid of her, landing a few good punches to her face, to her side, and even right to her stomach if he saw the chance. He respected her enough to put in a real effort, and it only made her fight harder. She had no idea how long they had been going at it, only that it ended with her pinning him against the stadium walls. His lip was bloody, his face was scratched and dirtied. And he was smiling.

“What is it you want from me, Killer? You wish to feel good about yourself, bringing back the old, aloof war lord? Wipe that from your conscious? Or is this some Caminus pride at play? I’m quite good at knowing what makes bots tick. But you. You keep surprising me.”

He leaned so close to her face, clearly wanting to push every button she had. That was when she couldn’t help it. She shoved her lips right onto his, and there they stayed for a good, long moment. When she parted it, she only saw realization on his face. She gritted her dentae, before coming out with it.

“I like you. I like being at your side. You’re a terrible mech that makes me want to pull my wings out sometimes. But you have a spark. You fought for everything, even if you didn’t want to. You’re a bitter, cold mech. But I wouldn’t change that about you. And now that I punched you in the face like five times, I feel better saying that.”

At first, there was no response. She thought for a moment, that she simply humiliated herself, before he suddenly grabbed her face in his hands, and pulled her into another kiss. Then another, then another. They stood there, lips locked, till he finally pulled away, panting, lips covered in energon and her lipstick.

“You Caminus bots. So full of emotion and passion. You just admitted to liking me AFTER you put a dent on my chassis. I knew I liked you.”

Details could wait. For now, she sat there, keeping him in a corner, while they kissed. She had no idea where they’d go from here. But she did know, that with Megatron at her side, there was not a thing they couldn’t do

[djarinispunk]

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Two - The Meeting Place

After your brunch with your father (which also constituted as a verbal beating) you were seriously doubting your prior statement about not drinking. Sure, it would just give your dad more ammunition if you made a fool of yourself, but you were so far past the point of caring that the threat didn't bother you.

You closed the door to your apartment, resisting the urge to slide down against it and wallow in your sadness. However, the sight of Sophia's head sticking out from behind your fridge made you second guess your options.

Noticing your dejected expression, Sophia gave you a sympathetic pout, "That bad huh?"

You sighed, shrugging your coat off, taking a spot on your sofa, Sophia hot on your tail. "I don't know what was worse, when we were silent or when we were having a verbal sparring match." You rubbed your temples, "Oh! And he didn't ask about Paris once."

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but we are talking about the same man who literally never remembers your birthday," Sophia smirked slightly, however it contorted to a grimace when she saw you narrowing your eyes at her. "Not helping, noted."

You made a noise which was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, "I hate him." you let the statement hang in the air, Sophia was used to your rants about your father at this point. Her father was in a similar position to your own, albeit further down the mafia ladder, so she understood.

"Tonight, we are going to look hot, we are going to get drunk, and we are going to get fucked. Seriously."

Sophia smiled at your words, "I like the sound of that." she paused for a second, "Is that a really a good idea though?"

"Probably not" You huffed, "I mean there's a sick part of me that wants to embarrass my father just for fun, but that means I also make an ass of myself just by association."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Sophia added, to which you gave her a side a thump with your leg.

I mean you try and steal a Basquiat painting from a Mafia wedding when your high one time.

"Whatever, I'll just have to see how it goes." you shrugged checking your phone quickly, "It's already five now.

"In that case, I'll get the wine."

By the time seven rolled around you were fairly tipsy, and you and Sophia were staring intently at yourselves in your hallway mirror. You turned in your gown, admiring the way it clung to your curves and hugged your cleavage nicely — you felt good, and looked even better.

"If there aren't any hot people there tonight, I will be taking you home." Sophia joked as she lay her head on your shoulder. You laughed, looking at the two of you in your reflection.

"I'm sure Charlie will be there, wouldn't be the first time this week you've slid into his bed."

Sophia's mouth gaped in shock before she slapped your arm, "You're a bitch. And I hate you." Her face contradicted her words as she fought back a laugh. Your laughter died when you heard your phone buzz from your clutch.

"Driver's here."

As far as Mafia's went, Asgard Industries was the one in New York with the most notoriety by far. The chain itself branched off all across America and as top secret as it was, more often than not your lifestyle would be branded across the Media as one of the most dangerous organisations in the world.

At times however, it didn't even feel like you were part of one of the most illegal chains in the world, purely due to the sheer elegance of it all.

The ballroom for tonight was no exception, high ceilings decked out in the finest decor. In your tipsy state, you kept your head facing up, staring as the dazzling light projections burst into kaleidoscopes of colour. Your mouth was agape in awe. Did it make you a bad person to love this side of the Mafia?

Probably.

You and Sophia had separated only ten minutes ago. She insisted she wanted to find her father but soon, whilst on your wander, you caught her and Charlie hand in hand, walking towards the bathroom. You fought the urge to cheer at her, but knowing it would dampen their moment you bit your tongue.

Now you were left to your own devices. You hadn't seen your father yet, thank god. You were trying to prolong that meeting for as long as possible.

You were now roaming one of the buildings corridors — flask in hand. You tried to ignore the creeping feeling of loneliness as you patrolled the marble floors. You could hear the party in the next room. You knew if you wanted you could be in there, socialising and whatnot.

So why was it that you were here, sinking to the floor in defeat as you guzzled the remainder of your vodka?

You cursed yourself for being so pathetic, you could have everything you wanted at your finger tips, so why did you feel so hollow?

Of course, it was at this point in your little pity party that you heard footsteps coming from around the corner. Despite how unladylike you appeared, you couldn't bring yourself to care, remaining slumped down against the wall like a drunk.

You didn't even open your eyes when you heard the footsteps stop in front of you.

"Do I need to call security?"

The voice, deep and clear rang in your ears. Slowly you opened your eyes. The man before you was nothing short of a Greek God; thick black hair falling in waves around his shoulder like Hades. His hair sat on a hardened face, chiselled in a way that would make even Prometheus envious.

And his eyes, you couldn't even tell what shade they're were from your position on the floor. From what you could see however, his eyes were swirls of deep emerald embedded in a lake of blue.

He was beautiful.

And you were...on the floor.

His face only hardened at your words, looking down at you he spoke, "Do you have no respect for your superiors?"

Your mouth dropped momentarily at the sheer audacity of the man. You weren't sure who he thought he was, but he sure as hell wasn't gaining any of your respect.

Pushing yourself from the floor, you stood toe to toe with the man, his steely expression never changing as you looked up at him.

"Excuse me?" you asked, bewildered at his statement.

He offered no explanation, only moved slightly to the right, separating the two of you.

He smirked briefly, the expression quickly morphing into a more unfriendly one. "You're excused."

You were left to watch as the man walked away from you, his shoes tapping against the marble as he left. You were speechless, what an asshole.

After having a few minutes to collect yourself and the shock of being talked to like dirt, you decided to try and find Sophia. That was, if her and Charlie were done with their bathroom rendezvous.

You entered the ballroom once again, eyes darting around the room in search of Sophia. It was useless, the room was packed. Defeated, you decided to cut your losses, you’d find her eventually.

“Drink, Miss?” a bartender holding a tray of champagne approached you. You nodded with a small smile, downing one flute and setting it down, before reaching for a second.

“Thank you.” you smiled, the alcohol leaving a warmth to you. The bartender, slightly unnerved by your display gave you a tight smile as they walked away.

Drink in hand, you crossed the room, sighing relief when you caught sight of Sophia and Charlie bickering at each other. Alas, some normalcy amongst the weirdness of the night. You began to make your way over to the pair when you heard your name being called form behind you. Groaning, you span on your heels.

“Dad.” you put on your fakest smile as you approached him. The two of you had unknowingly practiced this facade for years now. Act like a loving father in public, then treat you like a ghost the moment the two of you were alone.

“Hello darling” he gave you a forced smile as he embraced you in a hug, pecking your cheeks.

The man to his left said your name in greeting, holding a hand to you, “I’ve heard a lot about you dear. You’ve just come back from Paris, is that correct?”

It was rare to see him at a function, usually the higher the authority in the Mafia meant it would be too dangerous to be seen in public. Although, due to the party being for his son, you guessed he made an exception.

“Correct.” you chose to keep your answers short, you knew your place.

As old-fashioned as it was, the women of the Mafia were treated as property; you were either a trophy wife or a trophy wife in the making.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked with a snide grin, sending chills up your spine.

“Business, I was studying abroad.”

“How interesting.” all his words were slimy, the words slipping from his tongue with a certain element of venom, regardless of how mundane the conversation was. “My son has also been travelling, I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you.”

He didn’t give you chance to respond before you saw him turn to something, beckoning them over with his hand.

And low and fucking behold. You saw who starts to walk towards him. The guy from earlier — no, the asshole from earlier.

“This is my son, Loki.”

[sonicrainicorn]

Patton is Berry Done

Part of the Berry Done AU

Words: 4092 Desc.: Logan gets drunk for the first time in his life, and Patton realizes it’s not as fun to be on the other end. TW: Alcohol, cursing, a lot of throwing up (it’s only ever mentioned tho bc ew)

The idea came to me when I was working on the one-shot that was actually supposed to be published. whoops. Hope you like drunk Logan, anyway.

///

One Friday night, Damien invited Patton and Logan over to hang out. Patton, who was very much well aware of what his brother meant by ‘hang out’, asked Thomas if he was willing to babysit. Well -- he asked Logan if he could ask Thomas. Patton was sure that asking Thomas for anything would end in his funeral. Which he understood completely. Though, if you told him last month that Thomas would genuinely threaten to break every bone in his body, he would have thought you were joking. Thomas was the nicest person he knew.

Either way, he agreed and Patton and Logan thanked him again before leaving. When they got there, Damien had already started drinking.

“Rough day at work, then?” Patton asked with a raised brow.

Damien glared at him and let them in the house. Emile and Remy were sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to play a card game. By the looks of it, Emile was winning. And by a lot. A random TV show was on that no one paid attention to. Background noise, then.

“Hi, guys,” Emile chirped. “I win again, by the way.” He flipped the dealer’s -- also known as Damien’s -- card over, nonchalantly taking a sip of wine.

In a great feat of theatrics, Remy fell back and let out a short yell. “How the hell do you win every time?”

“I told you not to play blackjack with him, but you insisted.” Damien rolled his eyes and gathered all the cards. “You should probably stop before he wins everything you own.”

“Damn bastard already has everything I own,” Remy grumbled under their breath.

Emile smiled sweetly at them.

Damien tossed the card pack at Patton, who almost didn’t catch it. “Work did suck if you must know. And I need someone to get drunk with. Remy can’t do it because they work tomorrow and Em doesn’t like to get drunk so...” He looked at Patton like it was obvious. “You definitely weren’t my first option.”

Seems someone was still a little mad. “Why don’t you just go to a bar?” Patton sat next to Emile.

“Because I want to wallow in self-pity in the comfort of my own home.” He crossed his arms. “Will you do it or not?”

“No thanks.” He started shuffling the cards.

Damien groaned dramatically. “You never give me what I want.” A buzzed middle child who was in a Mood didn’t make for good conversation, as it turned out. He turned to Logan. “What about you?”

Patton expected the answer to be the same, he had no reason to doubt otherwise, but then Logan -- Logan who took one shot on his twenty-first birthday and then never drank again, said, “Yeah, I don’t see why not”

“Oh God, yes. Finally.” Damien rushed to the kitchen with a large grin.

Patton stopped shuffling to stare at Logan with what he assumed could be translated as what the actual fuck all over his face.

It seemed to catch Logan’s attention. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t drink.”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one known for doing regrettable things so I think we’re safe.”

Ooh, yikes. Yeah, that was a hundred percent called for. Patton shifted in his spot and diverted his attention back to the cards. Turns out he didn’t have any more to say.

Emile glanced between them, a small thoughtful frown on his face. He erased it with a shake of his head. “So what are we playing?”

“Poker.”

Remy sat up. “Great. I actually have a chance at this.”

“Did you want to join us, Logan?” Emile sent him a small smile.

“With the way D’s going to drink tonight?”  A sly grin slid across Remy’s face. “ I think he’ll have his hands full already.”

Right on time, Damien came charging back into the room. In his arms were various supplies such as shot glasses, vodka, tequila, and a few different chasers. He set them all on the table. “Wanna match me shot for shot?” He held up the bottle of vodka with an inviting grin.

“No.” Patton snatched it out of his hand.

He made an offended noise akin to a child getting their toy taken away. “Why not?”

“Because I know how many shots you can take and I don’t want you giving my husband alcohol poisoning.”

“Ugh, fine.” He took the bottle back. “For every shot you take, I’ll take a double.”

Patton’s, “That’s not what I meant.” versus Emile's, “You’re already tipsy.” did nothing in comparison to Remy’s much louder, “Do it bitch, you won’t.”

“Alright, bet.” He sat at the unoccupied side of the table.

Emile hit Remy’s shoulder and gave them an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. They simply shrugged in response.

“C’mon, Logan, let’s see how fast we can regret this tomorrow.” He started pouring out the first shots and chasers, eager to get started. The only time Damien was eager to do something was if it caused damage -- be it to property or livers.

Logan sighed, shrugged to himself, and sat next to Damien. Patton watched wearily as he took his first shot. His face screwed up as it burned its way down. Patton could feel the phantom burns in his own throat. Straight vodka wasn’t his favorite, but it was always common at college parties. He knew the motions well. Take the shot, let it burn -- but don’t act like it burns, then sip a chaser if there happens to be one. (Though, if there was one, it was always alcoholic.) Logan didn’t know the ‘etiquette’ of drinking well enough. He reached for the chaser of cranberry juice almost as soon as it went down.

It didn’t matter though. How you took a shot was just style points. At a party surrounded by onlooking strangers? You’re going to need maximum style points for that. At a bar with some friends? Depending on the friends, style points were still important. At home just trying to get drunk? Style wasn’t the point. Besides, Logan wasn’t a drinker so his reaction to straight shots was bound to be expected.

“Oh, yeah, this is gonna suck.” Damien took a sip of his own chaser. “Ready for another round?”

Sometime after the second shot, Logan started getting a little more touchy. He placed hands on Damien’s shoulders, his arm, Patton was sure there was even a thigh at some point. And Damien was all grins and flirty compliments. Patton knew Damien’s drunken states pretty well. He flirted with anyone that wasn’t a brother of his and generally had his charisma cranked up to ten. On the flip side, he also acted like moody a sixteen-year-old. So, really, drunk Damien was just sober Damien with even less of a filter. Logan’s drunk states, on the other hand, were new territories.

By the third shot, Logan was mostly giggles. He and Damien tried to have their usual debates (also known as a normal conversation for them), but they dissolved into Logan laughing over something vaguely related and Damien testing out a pick-up line based on the topic. On the fourth, Logan kissed Patton and called him “the most beautiful man in the world”. Damien got comically offended and insisted that Logan was breaking his heart. Logan laughed, cradled Damien’s face, and called him beautiful too. As soon as the fifth went down, Logan was completely plastered. He put all his weight against Patton with a loose hand around Damien’s wrist. He started talking about how great everyone was, though he struggled to find more than three adjectives and slurred all his words.

“Nope, that’s enough.” Patton tried to take the bottle out of Damien’s hands when he went to pour another shot, but he couldn’t move with Logan at his side.

Remy took the initiative. “Unfortunately, I have to agree. Logan can’t handle anymore.”

Damien pouted and put his head in his hand. “Boo.”

“That actually took a bit longer than I expected,” Emile admitted softly.

“Yeah -- damn, Logan.” Remy put the cap back on the bottle. “For someone who doesn’t drink you sure held out for a while.”

Logan held up a peace sign.

“Okay, I think we better get going.” Patton lifted Logan to his feet. It was a bit harder than it sounded due to Logan’s apparent lack of bone structure. He refused, or maybe simply couldn’t, move or stand on his own. He kept all his weight on Patton the whole time.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Emile wrangled another bottle out of Damien’s hands. “Stop. Any more and you’ll be asking Logan to marry you.”

Damien snorted. A lazy grin slithered on his face. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Patton frowned, holding Logan a little closer to his side.

Emile sighed -- an annoyed, almost aggressive sound. “Yeah, okay. Come on. We’re done for tonight.” He dragged Damien into the kitchen, ignoring how he almost face planted.

“Ignore him.” Remy shook their head like a disappointed parent. They gave Patton a small smile. Not a grin or a smirk -- a gentle, genuine smile. “Anyway, want some help? Seems like you could use it.”

“That would be nice, actually.”

Logan clung to Remy like a koala to a tree almost as soon as all his weight was transferred over. Right away he started saying all the great things he thought about them and the good things they did. Remy just nodded and agreed while gently coercing him into a better walking position. Patton silently apologized and opened the front door.

On the short walk to the car, everything Logan said was followed by a soft, “I know, Logan.” or an, “Uh-huh.” much like someone would do when they’re half-listening to a child while focusing on another task. Patton would argue that the comparison was more than apt since most of the stuff Logan said seemed to be the first draft.

Patton opened the passenger side door and Remy helped Logan in. They went to close the door, but stopped when Logan said, “I love you.”

They laughed, borderline composed giggles, and responded, “Love you too, pal.” They shut the door. Logan waved at them through the window, and they gave him a little wave back. “Wow, he is fucking trashed.” They turned to Patton with a wide grin. “I’m surprised he’s still conscious.”

“Guess we’ll see how long that lasts.” He looked at Logan, who gave him a bright beam. “I should go before his body realizes he hasn’t thrown up yet.”

“Oh, yeah. Drive safe.”

“Will do.”

Almost as soon as Patton got in the car, Logan blurted out, “If you could drive straight up at sixty miles an hour, it would take an hour to get to space.”

Patton didn’t even have the door closed yet. “W... what?”

He repeated it a little slower, though that seemed to leave a lot more room for errors and slurring. “If you could drive your car up-ards it would take an hour to getta space.”

He blinked. “That’s, uh, that’s really interesting, bumblebee.” He shut the door. “Could you maybe put on your seat belt before telling me more facts? Unless you need some help.”

“M’not five.” Despite his statement, Logan struggled with the necessary coordination for an absurd amount of time. After failing to get the buckle in the right spot (following an embarrassing number of attempts), he gave up with a small pout. “I can’t do it.”

Patton smiled a bit. He looked like a grumpy toddler. “Let me help, hon.” He buckled him in.

Once they started driving, Logan did not stop talking. He told Patton he loved him five different times, asked nonsense questions followed by silly answers, and pointed out whatever he saw looking out the window. He also insisted on having a hand near Patton at all times despite Patton saying he needed to focus on driving. He was so much more open and bubbly and touchy -- very touchy. A near 180 of sober Logan.

They only had to stop for him to throw up on the side of the road once, which was a lot more impressive than the first time Patton ever got drunk. At least from what friends told him. He didn’t remember anything about that night, but he was told that he threw up several times before ever reaching his apartment. To be fair, he was eighteen at the time and trying to impress someone cute. He didn’t remember if it worked or not.

After his little vomit issue, Logan was a bit less energetic. Understandably so. Throwing up always sucked. But throwing up after a night of drinking was even worse. It didn’t stop him from saying how much he loved Patton, though.

When Patton pulled in the driveway, he cursed under his breath. He forgot about Thomas. With Logan drunk out of his mind and extremely pliable, there was no doubt Thomas’s protective older brother instincts would take over. Patton tried to figure out what to say that wouldn’t result in his head on a pike.

“Come on, hon.” He helped Logan out of the car. Once again, all of his weight was against Patton. “Your brother’s gonna kill me for this, isn’t he?”

There seemed to be a magic word in there that caused Logan’s energy to return tenfold. A large grin split across his face and Patton could have sworn there were stars in his eyes. “Thomas is here.”

Okay, Logan getting excited to see Thomas was actually pretty cute. Patton smiled. “Yeah, baby, Thomas is here. Did you wanna see him?”

Logan nodded, almost cartoonish in nature.

“Let’s get inside, then.” While Patton wasn’t at all prepared to see Thomas, he couldn’t deny Logan what he wanted. That would just be cruel.

He struggled to open the door with Logan hanging off of his arm, but he managed. Thomas was laying on the couch watching Parks and Rec on a low volume. His attention diverted from that rather quickly. Almost right away, he was on his feet to reach Patton and Logan. Patton didn’t know why he was surprised. He had to admit that it was a little obvious Logan wasn’t his top-notch self.

Logan detached himself from Patton and all but collapsed into Thomas’s arms before anyone had a chance to say anything. “Thomas,” he said, a little too loud, “you’re amazing. You’re the best -- best brother I could ever ask for. And I... I love you so much.” He squished Thomas’s face with his hands. “I apre... pre-shate all you ever done. You’re so ‘mazing. I owe you so much. You a’ways make me ‘appy a-and you stick by me no matter what. You’re -- you’re just really great.” He gave him a tight hug.

Thomas stared at Patton, dumbfounded. “What... did you do to him?”

Patton held his hands up in defense faster than he could blink. “This was his own doing. I played no part in it.”

“Damien and I took shots,” Logan answered, partially muffled by Thomas’s shoulder.

“You did what?” Thomas pulled him away to look at his face. “How many did you take?”

“Five,” Patton answered. He knew full well Logan lost track.

“Five?” Thomas struggled to keep his voice down. He cradled Logan’s face. “Logan, you don’t drink. What are you doing taking five shots? Shots of what?”

“Mostly vodka.”

If Thomas’s eyes could get wider, they would have. “Vodka? Straight? Dude, how the hell are you still standing?” He checked over Logan as if the answer would be there somehow. “Why would you do something like that?”

Logan shrugged. “Damien wanted’ta get drunk.”

Princess Leia wandered into the living room, shaking herself out of her sleepiness. Her tail wagged as soon as she saw that her other owners were home.

Logan gasped loudly. “There’s my baby.” He fell to his knees to give her attention. “You’re such a good girl. Yes, you are.” He continued to coo and give her pets and scratches.

“I’m... I’m gonna scream. I’m going to actually scream.” Thomas ran his hands down his face. “There’s no way I’m leaving.”

“Leia, no. Go back to the boys.” Patton pried Logan away from her. “Go. Now.” He pointed out the doorway.

She obeyed after visible hesitation.

Patton worked on lifting Logan to his feet. “Look, I’m going to keep an eye on him. You’re free to stay if you want, but I promise I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” He kept him at his side. “I won’t let anything happen to him. He’ll be fine if you leave.”

Thomas crossed his arms. Patton recognized the face he made almost immediately. It was the same one Logan made when he weighed all possible options. That hard, calculating gaze was something they shared well. “Fine. But I’m calling first thing in the morning.”

Holy shit. He actually agreed? This was the greatest achievement of Patton’s life.

“If I find out anything happened, I’m pushing you down a flight of stairs.”

“If anything happens, I’ll fall down the stairs myself.”

Thomas smirked a little. “I’ll hold you to it.” He patted his pockets to see if he had everything. “Alright. The twins were lovely, as usual, and I look forward to the next time I get to see them. Goodnight -- keep my brother safe,” he pointed at Patton, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Logan sounded like a sad little boy who was told he couldn’t get the one toy he wanted for Christmas.

Thomas sent him a small smile. “I’m afraid so, bear. Patton’s going to be looking after you, okay?” He brushed Logan’s bangs to the side and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

Logan watched him go with the most disappointment Patton had ever seen on his face. He half expected Thomas to change his mind because of it.

“Okay, sweetheart, we’re going to get you some water then you’re going straight to bed.” He led them to the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Logan had to throw up one more time. Or a few times, rather. That seemed to be the end of the fun alcohol adventure. Patton made sure he was finished before giving him more water. On their way to the bedroom, Patton was stopped by a sleepy voice.

“Dad?” Roman called. He sounded half-asleep. “S’everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Your daddy’s just a little sick. Go back to sleep.” He made sure there wouldn’t be any more questions before continuing. He closed the door to the bedroom so Leia wouldn’t get in. As much as Logan loved to have her in here, she wouldn’t be very helpful.

He helped Logan into a clean shirt and guided him to bed. “I’ll be next door if you need something, okay, dear?” He slipped off his glasses. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t.” Logan caught his wrist before he could leave. “Can’t you stay?” He looked at Patton with such vulnerability it sort of hurt to see.

“Only if you want me to.”

“Please.”

God, Patton couldn’t say no to that face. He slipped into his side of the bed for the first time in way too long. Of course the one night he’s allowed back is the one night Logan isn’t fully cognizant of his actions. In a way, it was almost poetic.

Logan buried his face into Patton’s chest almost immediately. He sighed in contentment, one arm thrown over Patton’s waist for good measure.

Patton hesitated before bringing him closer. The anxious part of his brain insisted that Logan would somehow snap out of this and scream at Patton to get away from him. After all, Logan didn’t invite him back sooner for a reason. But that didn’t happen. Logan seemed more than happy to be so close.

“You know,” he began, already sounding sleepy, “I love you a lot. Maybe too much. You could hurt me all you want and I’d still take you back. If you say sorry. And maybe that’s bad, but I think that’s what I would do. I love you too much to let you go.”

Oh, no. Oh, Logan. Patton kissed the top of his head and tried not to break down into tears. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He hoped, maybe, it was some sort of drunken nonsense, but he had a sickening feeling it wasn’t. He hated knowing this. He hated knowing that the crap he pulled -- that stupid, idiotic mistake that broke Logan’s heart -- wouldn’t have been the nail in the coffin of their relationship. As angry as Logan was, as upset as he was, he always planned to give Patton a second chance. It wasn’t comforting to know that.

If Patton was a lesser man than he already was, he would have used that to his advantage. He would have screwed Logan over, again and again, knowing he would be able to come back if he acted sorry enough. But someone already did that before, didn’t they?

Patton didn’t want to be anything like that person. He wanted to be as far away from them as he could get because Logan deserved someone so much better than that. Maybe the person he deserved wasn’t even Patton at all, but Patton was the person he chose. The least he could do was be a good husband. Logan deserved that and a million more things. He deserved to think more highly of himself, for one. One problem at a time, though, the most immediate problem would be the hangover tomorrow.

Patton woke up with a start. 

For a moment, he didn’t believe he was in his bedroom, but then he recalled the night before. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He still had his clothes and glasses on. Then he noticed he was alone. Before he could come up with a possible scenario, he heard throwing up in the bathroom. Uh oh. It wasn’t even morning yet.

He hurried down the hall. “Are you okay, bumblebee?” He asked from the doorway.

Logan glared at him from his hunched-over position. That answered that, then.

“Is Daddy okay?”

Patton turned to see Virgil, asleep on his feet. “What are you doing up?”

“I lost rock paper scissors.” He yawned.

“Daddy isn’t feeling well tonight. He’ll be fine --” he caught himself before he said ‘tomorrow’. There was no way in hell Logan would be functional tomorrow -- “later. Now go back to sleep. I have it handled.”

Virgil didn’t need to be told twice.

Patton sat with Logan until he finished throwing up. He knew from experience what a miserable time this was, but that also meant he knew how to make it more manageable. He gave Logan things to settle his stomach then practically carried him back to bed. They both fell asleep in no time at all.

When morning came, Patton called out of work. He also called Thomas to take the twins and Princess Leia. There was no way he was leaving Logan’s side today. Judging from the late-night vomiting, and heavy sleeping, this would be a rough first hangover. He decided to sit in bed and scroll through random apps until Logan decided to wake up.

“Oh my God,” Logan groaned. He rolled over so his face would be in his pillow.

Patton couldn’t help the smirk that played at his lips. “Well, good morning, sleeping beauty. How do you feel?”

“I think I’m dying.”

“I can assure you you’re not.” He put away his phone and laid back down. “It’s just a hangover. You’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Logan groaned again. He moved his head to look at Patton. “How do you never feel like this after drinking?”

“Years of practice.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely not getting that.” He flipped over and threw an arm over his eyes. “That’s the last time I drink anything ever.”

Patton smiled in amusement. “How much do you remember?”

“Honestly? I blacked out after the second shot.”

“That explains why you kept going.”

Logan shot up, eyes wide. “I kept going?” That clearly wasn’t the right move. He grimaced and curled in on himself, a wounded sound leaving his throat. “Why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

“Do you really think I’m in a position to stop you from doing anything?”

“Fair point.” Logan laid back down as slowly as possible. “God, this is the worst.” He bumped his fingers against Patton’s.

“Well,” Patton took his hand, “I’m here to help you through it.”

~~~

@actitus-hypoleucos

[littlemarvelfics]

Someone Loves You

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 1,500

Warnings: drinking, cheating 

Square filled: Bed sharing for @marvelfluffbingo and @star-spangled-bingo

A/N: Hiya guys, gals and non-binary pals! This was for bed sharing but then things got away from me and honestly, I’m bad at prompts. Clearly. Anyway! I hope you enjoy! Links are in my bio. 

“I hate him,” you grumbled as you flopped onto Bucky’s couch, throwing your legs into his lap and almost knocking the book out of his hands in the process. “I really, really hate him.” 

“Him as in your boyfriend him?” Bucky asked, still reading. 

“That would be the him I’m referring to, yes.” 

“What did he do this time?” 

“Canceled, again. We were supposed to go out tonight, but there’s some March Madness something or other happening, so he took a rain check,” you explained. 

“When was the last time he didn’t take a rain check?” Bucky mumbled to himself. 

“What was that?” you asked, sitting up slightly to look at him. 

“Nothing,” Bucky lied. 

“Okay, can we hang out tonight? I don’t really wanna wallow in self-pity all night.”

Bucky looked up from his book, “Of course bud. You’re always welcome here.”

“Can you also decide what we’re gonna do tonight?” you said with a charming smile. 

“Course.”

“Awesome! You think while I grab a beer,” you declared, getting up from the couch. 

Bucky watched you walk into his kitchen, quickly making yourself at home. By now, his apartment was almost a second home to you . You came here at least twice a week, usually more. He thought about your boyfriend, Jake. Bucky never understood how he could treat someone like you so poorly, or why you stayed around and put up with it. Anyone that knew you could see that you deserved so much better, and it was clear that Bucky wanted nothing more than the chance to give you just that. 

The two of you met your freshman year of college and became instant friends. Now, two years out of college and into the adult world, little had changed between the two of you. Bucky always wanted something more but never knew how to bring it up because you never seemed interested.You dated a few guys here and there, always maintaining your friendship with Bucky, and if that was all he could have with you, he was okay with that. You both cheered each other on and offered a shoulder to cry on when things didn’t work out. 

You walked back into his living room, beer in hand and eyebrows raised, silently asking if he had a plan for the two of you yet. 

“Alright, here’s my masterplan,” he began. “We order Chinese food, we drink beers, we watch Brooklyn 99, and  when you inevitably beg to watch one more episode but fall asleep ten minutes in, we have a sleepover.” 

You threw your head back and laughed at how well he knew you. 

“That sounds absolutely fabulous,” you said, taking your phone from your back pocket and opening up the delivery app to get started on your order. You sat down next to Bucky on his couch and leaned your head on his shoulder as you scrolled through your options. 

“I do have one adjustment to your plan, though your participation is not required,” you added. 

“What’s the adjustment?” 

“I am going to drink tequila until I can’t feel my face or remember how mad I am at Jake.” 

Two hours and half a tequila bottle later, you were well on your way to your goal. Half empty takeout containers were scattered on Bucky’s coffee table, and Brooklyn 99 played in the background. You downed another shot and looked at Bucky. 

“Why don’t you have a lady of your own Buck?” 

“Because you’re my lady,” he said hoping to make you drop the subject. 

Unfortunately, you weren’t so easily distracted. 

“No, I'm serious Buck! C’mon, there’s gotta be at least one girl that you like?” 

“Yeah… there is this girl. I don’t think she’d ever like me back though.” 

“Who is she? You want me to kick her ass? Why wouldn’t she be into you?!” 

“She’s just… she’s perfect. Funny and brilliant. Absolutely stunning even when she thinks she looks like trash. She lights up rooms when she walks into them. She’s everything.” 

You tried to ignore the pang in your heart when you realized that Bucky was interested in someone else. You had always thought Bucky was incredible, but he never showed any interest in dating you, so you dropped it quickly- you didn’t want to ruin a fantastic friendship for something that would never happen. 

“Don’t sell yourself short Buck. You’re more incredible than you’ll ever give yourself credit for,” you said with a smile. 

Bucky returned your smile but didn’t say anything more, so you dropped the subject. You turned your attention back to the TV when you felt your phone buzz. You took it out of your pocket and looked at the text; it was from your friend Jenna. 

Jenna: Hey... I dunno how to ask you this

Y/N: Ask me what? 

Jenna: Are you and Jake still together? 

Y/N: Yeah… why? 

Jenna: I’m at the bar, and he’s here with some girl. 

Jenna: I’m so sorry. 

With the last text, there was a picture attached. You could clearly see a girl pressed up against your boyfriend. Tears instantly filled your eyes. Bucky heard you sniffle and looked over at you. 

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, turning on the couch to face you completely. 

Instead of answering him, you just handed over your phone. 

“That son of a bitch,” Bucky growled. 

“What did I do Bucky?” you whispered. “What did I do to make this happen? Why did he do this?” 

“No, no. None of that,” Bucky said pulling you into his arms. “You didn’t do a damn thing to deserve this. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever know. You don’t deserve this at all doll.” 

You nodded and buried your face into his neck. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you asked quietly. 

“Of course you can. You wanna go to bed now? Sleep some of this off?” 

You nodded silently, lost in your own head. 

Bucky didn’t waste any time, getting up off the couch and quickly scooping you into his arms and carrying you into his bedroom. He sat you down on the bed and rushed around his room, handing you one of his tee shirts and a pair of shorts you had left there. He turned around as you changed quickly, waiting until you settled in his bed under the covers to say goodnight. 

“Okay well, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything, okay doll?” 

Before Bucky could leave, you grabbed his wrist. 

“I know this is weird but… I don’t wanna be alone tonight. Will you stay with me?” 

“Of course I will,” he said, turning back towards the bed after only a moment’s hesitation. 

He quickly rid himself of his clothes, throwing on a tee shirt and plaid PJ pants before sliding into the bed next to you. You instantly shuffled closer to him, snuggling up to his side and throwing your leg over his. 

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, shifting slightly. “This is perfect.” 

You laid on Bucky’s shoulder and let yourself cry for 20 minutes until you were finally tired enough to fall asleep. The entire time Bucky rubbed his hand up and down your back while whispering quiet reassurances to you. When your breathing finally evened out and your tears stopped, Bucky looked down at you and kissed your head. He decided then and there that he was gonna tell you how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same way, then so be it, but he had to let you know someone loved you. 

+++++

It took Bucky a month after that night. He wanted to give you time to start to get over Jake, but he couldn’t stand seeing you mope around anymore, doubting yourself at every turn. 

Bucky knocked on the door of your apartment one afternoon after you had texted him that you weren’t up for coming over to his place that night. You swung open the door, looking slightly disheveled. 

“Buck? What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, moving aside to let him in. 

You walked into your kitchen and leaned against the counter. Bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot looking nervous. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. I just… remember the night you found out about Jake?” 

“Can we please not relive that?” you groaned. 

“Yeah, it’s just… that night you asked me if there was anyone I was interested in,”

“Yes and you described an angel on earth,” you snapped, cutting him off. “Is there a point to this Bucky? I don’t really wanna hear about the perfect woman right now.” 

“It’s you!” he blurted out. 

“What?” you questioned, searching his face for an answer. 

“It’s you,” he repeated taking a deep breath. “I can’t watch this happen to you. You’re walking around here doubting every part of who you are and blaming yourself. But doll, you are not to blame. Because you are a beautiful, brilliant, kind, hilarious human being who I am completely, undoubtedly in love with. Maybe you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay—” 

“I do,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “I do feel the same way.” 

“Really?” Bucky questioned, not expecting your reaction. 

“Yeah I just… didn’t think you’d want to be with me,” you mumbled. 

“I want everything with you,” Bucky said, taking your hand. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow? Like a real dinner date, not just takeout in my apartment.” 

“That would be lovely Bucky,” you said with a smile. 

“Hey,” Bucky said with a grin. “There’s that smile, I’ve missed it ya know.” 

“Yeah,” you replied. “Me too.” 

“Now c’mon,” he said, taking your hand in his and leading you to your couch. “You owe me an episode of Brooklyn 99.” 

[breakingsomething]

when nothing’s left

hey! sorry i haven’t written anything in a while, i’ve been very unmotivated. anyway, here’s this thing that i did- i might continue it at some point if i can be bothered.

trigger warnings for suicidal ideation, blood n shit

chase brody is on top of the world.

at least, that’s how he fancies himself. in reality, he is sitting on the edge of a tall apartment building, overlooking the city from the ledge he is perched on. chase is very much surprised that there are no fences or anything around the roof, considering how easily he’d gotten up here. all he’d had to do was smile charmingly at a woman at the door to the stairwell and she’d let him borrow her access key to the roof. it was very stupid of her. chase couldn’t believe his luck.

the wind blows his hair wildly, and the cold air feels like it’s slapping him in the face. he clings to the ledge and swings his legs in the endless open space beneath him, squinting his eyes to help him see. across the city, he can see minuscule planes and taller buildings silhouetted against the reddening sky, and when he looks down he can see the hundreds of cars and pedestrians passing beneath him. so oblivious, chase thinks. can’t they see the world is ending?

behind him, chase hears the now familiar glitching sound and accompanying thump that warns him of the arrival of a person he really doesn’t want to see right now. chase doesn’t turn and the man sighs loudly and throws himself down besides chase. there is a solid minute of silence where they both look out at the everything and the nothing of their city sprawled out in front of them.

finally, anti speaks. “hey. i’m here now.”

chase ignores him.

he hears anti shift his position. “you know, i’m still gonna be here whether you want me to be or not. you’re kind of stuck with me now.”

chase wants to cry or scream or push the demon off the side of the building just so he can see what it feels like.

anti makes a few odd sounds, no doubt to get on chase’s nerves. “why are you up here?”

when chase once again doesn’t answer, anti begins to get pissed off and pokes him in the arm. even his fingers feel sharp somehow. “yo, bitch! stop being so fucking depressed and talk to me, for fucks sake.”

chase pulls away from him, still without looking at him. “yes, i get it, you’re an attention whore.” his voice is scratchy. it’s the first words he’s said in hours. “now can you fuck off and leave me alone?”

anti lets out a breathy laugh. “wallowing in self pity isn’t exactly going to help either of us now, adidas. man the fuck up.” he shifts his position again and chase bites back the urge to yell at him to pick a spot and stick with it. he instead stands up, so quickly his head spins. his feet are on the very edge of the rooftop. if he moved an inch, he’d instantly fall to his death. for a moment, he thinks of all the people down below and what it’d be like for them if a person suddenly fell from a building above them. it could hurt someone if he fell on top of them. he could traumatize someone. he could get someone into a great deal of bother if they hung around the scene and were interviewed by nosy news reporters wanting all the details of the latest tragedy.

it doesn’t really matter. no one down there is real, and the world is ending.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts when anti grabs his arms. “hey! hey, hey, hey, no killing yourself here. not on my watch.”

anti glitches and is suddenly on his feet next to chase. he pulls chase away from the edge, dragging him towards the centre of the rooftop. chase says and does nothing. there’s nothing else to say or do.

anti stands before him, and chase finally tears his gaze away from the november skyline to look at him.

he used to be a terrifying entity. he always had been, from the day chase had first seen him grinning wickedly and holding henrik’s motionless body before disappearing with him for the next nine months, to the day he had appeared in the hallway of chase’s house, turning the world red, right eye gleaming, to the day he had found chase wandering the city, cold and without his hat or jacket or bag, waiting for something that would kill him. but now he looks almost completely human. his eyes are a dull green, so different from how bright they used to be. his skin is sickly pale, like chase’s. even his brown hair seems flat and lifeless. he doesn’t even constantly glitch like he used to. the only inhuman thing about him is his neck wound, which is stained with dried blood that he hasn’t bothered to wash off. chase studies him as anti huffs loudly, wrapping his arms around himself. wearing a pma zip up hoodie and his signature black ripped jeans, he looks just like jack. it sickens chase. he wants to slap the angry demon just to see if he’d snap and kill him.

anti breaks eye contact and rolls his eyes. “ok, whatever. you’re boring.” he goes over to the roof door and plops down next to it, closing his eyes. chase knows there’s no point in going back to the ledge. anti would appear next to him before he could even get up the courage to jump. not that he was planning to. not yet, at least.

instead chase marches to the door and flings it open, making his way down the stairs. the air down here is somehow colder, maybe due to the depressingly dark walls that all look wet for some reason. he wonders where the woman who gave him the rooftop pass has went. he can hear anti calling after him, and hears when anti appears next to him. the stupid glitch sound that used to charge dread into the hearts of him and his brothers makes him feel sick and fills him with rage. he stops and spins towards the demon. “why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

for a moment, anti looks surprised, but he instantly wipes his expression and chase wonders if he imagined it. 

“why don’t you- all you’ve ever wanted to do was kill me and jack and my brothers and- well, here’s your opportunity!” chase spreads his arms wide, not caring that he’s shouting in this public stairwell. “so kill me! torture me if you have to! come on, isn’t this what you wanted?” he’s crying, and anti’s blank face is making him want to hit him. “isn’t this what you wanted?”

for a moment anti says nothing. then he breaks out in a huge grin. “it’s more fun to watch you suffer.” he says nonchalantly. anti pushes past chase and jumps onto the banister, sliding down the stairwell out of sight, leaving chase shaking with rage and grief.

he finds the woman halfway down to the bottom of the stairwell. she’s slumped against the wall in between two doors. her throat has been slit open. there’s no knife left behind. chase leaves the pass on her unmoving chest and continues walking.

chase finds anti waiting for him in the lobby, sitting at the bottom stair and tossing his bloodstained knife from hand to hand.

“why’d you kill her?” he asks casually.

anti shrugs. “she was annoying. i was walking up the stairs after you cause i’d seen you go in the building, right, and she was there and she was all like, hey aren’t you the guy i let onto the roof? and i was like no, that’s my brother, and then i asked why she let you up, and she said because you had an apartment here and you’d shown her your id and house key, and i asked what you’d said your name was, and she was like oh, some german name, i can’t really remember, and then i realized this was the ol’ doctor’s apartment building and that’s why you were up here, right, but the woman was starting to be all weird and she started saying weird stuff and her eyes went weird, so i killed her. are you listening to me?”

chase is not listening to him. he is staring at the noticeboard hung on the wall, which is mostly covered in graffiti and advertisements. but in the centre is a poster- a wanted poster, a proper wanted poster, with chase’s face on it. wanted for the murder of wife stacy brody and kids louise brody and connor brody, said the poster. he doesn’t read the rest of it. he simply leaves the building. 

it is freezing cold out, but he doesn’t care. he shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets and starts walking, tuning out the cars and trucks roaring by and the loud chatter of passerbys and the group of people busking on the corner and the people yelling across the streets to each other and the wind roaring in his ears. all the sounds make him want to claw his ears off so he never has to hear anything again, especially not that terrible glitching sound that he hears now next to him, or the familiar voice asking him to stop in a strained voice-

he turns. anti is standing just behind him, bent over, hands on his knees. the crowd of people part around him as though he isn’t even there. chase considers leaving him. but he’s curious as to what is putting so much pain in anti’s voice.

“what- what’s up?” chase asked tentatively. anti stands up straight. his face is completely drained of colour. he doesn’t answer chase’s question, just stumbles to his side. 

“where are we going?” anti says. chase doesn’t care enough to challenge his decision to ignore him.

“i don’t give a fuck where you’re going, but i’m out of money. probably going to sleep in the park again.” he turns away from anti and begins walking again.

“wait!” anti calls, and chase groans before stopping. 

“god, what the fuck do you want?” he knows there’s no point in being angry. but this whole situation is becoming his worst nightmare. his brothers- jackie, marvin, henrik, jamie- are all gone except for the one he didn’t want to be stuck with, and the world is fucking ending.

“i can get money,” anti says. the pain is gone from his face, and he gives chase a wicked smile. “wait here.”

he dissolves, leaving chase staring at the empty space where he once was. the fact that none of the people walking around them even notice what just happened tells chase all he needs to know. the situation is getting worse. in fact, as he looks around, he can see that something is definitely wrong. he can’t tell what, but something is off about the crowd, all  jabbering loudly in chase’s ears. he sits on a bench a couple metres away from where he was. at the other end of the bench is a young woman with dark hair and a long blue dress. chase looks at her face, and he sees what’s wrong- there is no emotion there. her eyes are dead, glassed over, and her mouth hangs open slightly. chase glances behind him, and sees that, yes, it’s the same for all of them- unfocused eyes and blank expressions everywhere. it gives him chills. he turns back around, facing forward, making eye contact with no one.

the world is fucking ending, he thinks for the millionth time that day.

anti is usually back within minutes, but after having sat there for ten, chase begins to worry. not for anti, he couldn’t give less of a shit about anti, but for the poor citizens who are having to put up with him. he wonders what the hell anti’s doing to ‘get money’, and how many people he’s going to kill to do it. chase wonders why he doesn’t just leave anti. then he reminds himself that no matter where he goes, anti is sure to find him. also, whether he likes it or not, he’s all chase has left in the world.

he feels immediately guilty after having thought that. the things anti has done to him and his brothers- he tries to imagine what henrik or jackie would say, knowing he was fraternizing with the enemy. he almost laughs at the dumb way he’s phrased that thought in his head- it makes anti sound like he’s a comic book villain, rather than a heartless murderer. chase closes his eyes.

wahoomp. the familiar sound fills chase with- relief? it couldn’t be that. chase opens his eyes and, instead of turning to ask anti why he’d taken so long, he glances at his watch. “wow, twenty three minutes,” chase quipped. “glitch demon’s gotten slow, has he?” it’s then that he turns to glance at anti, and his heart almost stops at the sight. anti is clinging to the back of the bench, wheezing. his face is white and he looks like he might faint. his nose and eyes are bleeding, and he’s shaking so badly chase doesn’t know how he’s remaining upright. “holy shit,” chase murmured. he’s got no fucking clue what to do. thankfully, the woman on the bench is gone, so when anti drags himself round the side of the bench he’s free to collapse onto it. anti gasps in pain, and leans his head back so chase can see how badly his neck is bleeding. chase stays silent, staring at anti wide eyed. he’s never seen anti hurt before, and he doesn’t know if he should try to help or not.

after about thirty seconds, anti leans forward, his head almost touching his knees. his legs are shaking. he reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, shoving it into chase’s hand without looking at him.

chase clutches it tightly. “man. holy shit. are you…” he falters. anti waves him off, and wipes at his face. all he does is smear the blood around. neither of them point it out.

eventually anti looks up. “let’s get a hotel room,” he says. chase obliges.

they go to the nearest hotel. they book a room for two. the dead eyed man at the desk doesn’t question the bloodstained money, or the way anti is leaning against chase’s shoulder, relying on him to keep him upright. it’s getting worse, chase thinks as he takes the hotel key and pretty much drags anti to the elevator. chase should have realized that was a stupid idea, given anti’s current state. as soon as they step in, the entire thing short circuits, the lights giving out. anti makes a pained sound and leans in closer to chase’s chest. he stands in the darkened elevator, staring out through the opened doors across the hallway to the front doors where they had come in, out to the cars and people passing by outside. he doesn’t know how long he stands there for, but he’s eventually snapped back to reality when he anti mutters “grey? what are… fuck. did i break…” he tries to straighten himself, and as much as he hates it, chase’s dad instincts kick in and he wraps his arms around anti, holding him tighter to prevent him from falling. they exit the elevator and slowly make their way upstairs. a boy is sprawled out on the stairs next to their room. he’s breathing, but not moving, his eyes unfocused. chase opens the door to their room and anti immediately frees himself from chase and runs to the bathroom. he can hear him throwing up. 

chase scans the room. it’s fairly large, with (thankfully) two beds at either side of the room, with a dresser and a lamp on either side. there’s a set of drawers on the other side of the room next to the bathroom door, and above it is a large tv.  across from the room door is a balcony with tall glass doors and cream coloured curtains that match the walls. chase sighs and throws himself down on the bed closest to the door. there is a remote on his bedside table. he turns on the tv and the news comes on screen. it’s the same news report that he saw yesterday, and the day before that, and every day for the last three months. it hasn’t changed. henrik had determined that it stopped changing round about the time that the people of the city had started acting strangely. marvin had figured that without any outside force guiding them anymore, their minds had started to disappear, all personality draining from the and causing them to forget things slowly. chase remembers sitting in his chair in the kitchen, clutching a cup of tea tightly in both hands as the two had discussed this. he remembers the anger he had felt, not towards his brothers, but towards him. how could he have just left them like this? did he not care? had he really forgotten them?

he hears the toilet flush and anti exits the bathroom. he’s still pale and trembling. slowly, he crosses the room to the remaining bed and lays down, facing the wall away from chase. he feels the need to say something.

“so, uh,” he hesitates. “are you sick or something? i didn’t think you could get sick.”

anti is silent for a moment. “neither did i,” he mumbled. “i guess it’s to do with- you know. the bullshit we’ve been left with. we’re probably both going to get progressively weaker and weaker and then we’ll both die.” he says this last bit so bluntly that chase can’t help but be taken aback.

“it’s not his fault-”

“it is his fault,” anti shoots back without hesitation. he sits up and chase can see the ghost of the bloodstains on his face. he looks sick and tired and so much the opposite of the anti he knows. “he fucking left us here to die, adidas. all of us, including your wonderful brothers that he loved so much.” anti sneers, and shakes his head. “he was just using you. all of you. and well, he got what he wanted, didn’t he? wow, i wonder how many views we racked up for him and his fucking channel! probably enough for him to pay his fucking bills for a month or two, maybe he took his shitty girlfriend out to dinner or something-”

“shut up,” chase snaps. he sits up too, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. “it’s not his fault, he clearly doesn’t remember, and who’s fucking fault is that, eh? who was it that put him in a coma in the first place?”

anti laughs without humour. “if we’re being technical, it was really your doctor who-”

“don’t start that shit with me!” chase warns. he’s trembling with rage. “you know fine fucking well that you were posessing him, it was never his fault!”

anti smirks. “what? me? i would never do such a thing.”

tears blur chase’s vision. “how can you laugh about all of this! none of this is fucking funny, we’re both in the same boat here, anti! we’re both going to die if we don’t think of something to-” 

“don’t you get it?” the smile has disappeared from anti’s face and has been replaced with a look of disgust. “he literally left us to die! he doesn’t care! he-”

“he’s forgotten!” chase yells. he stands up and anti almost seems to shrink back. “he doesn’t remember us because of you!”

“don’t give me that horseshit,” anti snarls. he stands too, despite how much effort it seems to be taking out of his body. “he woke up here, asshole. he left by choice. he seemed to know enough to figure out how to get back into his own dimension, didn’t he?”

the anger seems to leave chase all at once, and he positively sags. through the tears, he sees anti’s triumphant face. “you see?” he says quietly. “the wonderful mister jack turns out to not be so wonderful after all.”

chase lies back down. he turns off the lamp next to his bed. he doesn’t look at anti.

...suspect has been apprehended outside of papa john’s on dumberham street by several officers who were tipped off by an anonymous caller. police are working on tracing-

chase turns off the tv. the room is silent.

he takes his phone out of his pocket and opens youtube. he clicks on his subscription list without even needing to think about it and finds the familiar green icon he’s looking for. the last video on his channel hasn’t changed- the thumbnail is still a picture of jack’s face, wearing his glasses and a grey shirt, looking serious with his coloured lights in the background switched off. the title is still the same. chase isn’t sure what he was expecting.

he turns his phone off and sobs silently. he knows anti can hear him, but he doesn’t care. he just wants everything to stop.

outside, the world is ending.

[peicesofrhys]

Bloody Hell

Butch:

-As soon as I was well enough to walk, I was up and moving through the mansion. I didn’t realize what I was doing until I got half way through the process. I was doing a headcount. It was stupid and I knew it but that didn’t stop me from continuing. I needed to know that everyone was here, safe, alright. I couldn’t imagine losing someone else like I lost Mike. I’d already made the phone calls to all of my human family members. They were alive and confused as to why I was calling. Joyce hadn’t been allowed to call them for fear that her husband would find her that way.-

-No one in the mansion knew what I was about either. Here I was barely able to move around, clutching my wounded stomach, trying to look natural with small talk. It was awkward to say the least. Sometimes I gave up all pretenses and did a simple once over of the room before leaving. Let them think what they wanted to, I was chasing a darker feeling that something else was wrong. I was going to find out sometime later that while I was away the Omega slipped through the cracks and took someone else that I cared about.-

-I saved one person for last because I felt that V would have told me if something had happened to our housemate. Suddenly I didn’t know. I was doubting everything. I couldn’t run back to the Pit because my internal organs were busy trying to stitch themselves back together after having a bullet ricochet through them. So I shambled. Quickly. Grabbing the wall often to keep myself upright. Shit. If something was wrong with him I wouldn’t know what to do.-

-I hadn’t even been back to the Pit since Boston. I was stuck in the PT room sucking food through a straw because my stomach couldn’t digest it right. I started moving faster, feeling a sense of urgency that I couldn’t really place. No doubt it was something that I should talk to Mary about. I tucked that into a file for another day, or never, probably never.-

-I punched in the code to the Pit and it seemed like waiting for the beep was taking too long. I hit the door loudly, no doubt looking and sounding like an idiot. Didn’t care. I practically fell through the door when it opened, catching myself at the last minute.-

RHYS!?!! -I belted the name out as loud as I could. Please don’t let anything be wrong with him.- RHYS ARE YOU HERE?!! -Yelling wasn’t helping me any. I pulled something out of alignment, I could feel it. I looked down to the hand that was holding my stomach and saw that it was bloody.- Fuck…. -I slumped to the ground, propping my back up against the wall. Great, now I was going to have to visit the doc again.-

Rhys: 

“You’re a little fucking nancy, aren’t ya?” The young male voice echoed through the headphones as he took charge of the mission. The fuck cut me off and even stole my weapons when he did it too. We’d been at this particular game for nearly four hours now and this twelve year old just played me like chump. What a little prick. 

“Eat shit.” I growled into the mic before pulling the bitchiest of all bitch moves. My fingers moved in a blur across the controller and before he could cross the finish line I murdered our other teammate and used a stolen grenade to blow everyone to kingdom come. Game Over blinked repeatedly on all four screens that were set up in the middle of the room while the rest of the team cursed and yelled at each other. 

I cut it all off with a few keystrokes and sat back in the chair. I was hungry. 

There was contemplation about going up to the main house or just having it brought to the pit. Do I take a chance that someone, namely one of the Brothers, spotting me? The last time I had a run in with anyone other than Vishous, I was met with a snort and growl, some insipid questions and cold stares. I can’t count the times I repeated my story but there were doubts still lingering around this place. You can’t disguise distrust. 

Ordering in it was. I called up for a few burgers, cheese fries and a chocolate milkshake. I would need to feed as well. I hated it so I left that to a later time. It was awkward and I didn’t understand why in the fuck those girls did it so willingly. I never asked either. I’d rather wallow in my ignorance. 

I was finishing up in the bathroom when I heard the code being punched in. Finally. That guy took his sweet time. 

“I’m famished, mate. Did you have to kill the cow or what?” The bang against the door had my brow raised and I looked around the room for a weapon. Yes, I was that jumpy. But before I could locate anything other than a few keyboards and a baseball bat that I think was signed by some guy, the door opened and Butch fell in with a heavy scent of blood following him like a puppy. He was yelling like I wasn’t standing right here but he was in bad shape and probably didn’t even see me. 

“The fuck …?” I was tripping over myself to get to him. “When did you get back and why are you bleeding all over the fucking floor?” No one tells me shit around this place. Not even Vishous. Him and I would be having a talk later. Dick. “And why are you yelling like that? You know I never leave this hell hole.” I laughed even though nothing about this was funny. Well, not that funny. “And whatever his Majesty said I did, I didn’t do … I swear to Lassiter.” 

Butch:

-I blinked a few times to clear my vision.- Rhys? -That was definitely his voice. There was no mistaking that. I was being stupid. Of course he was okay. Everyone was okay. This was just me freaking out. Still... I felt like I could breathe easier knowing for sure. I raised a hand and lightly ran my fingers over his face. Yep. Not me just seeing things. I let out a heavy sigh and let my hand fall.-

I must look like an idiot right now. -I laughed, drooping my head forward.- Obviously you leave sometimes or you wouldn't be worried about what the King was saying about you. -My head tilted to the side and I lifted a questioning brow. There was a story there and it didn't take a detective to figure that out. I almost felt bad for Wrath.-

Swearing to Lassiter sounds really wrong and kinda dirty. I'm still not going to get used to that one no matter what anyone says.

-I braced myself for the pain and pushed up off the ground. I couldn't stay down or they would be taking me out of here in a stretcher and I wouldn't see the outside of a PT room for days. I let out a wicked sounding hiss as I slowly rose. Every ounce of concentration was poured into getting myself the hell off the floor. I hadn't puzzled out how I was going to make it back down the tunnels yet. This was hard enough.-

Rhys: 

Nah, not more than usual.” I quipped. There was no other way to keep my own wits about me with Butch weaving around like he was going to topple over at any moment. “And who said anything about being worried? I was only saying …fecking hell, B.” I moved quickly to get one shoulder wedge under his and an arm around his waist. He had a good six or so inches on me but I could handle it. Or we were both going down. “You think you could drag your ass back to the PT with my help or do I need to find the Candy man or V?” Either way, Butch needed that wound closed up good and proper. 

There wasn’t any time to break out the first aid kit that was stashed near the Toys, not that I had a clue as to what to do. 

I got us through the door but not before I hit the intercom to spit out a S.O.S. “I got a bleeder on the way back to PT. Could use an extra pair of hands or even a small truck.” I chuckled at my own joke. It was nervous in tone with how much of Butch’s weight I took on. It meant he wasn’t doing so hot. I had to bite my tongue so hard it nearly bled to keep from asking what was going on. Where he had been. Who did this to him. I doubted he would answer anyway. 

“Don’t kick my arse for this later.” I winced and shoved my hand down around where it seemed the majority of the blood was coming from and clamped it down as if my life depended on it. “If you can get those feet moving, now would be the time.” 

Butch:

I'm in tip top shape. I don't know what you are going on about. -The room went back and forth and I tried to keep it from tipping completely over.- I don't know but if you could keep the ground from tilting that would be awesome. -I perched it against the wall closed my eyes to keep from getting dizzy.-

Candy man?... -My brain was definitely not firing on all cylinders because it took me too long to figure that one out.- Rhage?! -I huffed out a laugh.- That's a good one. ~The candy man can~ -I started humming the tune halfheartedly.-

Oh. There he is. -I leaned heavily on Rhys when I felt him at my side.- Come on, no need to bother those worry warts. We can make it. -I might have overestimated my ability to put one foot in front of the other.- Come on, Butch. You can do this. You've been through worse than a stupid bullet to the gut. In fact, it was just the other day that you got your ass beat into the floorboards. This is nothing.

-I was mostly rambling and it came out all halted, in half steps. I felt bad for Rhys cause there was no way we were going to make it all the way there but I was too damn stubborn to worry anyone else over it.-

Look! It's the door! -I took a stumble step and almost fell again when I tried to swat away his hand from the intercom.- Well shit... Now you've gone and done it. You know the Mother Hen is going to descend upon us any minute now. 

-I didn't get much more out because Mr. Wise Guy decided to apply all the damn pressure in the world to the wound.- HOLY SHIT!!! -I fell into Rhys, grabbing onto him tightly. My stomach turned to the spin cycle and I puked down Rhys's back.-

Rhys: 

I froze. It took my mind a moment to wrap around the fact that Butch just emptied the contents of his stomach down the back of my shirt and possibly my pants as well. The scent clogged my nose and I immediately ceased breathing. Not entirely but enough that I could manage to keep the bile that rose in my throat down. 

“Yeah … we are going to chat about that later.” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “Bloody hell.” 

Before I could force Butch to back the fuck up out of the door, Rhage appeared. And oh was he amused with the situation happening here. ‘I ran my ass off for this? C’mon.’ He was all grin and lollipop but he managed to get most of Butch, who was limp noodle by now, over his arm and down the hall way with me taking up the slack. I most likely wasn’t needed in this scenario but my hand was still clamped over the wound. ‘He will be fine if you want to run back to your hole, Rhys.’ Rhage was still all smiles when he said the words but the glare was obvious. Besides Butch and V, he was the least likely of the Brothers to kill me in my sleep. Didn’t mean he liked me. 

“I think I’ll stick around this time, fuck you very much.” I muttered. Rhage shrugged and we continued on to the PT suite. 

Butch:

-It took a few minutes of haze to realize what I'd just done. Oh damn, he was never going to let me live this one down. You don't just throw up on someone and expect them to be cool afterward.- I. Am. SO. Sorry. Sweet Jesus... -I couldn't emphasize that more.-

Oh look! It's the Candy Man! -There was a lot of grunting and groaning involved with shifting the rest of my weight over to Rhage. I hated how useless I was right now. My feet were nothing more than decoration. All of my weight was between these two guys.-

-From my unique position between the two I could actually feel the tension. If I had thrown up on one of the Brothers Rhage would be slinging all kinds of quips back and forth. It would be natural and expected. This was far from it. It wasn't open hostility, but it was close.-

Knock it off Rhage. He's holding my intestines in right now. Don't make me puke on you too. I don't think I have much left to give up. 

-I tried to move my feet to keep up but it was pretty apparent that such action was fruitless. I gave up and all but rag-dolled it between the two of them. So stupid of me to run out of there when I did. What was I thinking?-

Everyone is safe... That's all that matters...

-I knew I was mumbling at this point and no one was probably listening anyway. Who cares? I had made sure that everyone I cared about was free from the Omega. I passed out before I reached the PT suite, drifting silently into a darkness that I'd been avoiding.-

Rhys:

I shook my head at Butch. “He’s fine. A bit of a knob but he can’t help himself. It’s all the sugar.” That earned a raised brow from Rhage. A good one. As if he were surprised at the come back. Not that it was anything great. But I was the new guy. New-ish. I’ve been here for a few years now but that was like mere moments when it came to this race. 

‘I’ll send the doc in.’ Rhage stated. He stood by the door for a moment after he got Butch situated in the private room. ‘Shower is just past that door and there are some scrubs in the closet. It’s good you called for help, Rhys. We will always come for one of ours.’ Rhage nodded and left me alone with an unconscious cop. I won’t lie. I smelled like death and rotten hot dogs and something I didn’t want to think about. There was a moment of hesitation about leaving Butch there, knocked out, exposed while I changed but when the doc walked in and gave me a gobsmacked expression, I hightailed to the shower. 

The scrubs were three sizes too big. I don’t know if Hulk practiced medicine here as well or if I was /that/ much smaller than these guys but damn. Maybe I needed more use out of the gym that was always open with fighters learning … to fight. Fight what? Don’t have a clue. All conversations ceased when I walked in a room. I was given the information that I needed which wasn’t much. A cock tease really. 

The doc finished up with a nasty looking wound on Butch with a quiet pace that I was left in awe of. I had seen her briefly. Once when I came to the house and two times more for a few blood tests and such. Someone, most likely the king guy, was giving it a go to figure out what I was. Good luck to him. I’ve been trying that for my entire life. 

‘He’s fine.’ A soft voice floated across the room. ‘Make sure he stays put though would you. And he needs to feed. Soon.’ There was zero concern about leaving me with him. No, there was nothing but concern and affection? I couldn’t place the feeling that this female gave off but it was a nice change. 

 “Ah. Yeah … one of those girls. Got it.” I nodded. Because I knew how to summon the blood angels. Sure. 

Then I was left with Butch. It was quiet. The whir of a machine that had a display next to him and the distinct thump of six chamber heart. The way he was bleeding all over the pit I wasn’t sure if it would still be going strong by the time we got here. Rhage seemed less concerned which was oddly comforting. This has happened before. There was a leather chair that I dragged across the linoleum floor and plopped my ass in it. 

“One time,”  I began, ‘this really big prick of guy puked all over me for saving his life. There he was bleeding out like an arsehole and he goes and loses his lunch all over my favorite shirt.” I lowered my voice as if telling a secret. “Little does he know, it was one of his, had all these designs on it. Gucci? Something expensive I’m sure. Anyway, he’s going to be right pissed when he realizes I just tossed into the hazardous waste bin.” 

I went on with stupid little quips. Filled Butch in on the goings on in the world of Fortnite. How that bitch of kid stole all my shit. Remarked on Fritz impeccable culinary skills and how I’d manage to befriend Lassiter. That dude was all metal and sunshine and oddness. But I liked it. 

At some point I drifted off mumbling about Maury and did what I always did … I fell right into a place I’d never been. A house. Butch was there. Yelling. Fighting some white haired fellows like that one who shot me. This was different. I felt the ominous stench of evil like it was a layer of sweat on my skin. I thought I was screaming. I swear I was. My eyes flew open to see the harsh fluorescents of the PT room and my mouth was wide open like a fly trap but no sound was coming out. I was frozen in the chair though my eyes scanned the room to find Butch still out like a light. Snoring like a bear. What felt like an eternity ended up being just a few minutes and I was free from the paralysis that gripped me after I wondered into someone else’s subconscious. We were working on it yet it freaked my shit out and now … there was an awareness to what Butch had been through these past months. A subtle ache bloomed in my chest and I found myself clawing at it before I shut my eyes again. 

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

“Merry Christmas, Darling” - Jay x Carlos

HI ALL! MERRY CHRISTMAS IF YOU CELEBRATE! 

Here’s my secret santa contribution (put together by @descendantssecretsanta) for @stanfouqueen!!!! 

The spiked eggnog tasted pretty good.

Mostly because the liquor contents in Jay’s glass way overpowered the actual holiday drink.

That night, the weather was less “sparkling snowflakes” and more “biting frost”, but he found himself on the front porch anyway, staring out at the neighbors’ Christmas display across the street. The lights blinked and glowed in the frigid darkness. To anyone else, the indoors would’ve seemed incredibly inviting - with the warm lights spilling out of the windows, followed closely by the sounds of laughter and classic Christmas carols playing on that record player someone had gotten during a gift exchange several years ago. Evie’s Annual Christmas Party was in full swing.

Except Jay didn’t feel like laughing or socializing, and how could he listen to Christmas Carols when the same person who gifted Mal that record player was now a hundred miles away doing who knew what?

What would Carlos be doing right now? Jay thought, taking another sip and letting the alcohol warm his insides. He’s probably already decorated one of those strange, lopsided shelf trees that he always picks.

His boyfriend always insisted on picking the one tree no one ever wanted, arguing that it deserved to be dressed up and brought home for Christmas just as much as any of the other perfect trees. (“The misfits were valid too”, he’d always say. “I’m a misfit, and you like me, remember?”)

Oh, Jay remembered alright. Especially now that the correct title for Carlos was technically ex-boyfriend. Even four months after their split, he still caught himself forgetting. This time, he would blame it on the drinks. 

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked - answered shortly by another dog. The conversation went on for awhile, each dog exchanging a few yips and an occasional howl from behind their separate fences, and Jay wondered how long he’d been sitting out there. So far, no one had come to look for him, which meant that he either hadn’t been gone long or that they were all too drunk to notice. Probably the latter.

Not that he really wanted them to come looking for him. Tonight, he was okay being kind of lonely because his only other option was pretending - and that wasn’t any better. Evie liked to say that Christmas and loneliness really didn’t belong in the same sentence, and maybe she was right. But people grew up. People changed. People got offered different scholarships to different schools and drifted apart.

I bet he’s studying tonight, the nerd, Jay thought before he could stop himself. In years past, he’d told Carlos to put down the books and enjoy life before it flashed before his eyes while he was staring at some derived equations or scientific theories. But this Christmas, Carlos was probably curled up his dorm room bed or somewhere in a corner, cuddling his dog and sipping hot chocolate, while studying the very same subjects he’d helped tutor Jay in not that long ago. And usually, Jay would choose a party over any night spent studying. But right at that moment? He’d choose the second option without a backward glance. It was kind of pathetic what he’d reduced himself to these days.

The noises of the night interrupted his wallowing thoughts once more. A few houses down, a car had honked and now, the sounds of ecstatic greetings and “Merry Christmas” echoed up and down the block. Family or friends come into town, no doubt.  Everyone reuniting and coming together again. Because that’s what happened during the holidays. People came home. People reunited. People understood that their friends and family had looked forward to seeing them over the holidays and would be crushed and disappointed by a simple text to a group chat that exam studies were just too intense and they wouldn’t make it home.

It’s not his fault, a voice in Jay’s head reminded.

Jay really didn’t want to resent Carlos for not wanting to come home for the holidays. All of his texts (however sparingly and usually sent to Mal or Evie) were filled with glowing reports about school and classes and life on campus. He’d been among of the select five percent of the country that were admitted, so Jay figured the place was probably equivalent to heaven or something. Who needed to come home when you had all the world at your fingertips?

“Yo,” came a voice behind him, sounding only slightly tipsy. “Jay, are you done feeling sorry for yourself yet? Uma’s about to open her gift and trust me, you won’t wanna miss it. I got her a stuffed shrimp; she’s gonna fucking strangle me.”

Without turning around, Jay took another sip of his drink. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Oh,” Mal snorted. “My bad. I guess I mistook your sad slumped shoulders and sitting outside of a dope party in the dark drinking alone for self pity. Forgive me.”  

“Fuck you.” Jay wasn’t in the mood for her sarcasm.

“Look.” The wooden porch boards creaked under footsteps as Mal walked over and sat down next to him. “I get it. I miss him too. But this is ridiculous, Jay. All your friends are inside. And I’m sorry, but you gotta man up and stop letting him get to you.”

“He’s not getting to me.” Another sip.

“Really?” The purple-haired girl raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Because every time you lie, you take another swig of alcohol, so…”

“Mal, I’m not in the fucking mood for your bullshit!” Jay slammed his fist down on the ground suddenly, but the other girl didn’t even flinch. In fact, she looked as though she might be grinning in the dim light.

“Yeah, at least get mad,” she laughed. “Getting mad is at least less pitiful than downing glass after glass of - what is that? spiked eggnog? - and moping around.”

“He didn’t come home,” Jay spat. “He didn’t come home! That’s that! So why would I go inside, huh? What’s the point of going inside, Mal, tell me. I already poured two drinks today out of habit, thinking I was getting one for him, but no. He’s a million miles away changing the world or whatever.”

“Let me guess?” Mal folded her arms. “You drank his glass, too?”

“Can you listen and be helpful for like five seconds?” Jay asked angrily. “Do you really have to be a snarky, sarcastic bitch every second of your life?”

“Always have, always will be.” Despite her answer, Mal stared at him closer. “If you miss him so much, why don’t you just call him? It’s not like you two ended badly.”

“I’m not gonna call him.” Jay shook his head, even though it was something he’d nearly done quite a few times. “It’s just pathetic. He hasn’t called me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mal groaned. “You really think Carlos de Vil is gonna pick up the phone and call you first? The kid who would rather run himself into the ground rather than ask for help?”

“Yeah, well, that’s his loss then.”

“You guys didn’t leave it on these terms, if I recall,” Mal prodded, taking Jay’s glass and stealing a sip. He didn’t really care. “You said you still liked each other, but with both of you at separate colleges, you thought it best that you have some freedom -”

“ - to explore other options, yeah, got it, thanks, Mal,” Jay finished with an angry exhale. “We didn’t want to rush into anything, make anything to serious, especially long distance.”

“You could’ve gone with him,” Mal reminded helpfully, (even though Jay didn’t find it helpful at all). It was something that kept him up at night these days. “He asked you several times. What? Do you think you chose wrong?”

“They weren’t offering me a tourney scholarship to any of the colleges up there,” Jay shrugged. “He got a full-ride to the best university in the world. And I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, please,” Mal snorted. “You’re going to a fine school with a pretty good tourney program. The only reason you’re not over-the-moon is because he’s not here.”

“I didn’t ask you to analyze my damn life.” The words came out bitter and colder than the night air.

“Well, you don’t usually sit around and drink a huge glass of self pity, so sue me,” the girl shot back. “Look, I understand, you feel like being bitchy. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Wasn’t gonna.”

A thick silence fell between them. Jay knew it wasn’t fair to lash out at Mal, but he also didn’t really care. He knew she’d understand; he’d helped her through countless breakups where the roles were definitely reversed.

“Last year, the Jay I knew wasn’t afraid of anything.”

And Jay positively growled. “Why are you out here? Last time I checked, the party was in there!”

“Because I happen to care about you, asshole.” Mal shook her head. “And I wanted to warn you that Uma is giving everyone pictures of their exes for Christmas, so… maybe don’t open her gift for awhile.”

“Great.” If Jay hadn’t been recently singled, he would’ve probably found the whole thing hilarious. Actually, if he’d been recently singled by anyone but Carlos he would’ve thought it funny. Usually break-ups didn’t hit him anywhere near this hard. “Is it least a good picture of him?”

“I swear to fucking -forget I said anything!”

They sat on the steps for awhile longer. Jay figured that at this point, Carlos had probably gone to bed. Or maybe he was up watching those cheesy Christmas movies on the hallmark channel. Maybe he was wearing those horrible striped pajamas that Harry had gotten everyone a few years back that everyone had somehow “lost” except the white-haired boy.

After awhile, Jay let out a long exhale, a puff of white breath trailing out into the freezing air.  “I think I’m gonna head out,” he sighed.

“You aren’t driving home, are you?” Mal eyed the empty glass on the step beside them.”

“Nah.” Jay shook his head. “I’ll walk. Pick up my car tomorrow. As shitty as this night has been, I would rather like to stay alive, you know?”

“Mmm, that’s a relief,” she replied dryly. “Listen, Jay -” Her face scrunched a little. “I know feelings aren’t really my jam, but I’m pretty sure you can’t just drink them away. And I don't want to see you try. Either call him or move on. Got it? Try and go on some other dates. Meet some other people. Like you both promised that you would.”

“Yeah.” He spun one of his rings around for a moment. “I know. We said that we didn’t want to bog each other down doing the whole long distance thing.” He stood up, helping Mal to her feet. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Merry Christmas,” Mal offered with only a hint of a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, merry. That’s exactly how I would describe this night.”

“Get home quickly. It’ll get better. You’ll see,” she called. And although he detected something underneath those words, Jay couldn’t quite figure it out.  

///

The walk home was better, he supposed.

Jay hated sitting still, even for short periods of time. And his muscles were shouting in protest after being frozen for all that time on the porch. The sleet fell sideways, glowing in the patches of light cast by the street lamps along the way, but now the he was physically moving again, he didn’t mind so much. And his apartment wasn’t far, so Jay would’ve gone so far as to say that he relished the walk.

Maybe I should’ve stayed a little longer at the party, he thought, now that he wasn’t so sluggish. He could’ve at least thanked Evie and apologized for being such a mess. But then he remembered what Mal had said about Uma’s very-funny gift, and decided he didn’t need to open up a picture of Carlos de Fucking Vil tonight.

Climbing the stairs to his apartment building was an ambitious feat, something he only realized about halfway up when he nearly lost his balance. Maybe he’d had a bit more to drink than he’d thought. Luckily, he managed to make it the rest of the way up unharmed. At least physically.

As he started down the hallway on his floor, his phone buzzed. Glancing down, Jay saw it was from Evie.

Heard you were finally heading out. Good choice :) Try and look up. Things will get better; I have a good feeling. Merry Christmas! Love you!

Evie made it all sound so easy, and for a moment, he almost believed her. That things would get better. She had that effect on people.

You and Carlos made the right choice, that voice protested. You both said that you were just gonna let the other one live a little. Go explore. Not be tied down. Is that so bad?

Jay’s fingers were so cold that nearly fumbled his keys, but after a moment of uncertainty, he got them back under control. Pushing on the door that always got a little bit stuck, he stepped into the apartment. The place wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but it could pretty easily house two people. Even if it was only home to one now.

The lights were already on, and he kicked himself inwardly. Electricity bills were high enough without paying to light an empty apartment. And now that he glanced around, he could see several things that, not too long ago, a certain freckled someone would’ve kicked his ass over. The living room lamps were on, the Christmas lights had been left lit, and he still had clothes all over the couch. Although, the kitchen looked a lot cleaner than he remembered leaving it (Jay was like ninety percent sure that he’d left last night’s takeout cartons on the counter), so apparently his sober self had been sporadic in his preparations to leave.

“Fuck,” Jay muttered under his breath. “My bill is gonna be through the roof.”

“Not really,” came a voice. “I only got in a half hour ago. I turned everything on. You know, darkness isn’t really my thing.”

The voice sent a sharp stab of something down to his very core. Sometimes his drunk brain hated him. “Oh really?” he asked the voice. “From where, huh?”

“The airport, idiot.”

Shrugging off his coat, Jay huffed. “Alright, drunk me. You feel like making this night worse? Got it.”

“If you’d just turn around,” the voice insisted. “I think you’d realize that it's got nothing to do with alcohol.”

Standing in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall, was Carlos. Or something that looked like him anyway.

“I must've had way more than I thought.” Jay rubbed his forehead, blinking several times. “Maybe I should've taken a cab. All that walking and those stairs…”

“I'm not denying that you were drinking,” Carlos shrugged. “But I'm not a hallucination, dude.”

Suddenly, there was a pattering of claws on hardwood floor as a dog launched himself at Jay.

“Dude!” Carlos whistled. “You're gonna knock him over. Come here, boy.”

“Wait…” Jay stared at Dude, who was now rushing back to Carlos’ side. “Oh my God…”

“Hi.” Carlos looked a little more apprehensive now, shifting from foot to foot.

“How… where did you come from….” The taller boy held his forehead, wishing he could get a grip. He still wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't all a cruel dream.

“I still have my key.” Carlos gave him a little smile, but it was quickly replaced by a frown. “And - uh - maybe I shouldn't have just let myself in - maybe that was wrong… I'm not sure….”

“You're really here…” Jay felt his knees weaken a little. “This isn't a dream?”

“No…” Carlos gave him a nervous glance-over. “Evie said that she didn't know if you’d take this well. I can leave if you want. I know we haven't spoken in… well, awhile...”

“Wait…” Jay’s mind raced to keep up with his words. “Evie? She knew?”

“Yeah.” Carlos looked down. “She actually helped me pay for the ticket. Money is tight. Even with the scholarship.”

Jay shook his head again, still trying to wrap her mind around it all. “So she knew? She brought you here? Why didn't she tell me?”

“She didn't know if you'd want to see me,” Carlos shrugged. “I mean… usually seeing your ex isn't what you want for Christmas.”

The word “ex” cut into his heart like a knife. A new kind of dread started replacing his initial surprise. “Yeah, so, um… you seeing anyone new?” He tried to keep his voice level. Carlos had the right to see other guys. “Because… I am. Um, yeah, I totally am. So don't worry about it.”

Carlos stared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Evie didn't mention that. In fact, she - she told me that you hadn't gone out since we…” His shoulders fell some. “Look, this was a mistake, I'm sorry, I didn't know. I told her that you would've moved on. I'll get out of your hair. I'm really sorry, Jay, I am.”

Cursing himself, Jay bit his lip so hard that it bled. Damn his fucking pride. Damn his stupid ego and everything that came with it. Why couldn’t he just look Carlos in the eye and tell him that he missed him? That he was really glad to see him? Finally, after a moment of throat clearing and coughing, he spoke up. “No, Carlos, stop.”

“Why?” The freckled boy continued to gather his stuff. “So I can hear all about your new love life? Jay, Evie didn’t tell me you’d started dating again. I dunno, I figured you were hadn’t like me - uh - and - I can’t stay here now.”

“She was right, ‘Los.” Jay ignored the dizzy feeling the words gave him, and pressed on. “Evie was right.”

Carlos paused for a moment, looking up. “Huh?”

“Evie.” Jay shook his head. “She was right. I'm not - seeing anyone.”

“You're not?”

“No.” Running a hand through his hair, the taller boy sighed. “I'm not. Mal’s been hounding me about it, though. It's been tough without you. Things aren't the same, you know? Like tonight, Uma got everyone pictures of their exes for our gift exchange, and I'm still not used to describing you like that.”

Carlos studied him. “Was it at least a good picture of me?”

A tiny, sad smile threatened to emerge on Jay’s face. “Dunno. I didn't stick around to open it. Mal insisted I go home  - wait, did she know, too?”

“Yeah.” Carlos looked a little sheepish now.

“The little bitch,” Jay realized. “She spent half an hour tonight trying to rile me up about you.”

“Surprise.” Carlos raised his arms half-heartedly. “So… you don't want me to go?”

Inhaling deeply, Jay forced himself to ignore his pride and ego and everything else that would just lead to another huge night of regret. “No. I - I would like you to stay. Here.”

“Mmm, don't hurt yourself.” Carlos glanced up at him. “You don't have to say yes.”

“I want to, though.” Jay took a moment to probe the metallic cut inside his mouth from earlier. “Like I said… things aren't the same without you.”

“Okay.” Carlos let out his breath, relaxing some. “Good. I'd feel badly if I made tonight worse.”

“If anything, you made it better,” Jay promised, sitting down on the couch. “Come sit down for at least a little bit. I want to hear everything that’s been missing from those texts you never send me.”

“Yeah… sorry about that,” his ex-boyfriend sighed. “I just never knew what to say to you. Everything I wanted to say would've gone back on our deal of giving the other space.”

“And here I was thinking you just forgot about me.” Jay pushed some of his clothes from the couch cushions to the floor. “Sorry the place is such a mess. I would've cleaned up if I’d known you were coming home - back. If I'd known you were coming back.”

“It's okay.” Carlos pointed to the takeout cartons on the counter. “I may have finished off the Chinese takeout you left on the counter. Sorry about that. But I also cleaned up the kitchen, so, maybe that makes up for it.”

“You've been here about five minutes, de Vil,” Jay said with a shake of his head. “You didn't need to clean up.”

“It was giving me anxiety.” Carlos folded his arms. “You're still a slob, you know.”

“Maybe I've forgotten,” Jay joked a little. “How can I remember that if you're not around to remind me?” The comment came out a little sadder than he had hoped. He definitely didn’t want Carlos to think that he was anything other than happy these days. “So, how’s school?”

“Great.” The other boy gave him a thin smile. “Really great. I mean, I like all my classes and everyone is really focused and driven.”

“Like you?”

Carlos shrugged, laughing softly. “I dunno, there are some really smart people, Jay. Like so smart. It would blow your mind what they’d all accomplished. This one kid in my hall created a software system that’s standard now for most professional computers.”

“And you can hack into that software with like ten clicks,” Jay pointed out. “He’s not so cool.”

A faint pink spread across Carlos’ freckled-splashed cheeks. “I like that you can do that.”

“Do what?” Jay had no idea what he meant, but he did know that he liked making Carlos’ blush. It was something he’d missed most.

“Make me feel special,” the other boy laughed. “Sometimes… it’s hard to feel special at that school.”

“Bullshit.” The older boy gave him a gentle shove. “You’re way cooler than any of the kids there. Hands down. And I bet their eyeliner isn’t half as straight as yours.”

“Maybe.” Carlos shook his head. “Tell me about your classes here. How are the girls? Is it nice to still go to the same school?”

“Yeah.” Jay didn’t add that it would be better if their threesome were a foursome on campus, but he probably didn’t need to. Carlos could usually understand what he meant. “I mean, Evie’s got orders coming in left and right. Mal’s doing her whole art gig, and I guess that’s great, especially when you have a successful business woman as a girlfriend. We’re all just, you know, living life.”

“You didn’t tell me about you,” pushed the freckled boy. “How are you doing? How’s tourney? It sucked that you guys lost last week, but you lead the team in goals, don’t you?”

Carlos was spot on with the stats, but the fact that he knew them at all surprised Jay. “Wait, how did you know all that?”

“Oh, um, people talk. I guess.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “About an average university all the way across the country?”

“Not buying it?” Carlos shook his head. “Uh, I may have caught some of the games on TV. And looked up the stats. And followed your team’s Twitter. Does that count as stalking? I just wanted to see how you guys were doing.”

The taller boy hoped his surprise (and delight) didn’t show. “Oh, yeah, that’s cool. Really. Understandable. Totally.”

“It’s really weird,” laughed Carlos softly. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” insisted Jay. “I’m glad you’re still keeping up with the stuff around here.”

“Well…” the other boy shifted some. “I didn’t really care about the other players. Mostly just… you.”

Now Jay knew that his surprise showed. He hadn’t expected such an bold (or emotional) statement from Carlos. “Oh. Um… that’s cool.”

Carlos blushed again, but this time, he looked a more embarrassed. Maybe even humiliated. Clearly that hadn’t been the reaction he’d been hoping for. Once again, Jay had to kick himself.

Let those walls down, he heard a voice say. This time, the voice sounded a lot like Evie, strangely enough. Jay, you spend so much time hiding yourself and your feelings. It’s okay to tell him how you feel.

But Jay didn’t do feelings or emotions, much less talking about feelings and emotions. Mal understood. She hated sappy shit, too. But this was Carlos. If he didn’t say something soon, it might really be too late. Even now, the freckled boy was drawing back, distancing himself, putting his own armor back on.

“Hey, um, Pup?”

“Yes?” Carlos perked up a little at the nickname, but he still didn’t smile.

Jay scratched the back of his neck, sighing. “Uh… I, look, when I said… that things were tough here. I meant it. I’m… not doing too hot.”

“Really?” Carlos tilted his head slightly. “Jay, you don’t have to -”

“No!” It came out kind of loud. “I mean… no. Don’t try and apologize or let me duck out of this. Because I really sort of miss you, and I’m really glad to see you, and I don’t want you to think anything else.” He let out a breathe, that dizzy feeling coming back.

“You miss me?” The smaller boy’s voice definitely sounded hopeful.

“Just like every fucking second of my day.” Jay cracked his knuckles nervously. “I mean, I wanted to be alright, ‘Los, I did. I really tried to go out with other people.”

“How many dates?”

“Well, strictly speaking… none.”

“Wow, you really did try.” Carlos gave him a soft punch to the shoulder.

“Shut up.” Jay felt some of the tension in his chest dislodge. This was Carlos. The same Carlos who sat in the bathroom on the cold tile with Jay after one of them had a mental breakdown. The same Carlos who helped him get his first A. The same Carlos who slapped him on the ass when he changed, or set his alarm twenty minutes later to let Jay sleep after big games.

“So…” Carlos fidgeting with his hands. “This whole breaking up for the better thing hasn’t really gone the way either of us planned, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“So… what now?” Carlos looked around the messy apartment.

“Why did you come home?” The question came out of the blue, and Jay was powerless to stop it from reaching his tongue. “Uh, I mean, back? Why did you come back? I mean… you could’ve said no. Easily. It wasn’t a stretch or -”

“I came home because I wanted to see you.” His ex-boyfriend stared right at him. “Maybe I did wanna sus out how you’d been and… if we’d made a mistake.”

“Mistake.” Jay heard himself echo the word, and felt himself leaning closer. “Yeah, mistake.”

“Maybe…” Carlos said softly. “Maybe we should reevaluate? I think -” but he was cut off by Jay’s lips before he had a chance to finish. Not that he needed to. Jay understood.

He understood completely.

And later that night, when they threw a blanket over themselves and the (sufficiently tousled couch cushions), when Jay had his face pressed into Carlos’ familiar curls, drinking in their familiar smell and feel, the latter started to laugh.

“God, I missed you.”

“Merry Christmas, de Vil.”

“Would you use the word merry?” Carlos jabbed him a little. “I might use a different word to describe what just hap -”

“Shut up. Don’t ruin it.” Jay’s eyes drifted shut, but before he gave into sleep, he had to say one last thing. “Hey, ‘Los?”

“Yeah?”

“When you go back to school…” Jay paused, wondering why the words didn’t seem to want to come.

“I’ll be wearing my boyfriend’s jersey,” Carlos mumbled, sounding sleepy, happy, sated.

“Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Hey guys!! Your patience throughout this entire story-telling process has really meant a lot to us. I can’t tell you how much of our hearts and souls were put into this massive project that we only ever intended to be an imagine. The world that we’ve built over twenty seasons has grown bigger than either of us imagined and we’re so incredibly grateful for you guys--for still reading it, for becoming just as invested in the characters and story-lines as we were and for your amazing support for the story. Only three episodes left, plus an alternate ending!

EPISODE 47

Captain Williams walked into the interrogation room where Omar was being held, file in his hand. He had Ramirez right where he wanted him. All that was left was to turn one of his men, the evidence would speak for itself.

“Omar Diaz...hope you had a good night’s sleep,” he said, sitting down across from Omar. “So, Omar. What do you know about this clean up that went down a few weeks ago?”

Omar quirked a brow. “I’m not saying anything without Rita present.”

“Oh yeah, your lawyer,” Williams replied. “That’s fine, but between you and me, you got a problem, brother. Your boy, Julio, gave you up and I’m willing to bet money that any one of those clowns will gladly give Nevada Ramirez up instead of spending twenty-five to life upstate. You might wanna start thinking about where you fall in all that.”

“Lawyer,” he repeated, putting emphasis on each syllable as he looked up at the man defiantly. He wasn’t a snitch, and he wasn’t worried about the other men. Not now. His primary focus had to be with his brothers and keeping loyal to them. The rest didn’t matter.

Williams held his gaze for a moment before he slowly bobbed his shoulders. “Suit yourself. Sure hope your daughter doesn’t get too traumatized when she has to visit her daddy in Attica.”

“You leave my kid out of this,” Omar said, poker face on. Inside he wanted to punch this guy in the face, but he kept it to himself.

“You’re the one that can keep your kid outta this, Diaz,” Williams answered. “You think Ramirez will care if she’s gotta grow up without a father?”

“I think my brother cares about his niece. That’s all I know.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also don’t think that he’d put your kid over his own. I’m a father too, man, and I gotta tell you, I’d turn on my mother if I knew it was gonna spare my kids any pain,” Williams replied.

Omar rolled his eyes. “Lawyer.” He knew Nevada wasn’t like that. They were all a family.

“Suit yourself. You better pray no one in your clean up crew doesn't talk first,” Williams replied, walking out of the room without another word.

“Captain, we got one of the guys talking. He says he and his crew cleaned up a lot of blood, mostly in the kitchen. He also said he saw Ramirez and the Diaz brothers walking out with a heavy looking duffle bag. Said they were heading for the stairwell,” one of his detectives said.

“I’m willing to bet that bag had a body inside,” Williams replied thoughtfully. “Have CSU take another look inside the apartment. And have them check the stairwell and the back door of the building. With any luck we’ll get something to tie Ramirez to the murder.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Williams nodded. “Good work, detective.”

Amber came over the next day to help you clean the house while the kids were gone. With Nevada having given you a vague text about not coming home, you found yourself deciding to take advantage of the time to do a deep cleaning of the house.

“Remember when excitement used to be keg parties and anonymous sex?” Amber said with a smirk. “Now you suggest deep cleaning and I acted like it was Christmas morning.”

You laughed. “Right? I got way too excited this morning.”

“Did he say why he stayed out all night?” Amber asked as she fished a sippy cup from beneath the couch.

“Nope, just texted me, not coming home tonight,” you said in your best impression of your husband. “As long as he’s not dead, I assume work is just getting pretty crazy.” You started moving to tug all the dvds out of the cabinets, sorting out the ones none of you had touched in over a year.

“Weird,” she replied as she got the sippy cup open and peeked inside, nearly gagging when the stench of sour milk escaped. “Oh God.”

“Huh…” You scrunched your nose. “I’ve been looking for that sippy cup. Where was it?”

“Under the couch,” Amber answered as she all but ran to the sink to rinse out the cup and fill it with soapy water to soak.

“That sounds about right,” you said with a shrug. Once you’d sorted the DVDs you started putting the ones you didn’t watch into a garbage bag. “Tell me if you want anything.”

“You’re putting them in a garbage bag, how will I know?” she replied with a smirk.

You heard the buzzing of your phone, though you couldn't see where you’d left it. You searched around before finding it at the bottom of the garbage back, answering it.

“Y/N Ramirez, Professional House Cleaning service,” you teased. “How May I direct your call?”

“Oyeme, where are the rugrats?” he asked.

“Out with Chelsea, why?” You stopped cleaning. “Is everything alright?”

“No, Natalia was the bitch trying to buy Izzy’s art,” he replied. “Oh yeah and Omar got arrested. So did all the guys who were part of a cleaning crew we hired a while back, so everything’s pretty much going to shit over here.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?” That was a lot of information to process all at once. Natalia, wasn’t she in prison? And how did Omar get arrested? They were usually so careful. You frowned, deciding now wasn’t the time for details. “What do you need me to do?”

“Keep you and the kids in one piece till we find this cunt-bag. Lay low, don’t leave the house unless you have to,” he replied.

“Should I call Chelsea? I don’t wanna scare the kids. They should be back in an hour or so.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Chelsea’s vanilla, where she takes them would probably be a place Natalia wouldn’t think of. Chibby’s working on tracking her phone, don’t worry,” he said.

“Okay. We’ll stay here. Update me whenever you can. But if you can’t, I’ll understand.” You frowned. You hated not being able to see him but he had a job to do and you understood that.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I love you,” you said softly.

“Love you too,” he replied, hanging up.

You turned back to Amber, frowning.

“What?” she asked.

“Natalia has been in contact with my sister and Omar got arrested…”

“Again? What the fuck, Omar?!” Amber groaned, rolling her eyes. “Do you know what for?”

“Does my husband look like the type who gives me play by plays? I have absolutely zero details,” you said with a sigh. “Something about a cleanup job? I’m not too sure.”

“Well that can’t be good,” Amber replied.

“Yeah, he told me when the kids get home I need to stay inside for a while until this is handled,” you said, nervously tapping your fingers on your hip.

“And you’re gonna actually do that?” Amber asked, arching a brow. “Just wait here like sitting ducks? What if Natalia’s on her way here?”

“Do you seriously think Nevada wouldn’t already know of she was on her way here?” you fired back. “If Nevada says we’ll be fine, then we’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” she said softly. “I believe you. Is there anything I can do?” she asked. She would help if she could, though her attention had drifted to her ex husband.

“I don’t think so,” you answered. “But thanks for asking.”

“I’m sorry this is happening. I can’t imagine how it must feel.” She truly couldn’t, to have Fallon be in that kind of life-threatening danger was something she didn’t even want to think about. It was times like these she was grateful she wasn’t married to Omar anymore. Nevada made big enemies. Being his wife had to be the most worrying job.

“It’s okay,” you said in a sigh, shrugging as you smiled at her. “We’re used to it. I just have to do to what I have to do, and he’ll do what he has to do.”

“Well, let me stay with you until the kids come back. I had planned to anyway.” She smiled back at you. “And it’s really cramped but if you ever need a place, you know my door is always open.”

“Thanks,” you answered. “Let’s keep going, I want this done by the time they get home.”

She nodded getting back to work as the two of you started on the upstairs. “Do you ever regret not leaving the Heights?” she asked curiously. If anyone had the right to resent the Heights, it was you.

You sighed softly and shook your head. “Honestly, I’ve been down that road so many times and the bottom line is that Nevada would never leave the Heights. So, if I did leave, it would have to be without him.”

Amber nodded. She knew that you’d never do that. You loved him, and it was clear you were his ride or die. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the Heights was a dangerous place. She felt so bad for your position, you were trapped in a dangerous neighborhood, choosing to stay to be with the man you loved.

She had planned to stay in the Heights to be with Omar, so she knew where you were coming from. When she and Omar had divorced, she had settled roots down here, she didn’t want to leave. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she was staying because it was what was right or if it was just what she wanted. She always got what she wanted. But now she had a baby. She couldn’t put herself first anymore.

She shook the thought out of her head. She took Fallon into consideration on everything. Fallon was her life and she was making the right choices. At least, she thought so.

Rafael sat on the couch with a bottle in one hand and Liam laying on the opposite arm. Helena had already gone to sleep and Roxie hadn’t gotten home yet from her set. He had welcomed the silence, wallowed and stewed in it for as long as he could while it was there.

His eyes were trained on the manilla folder that sat on the coffee table in front of him while his son ate. He had been reeling for the last few nights, exhausted both from being up with Liam and with thoughts of what his future at the DA’s office might look like if he decided to go back. As much as he hated the thought of ending his career prematurely, he felt cornered with only two options--resign or endure in spite of the hit his reputation had taken.

There were moments where his choice seemed easy; he had worked his entire life for his career and he was far from done building it. Still, the idea of having to walk into a courtroom with all eyes on him, judging him and wondering how he could stomach advocating for victims when as far as they were concerned, he was a predator himself, was one that nauseated him. Was his pride worth the possible damage his mere presence at One Hogan Place would cause?

Roxie came through the door with a yawn, going right to the couch and leaning forward to kiss her husband softly. “I’m sorry, shooting ran late, I tried to rush as much as possible,” she assured. She put a hand on Liam’s head, thumb stroking over his hair. “I can take him,” she offered. She’d been a little more involved with the baby lately after talking to the midwife.

“Hang on, he’s almost done,” Rafael mumbled. “How was your day?”

“Busy, I missed you both. Especially today for some reason. I’m thinking actually about hiring someone else to handle everything for the new bakery. I don’t want to supervise, I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to manage it.” She sat down beside him and smiled softly. “I’m away from the house enough as it is. I don’t need to be any more than absolutely necessary.”

Rafael smirked at her just as Liam finished his meal and the older man set the empty bottle on the coffee table beside the manilla folder before he handed the baby to his wife.

Her eyes moved to the folder and then to the baby. “Documents for work? Don’t you still have paternity leave, love?” She put a burping cloth on her shoulder and leaned him against it, patting his back. She was getting pretty good at it.

“I do,” he replied, sighing deeply as he gestured to the folder with his chin. “No, that is my letter of resignation.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Rafael…” she said softly. “You love your job.”

“I do,” he replied with a nod. “Which is why I’m wondering if me staying would do more harm than good.”

Once Liam burped, she adjusted so she could use her free hand to hold his. “I trust you on this if this is what you really want...but it was just a tabloid. She was a proven liar, a horrible person. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know that, but not everyone else does and I’m just wondering if bowing out now would be better than staying and having it get worse,” he said. “If I resign, I could stay home with Liam while you work, we wouldn’t have to worry about childcare.”

“I can push things around, work from home on things. I don’t want you making the choice out of necessity to Liam either. I can stay with him mornings and you can do evenings if need be.”

“It’s not out of necessity, I want to be home with him, even if I were going back to work, I’d want to be here with him,” he answered. “As much as I love my job, I love him so much more.”

“I just want to make sure if you’re making this choice it’s for you. You’re an incredible prosecutor, Rafael. You love your work, it’s one of the reasons I fell so madly in love with you,” she smiled and cupped his cheek. “So if this is what you truly think is the right move, then I support you one hundred percent. The hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

“I do,” he replied, nodding his head. “Victims getting their justice is far more important than me keeping my job. They shouldn’t have to suffer because of some story that’s going around. It’s better for everyone, including Liam if I just resign.” His eyes fell to the infant in her arms and he smirked. “Besides, just look at him. He’s worth it.”

She nodded, leaning forward and kissing him, slow and sweet. “I love you,” she whispered. “No matter what we face, whatever happens, I love you.” She looked down at the baby and smiled. “And I love you too,” she whispered.

“We love you too,” Rafael replied.

She looked at him. “So what now?” she asked softly.

“Now, we give our son a bath, put him to bed and enjoy our night,” he replied. “Tomorrow I’ll go with Liam to the DA’s office and drop that off with McCoy.”

She gave a slow nod, scooting closer to him and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Let’s get on with the bath then,” she said, offering him a smile. She looked down at the baby and sighed. “The midwife suggested antidepressants, I’m not sure. I don’t like the idea of putting things in my system while I’m feeding Liam but…” her lips pursed.

“Did she say whether there’s there another alternative?” he asked.

“Talk therapy...groups,” she said, still frowning down at the baby. “I don’t know, it makes me uneasy. The midwife said this happens to a lot of people...so why do I feel like it makes me a bad mum?”

“It doesn’t, Roxie,” Rafael replied, smiling softly at her. “I promise you, it doesn’t. It happens...and I think if you’re uneasy about taking medication, maybe you should at least consider talk therapy. Maybe not with a group, but one on one.”

“And tell them what? I’m sad? I don’t have any...connection with the baby I spent hours pushing out of me?”

“Yes,” he answered. “All of that, yes.”

She flushed. “I’m honestly embarrassed to say it to someone other than you. I feel horrible saying it.”

“I know, and if I could, I’d be your therapist but I’m not qualified to help you through this and besides we’re married, so I already have a soft spot that prevents me from being objective,” he replied. “You’re not the first woman to go through this, I’m sure whoever you talk to will have dealt with PPD plenty of times. What we can’t do is ignore it or it could get worse.”

She nodded. “I know we can’t ignore it. Liam needs both parents, not just you and right now...he barely has a fraction of me. I don’t want that for him.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, brushing a hand over her hair. “Look, whatever you decide, I trust you. We’ll get through it.”

She smiled at him, leaning over to press her lips against his. “I guess I’ll give the talk therapy a try, I’m going to have to make a lot of schedule changes.”

“It’s an hour a week, I’m sure they’ll work with your schedule,” he said. “You’re doing the best you can, and you’re a great mom. Only a good mom would be this worried about something like this.”

She smiled softly at him. “I love you so much, Rafael. I know I’m not always...chatty about things but I always know you’re here and that means everything to me.”

“I love you too,” he replied. “And I hope that one day you’ll find it easier to open up to me more. I want to be part of your entire life. Not just the good times, all of it. Your hopes, your dreams, your fears...it's why I married you because I want it all.”

“I know it doesn’t always feel like it, but I open up to you a little more everyday. I’ve been guarded for so long,” she said with a soft laugh. “I feel like sometimes I don’t even know how to drop my walls.”

He pursed his lips and lowered his eyes; she rarely opened up to him about the things she went through. He was surprised that she was able to tell him about what she was feeling with regard to Liam so easily. He had been used to her simply insisting that she was fine.

“I know you’re trying,” he decided to say, looking back up at her. Regardless of how far from his own wife that he felt, he wanted to be there for her whenever she did decide to let him in.

She nodded and offered him a small smile. She looked worn down, exhausted. She wouldn’t be able to keep up burning the candle at both ends much longer.

“I told Jacob this morning I’m not doing their books anymore, I’m too tired,” she said with a soft laugh.

Rafael nodded. “That’s a start. I’m sure he can handle it...it is technically part of his job as your business manager.”

She nodded. “He does it fine...I just think I do it better,” she mumbled.

Rafael snorted. “You know, I bet you wouldn’t feel nearly as tired if you’d stop micromanaging everything.”

“Yes, but I got where I am by micromanaging,” she argued half heartedly. “And I like to be in control…at all times.”

“Yeah, I know. You forget I’m married to you,” he replied with a smirk. “But you’re gonna run yourself ragged trying to do everything. Part of being a business owner is trusting your people to do their jobs without you having to worry that things are getting done. You have qualified people, just trust that you made the right decision in hiring them and let them do their jobs.”

She pouted, knowing he was right as she sighed, looking down at the baby. “Tell him Liam,” she said softly before imitating her best baby voice. “Daddy, mummy is doing her best, she just gets crazy with fear over incompetence, which runs rampant in this country.” She nodded in agreement. “Thank you Liam.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Liam, explain to your mother that there is such a thing as resumes with something called references that potential employers often check and verify before hiring someone. Part of being the boss is that you can hire people based on your standards, no one else’s. And you know, you don’t necessarily have to limit yourself to the United States, you could hire someone from someplace else. People move for job opportunities all the time. Stop making it more difficult than it needs to be, it’s just an excuse for you to do it yourself.”

She frowned down at Liam. “Now you’re arguing like a lawyer, you really are your father’s child.” She looked back to Rafael and sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’ll thank us for it, won’t she, Liam?” Rafael said as he gently scrubbed the baby’s skin with a washcloth.

“He says yes daddy, mummy is just being a workaholic, isn't she,” she said with a laugh, smiling at Rafael.

He smirked back at her and kissed the side of her head. “Let’s go on a date tomorrow night.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? We can? I would love that. Just us. I could use a night off from work anyway.” She was beaming at the idea of having a quiet night with him. They hadn’t done it in so long.

“Yes. Nothing big, we can just go out to dinner, just us. I’m sure your mom wouldn't mind staying with Liam,” he said as his hand went to the small of her back. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she whispered and leaned over, kissing him softly, smiling against his lips. “So much.”

Humming around a smile, he kissed her again, deepening it immediately and pulling her against his frame. A tiny cry from Liam made him groaned softly as he pulled away from his wife and smiled at the baby.

“I’m sorry, mijo. You ready to get out and get dressed?” he asked, pulling the baby out of the bath and wrapping him in a towel.

Roxie ran her finger along the baby’s soft cheek and smiled a little. “He’s cute,” she said with a smile. “Looks like you.”

“I think he looks just like you. He has your eyes,” Rafael replied, kissing the baby’s head and taking him into his room to dress him.

Roxie watched Rafael dress him. “You know, I really like watching you as a father. It seems like it comes so naturally to you. I envy that.”

“It’ll start to be second nature to you, too, honey. Just be patient with yourself,” he replied, picking up his son and nuzzling the hair on the top of his head. “What do you think about getting him to sleep and maybe having a little mommy-daddy time.”

She giggled at the way he phrased it. “Mummy and daddy time, hm? Sounds exciting, I wouldn’t mind a little quality time with my husband.”

“That’s good cause it’s been a while and your husband could really use some attention,” he replied, smirking at her and handing over Liam. “But first he needs a shower because he stinks.”

She laughed and took Liam. “Shower away, I’m going to get Liam to bed. Say goodnight to daddy, Liam.”

“Good night, Liam. I love you,” Rafael whispered, kissing his son’s head and walking out of the nursery.

Liam’s droopy eyes stared up at his mother.

Roxie gently rocked the baby in her arms. “Sleep please,” she said softly. “You’re a decent sleeper sometimes but you know exactly when I want downtime and you seem to be able to smell weakness, so now I’m reasoning with you. Sleep please.”

Liam continued to look up at her as if waiting for something in particular, cooing softly.

“Well I can’t sing, but I can kiss you,” she said and leaned to kiss his face. “And I can hum.” She hummed, sure it was the theme song to an old tv show but it was still a melody and definitely off key but she did her best.

Slowly, Liam’s eyes began to slip closed until he was fast asleep.

She smiled, settling him down in the crib and lightly stroking her finger over his cheek. He was so soft, so delicate, it still scared her how fragile this little creature was. This little person they had created who could be gone in an instant. She shook the thought from her head, moving towards the warm steam coming from the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, Nevada haphazardly peeled off his jacket and tossed it on the couch as he walked into the kitchen and took a glass out of the cupboard beside the fridge. He reached for the bottle of scotch on the top shelf and poured himself three fingers, gulping some of the amber liquid down. As much as he wanted to get drunk to get away from his troubles, he would have to limit his intake to one glass in order to keep his wits. Chibby had been hard at work tracking Natalia’s phone while Sawyer busied herself with getting information on Omar’s arrest.

As he drank more from his glass he could hear the kids upstairs running from room to room and scowled. He hated having to pretend everything was fine in his own home, even for their sake.

“Hey! Didn’t I just say bedtime?” you scolded them with a laugh as you watched the twins giggle and run towards their bedroom.

You looked down the staircase at your husband and smiled.

“You’re home! Hey!” You moved down the staircase and over to him, eyes immediately going to the glass in his hand. “Omar’s still in custody?” you guessed.

He nodded. “Yeah, he hasn’t had a bail hearing yet, so we can't get him out.”

You frowned, hand moving to the back of his neck to gently try and work out some of the tension. “Wanna talk about it? Once I get the kids to bed?” you offered. “Or not, whatever you need.”

“Not really,” he answered, going to sit at the kitchen table. “They have a good time with Chelsea yesterday?”

“Yeah, they were so excited. Chelsea took them to the aquarium, they are definitely your kids.” You smiled softly, looking towards the staircase. “Huh...maybe they went to bed on their own.”

“You can go check, I’m fine,” he replied, taking another gulp from his drink.

You nodded, moving upstairs and moving to the twins room first.

“Mami, I want chocolate milk,” NJ said as he jumped on his bed.

“It’s late my love, you can have chocolate milk in the morning,” you said and picked him up in your arms, sitting down on the bed and looking at Fiona who was already settled in, playing with her toys quietly.

“I want chocolate milk!” he shouted, accentuating the last word with a swift smack to your face.

You grabbed his hand, eyes narrowed. “Oye! Tu quieres pow pow? Now you don’t get shit. Hit me again and I’m gonna start throwing out toys, I mean it.” You settle him down and frowned. “Who taught you to hit? We never hit people. Unless we are protecting ourselves.”

NJ growled, swinging his leg out, though it was far from making contact with you. “I. Want. Chocolate. Milk.”

You made no hesitation before spanking him. You knew so many parents were against spanking kids but honestly, when he acted this way, he was lucky you didn’t throw him into a river.

“OW!” he hollered, his little face growing red as thick tears slipped down his cheeks. “HEY! DON’T! HIT! ME!”

“Not very fun now, is it?” you said with a frown, turning him back to you. “You want it again?”

He shook his head, still crying and sniffling.

“Then don’t hit or kick me. Entiendes? I’m not a punching bag, I’m your mom.”

“Don’t! Hit me! You just hit my butt!” he sobbed.

“Spanking is different than hitting. And you need to start learning some respect,” you scolded. “I’m what feeds you, kid.”

“No! You don’t! Hit people!” he cried between gasps of breath. “STOP IT!”

You groaned. “This kid,” you mumbled. “You’re bad, you get spanked, end of story!”

“NO!!” NJ screamed.

“Oye, pero what the fuck is going on here?” Nevada asked as he came into the bedroom.

“Ay Carajo, get in bed, no chocolate milk,” you snapped at your son, quickly losing patience.

“Papi, I want chocolate milk,” NJ sobbed, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry, mijo, mom said no,” Nevada answered with a bob of his shoulders.

“I want chocolate milk!” NJ growled, throwing a stuffed animal across the room and continuing to cry.

You crossed your arms, done talking with him and determined to just let him tantrum himself out.

“I said go to bed. Your sister is listening.” You heavily considered giving your daughter chocolate milk right now to spite your son, but it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know how to process things yet.

“NO! I DON’T WANNA GO TO BED! SISTER IS NOT LISTENING!” NJ screamed, his little face growing red with effort.

You rubbed your temples. You were gonna murder this kid at this rate. “That’s it, I’m starting to throw away toys,” you snapped, moving to the toy chest and picking up a few of his favorites. “Now this is a hostage situation. You happy? First Spider-Man is going, you wanna lose more? Keep this shit up and you’ll be playing with a cardboard box for the next year.”

Fiona looked up from her bed. “Mama’s mad.”

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” NJ screeched, running and yanking the Spiderman out of your hands to throw it back into his toy bin. “THAT’S MY SPIDERMAN!!”

“Como?!” You picked it up again and walked out of the room past your husband with it.

Thanks for the backup. You mentally scolded your husband, too irritated by your son to even care at this point.

“HEY!!!” NJ yelled.

You huffed before stomping down the stairs. “Spider-Man is going in the fucking garbage disposal at this rate,” you grumbled to yourself. You had it with your son’s bratty behavior.

“Mommy!!!” NJ sobbed  throwing himself on the floor and kicking the frame of his bed repeatedly and screaming at the top of his lungs. “GIMME MY SPIDERMAN!!!”

Nevada just simply watched him, arms crossed as NJ wailed and stomped against the bed frame. After a few minutes of this, NJ finally started to calm down, though he was still crying. The boy rubbed his eyes before he looked up at his father with tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Are you done?” Nevada asked calmly.

“Yeah,” NJ whimpered, wiping one side of his face, cries lowering to soft whines and sniffles. “I wanna go to bed,” NJ cried.

“I know, papo,” Nevada replied, holding his arms out as he stepped towards his son.

NJ slowly stood and let Nevada pick him up and laid his little head against his father’s shoulder. “Mommy spank my butt.”

“I know, because you weren’t listening,” Nevada said softly, sitting on the bed and hugging his son. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” NJ whimpered. “I want chocolate milk.”

“It’s too late for chocolate milk, papo.”

“I want--I want water,” NJ said.

“I’ll ask mom. Get in bed, okay?” Nevada replied.

“Okay.”

When Nevada got downstairs you were sitting at the table. “He’s about to start getting Spider-Man’s body parts back individually in boxes,” you said sighing.

“He doesn’t understand it when you take away toys, to him, you’re just stealing his shit for no reason,” Nevada replied. “When he gets like that, it’s better to just let him freak out until he gets out of his system.”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you said softly. “Thank you for handling it. I have just about had it with NJ today.”

“Mhm,” Nevada replied, downing the last of his scotch and putting the empty glass in the sink. “He wants water. I told him I’d ask you.”

You nodded, going to bring NJ a sippy cup of water before coming back down, pouring yourself a generous drink and sitting down with your husband.

“He has been driving me crazy lately, this whole toddler inability to express himself thing is driving me nuts. He used to be the good kid. Now Fiona is an angel usually and he’s a tiny emotional terrorist.”

Nevada bobbed his shoulders as he sat down and put his feet up on the table and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “They’ll probably switch back and forth with that a few times in their life. We just gotta deal with it how it comes, I guess.”

You nodded and sipped your drink. “They loved going out with Chelsea. She said to send her love, she wants to meet up soon for a coffee if you ever get the time.”

“I’ll give her a call after all this shit blows over,” he replied with a sigh.

You nodded and gestured to the remainder of your scotch. “Want it? I’m over it already,” you said with a chuckle.

“No, I’m good,” he replied in a sigh as he stood. “I’m probably gonna be up all night till I hear from Chibby or Sawyer, so I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded and leaned over kissing his lips softly. “Well I’ll be awake a little longer, if you want a distraction or something,” you offered before moving upstairs to bed.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

Here’s today’s takeaways from 10:58 am to 12:38pm:

I walk through this land

Stake a claim

This forest is in me

This is my home

It's time to turn the page to a brand new chapter

You're an idea man, not a yes man

With a point to make, you're bound to take a stand My ideas are mine when I begin to write

In my sleep

And beside you is where I want to be

Youre the love of my life

It's not my job to undo 11:11 the dying prophecy of you

You’re so off you’re on

I know I need to feel released.

Take care to leave a trace of a Man

You talk far too much for someone so unkind

Picture of you where it began

And I feel them drown my name

So easy to know and forget with this kiss

I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow

it’s your world ending soon cause I’m in coming soon when you get right down to it… When you get right down to it

You got tin foil eyes you know just what to do

Pictures of you—-11:36–again, pertinent and destructive. I remember the first time I put it together…I think it was 2018. And I started singing to a wall full of framed pictures of Stella/katie, and I just started sobbing. I got how fucked up it was. I’m sure it was taped.

Look at the blood we're spilling

Look in the doubt we've wallowed

Look at the leaders we've followed

Look at the lies we've swallowed

And I don't want to hear no more

My hands are tied

For all I've seen has changed my mind

But still, the wars go on as the years go by

With no love of God or human rights

And all these dreams are swept aside

By bloody hands of the hypnotized

Who carry the cross of homicide

And history bears the scars of our civil wars (yes all of that)

Over the wall, you're spinning 'round and 'round

Take a look in between my eyes

Because I'm back, yeah (oral sex possession reference)

Capricorn mates: Taurus

It seems like they don’t function properly without the money

They like to do things that revolve around Mother Nature

They believe in the right and very seldom doing wrong they got soul earth foundation

Mama's got a lover

A painter I am told

The money's in graffiti

Mamas got a lover, I met him yesterday

Maybe I’ll send him a card on Father’s Day

And I think my mother would kill me if she knew what I was about. I think I'm going to Hell.

Devils and demons are coming

Lovers and children beware

Now was not our time

We’ll meet again

Because all our dreams come true

Attempts to crack the party code

And there's one more thing:

We can do it softcore if you want

But you should know I take it both ways

Our bodies became one and then we so really turned on

Became a freaky permutation

Maybe you’re the master of disguise in you’re putting me on

Hey, you fill me like the mountain

You fill me like the sea, Lord

Not coming past but still at last

Your love brings life to me

“It ain’t him to blame, he’s only a pawn in their game.”

"And I'll be there," he says

Then he walks out

you’re not invisible inside your car no matter what Stupid sort of mission you’re on

Before we had a course of course this all had been laid down

(The following fell at 12:36/38. I know this song by heart from when I moved back from France. But while it played, all I could see was the liars

Hard to believe

That after all this time

That after all this I'm still me (oh her I may not be fit to be in society ever again, but hey I can type and…give hand jobs with a idgaf glazed look in her eye)

“Don't let that stop you. Tell them anyway……and you can make it up as you go.”(the fanfic masturbating bitches)

I'm already gone now

You were outside, just waiting

I'm already nothing

You just noticed me fading (Cokewhore)

“It takes a lot to make me crazy and a lot is always going on.” (girls, have you ever heard that there’s a thing as too much drama? Otherwise known as overkill. Just because you’re always drunkenly crying Over your boyfriends/husbands ((at least that’s what Lonnie said))doesn’t mean you should take it out on me. )

[kdfrqqg]

The Backside Closed

Pairing: Dean x Reader, with Sam and Cas Warnings: Smut, anal, language, drinking, going to a strip club, crazy amount of flirting, Dean being a sweetheart one second and an ass the next.

A/N: Written for @notnaturalanahi ANA’S CRACK CHALLENGE # 2 TWSS  EDITION. This is my first attempt at writing crack. I have no earthly idea what I’m doing. I hope you have fun reading this. I hate giving things titles.

Prompt: The backside closed

Word Count: 4.5K

The sound of a car alarm woke you from your hazy drunken sleep. The spot next to you was empty, Sam must have gone for a run. You and Dean had gotten drunk together last night at a bar because you both had convinced Sam to let you guys have a couple of days off but instead of sleeping next to your best friend like normal, you had to sleep next to Sam.

Dean had literally past out on the bed diagonally with his arms and legs completely taking up the full expanse of the bed. You tried to move his heavy ass, unfortunately when he was like this he was an immoveable rock of muscle and bones. You made sure Dean’s boots were taken off before you passed out yourself.

Sam was like a personal space heater, which is great for the winter but it was the dead of summer and the AC at this motel was shit plus he would often times ended up kicking you during the night. Dean was nothing like Sam, sure he was warm but never hot and sweaty. Dean also laid pretty still at night unless he had a nightmare then he would pull you in close and spoon you all night. He had become your rock in this world and sure you had a slight crush on the man but everytime you thought about making it more you decided that it would be better off if it just stayed the same.

You turned your head expecting to see Dean still asleep in the other bed. Surprised, you noticed that not only was he gone but his bed was made. Maybe he left to get some breakfast. God, you hoped he brought back some aspirin, your head was splitting open. You wallowed on your stomach in a sea of self-pity for a few moments until the door opened allowing for a flood of bright light to pour in the room only making your head ache worse. Once your eyes adjusted, you saw the most wonderful sight, Dean’s amazing smile with a bag of food and coffee for all of you.

“Morning Gorgeous!” He greeted you. You grunted back. “Now I could get used to looking at that everyday.”

Oh goodness you must have stripped down to just your bra and panties sometime during the night. You probably got over heated under the covers with Sam. You wiggled your ass at Dean and he promptly smacked your butt cheek, earning him a yelp from your lips. He placed your cup of coffee on the night stand and you sat up covering your lower half with the sheet.

“Thank you Dean” you whispered as you blew on the hot coffee. “You didn’t get any…”

You stopped your train of thought when he pulled out a white bottle from his pocket and shook it. “I think I love you. Will you marry me, Dean Winchester?” You joked.

“Just tell me when and where, Sweetheart.” He sassed back.

You both chuckled, then you groaned, “how are you even up? You drank just as much as me.”

“Actually I didn’t. You drank almost twice as much as me and I was fucked up but you weigh like 70 lbs less than me and you were still holding your own.” He stated.

“Oh ok” you didn’t doubt him, you did drink a lot, the guys at the bar kept buying you rounds and you lost count a few times, “Well when my legs start working again, I’ll come eat breakfast.”

Dean walked over flung the sheets off you and removed the coffee from your hands. “Hey!” You cried. He set the coffee on the table.

He put his arm under your legs and the other around the back. “Hold on.” You grasped him around his neck, he picked you up and gently placed you in the chair by the table. He walked to his duffel and held out a shirt, “Will this work?”

You nodded and put the shirt on, he quickly grabbed your pills and coffee and set them in front of you. Being this dazed and foggy was never fun but shit, if Dean wasn’t doing everything to make you feel better. “Your going to want to take at least three or four of those now and maybe a few more later today. I got you lots of carbs to soak up all that alcohol.”

Your eyes went wide at the mention of food. The container had three massive pancakes in it, you weren’t sure if you eat it all but damn, you going to try. The door swung open and a sweaty Sam walked in

“Smells good! Did you get me something?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, they had this healthy platter, egg white omelette, whole wheat toast and fruit.” Dean informed.

“Thanks.” Sam ran to the bathroom to wash up before breakfast. Sam sat next to you, your head was on the table as you ate your pancakes through side of your month. “Umm are you still going to join me at the museum today (Y/N/N)?”

“Sure, once the room stops spinning.” You chuckled.

He scolded his brother, “Why did you let her drink that much?”

“She is a grown ass woman. She can make her own decisions.“ Dean responded.

“Hey, don’t blame Dean. I drank, it’s my fault. He’s been the best this morning.” Your voice was low and slow. “You should join us today, Dean.”

“Oh no, Sweetheart. I spend too much time in old boring places anyways.” He protested.

“Come on Dean, Sammy won’t take care of me like you will. You never want to go and do the things we want to do.” You whined.

“That’s because what you two like to do is boring.”

You were starting to come out of the fog, you guessed enough food, drugs and caffeine would do that. “Make you a deal, come out with us today and I’ll go do something fun with you.”

A boyish smirk stretched across his face, shit, what did you just agree to? “Anything?”

“Anything within reason Dean Winchester.”

“Ok, I’ll go with you guys. Let me think on what we can do for fun.” Dean chuckled.

Wow this was either the best or worst idea ever. Dean always had an unexpected side.

At the art museum, Sam really enjoyed the modern and abstract work while Dean liked the paintings of rolling hills and simple times with families. You thought about finding him a print to hang in his room. The day wore on and Dean kept checking to make sure you were ok. He even seemed to be having fun.

“(Y/N/N), I could paint this. Why would someone pay for this?” Dean asked looking at some splatter art.

“Not sure but if you like it I’m sure we could recreate something similar back at the bunker.”

“Nah, you know I’m a perfectionist. Working on this would kill me.” He chuckled and you took his arm and moved on to the next room. It had been hours, you were feeling so much better thanks to the best nurse ever, but it worried you that he hadn’t mentioned what he wanted to go do.

On the way back from the museum, you all were pretty tried and your feet were a little swollen. You fell face first on the bed once you got to the motel. “Oh no Sweetheart, don’t fall asleep on me now. Remember, you promised we do something fun.” Dean told you.

“Are we doing that tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.”

You turned over, “what the hell are we doing?”

“Not telling.”

“I not going unless you tell me what we are doing.” You said crossing your arms.

“Ok ok, we are going to a strip club.” He informed. You heard Sam chuckled from a distance.

“So is there a male review I don’t know about?” You questioned with sass in your voice.

“God no, I sure hope not.” He scoffed.

“Then why do you think I would want to go?” You stood up waving your arms a little.

“What it’ll be hot! I’ll buy you a lap dance.” You gave Dean the best bitch face possible. “Ok I’ll also pay for your drinks.”

“You really think I want to drink after last night,” he stared you down after your comment, “dammit, you know I want a drink.” You laughed, “ok, ok. Dumbass, I’ll go. Get your keys.”

“Oh whoa, whoa, whoa. You aren’t going looking like that.” Dean protested.

“What do you mean? I look fine.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and hesitantly started, “It’s better if the dancers think your straight.”

You glanced down at your outfit. You were wearing a plaid shirt, jeans and boots. “What you think I look like a lesbian? I hope you know, I get plenty of ass looking like this, you dick. Sam back me up here. I don’t look like a lesbian, do I?”

Sam looked so shocked that you brought him into the argument. “It’s just that you normally don’t look very feminine.”

“That’s just great. Ya’ll could have said something before now.” You pulled your plaid shirt and tank top off over your head. Both men just watched you, they tried not to but every few seconds they just had to look over at you. You slipped the plaid shirt over your head again, unbuttoning it then quickly tying it the front of the shirt. “Better?”

The Winchesters both tilted their heads and nodded. You ran off to the bathroom to brush your hair and put some make up on. You were pissed off. ‘Not feminine, my ass. I am damn sexy. Those fuckers.’ you mumbled to yourself as you got ready. “Alright you Son of a Bitch, let’s get this over with.” You basically spat at him.

A loud bass line pumped from the strip club as you got out of the Impala. You looked at the seedy joint and cringed, “it’ll be ok, (Y/N/N).”

You weren’t as pissed as earlier, Dean sang to you in car, “I know Dean. I’ll just need a drink as soon as we get in there.”

He chuckled, “I can make that happen.”

You both walked to the bouncer on back of the building. “

The backside closed

” he pointed to the front of the building.

“That’s what she said.” Dean joked with the guy, pointing at you. The man just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t listen to my friend.” You drug Dean’s smug ass to the front of the club. “Really Dean” you smacked his arm hard.

Dean immediately placed a drink in your hand before you even sat down. I couple of really skanky women came out and danced, they had fake everything, Dean sat and drooled over each one. “What about her? She’s beautiful. She would give you a great lap dance.” Dean asked.

“Umm no. I’ll let you know when I see one I like.”

After a few more songs, a very pretty, natural looking girl came on stage and danced. You watched her intently as she gyrated against the pole. “Her!” You pointed to the lovely blonde on stage.

He seemed excited when you finally made a decision, he got her attention before she got off the stage. She made her way over in five inch heels, “She would like a dance.” Dean told her.

A bunch of men started to watch you and the stripper as she began trying to seduce you. “Is there somewhere more private?” You asked her. Not enjoying the thirty plus eyes focused on you.

She took you and Dean to a room in the back, it was so much quieter with a sectional couch. The girl danced curving her body in a tantalizing shape before climbing on top of you. “By the way, what’s your name?” She asked.

“(Y/N).” You replied.

“I’m Sapphire.” She said with a low raspy voice.

You tilted your head, “Really? Sapphire. I’m not some horny stalker.”

She thought about it for a second, “ok, I’m Stephanie.”

“Better.”

“So are y'all together?“ Stephanie asked grinding on you.

You scoffed, “Dean and I. No not at all.”

“Well he wants to be with you. I can tell.” Her voice whispered in your ear.

“No he just wants to see two women together.” You looked over watching him try and controI himself.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Stephanie inquired.

You thought about it, she was hot and reminded you of your best friend from high school “Sure.” You answered. “Hey Dean watch this!” you called out as you reached up pulling Stephanie’s lips to yours.

“Oh fuck!” Dean breathed out, you looked at him intently while your tongue massage Stephanie’s tongue.

Breaking away from the kiss, “How was that?”

“Really good!” She said.

Dean was palming himself, “Yeah that was awesome! Please continue.”

“Tell me something Stephanie, you don’t have to work a second job, do you?” You asked.

“Oh no, I make plenty of money.” She giggled.

“Really? Like how much?”

She cupped your ear whispering, “Last year, I made $120,000.”

Your face contorted into shock and you would have stood up if she wasn’t on top of you, “You made how much!” All you could think about was that you and the boys didn’t have anything unless you were hustling pool or running credit card scams. “You make that much and all you have to do is shake your ass?”

“Yeah, you know the boss is always looking for new girls and you have a great body. We have an amateur hour starting at 10pm.” You looked at your watch it was ten after nine.

Stephanie got up and stood next to her you, “Hey Dean, you wanna see me strip?”

“Hell yeah!” He said wiggling his eyebrows. Stephanie drug you out of the champagne room. “I’m callin’ Sam and Cas.” Dean yelled out.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off.

Back stage was fun there were a ton of people yelling and running all over the place. Stephanie got the attention of one of the managers, “Lenny, this is (Y/N/N) she wants to perform for amateur hour.”

He was tall, decent looking and made a lot of eye contact. He looked you over, took your hand and spun you around. “Alright, very nice. That’s good work Sapphire. Get her into an outfit. She is our first and only amateur tonight. This your first time, Darlin’?”

“Yes it is.”

“Don’t worry doll! We got your back. I’ll make sure the guys out front treat you good and tip big.” He winked flashing a great smile.

Stephanie, and two of the other girls helped with your hair and makeup. One girl held up a sexy cop outfit and a nurse outfit. “Which one?”

You sipped your bourbon and laughed, of all the decisions you were going to make today this was a fun one. Jody and Donna would not like the cop outfit and Dean had a thing for nurses, so dammit, the nurse outfit it was. You got to play pretend all the time but this was so different, you weren’t doing this because of some case, this was for you and to get Dean a little hot and bothered.

“Wow you clean up nice. Good job girls!” Lenny praised. “Your name is (Y/N/N) right, well we never use the girls’ real names so tonight you are Bunny.” He pulled back the curtain just to let you pop your head out for a second. “Sapphire said you came with a friend. He still out there?”

“Yeah, and he brought two of my other best friends.” You said rubbing your hands together. You were nervous now. You never get nervous. They had seen you with very little clothes on before but not like this.

“I understand that you are nervous. You look great! The guys are going to love you. Your friends aren’t going to cause any problems for me?” Lenny asked.

“No they shouldn’t.”

Lenny got on the mic, “Men, have we got a treat for you! This is her first time to the stage. Put your hands together, she is beautiful, and all– natural. And it looks like she already has her own cheering section. Boys, please welcome the lovely and talented “Bunny!”

The lights were blinding as your borrowed clear six inch heels led you to the stage. You heard the beat of ‘Doctor Feelgood’ play over the speaker and you could hear the Winchesters hooting from the floor as walked out. It took no time for your eyes to lock on to Dean, your body snaked as you wiggled your hips on stage. You had never felt so exposed but so empowered that every mans’ eyes were on you. You practically glided to the edge of the stage that Dean had been sitting at, he held out a twenty for you of which you gladly bit from his hand. “You look so hot!” Dean mouthed to you.

“Oh damn!” Sam yelled out. You turned your attention to him. Curling your finger at him, you danced your way low on stage and directed Sam to put some bills in your garter. His dimples shined and you smiled back at him.

Poor little stoic Cas sat there with his arms crossed unsure what to do. Dean handed him a couple of fives. “Come here, Cassie.” You ordered.

“(Y/N), I don’t understand, if you need money we would have just given it to you.” Cas stated.

You got on all fours shaking your ass for all the other men to see, “I don’t need the money, I’m just doing this for fun.” You sat up and unzipped the front of your outfit just enough to show off your bra. “Why don’t you put that right here?” As your fingers traced the front of your cleavage. Cas’ eyes widened and like a nervous teenager shoved all the bills he had in your bra. You stood feeling good about teasing the boys.

The pole was calling to you, as you watched the girls earlier you remembered what they had done to get the right propulsion to swing around. You were probably stronger than most of the women there, your arms and legs grasp hold of the pole as you leaned back letting your long hair flow. You heard a guy say ‘take it off!’ from the bar. Well that was what you were here to do.

Dean’s emerald eyes watched your every move sure there were other men in the room but none of them truly mattered, you were taking your clothes off for him. Something inside of you changed, the white gloves you were wearing came off first, then you finished unzipping the white nurses outfit. The items fell to the floor and the men kept pouring the cash in the stage. You weren’t even done yet. You pretended that your hands were Dean’s as your hand moved slowly over your body while your hips searched for anything with friction. You bit your lip, you worked your way down to your knees, crawling around the stage making eye contact with all the men. You stood, winking at as many of them as you could then you peeled the the boy shorts down over your perky ass revealing the bright pink thong on underneath. You shook your ass one more good time, bending over so that they all got a good view. Then your set was over and Lenny asks for a round of applause. You quickly grabbed your borrowed clothes and hard earned money, and left the stage.

You put your nurse dress back on before you walked back through the curtains to work the crowd with Stephanie on your arm. Dean stopped you with the most adorable smirk and a hand full of cash, “I get the first dance, Sweetheart.”

“Ok” you giggled.

“Go get him tiger!” Stephanie whispered.

You drug him off to the champagne room, “So how much to get for this?” He held up a hundred.

“You know you’re ass.” You chuckled straddling him. “Put that shit away. I don’t want any of that, I just want you.”

His lips started to curl up then he wet them perfectly, “I’ve wanted to hear that from you for awhile.”

He was already getting hard, your ass rubbed against his soft denim. He pressed his lips against yours, gripping into the meat on your thighs. He held your back scooting as close to you as he could. Your hands danced through his hair before he flipped you over on the couch. “Be honest, you are only doing this cause I danced in that stage.” You asked while he kissed down your chest.

“Maybe, but this is the first time you’ve ever really showed any interest.” He commented.

“That is such BS!” You scoffed, bitting his lip. “If you weren’t so busy chasing waitresses, we could have been doing this after every hunt.”

“Oh really now!” His hands skillfully pulled down the zipper. “You are so beautiful, Sweetheart.” He whispered. “I wish you didn’t have all that make up on.”

“So what I’m too feminine now for ya?”

“No, you’re just a little trashy now.” He put a finger up to your mouth to stop you from spouting anything and everything out of your lips. “I mean it’s fine for one night stands but my girlfriend, I want her to look just like you do every day.”

You grinned liked a crazy person, did Dean just bring up the idea of you being his girlfriend. “So have you ever had sex with a stripper while still at the club?”

“God, I’d thought you’d never ask.” He pressed a firm kiss on your lips.

He pulled you up into his arms and on his lap. You shrugged off the rest of your dress, you heard a ripping sound from your thong. “Sorry they just needed to come off.” He shyly said, you didn’t argue.

His lips were full and starting to get swollen as you bit into them more. Your lips sucked a huge dark mark on his neck. Your hands were frantic trying to touch every ounce of skin. The dance had gotten you all worked up. This wasn’t how you thought your first time with Dean would go but ‘fuck it’, you were having a great time. Somehow, you managed to get his belt buckle undone and pushed his pants past his ass. His huge cock rubbed next to dripping wet pussy.

Dean padded down his pockets, “Shit! I don’t have a condom and I know you aren’t on the pill.” Fuck, you thought, he was right you weren’t on the pill and your bag was with the boys.

“Well then we will just have to improvise. You know this backside isn’t closed.” You lifted your eyebrows making sure he understood.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

“Yeah!” You smirked. You let his length get coated in your slick before you turned around on his lap presenting your ass to him. Untying your bra, he cupped your breasts and held you close to his chest. You gently lined him up, the feeling of his blunt head sent a shock down your whole core.

“We can stop if this hurts you, Baby.” He grunted in your ear.

It was a glorious burn of his cock filled your ass inch by inch, no way you were going to stop now. He pinched your nipples only making you buck your hips even more. Fuck it felt so good. You bounced up and down, moving forward, away from his chest, his hands found a home on your hips. You had to resist the urge to scream out, you didn’t want some bouncer to stop this.

He pulled you back closer to him, bathing your neck with his tongue, his steady hand worked its way to your clit, rubbing you roughly making you feel like you would soar above the clouds. He thrusted even harder now, trying to catch his release and yours.

You forgot where you were, your vision when black, you tilted your head back, basking in his manly musk. You let out a very high pitched moan, “Ohhhh!“ His name was said over and over again until you came down from your high, “Fuck, that was awesome!”

“You’re telling me. I’ve never had sex with a stripper.” He chuckled.

“Hey guys, you done in there.” You heard Sam’s voice call out.

You opened the door just enough, “Sammy, can you get Cas’ coat for me?” He obliged, you left your torn off clothes on the floor and bundled up in Cas’ trench coat. The four of you ran from the club and piled into the car.

Not a word was spoken for few, then everyone just laughed with the exception of Cas, who still didn’t understand why you had to take your clothes off. “So, (Y/N/N) when am I going to get a lap dance like Dean did?” Sam questioned.

“Oh Sammy, I don’t think you can handle me, Baby.” You playfully said right before you sucked on his ear lobe. “But then again you probably feel just as good as Dean does.”

You thought Dean would be jelious but he just raised his eyebrow at you. You sat back in your seat, “but I think Cas is man enough to handle me.” You opened up the trench and glided his hands up and down your thigh, real close to your sex. Cassie looked like a deer in headlights, “it’s ok Cas, I won’t bite.” You looked at Dean in the rearview mirror and you both laughed.

“What the hell did you give her to drink tonight?” Sam asked Dean.

“Oh no it wasn’t Dean, it was Stephanie.”

In unison the boys asked, “Who’s Stephanie?”

“Sapphire, the hot as hell stripper who was helping me. Sammy, Sammy, she’d be great for you.” You tapped him on his shoulder.

“I don’t date strippers.” Sam protested.

“Well, your brother does.” You laughed. “Dude, she’s a law student, think about it biatch and I got her number. We could so totally double date. Shit, she could even find a girl for Cas.” You told them.

“Ah, how about we talk about this in the morning when you sober up.” Sam suggested.

You almost feel asleep listening to the purr of Baby’s engine until you saw the shining lights of the hotel. You walked in, handed Cas back his coat, “I’m going to take a shower. This stripper glitter is going to be a bitch to get off.” Your naked form sauntered to the bathroom.

“Damn, Dean I think you got a wild one on your hands.” Sam said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I guess we all needed a couple of days off.” Dean chuckled.

“Oh Dean, aren’t you going to join me?” You yelled over the rushing water.

“Be right there!” He rushed to his duffel. “Can’t forget theses.” He showed Sammy two golden condom wrappers.

“Agh.. gross man!” Sam squinched up his nose.

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

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[nocancer]

Why It Rains

~~~~ an excerpt from a working novel by Cancer moon. ~~~~~**

Lately I’ve been channeling from a higher source. And it’s not something I have to keep up with. It feels like, natural almost. Like im always at the same level of it, or at least very close. I’m not gonna lie, I was scared at first. Scared that I would fail. Scared that I wouldn’t live up to the expectations I set for myself while meditating. But so far things are looking up. I even got that new computer I wanted. Who knows, for now I’m just gonna keep writing and go from there. I’m not too concerned with the trivial things that life likes to bother us with, seemingly always at the worst times imaginable. I might check out this internet thing too. It’s promoted as this fun happy place and if I didn’t know any better, I’d of taken that for face value, right off the bat like a sucker. Next thing you know the internet turns out to be a cold and lonely place, and I’m left to wallow in my own self-pity, clutching my knees in the fetal position, mad at myself for failing to see the internet for what it is, a stupid marketing scheme. The point is, I have to see for myself. That’s just the type of person I am. You can ask my mom that. She’ll tell you. Ask her about the time I told the guy who was fixing my alternator to shove it when he was trying to charge me a thousand. Mind you, I had the money. But you’re not supposed to be dishonest to me just ‘cause I’m a millenial. The guy pretty much called me that. He said, hey kid, try to be more polite next time. But I never listened. I don’t need advice from a deadbeat greasemonkey. Anyway, apparently everyone’s connected to the cloud via sites like facebook and instagram. And when people log on to jump in on the action, usually the first thing they do is say hi to their friends, and maybe even drop a smile or two to show them they care. And if they drop a heart then you know they already had a chance to settle in, and are just trying to take it to the next level, now that the internet, in all its digital, impermanent page swiping glory, is owned, unabashedly theirs.

Conscious apples of languid rotundity creep along countless borders of a pale grey sky. 

The pears are unwavering in the efforts of embassy, initiating calls backs when the time calls for it, and deceit when grape factions step in and intervene. 

“What are these meddling affairs, young pear?” asked the grape.

“I don’t know. It’s the apples control our every move. How we live. Our daily lives.”

“Hush with that nonsense. You are nothing but a pear, a young one at that, how could you possibly know who’s behind it all?”

“I don’t know.”

The grape and the young pear sat on a brook and wondered who was behind it all.

-------

You see this all-seeing-eye mural in Atlanta? On the side of Ravine across the street from the federal reserve building? Yeah. I could strip down naked and run to the middle of that intersection there and scream my lungs out until i started coughing up blood and act violent to anyone who approached me and i still wouldnt match the frequency of that demonic shit. People walk by it everyday going to work, going to lunch, going to walk their dog, and nobody bats an eye. An eye for the government, an eye for the media, an eye for world hunger. Not a single raised eyebrow goes towards whats in control of every aspect of their daily lives. Oh the president controls my life. But I voted for him, so its okay. Is what they would say, as they munched on Mcdonalds with vaccines in their arms and got mad at traffic because they were going to miss their favorite show. A show that retroactively fed into a never ending problem and response feedback loop that activates the reptilian part of the brain by broadcasting images of rape and pedophilia via techniques that the producers learned at Harvard’s school of broadcasting, which also used a system of coercion, this time in the blind trust the students had for their professors just because they dressed nice and said big words. You’re going places. This kid’s gonna be a star. 

-----

I’m only half of what I am without your other half to complete me. Only kids ask rhetorical questions. But why should I be any different? 

I live by the way side. Wherever the wind takes me. I notice things that most don’t. I’m not sure if what I think is valid or not. I don’t believe anything is valid. Likewise I dont believe anything is invalid. One things for sure. If there’s one thing I know to be true. Is that I’m not an adult. No, Definitely not. 

-----------

Hiksos lamented blast fully daring the credence of all his undoing. Unjust and bashful forwritten to layers upong layers of drug smitten landscapes. 

“Youre good/” Said Jamie.

I see why she likes so much to hate on anyone she can get her hands on. And im not talking about physical hands. No, these are claws of misfortune. --The bad falls into a category still undefined by our human grasp.--

Apples on seminoles. Berries on amazing places we strove for. 

The graveyard was pure and unassuming as a place for the dead should very well be. And with that we took our ritual to newer, more fulfilling levels. Levels of which determine our outlook as shades between optimistic and cautiously realistic. With our futures in the balance, 

“Whatchu think dawg?” said Jerry. He was on his 2nd beer and 5th shot of vodka sprite. and I was on my mind long enough for nothing to be worth a damn. The vibe was dull, and the smoke gone. I lit a cigarette.

“I feel like shit.” 

“You good?”  J

“Yeah but I’m just tired like overall.” About life.

“Why not be happy about life? It’s all in your head. Just flip the switch. Like a light. On and off. Boom. No more stress.”  J

“If only if it were that easy.”

“It is that easy. That’s the thing.”

Sipping heroically, going farther and phasing out all menial contrivances. Searching for myself like the lost land of atlantis. Humanity will get what it deserves. 

“In due time” said Thomas. 

I look at orion and wonder if those faint stars below its belt are actually indicative of a warrior kneeling on one knee with his shield raised or if its a flaccid penis that hangs all the way down to his knee. Im a pervert, always have been. Theres no stopping how much i will crash thoughtforms together in a heinous way until they stick together and form a common truth. I’m on the last life cycle of a cat’s 9 lives. Theres really nothing to lose by being a pervert. I had a friend in high school who said we’re all gay. I dont remember when. He said it more than once. I dont know if he was gay. I didnt think like that back then, but I wouldn’t to be anything other than who I am today. But again, there’s no stopping a mind so spiritual that it can hold each and every possibility at once and consider them valid. Then an external force canceling out my infinity. And I’m left to deal with people as if playing some sick little game thats suppose to teach me a lesson or something. So that I can ascend to the next plane of existence. At least thats what I’ve heard. But when the night hits and everyone finally shuts up for once it seems much simpler than that. Like im watching myself through a lens bestowed on me by a god with no intelligence. And during the day he becomes intelligent, and I’m left trying to keep up with, on his terms. “Fuck you bitch” I tell it often. “Youre not real” I’d say over and over. “What the fuck” is the saying that gives closure to it all. The only reason God looks good on paper is because it’s a testament to the author being strong enough to have it in his mind and make sense of it. It’s a mark people wear like aushwitz that make their beliefs somehow something you should pay attention to because I’m physical and God’s not but I speak of God so therefore God’s physical so you should listen to me. But then thatd make the speaker God. 

By and by I’ve messed up hastily my dreams and aspirations. Tattooed on a building as ink drips down like an inner angst perceiving things as they are, and not what society says they should be. The happy medium an ephemeral code that could shift and shake into any causality one deems it to. The rulers of the world have taken domain over the one thing every human on earth has in common. I call this desire. They call it money. A body that begets greed and turns hatred to lust. Actions which motivate our inhibitions to phantasmagoria. Until we accept our place as lesser than the pettiness of our common folk. Shy and afraid, contingent upon basement dwelling lab rats who fane logic to reasonable bell curves while sucking nature dry of her own resources. The very nature that sunlight reflects upon his incessant rays which batter and tumble the distance. If only they knew she was her and he was them. But it doesn’t go like that here. Because if it did, then all karmas coming to a head would get their just due, and we’d be in purgatory. While heaven remained for the gods and earth for the mortals. And nothing can be God except authority to mortals when they’ve been tricked into accepting the state and thus have become it..

What a lovely home indeed. No one could bother me here. Except for the only one’s I knew. Because nobody knows I exist except for those who know me. I’d rather keep it that way. For a streak of doubt can enter me at any time and cause worry for my future. A future still so far away  because I lack the initiative to care. Maybe that will change now that I have room to breathe. Just when I thought I was going downhill for good, my dad came around for me. And now I have a responsibility to get me up in the morning. No more waiting in line for luck to befall me in my yoga. The truth is, when reality caved in itself, and I could see the dying whispers in the eyes of those around me, I accepted my estrangement from the happy things in life. My avoidance of the dastardly grotesque was keeping me back this whole time. I like darkness and pitiful efforts of circumstance that vibrate low enough to stay hidden from others, but high enough so that it is detectable by my astral receiver. Two of which is an outward expression of another. The extension of material that is necessary for movement to take place. Before this realization I endured through pain of my own doing.  

“How are you?” people would say.

And I never had a response.  

Telepathic centrifuges would scan my mind. Taking flight off far off reaches of iniquity. All facets calling upon a microverse for an answer. I an I. Then they’d be gone without hesitation.  

“Jerry’s calling” said Thomas.

“for what?” This guy wont leave me alone, I thought.

“I don’t know answer it.”

“Why are you bored?” I said.

“Yes, maybe he has weed.” Said Thomas.

“Ay whatsup man. Me and Thomas we’re just talking about you.”

“Oh word?”

“Yeah and then you call its like divine intervention or something?”

“Yeah thomas was tryna find some weed and you the first person he thought of so you must be doing something right.”

“Yo Thomas.”

“Oh hold up let me put you on speaker.” I said quickly.

“Is Thomas there? Yo Thomas.”

“Jerry, whats good?”

“I got the pack man, I heard you was lookin for a come up. I got the pack man.”

“Aight bet cus im bored as a motherfucka right now ya feel me?”

“It aint my fault.”

“Yo he do gotta big ass house tho I aint gone lie but like shit aint got nothin in it.”

“I just moved here a week ago.”  

“So for a whole week- Yo is today Friday?”  

“Yeah its Friday.” Who cares? I thought.

“So that’s last Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and now Friday, and you still aint got nothin in here but a fridge.”

“You aint even seen the whole house.”

“Nah you know you just in the middle of the carpet with no pillow no blankets or nothin.  

And you wake up and go open the fridge and aint nothin in it. Then you go back to sleep.”

“Ay what he dream about?” Jerry said through the phone.

He aint dream about much ‘cept for one occurring dream. Of a fridge, but this time it’s a mini fridge. And its pink and he’s able to move it around, so he takes it up to his room and opens the freezer door just a little so it’s a little crack and he starts beatin it up till he has a wet dream and wakes up.”

“Alright you took it too far. It was kinda funny before but you killed it.”

“Wait, Where’s the fridge now? It’s not in the kitchen?” Jerry said.  

“Bruh that’s the thing its just in the middle of the living room not even plugged in or nothin.”

“Jerry I know you so concerned about my god damn fridge but this time dude is lying over here.”

haha

“It’s in my kitchen like a normal person. Like I don’t know I guess you think this shit is funny or something but whatever come through and you can see for yourself.” Don’t talk to him he’s a loser was the attitude I was picking up. I thought they we’re beyond all that and capable of extraneous thought. Oh well, I guess I’m done with these idiots.

No more sitting around all day.

If I can see them for who I want, and not who they really are, it’d make no difference. 

It’s a best of both worlds type situation. I just hate that I have to resort to this.

Its a sporadic and unpredictable endeavor that can detach you from life’s depiction. Seemingly framing a purpose in cosmetics among layer-caked mine field of mind clouds. I want to be a positive addition to those around me. And for them to be honest to me in return. Honest  because everything around me is a nuisance. And dishonest It’s not necessary to have car insurance, police, governments. This realm is alive. 3 dimensions respective of splashes and 3rd parties. Because of this fact, I must be able to flow freely, grounded in freedom, estranged to control. Last summer when I jumped into the alleghany i felt freer than i have in a long ass time. Jerry asked me if he thought we’d still be here next year. I told him I didn’t want to think about it. That I was enjoying the moment.

“Man fuck that bitch.” T

“What? Who you callin’ a bitch?” J

“You know what I mean.” Thomas smacked his lips.

“I really don’t but whatever.” J

“Yo Jerry did you leave yet?” 

“How far away is it? Not too bad right?”

   “Nah it’s not too bad you’re like 30 minutes away. You’re in a nice area. Lots of rich people.” J

“Yeah I came up on it. It kinda just happened.”

“Whatchu mean it fell out of the sky?” Jerry asked.

“It’s been in my family for a while and I was lucky enough to be gifted it.” I said.

“That’s dope, you’ll get some good use out of it.”

“Yeah I’ma take advantage of what I got ya know? Make it so anyone can pull up as long as I fuck with them.” I said.

“Thats why I’m comin’ through. 

Just say its the spot and I’m there.”

“For sure. But yo, if youre bringing your girl over then bring some pillows and blankets to sleep on cus I only got mine.”

“I need some too.” Thomas joined in.”

“We’ll stop then.” I said reluctantly.

“

“And where are we gonna chill? We can’t just sit on the floor.” Thomas took his eyes off the road.

“Alright, theres a home depot near the chinese place we’ll go their while we wait.” I said.

“Does Home Depot have blankets?” Thomas said like he was so concerned.

“No but they got that outdoor patio section for furniture and shit, So I don’t know we’ll find something.”

            “They got mad carhartt jackets for the low low there. You should check them out.” 

           “Alright I’ll check them out.” The streetlights suspended time in space.

“Yo spicy egg rolls, add it to the list.” Jerry said finally.

“Sounds good.” Thomas replied. There was a pause.

“You headin’ out?” T

“Yeah. I am. Right now.” Jerry responded.

“A’ight I’ll see you when I see you.” T

I interrupted.

“I was gonna get spring rolls instead and we don’t want too many rolls so you want dumplings instead?” The thought popped into my head and I had to get it out.

“I dont really care either way” Jerry said.

“So yes on the dumplings? Pork, Chicken or beef?” I said.

“Dude I really dont give a fuck.” 

“A’ight peace.”

“Wait actually get some extra spring rolls. I don’t want my breath to stink.” Jerry was a quick thinker.

“Okay. Peace.” 

I ordered the chinese while Thomas turned the radio down.

It was 7:30 on a Friday. Traffic was still out and slow except on the highway. The plaza where Home Depot was sat on an indent so that a perimeter around us denied the sun a chance of bringing light to the inevitable darkness. Highway barricades exalted the east coast away from our position. I closed my eyes and listened to newly formed divinations stemming from a horizontal after-glow. What was AM was now PM. And just as I would prepare for a weekend of contract work,  I too was going to do the same for the night. Because Friday was in the air, telling me I was the cause of it.

Thomas pulled into the lot and flicked his cigarette a stop-sign to an array of F150s and pug-faced express vans that sat high enough to deem his reliable, good on gas mileage, crusty seated hand-me-down first-car shit-box a worthy proponent of wu-wei. It was the type of car that doesn’t speak for anything or reflect an image onto its owner other than its being there. 

At least this one had a little personality though, fashioned by who was behind the wheel, and the fact that I knew him through drive-ways of careless faces, drive-thrus, and drunken waffle house binges where we kept to ourselves and almost forgot it wouldn’t last. And even though the universe proved its worth to me, I cant help but feel theres in imbalance in my past.

That these were just moments. And days would go by. Blunts would get passed. Pets would die. We’d hope to not hear of our relatives dying, but that would happen to. Cause of death? Old age. It wouldn’t say that on the obituary. It was say something safe like stage 4 cancer or hodgekins lymphona. But everyone knows about the cap put on as at birth. That there’s a limit to how long we get to stay here. Sometimes we’d hear of our friends dying too. But those were rare cases. Few and far between. Unless of course you were the type of kid to attract that sort of stuff. Then you probably deserved it anyway. That pain. Irregardless of the pain it takes to die. You imagine how it must have felt in the body of your friend. Like they we’re on the otherside begging you to come with them. I’m free. They’d say. It only hurts a little. And unlike the old people, their obituary would read suicide. Basically an off-hand way of saying they needed jesus. Because in the end, nobody truly knows what would drive someone to do that to themselves. We can speculate all we want. They we’re bipolar. They wore funny clothes to school and we’re bullied as a result. But only someone with special access could consult them on that. To ask them why they denied life and chose death instead. Only someone who could be objective about the whole thing and not get caught up in their emotions could ask them this. In America that’s Jesus, God of funeral homes, shepherd of lost souls. The frustrating part, at least to me, is that all he can come up with is it was Satan’s fault. But that doesn’t do it for me. No. I need more than that. After all, Jesus, you faked your own death and ran away to the pyrynees. Did you not? You we’re too afraid to commit suicide. You half-assed your commitment. Maybe you knew what awaited you resembled a sleepless dream? Certainly you knew another part of you was fit for ascension. But then wouldn’t be the center of attention like you we’re on earth. You’d be around people who knew a light language and we’re just as smart as you, if not smarter. The applied principles of the sun was common knowledge there. That was like basic shit. Nobody was looking for preachers there. What they we’re looking for was way more advanced than your little yoga techniques. Stop hiding and tell us what’s really going on out here. Something tells me it has something to do with Satan, just not in the way you’re telling us. I have a feeling he holds the keys to a piece of knowledge we never even knew existed. If that’s the case, and I find out we’ve been duped, then I might just take it upon myself and offer you the same fate you offered my friend when he was down bad on that fateful Spring night mad at the world and pissed off at the hypocrisy you created for him.  But this time when I get to you I’ll make sure you won’t be down bad. There will be nothing to numb the pain. No. You’re gonna feel this. Then things will come full circle. Order. I like when things happen that way.

“Yo I need paint. “

“ Paint?”

 “I just remembered. For the walls.” I said in a descending volume.

We walked through the doors in the purgatory between store and street. I grabbed a cart.

“Is that what we’re gonna do for fun? Man I might regret this whole night if we end up hanging dry-wall and shit.”

“I hear you bro but we can play poker, I got a speaker so we can bump some music, and we’ll just kick it.”

Thomas strayed passed the check-out lines and almost ran into a stack of wood hanging from a guy’s trolley.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“Where’s the paint?” He said turning around.

We looked like we should be in the city rather than the hardware store. Everyone was looking and I know I’m not paranoid when I say that. We we’re foreigners visiting a small scale metropolis under construction. A place for bandits to face their acrophobia and not make it across to the next tower without getting grime on their gats ort hope they liked our style.

"They got krylons?" I said. The aisle opened up where the rafters stretched through the ceiling leaving ground level two by fours in their dust. If I focused I could hear an echo reverberate off my skull, taking its merry time and judging me before I could hold my breath. “We used to be so into this.”  Thomas said.

“I don’t know why we stopped.”  I said. He took it as a valid question.

“We got older I guess. Fuck.”

“Remember the overpass on Holcomb Bridge? I wonder if our shits still there.” 

“We need to go back there.”

Gum soles in an unfinished basement. This was the most people I’ve ever seen. a’ve ever seen. The fire marshall could’ve came knocking any moment. Though I don’t think anybody would hear him. Lil Pump was 3 doors down. To the fire marshall, is that everyone was moving as one. To the fire marshal, this could be a good or bad thing in the lens of a fire marshall. Good because if someone started popping shots off with an uzi or something and everyone tried to run out the house through the basement side-door, the main one through the hall at the back by the bathroom, or if they went up stairs and found the wrong door and had to jump off the balcony or something, if shit really started to pop off like this, of shit really hit the fan, then it’d be good to have 1 body instead of a hundred. There we’re straddlers of course, but all they’d have to do is hide in its belly folds and hope to not get lost while the body was hauling ass down the street resorting to the dreaded question, “Can I get a ride?” And simply put it’d be bad because human flesh burns quite well when laced with alcohol. That was a risk we were willing to take and that brought us that much closer together.

When I came in with Katie I noticed the crystalline qualities of blonde hair captivated the vibe and were on display in the trim lining. When you looked across it was like some secret edition of the yearbook where everyone didn’t have to pretend they liked each other.

Only this time there were no profiles, only shadows. And instead of signatures there were tattoos on skin that said things like “im too good for you” and “the sky is watching.”

 What collected at the corners were pushed outside to observe that ways a part equidistant to the cups on the table to the enthusiasm among them. This was inside. Everyone needed to make sense and not be meta. You couldn’t point out how we were all here by chance like Tommy did, “xxxxxxx” What an idiot. You couldn’t speculate as to why Rhea spent the whole month showing out for sympathy on twitter and crying at school over her breakup with Nick but is now falling on top of him, grabbing his arm and shit and Nick’s just going with it like he doesn’t care his best friend got sucked off by yours truly in front of everyone at last weeks party and he was there and she was there and it was all fine like nothing happened. “Well Nick got with Mercedes, and her and Rhea ignore each other now. It’s really awkward.” Despite the fakeness, there was an heir of trust unlike any ive ever seen here unlike back at school where we’d be leaning into our cheeks thinking about how to score more brownie points with the cliques we were in.

At least that’s what others were thinking about. The teacher’d be talking about solving for y for the millionth time, you know, moving things around by reverse operations to make sure they maintained the same relationship with one another. I never had to study because when it came time to test it’d be like the answers’d just come to me and I’d end up acing the damn thing. I became known as a smart person who didn’t care so everything canceled out and I was able to stay neutral and move between the punks to get drugs, the nerds to get power, and the popular kids to get access to parties like the one I was at now. I know this all sounds vain, but I guess that’s how it works when you’re a teenager still trying to find yourself when everyone else was doing the same but would rather die then admit it. Now that I look back I realize the whole thing was meaningless. There was no substance, no fulfillment. High School was mostly waiting with small pockets of being thrust into the limelight.   Just a series of empty promises leading nowhere. You could of met your better half completely in the midst of knowing each other at a soul level but all indications were that it wouldn’t last so you made excuses and broke it off before it was too late so that your future could be at least bearable when you we’re laying in your cheeks mad at the world wondering why you were the only thing you could think about. You could rest your heart on your decision. The sex flashbacks at the most random times like talking to your grandma or waiting in line at the grocery store didn’t matter anymore. You could put it all on that. Your decision. 

“Daniel, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Likewise Sharlene, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Oh how sweet of you to say that to me.”

“Wait, why are you guys being so formal?” Katie said like she overheard.

“We should stop.” Sharlene said. Daniel was taller than all of them.

“How was your day?” His eyes got bigger. Crazy.

“Did you have a good day?” Leaning forward with his back against the counter.

“I did have a good day.” Sharlene said. “Did you?” She put her hand up and when she realized this she snapped them across her face and into his. 

“Mr. Sassy?”

“Mr. Sassy!” Some dude in a hat with lettuce coming out said.

These we’re the types of exchanges that went on inside. Loud but cold. All in the vain of attention seeking like some sort of competition or test of brilliance. Only that this time unlike in normal society, where everyone’s trying to get their point across as clear and concise as possible because focus is king over style, this time brilliance was a stage of show. And whoever could hold onto it the longest was most certainly king or queen and surely the apple of their eye. Their being the cult that was the inside.

The 5 of us ended up by an air conditioning unit. We were staring at the moon thinking about what do next because we were already exhausted. Not because we weren’t faded enough. It was quite the opposite. There was too much judgment. And that was as bad of a high you could get when you were on the other end of it. We were over it. We were desperately passing a blunt I’d been eager to light since I rolled it in the car. 

“I needed this.” Jerry said.

“Yeah? Me too.” I looked at Katie. She’s the one I rolled it with earlier in the day when 4 different people we’re blowing up my phone asking if I was coming and telling me who I could bring or not.

“I don’t know it’s just like the vibe or something. Like something’s off.” Tom said.

Katie was mostly quiet and sipping the blunt with her cute little hands and was gravitating towards Miranda in a nonverbal display of boredom.

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Jerry said.

“We really don’t.” I agreed.

“Talk about what?” I’m just saying.” Thomas said after a pause.

“Yeah I know but I’m not about to go behind their backs and gossip like we’re not fuckin’ with it thats cool we can do our own shit.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Is there anything close?”

“You tryna go to waffle house?” 

Katie and Miranda laughed. First Katie snorted then Miranda bent over and held her knees.

“What are y’all tryna do?”

“Uhh can we just get out of here?” Katie said towards the street.

“Yeah. Let’s walk.” I said.

You left your memories with me.

So you could live without you.

You left your past in the dark, and

it was something you did for the hell of it because life

was too easy for you.

 "What's wrong?" I said.

"Leave with me." You said.

"Is something bothering you?" I said.

"No." You were always in the dark.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here."

"I can't tell if you're being serious." You threw a rock

down the train tracks, and pointed where I was looking.

"That way's North to Chattanooga." You turned around.

I leaned to the side as if I was peeking down a narrow

hallway.

 "South to Miami. Hmm. It depends." You said rubbing your chin.

"It depends on you finding a girlfriend so you can get back to reality is what it depends on." I said.

I dont think a single car

drove by since we got here. Moving trucks could be seen on the overpass where the crossing signals were, but were inaudible. The only thing audible was the large-scale kithen across the street which would hiss occasionally over its constant hum. It also had steam coming out of it. We walked towards the red-light on stones half the size of our trainers and went to balancing on the rail half to avoid twisting our ankles and half to ammuse ourselves.

"I was gonna say it depends on what's better, a good ol' country bitch who'll cook you catfish till you cant eat no more, or a bad spanish mommy who may or may not be there for you when you really need it."

 "Oh, si senorita Hot like tamales. Muy bueno.

Como te amos rapido rapido mucho Miami me gusto."

"Bro we're hopping trains not borders

you fucking wetback."

"Whoa, hold up ese, you're hopping trains, not me.

Besides, we'll be hopping on a lot more than trains

if we keep this up." I said.

"Trains not borders, puto."

"Man watch your mouth."

"Here comes one now."

ijijiijjiiji

We hid in the bushes. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Me fist then the girls and Jerry while Thomas was last in..

"We should of put a coin on their,:

*End graveyard party and go into chapter about family* BONES laden arrows

----

Just say its the spot and I’m there.

“Jerry just texted me.” I said to Thomas.

“What’d he say?”

“He’s bringing Erica.”

“Why was it even a question?” Thomas said. He was flipping his head back and forth at me. Zig-zagging from hinges to nails to glue guns and floor tiles, biding his time, sulking like i was gonna feel sorry for him.

“I don’t know man. I’m sure it had something to do with his roommates not being out.” I said. 

“Well if his initial reaction was him being scared then what that tell you about what he think of us?”

“Nah. You’re thinking too far into it. He’s tryna get her to let him hit.”

So much was out of context. There was disharmony. I continued.

“Maybe there’s something about two dudes without girlfriends that isn’t exactly the most potent

“

Smoke stacks comply and hesitate partaking in sport. Indulging in an aptitude that continues to see how it feels when you say such simple words as “hello, and, thats cool.” That continues to touch a nonverbal membrane when you move in such a way that broke the color barrier between black and white. So I’ll appreciate you like all the others do. Because I, completely and utterly, should know to carry you with me into infinity. And I should know, for a fact, that distance is dependant on its terminal velocity at the moment of impact. Gorgeous you are when tulips gather around cow pastures only to wither away upon the changing of the guard. Tip toes, necromancy, ice skates, all these make sense to me now, that ever since the day of my christening, good beings struck witherto my intelligence and rendered them useless. These knots, the qualities of which we’re twisted, utterly finagled to a degree that crystallized under pressure. I feel like I was born so I could come into people’s live when they needed someone to blame their problems on. That’s why I always get those stupid looks. Sometimes I just wanna ask them like “what the fuck are you on?” I guess all those diamonds couldnt teleport you out of here huh? Too bad. I ain’t judgin’. 

knotted in purpose. 

Oh how I looked on in brevity the callus threads that stretched for miles upon miles into causeways of blindness which overtook me in haste. Very painstaken I was in the trials before then. But now I see the reason for them. For nothing could have felt better than to be relieved of all that built up stress which churned and churned until a mechanism of ventricles let go in common translation. Like ruminating gats and dust swipers caged so discreetly so as to fixate on unto sizzling barge-heads. Almost as if silly esquires of desperately manifold doldrums exist solely to highlight the difference of deceit and merry.  the difference of you, a you, and I, an I.

“Man I need blankets.” Thomas said.

“Pillows too.” I said tracing the outer perimeter of Home Depot. 

Them Carharrts nice too. Our eyes met at the rack.

“I bet you could fit a gun inside this.” Thomas said feeling the durability of a canvas hoodie in brown. 

“No I don’t have a gun.”

“You should get one.”

“They got em here?”

We fell out of the portal. 

____________

Vicious bar flies and scarcities falsify the other-half.

“It is settled” said Chief Wallitzer

“Then buy more plankton from the Chief” A creature said. Decrepit. Monsteral. Lectivicious. The creature continued.

 “And as soon as I stray a lochness is when the fortifications manifest wholly and without contempt.” I must ignore him.

“What am I to do?” I said on the levy. 

“Take a boat from the garter over thine gully there.” Said the Chief. 

And I summoned a boat from his power.

“I’m crossing.” I said under my breathe. I said aloud. 

“Bless you Chief! Aye. May good fortune amass in your possession!” Because realization finally hit me, that I was to join my comrades in battle, once and for all.

“Aye, and to not flee as well.” This was the last I ever heard of the Chief. 

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Today I’m going to buy a car.

Anxiety is a MK Ultra Mind Control Tactic (designed to keep humans subordinate to the matrix) ((which is ran by the 10%))

(((who answer to archonic entities from the 4th dimension)))

Logical reasoning is when an internal problem is identified as separate from the self so that it may not be subject to the whims of ego, which is fleeting and irregular, and stems from an evolutionary need for man to keep desiring more and more mates to reproduce offspring with so that his tribe grows strong in number as opposed to getting complacent with having one or few mates, retiring from the world, and letting him and/or his offspring die without a big enough tribe to defend them from bigger tribes with more man-power. Humans have advanced beyond the need to reproduce. In fact, Over-population is an existential threat to the continuation of humans on Earth. Because of this there should be no desire to reproduce. However, there is still a desire to reproduce. This is because the consequences of over-population like famine, disease, and global warming have yet to be internalized by most humans. Once it does, there will be no desire to reproduce, and all remaining sub-strata will go too. These remaining sub-strata include love, greed, and status all begotten from the main desire of humans, which is to reproduce. The reason that is 

The main desire of humans is that humans want to survive. If humans didn’t want to survive they’d be dead. If humans we’re dead they wouldn’t be living. And if humans weren’t living they wouldn’t exist. Additionally, If humans didn’t exist they’d be nothing. And If humans were nothing they wouldn’t be something. Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards the very notion of being something 

with the very notion of that word and all the associations it comes with, 

 Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards being something, 

knowing full-well  the associations it comes with, then humans would be refusing their ego, which is fleeting and irregular.

Once this desire (to reproduce) is gone, then allser forms of this desire like 

and not get his needs are met

 be processed in an objective manner, and not subject to whims of ego

solutions can be formulated in an objective context, and the solutions necessary to overcoming that problem, may not be weighed against emotion, which is fleeting and irregular.

 and it’s existential

consequences, both good and bad, can be weighed objectively against 

solutions that are based in reality

The distinction between needs and desires is a matter of time. Needs are immediate. Desires are built up over time.

The distinction between needs and desires is, in fact, only a matter of time

Anxiety needs to be alleviated when there’s not enough time, but it should anxiety will be alleviated because their is time.  . 

^^^^^^^^^cap*********

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Anxiety is when an internal problem needs to be alleviated. Its just that the actions required to alleviate said problem seem far off and distant. So much that you begin doubting your abilities as a measly human and turn to a god instead. When this god doesnt fix your problems your anxiety is compounded heavily. Because you have one more problem than you started with. If you couldnt hold a candle to your first problem, being as their solutions were so far out and demanded too much in a short amount of time, then now you got a doozy on your hands. All we can ask for is perfection, and hope we come up short.

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//All God can ask for is perfection. That’s why he doesn’t relate to us.// If you had a bag that led to another bag you wouldn’t keep the first bag cus it’d already be in the second one. These are the ancestors working behind the scenes.

then what makes you think

Our teachers taught us proper sentence structure in the third grade. A subject followed by a predicate. The subject is invoked and the predicate carries the burden like a hag witch carries  it and thus justifying the subject so that it is not floating in space, susceptible to being bothered by minds whose job it is to question things that float in space for no other reason other than to not have a purpose, and stand as a monument against all these grammar nazis stand for. So viciously chaotic, free in its lightness, completely unencumbered by menial contrivances of formality, it seems, are these subjects without predicates stand unapologetically in the vast concourses of space as monuments against all they stand for. The problem is that words can only do so much when describing a subject. Whether it is a noun or pronoun, abstract or not, a person, place, thing, or idea, it could even be an interjection, the problem is words can only do so much for describing the essence of a thing, the unseen force which discerns certain vibrations as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency at which the brain can perceive.

certain things as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency that vibrates at a rate at which the human brain can process through its hypothalamus and perceive them as things in the 3rd dimension.

apart from the rest is limitless when not bound by words, which can only be deduced as a lesser form of magic.

Thomas and I see the same things. Ever since our childhoods we were never separated. And even if we we’re, or it appeared as if we we’re, we always had the same eyes. Not just the same view, but the same eyes. I don’t mean that these eyes were like detachable lenses, that could be passed around to and fro like a can on a string, I mean that we’ve had the same experiences, just in different forms.  And if we ever shared a difference of opinion, which happened a lot, like with this Erica thing, I never had to worry about things getting heated. Because no matter what, I could always fall back on us letting things calm down for a while, alone in our rooms leaning into our cheeks trying not to think about it. until both of us realized we were coming.from the same place, and that where, and to what degree we took it to, was ultimately meaningless.

I must be going now. It’s getting late. What time is it? 2:30? Jesus. Fuck. That’s later than I thought. Already? Oh well. It’s not like I can do anything about it. Anyway. What I wanna talk about is how fucked up you look to me, and I don’t know if you see that. I mean, if you can see what I see. Dread, angst, all of mine and your miseries seem to have burdened you. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m a man. I can fix my own problems. Really. I can. I may not look it but I’m grown. You don’t have to worry about them. Here, look at this picture I took last year. It’s of you and me. Don’t we look so happy? Happy. Is that the right word? Or maybe we’re crumbing for our last breathe of smile in us. Fuck. I’m beginning to think that’s true the more and more I think about it. Because you we’re never happy. Neither was I. But that wasn’t the goal for us like it is for so many others. No. We just wanted to get by. And that’s all we could ever ask for.

--jgcjgcjgcjgcgjc

I wanted to keep this sacred so it’d come across a more genuine when the right person came across it. but now the urge is too strong and the resonance too concentrated for me to dismiss the trailblazing force of circular momentum. And its nice out too. The grass is still damp from yesterday’s rain but not so you couldn’t lie in it. That’s what I did today. That along with thinking. Moving on. I won’t talk about personal experience in this article. The truth is I’m not important. What matters is my guidance. So from now on take my “I’s” as placeholders for something greater. Make it what you want. A parakeet, a landing pad, veganism, law and order, anything. It could even be the universe itself with you and me included. Whatever it is just don’t miss the point that follows this inconspicuous “i” because there is no truth, only different paths to getting there. 

The truth is I haven’t been out the house in a few years. Sure there were gaps in between like parties here and there. But even then I was inside myself, leaving people to wonder if I was as social as I looked. Sometimes I was normal, others I was a wallflower. Only rarely did I meet their expectations and become the center of attention. I still remember those moments because I’m preparing for the next time it happens so I can maintain a sense of self better so that I can let it go and channel what comes out of me more freely. Some call this going into the world. I call it getting out the house. Leaving the nest. All those times i was still at home within myself. I never left my shell. There’s no point when that shell is filled with angels.

Language can be tricky. It can be used for yin and yang. It can be used for contuation or stagnation when concerning the path of self and how one wants to judge said self through language so that it may have something ethereal to manifest from. Before I continue I must say that there is a self because any indication of there not being a self relies on the suppusition there there is a self. Perception plays a role too, as in, agreeing or not to accept the definitions of the words you lay on yourself as true or not. The pessimist sees the world as signs and symbols and interprets stimuli af a higher level then the optimist, who is often naieve to the hidden world where everything comes from. This is why pessimists are often dualists. To the optimist it appears they are one-sided because they take them at face-value. Again, they are unable to see the hidden world where everything comes from. Those who fly under the radar appear that way because they are in direct contact with this world so as to filter their thoughts before speaking them. This world is a place pessimists visit often within themselves and rarely show out of. They show out only in dire situations, and that makes their actions that much stronger because they have kept sacred the hidden world where everything comes from so that it is pure and cutting-edge when it comes time to release it upon the known world. Like an endless stream does their wrath come out of them because they’ve been holding it in so long. 

Anytime you insert the I into a situation is when a princible of measurement can be applied to you as infinite potential to fail or succeed relative to the third party as the perfect amount of what you needed to be faced with. 

with chakra wheels that exist so we can find ourselves in a better light.