#kind of want to kill this mixed pack of beer i got because its getting a bit old and not fresh anymore

[kittykatinabag]

Research question for the neuroscientists: Does alcohol's effects on the brain mimic dopamine's effect on the brain?

Yeah I know there's the whole thing about inhibition and lower of cognitive barriers, but I'm talking like the molecule level. Like whatever passes the blood brain barrier with alcohol to make the brain act this way, does that molecule/signal/whatever look suspiciously like dopamine because my god the delusion I get when I'm drinking feels like the few times I've overloaded my system with dopamine/oxytocin etc but with blurrier vision.

I single out alcohol because well, I've never done hard drugs and the few times I've smoked weed makes me paranoid and anxious. Its only alcohol that's made me feel this way, though I'm sure harder drugs would too but my family does tend to have a history of functional addiction so I try to avoid most drugs. Honestly don't even drink that much now-a-days either, at least not to the levels that I did back in 2019.

[gotnofucks]

Chemical Romance

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Chris won’t have you running away from him. You’re his. He owns your heart, and now he’ll own all of you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: RPF, smut, slight dubcon(ish), jealous and possessive Chris, toxic relationship, recording without permission, forced marriage

A/N: I wrote this months ago and pulled it out to share it with my bestie @donutloverxo​ . Berry finally convinced me to post this and helped me beta this. Babe, I love you!

You were way past your teenage years, and yet you had the urge to giggle like one. If you licked your lips, you could still taste the trace of wine that had stained his lips. The memory of them pressing against you, brushing gently until they tangled in a mix of tongue and teeth had a delicious heat burning in your face. This was a good date, the third good date with a good man you met, and you were excited for more.

Looking over your shoulder you saw the lights of his car disappearing in the dark of night and you sighed contently, shutting your door behind you and dropping your keys in the bowl by the door. All of a sudden, your body broke into goosepimples, a chill settling over you and it took you a moment to understand why. Your body was recognizing the dark presence before your mind could.

“Good evening sweetheart. Had a good date?”                                                      

The door was right behind you, you could easily grab your car keys right now and run away. And yet all you could do was hold onto the wall as your knees trembled. You’d never been good at running away from him anyway.

Chris was lounging on your sofa, watching you with those arresting blue eyes that you knew changed shades with his mood. His beard was thicker than the last you’d seen him, and his lips were pulled into a sardonic smirk, eyes glinting furiously.

“How?” You sputtered, still rooted to your spot. You could run, you should run, but you knew you wouldn’t go far. He let you go only so far to give you a false sense of achievement, a mere taste of relief and freedom until he snatched you back to himself.

“I always think that every time you leave, it would be the last. You’ll realize that its futile, you’ll realize that we’re meant to be together.” Chris said, “But never did I imagine you to be stupid enough to be with another man.”

His voice had been described as dreamy by many, even by yourself, but right now it only rang of danger and anger. Softness was Chris’s weapon, to deliver the meanest words with a smile that was poison sweet. One time, you had loved to taste that poison yourself. Did it still run in your veins and taint you?

Looking at you from under his lashes, he spread his legs and beckoned you to him. You gulped before following, not daring to look away from him until you were before him.

“Kneel” He ordered softly. You knees hit the ground, the rug digging into your skin. He watched you watch him, eyes locked in a dialog of their own until his rough hand caressed the skin of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, hating yourself for being a slave to him and your desire. Even on your knees, the familiar feeling of peace flooded your senses. Nothing made you feel as alive as worshiping him. And nothing killed you as much as loving him.

“Please” You begged, pressing a kiss into his palm. “Don’t do this to me.”

Chris regarded you with a look that was almost tender, his blue eyes staring into your own as if unearthing every secret you had ever kept from him. He pulled you closer, close enough to have you raise up and hold his shoulders while his lips brushed gently against yours.

“For as long as I live, you are mine. You know that. Why must you fight it?”

It had been a couple months since you last saw him, since the pads of his fingers had glided over the curves of your body and claimed you as his. You melted, you melted like the butter in a hot pan, sizzling with the heat of his ardor. One taste of him and you were ready to forget why you had left him, why you had packed up and left his house when he was out. Chris Evans didn’t just play your body, he also played your heart. He loved you so hard that it hurt.

You wondered if you should fight, if you should scream or cry. But you knew it the moment you walked inside your house tonight: you were going nowhere but to him. He held you as you captured his lips in yours, a hand fisting his hair and tugging. He pulled until you were on his lap, his beard scratching your skin and reminding you of all the ways he had marked you before.

Panting, you pulled away when he breathily whispered your name, eyes liquid and feral and kind. He was a man of many layers and you had unveiled the darkest of them. He no longer hid the rawest parts of him, and you never knew if it was a good thing or not.

“Pack up, I’m taking you back home.” He said, hands settling on your waist. “I am not spending one more night in a bed without you.”

You nodded, stealing another kiss until you surrendered to his demands. Again.

Dodger ran to you, whining and wagging his tail as you sat down to give him better access. You’d missed your furry companion, his coat soft on your cheek when you nuzzled into him. Chris chuckled, rolling your bags into his room while you and Dodger had your little reunion.

“I am so sorry Bubba” You cooed to him, scratching behind his ears. “I missed you so much. Did you miss me, hmm?”

Dodger barked, rubbing his body against you. You laughed, cuddling your little boy. You’d missed waking upto him snuggled by your feet and the soft pattering of his feet as he followed you around.

“He didn’t eat right for a week after you left. You were being a bad mommy.” Chris said coming behind you. He petted Dodger before pulling you up by your arm, your chest flushed to his. You loved how he smelled of coffee and beer and cinnamon. He tasted of them too, bitter and addictive.

Your fingers traced a path in his beard, lips pressing into the hollow of his throat. It scared you how much power he had over you. You’d promised yourself you’ll break away from his hold when you found him snooping in your phone again. His possessiveness knew no bounds. If Chris had it his way, he’d hide you in a castle made only for his eyes. But right now, in the heaven of his arms, you couldn’t remember why you left him in the first place.

“I am sorry.” You whispered, hugging him tight. His arms came around you, holding you so possessively close that even death couldn’t rip you apart. Chemical romance, that’s how Scott had explained your relationship once. Your friends had stopped complaining, had stopped warning after losing count over how often you broke up and got back together.

“I am so pissed at you.” He said in your ear, breath warm on your skin. “I want to erase every lingering trace of that man’s touch from your body. But more than that, I need to remind you who you belong to.”

You refused to look at him, burying your head in his chest even as you held him tighter.

“I belong to you. I know it baby, I made a mistake.” You said, voice muffled. Chris tutted, pushing your face away firmly as he forced you to meet his intense gaze.

“Here I am, feeling guilty for even touching other women during a scene that is supposed to be my job. And my girl goes around fucking other men because we had an argument?” He hissed, a nerve throbbing in his temple. You pouted, bottom lip wobbling as you tried not to cry. You were raised to be a strong woman, someone who could speak for herself. How was it so easy for this man to reduce you to a sniveling woman for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“I didn’t fuck him.” You countered and Chris’s eyes flashed. You stared at each other until Chris practically growled and dragged you towards the bedroom. Dodger trailed behind you, stopping once Chris ordered him to stay put.

His bedroom, a space you had shared and abandoned all too many times was the same as always. It reeked of his aftershave and cologne, the stars winking at you from the window that overlooked the ground. Chris shut the door, rounding on you and pushing you towards the bed.

“You didn’t fuck him?” He spat, ticked off. “You let him touch you, you let him put his hands on what belongs to me.”

You shivered as your back met the cold sheets, bouncing slightly on the mattress. His anger was scary, but more than that it was exciting. It was you who had brought this strong, powerful man to this animalistic side. You, who could make him scowl and shout and get his heart pumping enough to bring blood to his face. You, who made him primitive as he held you down and fucked you into submission.

“We only kissed.” You said, knowing how to provoke him. That kiss was nice, it was sweet. But your body craved rough and hard, it craved to be possessed and used and worshiped. It craved Chris who left his handprints on your butt and his spent in your cunt. It craved Chris who kissed you until you were out of breath, who whispered the filthiest things to you as he buried himself in your warmth over and over until you were too hoarse to even cry.

He knew it, he read that in your eyes and in your touch that seared through the layers of clothes on his body. He knew you were getting under his skin on purpose, hurting him the way he hurt you so many times. Neither of you held back.

You tore away at his clothes, bucking your hips frantically in a bid to get closer. Chris cursed, squeezing your ass in his large hands and grounding his hardness on your thigh.

“You are testing me” He warned, naked flesh touching yours and hands entwining. You ignored him, the wetness dripping down your core begging his attention.

“Eat me” You cried, wiggling under him. He held fast, rubbing his cock on your abdomen, groaning softly. He nuzzled your neck, kissing softly on the spot he knew drove you wild. His weight prevented you from moving too much, not allowing you to do anything for yourself.

“You don’t tell me what to do baby. Not after letting another man touch you. Not after you walked out on me again.” He said angrily, forcing his gentle touch on your body that craved his roughness. You sobbed against his mouth, getting drunk on his lazy kisses and feather soft caresses. You knew what he was doing, you knew he wanted you to break and beg. And you had no dignity.

“Please” You begged, pathetically with tears in your eyes. “Give me what I want Chris. I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

He smirked, sucking a pert nipple in his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You moaned, struggling to move more. It wasn’t enough to have you under him. He needed more than your compliance. He needed your surrender, he needed you to love him with a hunger as great as his. He was greedy.

“Even when you beg, you look like a goddess. You’re my angel, but I’m not gonna let you go to heaven. We’ll sin together in hell.”

He dove in, tongue swiping away your juice in a practiced move as you howled at the suddenness of his attack. Your thighs held his head captive between their plump flesh, mewls spilling from your mouth without restraint as he finally gave you what you wanted. You pulled on his hair, steering him closer to your core that was flaming under his mouth and flooding with pleasure.

“Oh Chris!” You moaned, writhing and trembling. You had missed his beard scratching the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, missed his nails digging in your flesh to keep you steady, missed his tongue poking inside your warm cavern to taste your sweet nectar. Chris never worshiped you like a devotee to the lord. He worshipped you like a man summoning the devil, by spilling blood and leaving marks that stain the soul.

“Look at you go darling, so beautiful” He praised, easing a finger inside you and curling it. You threw your head back, shattering with an orgasm that took your breath away. Pleasure was a feeling you were familiar with, but combined with Chris’s love and anger, it formed the most intoxicating mix that got you dizzy.

He kissed the swollen head of your clit, gently easing you down from your high with praises whispered directly to your leaking cunt. He cupped your pussy, grinding his heels against you as your eyes met.

“Nobody else will touch you here. Or anywhere else for that matter.” He ordered and you nodded, still desperate for him. His cock was red and angry, warm drops of precum leaking over your stomach and you tugged at him, asking to fill you up.

“Chris, I need you inside me. Please.”

He crawled up and laid beside you, jerking you on top of him. Your hands found his chest, lightly playing with his nipples and the spattering of hair there before moving down to cup his hardness and his balls. He jerked at the first contact, closing his eyes as his breath hitched and you smiled at your own effect over him. You could reduce him to a mess just as well he could to you.

Pumping his length, you licked it slowly, lathering it with your saliva. You remembered the day you’d named it Cumstopher Rogers and he’d slapped you with it, making you choke on him until you had to apologize.

“Put me inside you now because if I have to take over, I’ll choose which hole it goes in and you probably won’t like it.” He growled in impatience. You clenched, his threats going straight to your core.

You positioned yourself over him, sinking slowly and gently, feeling every part of him against your spongy walls. With your thighs flush to his, you stopped to just let the feeling of fullness last a little longer. No matter how many times you’d been with each other, the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you never got old. If you could, you’d never be empty.

“All my holes like your cock Mr. Evans. And I? I love it and your butt and your chest and arms and face and everything else.”

You moved at a slow pace, bouncing gently while holding onto his thighs. Taking his hand in yours, you placed it on your chest, asking him to play with your nipples as you rode him.

“You feeling powerful, baby? You feeling good bouncing on my dick?” He asked, pinching a nipple almost to the point of pain. You nodded, leaning down to kiss him as he started thrusting up a little, hitting your cervix when he went too deep. You rolled your belly, clenching your muscles around his length so that his eyes flew open and hands dug into the softness of your butt.

“Oh Chris, I missed this.” You told him, tasting the sweat on his temple. He nodded, his huge arms wrapping around you and pulling you intimately close.

“I missed you too, which is why I will make sure you never leave me. This is not your power move, this is mine.” He darkly murmured and your eyes met his in confusion. He looked at the side and you followed his gaze, mouth dropping open at the camera that blinked at you with a red light on.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You shout, trying to move away when he rolled you over and under him, thrusting in hard.

“Oh yes, what the fuck baby” He said, holding your wrists as he picked up his pace. “You think it’s okay to pack a bag and leave me every time? You think it’s okay to date other men, to kiss other men? You are mine. And if anyone needs proof of that, now I can show it to them.”

You cried out as he went harder, a pressure building deep inside your belly. Tears escaped your eyes, gazing into blue ones that you loved and hated with a passion. You could have asked him to stop now, you could shout that you don’t want him and he’s sick. But you didn’t. You knew he would stop if you really wanted him to, and as much as your heart broke and your chest tightened with hurt, you loved him. You loved his twisted ways to keep you with him. You loved it when he went above and beyond, got crazy in his desire for you. You were wanted. You were cherished.

“Fuck you.” You cursed, meeting every thrust of his with a raise of your hips. Your eyes closed, sweat dripping down your body as you let the animalistic part of you take over, screaming and tearing and fucking each other like two people whose only goal in life was to be embedded in the other’s heart and psyche.

“I’d like to see you try to walk out tomorrow after tonight.” Chris said, delivering punishing strokes that were agonizing and titillating, that were fire and ice. You held onto him, leaving crescent shaped scars to join the numerous tattoos across his body. He took you apart, fucked you so good all you could do was say him name and fall in a glittery haze of his presence. He came inside you, filling you to the brim and crushing your body with his weight.

You weren’t leaving, that much was obvious.

Throwing in your clothes haphazardly in the bag, you promised yourself this would be the last time you did this. You will not come back to this house and this bed. Chris and you were done for good. The past few months had followed the same pattern. You both rekindling the dying flame of your relationship, mending the broken hearts and trust until it went back to hell.

There were too many arguments, too much shouting and angry sex. Every time you sat down to talk, it ended with your legs in the air. Your mother was right. He wasn’t right for you. Chris wanted to be your hero and your villain. He wanted you to think of nobody but him. Any friends and family that warned you against him had to be cut off. He’ll dismiss every article the paparazzi published about him but would throw a fit if you so much as smiled at the cashier in the grocery store. He kept you close like a dog on a leash, feeling jealous at the very sight of you talking to any man. You’d wanted to give this relationship a chance, but as of twenty minutes ago, Chris had made sure it was over.

You wondered about taking your pictures, but it was better to stay away from any temptations. This was happening, and as much as it broke your heart, you will not come back to him. Zipping up your bag, you straightened just as Chris stormed inside the room, jaw clenched in anger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He barked, “Put your stuff back. I’ll be damned if I let you leave me again.”

You scowled at him, wiping the stray tears from your eyes. He had no right to ask anything of you, not after what he had just done.

“Fuck off Chris. I am leaving, and you can’t stop me.” You shouldered past him, sadly looking at Dodger who was whining softly as he watched you move. He had seen this happen enough times to know that you’re not coming home.

Chris marched behind you, snatching your wrist and pulling you back to himself. The blue in his eyes was darker, like the sky covered in thunder clouds. You squirmed, pushing against him.

“You. Are. Not. Leaving.” He hissed, looking scary and mad.

“How dare you? After what you did today?” You sobbed, hitting your fists on his chest. He held your jaw, bringing your face closer to him so he could peer into your watery eyes.

“I proposed! I got down on one knee. What the fuck is your problem?” He shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

You shook your head, looking at him with an expression of disbelief. Is he that oblivious?

“Marriage is permanent Chris” You said, voice suddenly soft. “Marriage is living your life devoted to your partner. We can’t break up and leave and come back again. It’s a responsibility. You and I, we haven’t been able to keep a stable relationship. How the hell will we keep a happy marriage?”

Chris frowned, not liking what you said. He pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his huge arms on either side. You could smell the chocolate and wine on his breath from dinner, his hair all messed up from when he ran his hands through it. On his neck still hung the necklace you’d got him.

“Look at me” He said, pressing his forehead to yours. You breathed deeply, finding it difficult to maintain an eye contact as charged with anger and passion as this one. “You love me, you still love me. It’s all in your eyes. Why won’t you marry me?”

You wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Why did loving him have to be so difficult? Was love worth the fights, the tears and pain and loss of independence? Was loving him enough to keep you going? You were so tired of this back and forth with him. You’d never even talked about marriage before, having been too busy trying to keep any sort of relationship alive. Why would he do this to you?

As your limbs got heavier, you leaned forward and hugged him. You held him to yourself, soaking in his warmth and smell inside you for what would be the last time. You could not give up so much of yourself to sustain this love. Soon enough, there would be nothing more to give and the love would be dead.

“You need to let me go Christopher” You said to him, lips close to his ear. “You need to understand that love is only the beginning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Please, just let me go.”

Chris hugged you tighter, his head resting over yours and heart beating strong beneath your hand. He was your night, full of twinkling stars and dark mysteries. But dawn was approaching fast, and you needed to bid goodbye to the moon to greet the sun that awaited you.

“Never.” He promised, “You are never leaving me again. I’ll fucking make sure of it.”

He picked you up suddenly, ignoring your protests as he carried you back into the bedroom. Kicking your bag aside, he dropped you on the bed, raising a finger to stop you. He took out the ring from his pocket, the very one you had refused this evening and held it to you.

“Put this on.” He ordered and you rubbed your eyes in exasperation.

“No.”

You both glared at each other, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Fighting with Chris had always been a thrill, more often than not ending with wild sex on any and all surfaces in sight. But today you were determined to end it. You’d not let yourself become weak at the sight of his cock.

“Okay then, you’ve left me no choice.” Chris said. He picked up his phone and tapped away on it, doing god knows what. You sighed, getting up and putting your stuff together again, ignoring his presence behind you. Chris threw his phone on the bed, looking stoically at you work. You were just folding the last of your clothes when your phone started buzzing. You ignored it for a minute, but it kept up, almost falling off the table with its vibrations.

“What the fuck” You gasped, looking at the hundreds of notifications pouring in as more followed. You quickly opened your Instagram to see you’d been tagged by Chris.

And she said YES!

Below that caption was a picture of the both of you from a couple months ago, cuddled up and smiling at each other.

Comments and likes from everyone were popping in, and soon enough, you saw your mother’s call. You stared at Chris, utterly in disbelief. What had he done?

“Try saying no now. You’d be the bitch who broke Chris Evans’s heart, the bitch who played him. Try walking in public between people who’d see you only as a slut and nothing more.”

Your world came crashing down. You were not some hotshot celebrity like Chris. You were just a girl trying to live her life the best way she knew how to, and how it ended up entangled with this man you’d never understand. Even if you shouted from the rooftops the truth of today, no one would believe you. Chris’s fans would tear you to shreds, destroy your life with their mean comments and attacks. And your family would not be spared either. They’ll be exposed to a celebrity scandal, dragged through the mud along with your good name.

“Oh god Chris, what have you done?” You choked out, falling to your knees. He came before you, gently caressing your head before kneeling in front of you. Cupping your face, he kissed you deep and hard, countering your hate with his love that hit you like your own kryptonite.

“I told you. I told you I’ll never let you leave.” He breathed against your mouth, pulling you closer. You dug your nails in his arms, hurting him with the hurt he just caused you, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster” You said, chest heaving with emotions.

“Yes, I am. But you know what darling?” He said sweetly, “Even after this, you still love me. I am a monster, but I am a monster you created and one you love.”

You ended up on the bed, sprawled underneath him again. Even with icy hate in your eyes, your heart burned with love for him. It was unnatural, it was chemical and wrong. And yet, it was your reality. He was yours, no matter what he did. And you were his, regardless of every protest that you ever made.

“Now, I’ll ask this one more time. Will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking at you like you were all he ever saw.

“Yes” You breathed, watching silently as he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed it. Meeting your eyes, he settled over your body, his arousal pulsing over your thigh. Sealing the deal with a kiss, Chris went to remove your shirt.

“Then let’s celebrate. After we’re done, we can call our families with the good news.”

[enamoured-x]

Sweet Release | Part 2

Angel Reyes x Reader

Summary: Things don’t go as planned when you attend Ez’s party. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Angst

Word count: 4.8k

Excerpt: “Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin.”

*gif is mine!

a/n: thank you for all the love on this mini series! With that being said there will be a part 3 and it will be the final part! Enjoy! (part 1 can be found here)

Part 2

One long fucking month. Since the day you left Angel at the clubhouse with his come leaking out of you, you had been a wreck. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for holding it together so well when you broke the news to him. Maybe because you knew eventually you’d break. You were a mess. Hating Angel for what he put you through, hating that he led you to walk out on him in the first place. He tried calling every day for the first two weeks and then it simmered down to a call every few days. None of which you answered. For some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to block his number just yet. You still cared for him, still wanted to be able for him to reach out if something was wrong as long as it didn’t pertain to your failed relationship. You didn’t want to talk about how stupid that logic was because you knew keeping his number was because a part of you still wanted it to work. 

You played with the idea of maybe. But you couldn’t tell him that because you weren’t sure. You put yourself through all of his shit already and if he was going to do it all over again if you gave him a second chance you’d kill him. It would kill you. With that being said, you were going to let this play out. You knew you were supposed to get over him, knew you made a choice that day to end it with him. But a girl could dream that he’d make some grand gesture to win you back like in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie and Angel definitely wasn’t the romantic male protagonist. 

“Angel’s a mess.” You glared at Ez for bringing him up. You ignored his comment and sipped your coffee. You and Ez still kept in close contact over the month, sharing funny videos and checking in, just the usual stuff. Today he invited you to hang out and catch up since you hadn’t seen him since that day and you had agreed, happy to go somewhere that wasn’t work or your home. Happy to see your friend again.

“How’s pops?” You asked, trying to get the topic off Angel. You weren’t here to talk about Angel, he made his bed and now he could lay in it. If you were open to the idea of giving him a second chance, and that was a big if, he would need to do a lot more than having Ez tell you how miserable he’s been. You had been a wreck long before you broke up with him, he deserved to know what it felt like. 

Ez sighed and didn’t bring up Angel again, “he’s fine, he sends his best.” You nodded, making it a point to stop by soon and say hi, just because you and Angel broke up didn’t mean you couldn’t be friendly with his family still. They were practically your family. 

Ez twiddled with his coffee cup and you sighed. 

“Go ahead.” You told him, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. The outside seating offered you a breath of fresh air you desperately needed when talking about the one and only Angel Reyes. 

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, “what?”

“You obviously either have an opinion on the breakup or you told Angel you were meeting me and he asked you to tell me something for him. Hell, maybe you only asked to hangout with me to deliver a message. Whatever it is, spill it, Reyes.” You knew Ez enough to know when something was on his mind or when he was holding back. This was one of those times. You weren’t exactly mad at him for it but after your grief died out, you were just confused about Angel. You knew you made the right choice at the time but it didn’t mean you still didn’t miss him. It didn’t mean you were over him. 

Ez held his hands up, “I swear I just wanted to see you. No secret motive. If Angel wants to work things out with you, he can do it himself, I'm not his messenger.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” He was still holding back. He may not be there for some ulterior motive but there was something. 

“You know I’m getting patched in…” He trailed off and you nodded your head. You were excited for him when he told you the news a few weeks ago. Ez had put all his time and effort in the club and he was finally going to become an official member. He deserved it. 

“The club is throwing me a party.” He stated and you shook your head. 

“No.” He scoffed at your answer and sat up. 

“Come on, you have to come. You don’t have to talk to Angel, just stay with me the whole time.” He begged. You groaned at the idea. 

“Ez, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Showing up to the clubhouse just a month after you broke up with Angel and fucked him in the middle of it was probably not the greatest idea. 

“Please. You’re my only friend outside of the club, I want you there.” Ez’s brown eyes pleaded with you. You were his only friend and as that friend you owed it to him to show your support, even if it meant having to see your ex again. 

You bit your lip and Ez smiled, knowing he had you. 

“Fine, but I’ll be glued to your side the whole time you’ll regret asking me to come.” You pointed at him and he laughed. 

“This should be fun.”

You should’ve taken that as a warning. 

You hated the fact that you were putting effort into what you were wearing to the party. Trying on basically all the clothes in your closet. You figured if you were going to see Angel you had better make it good. Eventually you settled on a simple red summer dress, flowy enough to be innocent but short enough to showcase your legs. You opted for some white sneakers with it, deciding that you were definitely not going to dress up to this thing, Angel or no Angel. Either way, this night wasn’t about him or you, it was Ez’s night and you were going to be there to support him. 

Your nerves got the best of you when you pulled into the packed scrapyard, Chucky directed you where to park and you took a deep breath before stepping out. The party was already in full swing, people scattered outside and around the fire, already drinking and having a good time. 

“Hey, you made it.” Ez said as he walked up to you as you made your way toward the clubhouse. You had yet to spot Angel and you were thankful for it. 

“I told you I would come.” You pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and then led you inside. 

“Thought you might back out last minute.” He shrugged. You were about to say something when you saw him. The man who had taken up space in your mind this past month. The man you left after reaching one last high with him. He was laughing at something Coco said, his smile not reaching his eyes. You could tell that what Ez told you had been true, that he was miserable. He looked good, just not all there. Both men were standing against the wall, what stirred jealousy in you was one of the club hang arounds to his left touching his arm. You swallowed hard, you forgot that before you and Angel got together, he was a hot commodity amongst Vicky’s girls. Now that he was off the market, you were sure the women were jumping at the chance to share his bed, they probably already had. Lead filled your stomach once again. 

You were about to turn to Ez to take the beer bottle from him when Angel finally looked over and stopped in his tracks. Gone was the smile and in its place was shock. You stared back at him, into those dark brown eyes you loved so much. Seeing him stung more than you cared to admit but you held strong. 

“You good?” Ez’s words snapped you out of your trance and you turned to him, finally taking the bottle from his hands. 

“You didn’t tell him I was coming?” You asked him as he led you over to take a seat at the bar. He looked guilty. 

“If I had he probably would’ve been by the gates waiting for you. Figured this was better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hermosa, haven’t seen you in a while.” You turned around to face Bishop. A genuine smile lit up your face and you got up to hug him. He graciously accepted, giving you a tight squeeze before letting you go. Bishop was always so kind to you, always so supportive of yours and Angel’s relationship. 

“Hey, Bish. How are you?” 

“I’m doing good. How are you? Which Reyes brother are you really here for?” He teased you and Ez chuckled. Obviously the club knew about yours and Angel’s split but he still welcomed you with open arms despite it. You were thankful for it. 

“Very funny, but I’m here for Ez.” He laughed and placed a kiss on your temple before excusing himself. 

“Is he still looking over here?” You asked Ez, bringing the bottle up to your lips and taking a sip of the cold liquid. You welcomed the alcohol as it sat in your stomach. 

“Yup and Vicky’s girl does not seem too happy about that.” You felt a sliver of satisfaction run through you. But Angel wasn’t yours, you made that clear. So you had absolutely no right to be jealous, you had no claim over him anymore. At least not in that way but with the way you felt his eyes on your body, you knew you still had some sort of pull over him. He had that same pull over you but tonight was not the night for that. 

“Let’s get you drunk, Eziekiel. You deserve it.” You changed the subject. You weren’t going to sit here and talk about Angel who was a few feet from you during Ez’s party. No, you were going to celebrate the man of the hour. Your friend, arguably your best friend. Also arguably your only friend. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Ez was a bit tipsy but not nowhere near drunk after many rounds of beers and a few shots. You on the other hand kept it to three beers and then opted for some water, not really one to drink all that much. That didn’t mean that you weren’t having fun though. Coco had eventually came over to talk to you during the night and you were glad none of the men held any animosity towards you. It felt nice to see them again and you could honestly say you were glad you came. 

“Six o’clock, mamas.” Coco said and nodded behind you, you were turning around completely ready to see Angel. You were surprised he hadn’t tried to get your attention sooner seeing as how he still tried to contact you weekly. But it wasn’t Angel. The man who now stood in front of you was a stranger, albeit a very handsome stranger who was part of another charter by the patch on his vest. He was tall enough to tower over you, his dark eyes pulling you in. He ran his hand through his raven black hair and smiled at you, even with his facial hair you could still see prominent dimples. 

“Hello, sweetheart. I’m Jay. And you are?” He stuck his tattooed hand out for you to take and you took it into your own. Jay was a tall glass of water, honestly a wet dream. Just not yours. But he could be. At least for tonight. A rebound wasn’t a terrible idea but you guessed there had to have been some rule about finding a rebound at the party of your ex boyfriend's brother’s party while he stood just a few feet away. You still introduced yourself nonetheless. You were a bit too distracted to notice Coco and Ez had left you to your own devices. 

“So, what brings you to this party?”

“I’m a friend of Ez’s.” You told him. You swore you could still feel Angel’s eyes burning through you, you had felt it since you locked eyes with him. Whether he was giving you your space or he really didn’t want anything to do with you tonight, you didn’t know. But judging by the same girl who was still trying to get his attention, you figured he wanted nothing to do with you tonight if it meant him getting laid. 

“Hmm,” he looked you up and down and you shifted under his gaze. You were kidding yourself if you actually thought you’d go through with a rebound. Especially with a Mayan. And you were kidding yourself if you thought a rebound was going to help. As if it was going to magically make your feelings for Angel disappear. As if sleeping with a stranger was going to give you that release you needed again, no, only Angel could do that. You hated it. 

“So, this party is dying down, I was thinking maybe you wanna get out of here?” That was extremely forward, all he knew about you was your name. But who were you kidding, guys like him didn’t care, hell, you’d be lucky if he even remembered your name. You were just about to turn him down when he trailed his hand up your thigh skimming just under your dress. Your eyes widened at the gesture and you shoved him off you and backed up.

“Woah, what the fuck.” You hissed quietly, not wanting to make a scene. He laughed.

“Oh, come on. You're not here for Ez, you’re here to get laid.” What the fuck. You were about to tell him off before a hand wrapped around your waist and a warm body pulled you into his side. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was but you looked up anyways. Angel. Your damn angel.

“You touching my girl, homie?” He asked him, ice in his tone. You were surprised the guy wasn’t on the floor already, Angel’s girlfriend or not, he didn’t like people touching you if you weren’t willing. Maybe he knew punching a guys lights out right now was no way to win you back and it was definitely not needed at Ez’s patched-in party. 

“Nah, man. Sorry, I didn’t know she was yours.” You scoffed.

“I’m not anyones.” You weren’t going to cause a scene but you hated men like this, men who thought women were just objects. You felt bad for the girl he would somehow convince to go home with him. 

“Get fucking lost or we’re gonna have a problem.” Angel told him, fingers tightening on your waist. Your skin ignited at his touch, at him being so close, at his cologne infiltrating your senses once again. It all felt like home. You hated it. The guy held his hands up as he walked away mumbling curses under his breath. Before you could say anything to Angel, he was whispering in your ear. 

“We need to talk. Now.” He didn’t give you room to argue as he led you down the hall and into his dorm room, closing the door. You didn’t like this. You didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with Angel right now. Give it another month or two then maybe, but right now? When your breakup was still a month fresh? No. It was dangerous. Angel turned to face you and you crossed your arms looking anywhere but at him, not wanting to look into his eyes. Not wanting to lose yourself in him. 

“What do you want to talk about?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. 

“Us. You coming here dressed like that.” He motioned to your dress.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Angel. What’s done is done.” You explained, biting your lip. Seeing him one foot away, eyes locked on you, it was a bit too much. One month was not nearly long enough to get over Angel Reyes. Hell, you didn’t think any amount of time would be sufficient. He was a damn drug, one you couldn’t stay off of.

“So you came here to torture me? Rub it in my face? I fucking miss you and you come to my clubhouse and act like everything’s cool? Act like I didn’t mean shit to you?” He was angry, that was easy to see. But you could tell his tone carried a deep hurt, one he was desperately trying to contain. Your heart ached. You wanted him to hurt, at first. But now seeing him, seeing the desperation and anguish in his eyes? This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t like hurting the people you loved, even if they hurt you. 

“Angel, that wasn’t my intention. Ez asked me to come and I wanted to support him. I’m not trying to hurt you.” You explained, stepping closer to him. That was also dangerous, you should be on the other side of the room, not a few inches away from him. 

“Too fucking late.” He ran his ring cladded fingers through his hair. 

“What do you want me to say, Angel? You hurt me, you didn’t make time for me. Our relationship was over long before that day.” It was the truth. You subconsciously knew your relationship was over with Angel before you had officially broken it off. You were just too scared to admit it to yourself, too desperate to hang onto the hope that he’d actually show up for you. But he never did and you knew it was time. 

“I know, I fucked up. I know that. But what you did that day… that was cold.” You chewed on your bottom lip. Part of you did feel bad for giving him a false sense of hope that day, using him for your release and then dropping him. But you needed to end the relationship on a high note, end it with a sweet goodbye and not a bitter storm of curses, in the end it was all just bittersweet. 

“I just… I needed you, Angel. I had missed you so much and I needed something…” You couldn’t find your words but you knew he knew what you meant, even if that day hurt like a bitch for him. He stepped forward, making a move to grab your arm but you backed up and shook your head. 

“Mami, please…” He begged, this time you went still as he grabbed your arm with one hand and cupped your cheek with the other. Your body buzzed to life at his touch, like Angel flipped a switch and you were back on again, like you were just being dragged through life this past month on auto pilot, like he had finally given you the reins back to your body. 

“Angel…” You were weak, your wavering voice gave you away. He leaned forward, his lips grazing yours slightly, his warm breath mingling with your own. You felt giddy as he surrounded you, as he invaded everything you were once again. And when he pressed his lips to yours, you melted into it. He licked along your lips and you opened your mouth, tongues sliding against each other. You moaned into it and grabbed onto his vest, trying to steady yourself at this heady feeling he gave you every time his lips were on any part of you. His hand slid to your waist and you had half a mind to snap out of your daze. You pulled away and he craned his neck, trying to chase your lips. You pushed on his chest lightly, wanting him to stop. 

“No, Angel, we can’t…” You couldn’t get hurt again. You couldn’t just fall back into him just for him to keep you at home waiting up for him and waiting on his call, and when neither came you’d be right back where you started. 

“Querida, I love you… I need you.” He whispered against your cheek. Hearing him say those words only made your heart ache worse and only made you want him more. It was damn confusing. You wanted him but you couldn’t put yourself through that shit again. 

You knew what he meant. I need you. He didn’t just need a release, he needed you. Just like that day you broke up with him, you needed him to give you that high but you quite plainly just needed him. 

“Fine. Let’s fuck and then go our separate ways.” You said, pulling him in for another kiss, needing the distraction. Not wanting to think about how fucking stupid that offer was, how fucking stupid you were. Sex wasn’t going to do anything but fill your base desire, it wasn’t going to give you back that piece of your heart that was ripped away from you when you left. He didn’t let the kiss go on more than a few seconds, pulling away, confusion and despair written all over his face. 

“What?”

“Fuck me, Angel. We need it.” You stated plainly. He shook his head and backed up from you. 

“No. I need you.” His words pricked another pain in your heart. 

“Then take me.” You offered. You were sure you had lost your damn mind. But you wanted Angel, maybe it wasn’t exactly the way you wanted him but you’d take it. 

“Fuck no. That’s not what I want.” You sighed, he wasn’t making this easy. Because it wasn’t what you wanted either. Yeah, you were desperate to feel him inside you again but it’s not truly what you wanted. 

“That’s all I can offer.” Your words came out softer than you planned, sadder. He scoffed, running his hand down his face. 

“You want a release, mami? I’ll give you one, but you’re not getting my dick. I can’t… I can’t be inside you without wanting to stay there. Can’t give you that if I know you’re just going to leave again.” You weren’t sure what he was offering. But it didn’t matter because he was more upset than he had been just a few moments ago. 

“Angel…” You shook your head not knowing what to say. Fuck, if he fucked you right now you wouldn’t want him to go anywhere either. But that wasn’t your reality. The reality was that he fucked up and sex didn’t fix it the first time and it certainly wasn’t going to fix it this time. 

“I’ll make you come on my tongue, and then you can walk out that door but you’ll walk out knowing only I can take you to heaven.” You swallowed hard at his words as he crowded your space again. Your breath hitched as he pulled you into his chest, making you look into his eyes. 

“I’m not going to stop. Not gonna stop calling, texting, not gonna stop until you give me another chance to prove to you how much I fucking love you. But right now, I’ll give you what you want. Even if it kills me.” And with that he slid to his knees. Your whole world stopped at the confession, at him kneeling before you, ready to worship you in a way only he could. The sight of him on his knees, the rush you felt as he trailed his hands up your bare thighs, it was like no other high you had ever felt. Your salvation and your destruction kneeled before you, ready to prove to you how deadly the mix of the two was. Your angel on his knees ready to sin. 

His lips trailed up your thighs and you threw your head back, steadying yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His warm breath getting closer to the place you needed him most had your core clenching around nothing, had you squirming, waiting for him. 

“Fuck…” You breathed out as he lifted your dress to get his mouth right on the skin above your panties. You bit down hard on your bottom lip as you felt yourself getting wetter at his teasing. His lips skimmed your stomach before he forcefully yanked your panties down, a contrast to his gentle and slow movements. You gasped at the action but before you could react further, he buried his face in your pussy, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder in the process. You yelped at the sudden intensity, at his wet tongue sliding through your folds and flicking against your clit. 

“Oh god.” You cried, grabbing onto his hair and grinding yourself into his face. He let you, following your movements, never relenting, never taking his mouth off you. Heaven. He wasn’t wrong, only your angel could take you there. 

“Missed your taste. Missed you.” He mumbled against your slick. He said the last part so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. You heard him and it stung but the pleasure he was also giving you was overpowering your thoughts on his confession. 

“Feels so good, Angel.” Your words spurred him on as he trailed his tongue to your hole, fucking you. You whined at the intrusion and rolled your hips and pulled his head in deeper. You were drowning again, or flying, or possibly dying. It felt too good, felt too sweet to be anything but something so fucking dangerous yet so damn exhilarating. 

You were so lost in your pleasure you almost didn’t notice the door open, Angel obviously didn’t, head still buried in your pussy. The head that peeked around the door was the same woman who had been trying to fuck Angel all night. Her eyes widened at the sight and you should’ve felt embarrassed, but all you felt was that satisfaction again. Angel was here with you, on his goddamn knees for you. Pleasuring you and wanting nothing in return. At your mercy. Your head clouded with need at the thought, not because he was here with you and not some other woman but because he’d only ever do this for you. 

You moaned a little louder and the girl snapped out of her shock and displeasure as she awkwardly closed the door. 

Now that she was gone, you were once again focused on your man. Not your man. Angel said this would kill him, he didn’t know it was going to kill you too even if you got your release. 

“Gonna come…” You cried as he flicked your clit with his tongue. You were yanking at his hair, which only made him moan and made for a sweet vibration on that bundle of nerves. You rolled your hips against his face faster, nearing the edge. The sounds his tongue and your slick were making were enough to put a porno to shame and it only brought you closer. 

“Come, let me take you there.” Heaven. You could see it behind your eyelids, could fucking feel it as your orgasm finally shot through the surface, taking you sky high. You let out a litany of curses mixed with his name, eyes watering at the intensity of your high. Earlier you didn’t know if you were flying or drowning, what you realized now was that you were flying and drowning. A mix of gasping for air while simultaneously flying right through it. 

Finally you caught a breath as your climax started to fade, Angel still licking his way through it with gentle strokes. You whined as you finally came down, finally came back to this world. He lapped you up slowly and then placed a small kiss to your clit before pulling away and looking up at you. Your breath shook as you looked into his eyes, as he kept your gaze and laced his fingers through yours. You let him. Not having the energy to fight him. He knew what this was, he said it himself before he dropped to his knees. It made you feel slightly less guilty about only taking and not giving. 

He finally got to his feet. You saw the tent in his pants but he adjusted himself and cursed under his breath. He didn’t seem to care about that though as he looked at you. You didn’t like the look. A look that held a lot of promise. His beard was slightly damp from your come and your core throbbed at the sight. He licked his lips as if he knew what you were thinking about and took your face in his hands. 

“Forgive me.” He whispered, desperate again. You knew what it was. He said he’d get you off, nothing to it, but of course there was a small part of him that thought you’d change your mind after another orgasm. 

“No.” Your words stung him, you could tell. But his face hardened and you thought he’d pull away. But instead, he stroked your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You will.” And with that promise he was walking out the door, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Taglist: @starrynite7114​ @xladymacbethx @fear-less-write-more @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @glimmerglittergirl @vicmackeybullshxt @miss-nori85 @blessedboo @kalimont83 @ctrlbitch​ @angelreyesgirl​ @langiinspirations​ @lilac-tea-time​ @melancholymelanin​ @-im-fantastic-​ @withmyteeth @isisafrofairy​ @elektriknachosss​ @krysiewithak​ @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @mental-bycatch​ @smurfflynn​ @blackmissfrizzle​ @arination99​ @bucky-iss-bae​ (if you want to be removed from the taglist for this fic pls let me know!)

[hana-bean]

Close to you (1/7)

Hi everyone! Happy SeiUsa Week 2021! Please enjoy this seven-chapter installment in celebration of the ultimate OTP!

~~~

Everyone walks on To meet just one person someday

---

“Boo! You suck!”

Seiya ducked to the side to avoid an oncoming empty beer bottle flying his way, shattering as it hit the stage floor. He scowled as he grabbed the microphone with the other hand still on his guitar neck.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Get off the stage!” Another bottle started flying, this time in between him and the second guitar player, Yaten.

The bar owner soon sprinted toward the musicians and on the stage, trying to avoid various other objects projecting through the air in the meantime.

“Guys, you got any other songs to play?”

Taiki, who was standing in the back at a keyboard, walked up to join the conversation. “What other songs? This is all we know.” He explained while kicking off a half-eaten chicken wing that landed on his shoe.

“You play the same set every night. They want something fresh.”

“Well, maybe you need to get more patrons instead of the same ones every night,” Yaten growled with a lime green twitchy eye. “It’s not our fault your regulars live here.”

“Listen,” the owner paused to grimace in figurative pain as he felt something wet hit his back. “You need to mix it up.”

“We can’t,” Seiya replied firmly. “We need to play these songs.”

“Then pack it up. The show’s over.”

Yaten released his guitar in order to gesture to drive his point across, letting it hang on his neck. “No! You need to let us play!”

“Not a chance, Napoleon. You’ll drive away my tenants!” The owner glared.

That was it—and not that it usually took very much anyway—Yaten was over the edge. He lifted the strap over his head and tossed his instrument to Taiki before tackling the owner to the stage floor with his standard flying squirrel technique.

“Yaten, what the fuck?!” Seiya removed his guitar and went to work trying to pry his bandmate from atop the owner, or at least he tried; Yaten had the grip strength of a coconut crab despite being the smallest of the three of them.

But that was all the patrons needed as a reason to get in on the action. They stormed the stage with their rage and beer bottles ready, even turning on one another and the instruments. Some who didn’t choose violence for a Tuesday night contacted authorities on their crystal cell phones as they made their exit; the other portion used them to record the melee from their tables.

Seiya soon felt the weight of three men come at him at all sides; his only instinct to protect his head before the four-person clump of testosterone toppled two feet down and off the stage. Immediately, he felt a pain shoot from his knee all the way up to his hip as something heavy and drunk landed on his leg. Seiya wriggled and scooted as much as possible to free himself, but since his body was the one that absorbed most of the impact, the attacking men had the advantage to quickly begin their beatdown.

He managed to curl up in the fetal position as feet and fists made contact with every part of his exposed body. But then, allowing himself to only feel like a failure for a few seconds, he made a quick decision and reached within his jacket for his headset.

“Fighter Star Power, Make Up!”

As the transformation alone knocked the three men on their backs, their world was forever rocked when they looked upon a leather-clad woman standing in place of the male musician once the music and sparkles had faded.

“He’s a guardian?!” One yelled, completely stupefied.

Sailor Star Fighter cocked an eyebrow as she smirked, her Star Yell ready in hand.

“Remind me again: what do you think of my songs?”

By then, three police officers had come through the entrance. Their hands floated above their holstered guns on their hips as they were visibly surprised and uneasy.

“Guardian! Put your weapon down!”

“It’s the cops! Run!” A voice shouted. The chaos simply transformed from scuffle to stampede as people began to book it for any exit they could find.

The authorities were soon knocked down from the rush, however one was able to take out her radio and plead into it, “Ten-seventy-five! We need guardians! Get us guardians!” until it was kicked out of her hand from an escaping patron.

Taiki and Yaten came up behind Star Fighter—donning a few scratches, cuts, and tousled hair—all the while still moving pretty well.

“Seiya, you dumbfuck, why’d you transform?” Yaten chastised.

“I’m the dumbfuck?” Fighter gave her crazy eyes. “They were going to kill me!” For a split second, she forgot about her leg and put weight on it while yelling back. However, the appendage was quick to remind her that something was wrong. She winced and seethed in a breath as she fell on Taiki for support.

“Let’s get out of here,” Taiki suggested calmly as he wrapped Fighter’s arm around his neck. Yaten followed suit on the other side.

They only had to contend with navigating through a few scattered stragglers before the three made their way toward the emergency exit by the stage. Taiki kicked the door open only to be met with two obstacles standing in their way, both clad in Milky Way guardian uniforms. One was in a dark blue and yellow color combination with short blonde hair, the other in dark blue and teal with medium-length teal hair.

“Not so fast.”

---

Seiya sighed as he dropped his head on the headrest in the backseat of the police car. The authorities were escorting him from a hospital where his wounds were attended to, and he was now alone. Or rather, separated from Taiki and Yaten. His only company was the two guardians from the bar—whom he was squished in between—and a uniformed officer at the wheel.

He cleared his throat to get attention from anyone. “What did you do with my friends?”

“They’re at a detention center.” The blonde guardian answered, void of emotion, keeping her focus out the window.

“A detention center? Why?”

“Because they’re here illegally. You all are. You should be there, too.”

Fuck, that’s not good. That’s not good at all… But it still didn’t explain… “So where are you taking me then?”

“The queen would like an audience with you.” The teal-headed one answered while busy on her crystal smartphone, having removed a glove for her screen to sense the natural heat of her thumb. A half-filled plastic grocery bag also sat on her lap.

“The queen?” Seiya tried to use his hands to emphasize his confusion, however, his handcuffs clanked in protest. “What does she want with me?”

“It doesn’t matter what she wants—she calls, you come.” The blonde turned her head to look at him with stern blue eyes.

He knew there was no use prying anymore. The blonde had already knocked him around a few times before getting to the hospital, so he knew he risked further physical punishment if he did so. Any other day he would find the pain worth it if it meant annoying her, but his body was already unbearably sore in places he didn’t realize he had.

Meeting with the queen also had him a bit concerned for his well-being. He figured it had something to do with being a guardian, but what exactly does she plan to do with him and that information? He had heard she was a kind and just ruler, albeit young, but from his years of intergalactic travel before ending up in Crystal Tokyo, it could very well be propaganda.

He guessed he was about to find out.

Once the car made it to the bridge that led to the palace, one needed two hands to count all the checkpoints. The palace seemed to be built specifically to reflect the moonlight, producing a daytime-like glow once they were on royal grounds. However, the car parked in front of an inconspicuous building behind a row of trees a couple of minutes shy of the actual palace, and then the blonde dragged Seiya out of the vehicle by his handcuff chains, causing his shiny black cane to drop on the ground. Diagnosed with a temporary disability from his hurt leg, the doctors issued the walking aid to help with his mobility for the next couple of weeks, but the blonde didn't care.

“Haruka, be gentle.” The teal-headed guardian chided.

“Why?”

“You know how handcuffs can hurt if you’re too rough.”

“And you will know, too… once we’re done tonight.”

Seiya raised an eyebrow, wondering if they knew their whispering wasn’t really whispering; he even caught the driver looking back with a nosy eye. Feeling a sense of dread of being transported to a second location, he limped along slowly, following the driver inside the building while trailed by the guardians.

He was led to a room that was comfortably simple and aesthetically feminine—its motif included ribbons, swirls, and florals in a combination of white and pink colors. And a small white round table sat in the middle of the space with four plush boudoir chairs surrounding it. Seiya even picked up on the scent of stargazer lilies before he noticed them sitting on a side table by the door.

But apparently, there was no time to take in his surroundings as he felt a shove on his back, forcing him to keep his balance with his bad leg. He turned around to glare at the blonde guardian.

“Hurry up!” She pointed inside the room with irritation emanating from her whole body. “The queen is on her way!”

Seiya grumbled and hobbled over to take his place in a chair, releasing a tired sigh. All he wanted was to get this over with and back to his mission. He hated how his only hope rested within the hands of the queen; it made him feel helpless and idle.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door of the building open, followed by both guardians bowing on the other side of the threshold at an unseen presence. Assuming the queen herself had arrived, Seiya pulled himself to his feet with the aid of his cane and the table.

"Uranus! Neptune!"

“Neo-Queen Serenity.”

---

---

If you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana-bean close to you and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

[shadowknight465]

The Wrath of Life

Light. Light of all colours in rainbow except for purple.  Surrounded by a golden aura. It was beautiful yet he is afraid.  When he tried to touch it. It burned him. Causing him screech a unholy sound with repeated phrases like. "Sinful creature and True spawn of hell."

There was a knock at the door.

Do these people have a life outside of bullying me?

He thought as he opened the door.  Except that the person was not who he is expecting, in fact he doesn't think he has ever seen him before. Before he could the stranger's name. He barge in straight to the guest room. "What a lovely house you two have, Nightmare." He said putting down his things . "Do you mind if you can run hot bath for me?" He asked.

"Um. First of all I don't even know you.  Second you can't just go to people's houses and expect them to treat you like royalty. " He said crossing his arms. The stranger look at him. "I thought Dream already told you about me." Nightmare thought of what Dream said before he left. "Neil?"

"That's me."

"Hold on if you are really Neil then give me proof."

Neil removed his cloak. Revealing that the cat has lost an arm. Nightmare felt guilty.  " Don't put on a sad face little boy.  You are just being protective of your home, and that I applaud you." Neil woke Nightmare with his thoughts. Neil then smile. " I guess I forgot that Dream told me you're not very trustful with strangers." Neil scratch his head "Speaking of which ,  Do you happen to know a person name Hubert Cumberdale or better known as Salad Fingers?" Nightmare gulped.  It's been awhile since he seen Hurbert his first and possibly only friend.  Last time he ever saw him was the time he had to take Hubert to the asylum. "Yes. I've know him." He answered. 

"Hubert wanted me tell you thank you." Neil responded.

"For what?" Nightmare asked.  He doesn't remember giving Hubert any kindness in fact he thinks what he did was horrible. "Because of your actions Huber is now married with a beautiful wife they had a lovely child." Neil responded.  Nightmare sigh in relief. " So I was worry  for nothing?"

"Yup. Now can you please run me a hot bath?" Neil responded. Nightmare decided this time he would run him as hot bath.

~~~~~

Dinner was not like what he was expecting.  Instead of him cooking it was Neil. But at least it was good. Baked beans with roasted ham. With a cup of wine. He felt comfortable knowing the person living with him for a while is friendly. "Hey Night, what time is it.?" Neil asked. Nightmare looked outside. "Well it is dark." He said. "Well time for me to hit the sack." Neil got up and went to his bedroom. 

Maybe I should go to sleep as well.

Nightmare thought. He took of his shirt. Brush his teeth with a dry corn cob. And went the his bed.  Falling asleep as soon his head hit the pillow. However instead of his normal nightmares this one felt wrong. He was wearing the same clothes Moon was except it was mostly black and sliver. He has markings all of him and he was behind a female paladin. Her skin was kissed by the sun itself. Her short hair looks like fire and her eyes were a red and yellow gradient.

"Sun. Is something wrong?" He spoke, but it wasn't his voice.  The paladin said nothing. "Sun?" The paladin turn with a flaming sword in her hand. "What are you doing?" He said backing away slowly, but the girl's eyes turned snake-like. And she jumped to him. Stabbing him with her blade. He quickly got the blade off of him screaming.  "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" The girl didn't answer.  Instead she showed her snake-like fangs smiling. He knew this was a fight so he summoned his unprepared scythe. The girl called for help claiming Moon was a traitor again and all the women that came looks familiar.  "But Sun. Didn't Moon said-" One of girls tried the reason. "She lied to us again." She cut her off. Nightmare felt betrayal, but he doesn't understand why. None of the girls responded and attacked him. One tore his mask and shot him in his missing eye with a arrow.  A mix of magic and weapons overpowered him. He knows he can kill everyone if he takes his gloves, but he made a vow to never used his bare hands. So he decided to do the next self defense.  By placing a cursed on them. One where they are trapped in limbo. He place his scythe on the ground and chant in latin. However the paladin attacked him in the back. He felt his life draining from him as he hears a man scream. "Mi Nina." He shut his eyes for the final time with the feeling of wrath and sorrow.

Nightmare woke up in a cold sweat. As he looked around he saw that the scythe Moon gave him was with breaking. Eventually turning a bit bigger with a moth at the bottom. 

What just happened?

He thought. Maybe another vision? He eventually fell back to sleep. He'll think about it in the morning.

~~~~

The autumn harvest festival has arrived and Nightmare put on his more regal garment. Neil was getting a few beers and the townsfolk had forgot he existed.  He was thinking about looking into the lore of the festival until a mysterious stanger showed up wearing strange garments.  She was pretty however.  Skin that was kiss by the sun, flaming hair that's been put up by a high ponytail.  A gold-red mask covering half her face, but not fully her scar. 

The priest was the first to got up to her. "Hello madam." He said.

"Olá" She responded.  "Huh?"

"I said hello in my native tongue." She answered.

"Oh. Anyways  What a pretty thing like you brings in our beautiful village?" He said.

Here he goes again trying to groom someone.

Nightmare thought as he rolled his eyes.  He look at her again and felt off. Like he met her before.

It wasn't long till she spotted him. She walks towards him.  Later squinting her eye. "M-Moonie?" She asked almost crying. Nightmare felt awkward.  "No, I'm Nightmare." He said. She blinked. "Oh my mistake, you just reminded me of an old friend of mine." She said as she walk away whispering "Eu sinto Muito.". 

Why do I feel unsafe around her?

Nightmare asked himself.

"You best keep an eye on her." Nightmare heard a familiar voice.  He turned and saw Nox in disguise.

"What are you doing here?" Nightmare asked. "Errands." Nox reply.

"Hey, Nox can I have a word with you?" Nightmare asked. Nox set the large sack he was carrying down. "What is it?"

"That's scythe Moon gave me.  Is it perhaps any chance curse?"

"What makes you say that?" Nox reply. "Last night I had a dream where I was murdered.  But it wasn't me at all." Nightmare answer. "Maybe the scythe didn't like you." Nox said. Nightmare could feel the jealous aura coming from Nox.

What's make that scythe so important to him?

He thought. "I think there's something that you're not telling me.  In fact ever since we first met I could sense you have some grudge against me and I don't know why." Nightmare said. Nox glared at him than he towered over him getting ready to punch him. Yet he didn't.  Instead he just sighed. "Moon's soul stuck in it. And I don't want anything bad happen to him." Nightmare had seen this behavior before.  In both real life and in his books mostly his romantic novels. "Are you telling me that you're..." Nightmare begin. "No. Not like that." Nox begins to plea. "In love with him?.." Nightmare finished.  He's no love expert, but  He can tell Nox is in love with Moon. Nox blushed a purple hue before covering his face. "Look me and Moon first met we had a rocky beginning.  I was task with killing death by W.D Gaster. I would have succeeded if that man didn't spot me. When we met again  It turns out that both of us aren't so different after all and.." Nox stops himself and put his arm around his chest. "He was the only person I could talk to about these feelings of hate on being born with a uncomfortable body." Even though Nightmare can't understand he felt bad for Nox. "So what do you think about that dream I had? Does it mean something?" Nightmare asked trying to change the subject.  "I don't know myself. And I read all of Moon's books and scrolls." Nox answered. Nightmare watch Nox pack up. "Where are you going?" Nightmare asked. "Home. Hecate freaks out being alone at midnight." Nox replied. Nightmare took a breath.  Then music became louder and more vibrant, with the lights and fire becoming brighter and more warm. He turn and saw the stranger dancing with the strong man. Something doesn't seem right. Usually the strong man would refuse to dance for anyone, but the little girl he was targeting.  And he could've swore he saw scales of a snake on the stranger. The stranger later took the man to a small alley.  Nightmare thought that the man is just showing her around town. So he didn't pay much attention. He decided to try out the bobbing for apples he saw a couple of people did.  He should known better than to trust everyone when they pushed his head into the water. Luckily the little ones are making smores next to its fire they made themselves so maybe he can rest there.  As he headed to the campfire the little boy with the abusive mother grabbed him. "Nightmare, I don't feel comfortable with that girl."

"What girl?" Nightmare asked.

"The girl dancing with my mom." The boy pointed out. Nightmare took a look and saw that the stranger with the boy's mother.

Wasn't she with the strong man?

He thought. He turned to boy. "I'll keep a close eye on them while you have fun with your friends. Alright?" The boy nodded. Nightmare walks towards the dancers, but made sure that both of them can't spot him. He watch as the stranger convinced the abusive mother to go to the alley. Once there the stranger carefully removed the other woman's clothes. Nightmare thought they were going to court with each other so he turned away embarrassed. Even if he wasn't there the two women would eventually be found, and be hanged for committing homosexuality witchcraft. He left to tell the boy he might be getting two moms if they can convince the court. To his surprise the boy didn't pay no mind to it. In fact the boy just ask if it's okay with God. He doesn't know how reply due to him not being religious.  So they change the topic. Eventually Nightmare forgot about the stranger. Later he got tried and decided he had enough partying for tonight. As he went back home he heard a scream next to him. He turn to where the scream was and saw the unimaginable.

Everyone that danced with the stanger died in pools of blood and a demon snake mantis fire thing licking some from her hands. Nightmare backed away slowly until a woman scream caught the creature's attention. She smile and dash past Nightmare and grabbed the woman and begins to feast on her. By making her paralyze with the vemon in her fangs. Then she gutted her with her teeth. Later riping her limb from limb until she was nothing more than a pool of blood. Worst of all everyone saw it. While Nightmare ran.

Is that a Solarite?

He thought, but someone grabbed him and push him towards her. The Solerite took notice and held him down. Nightmare closed his eyes and hope that the death will be quick, except it never came. Instead she froze in place and is beginning to cry blood. Then stopped. "Você conhece o Nim?" She said.

"W-What?" Nightmare asked. "I said. Do you know Nim? You know that apple tree dryad?" She said.

"Yes. She's my mother." He said. She glared, but not at him. "Essa vadia...I know she would do this. But never to her own son."  She muttered.  "Nightmare, did you summoned this..thing?" A man yelled. "No. I barely even kno-" He was cut off. "As if you weren't evil enough you destroyed a sacred ceremony. " Nightmare look down.

Are they that stupid?

He thought. "Wait, I cause the massacre.  Not him. And how is he a part of it?" The solerite asked. "Didn't he summoned you?" Someone else asked. "No. I came by going on a boat by myself. " She answered.  "Well he bleeds black blood." A woman said. "I have a close friend who bleeds black blood and he would never harm someone unless he has too or is provoked." She replied. The solarite stood up and allowed Nightmare to stand up. Then she put her hand on his shoulder.  Surprisingly it didn't burn him. "Are you a scapegoat?" She asked. Nightmare took a deep breath.  "Yes." She turns to village.  "Raise your hand if you still think he cause the massacre?" Not surprisingly almost all of village raise their hands. "Good thing my pets love barbecues." She whispered. "Now come to me if you think he is innocent." All the children and some of villagers came forward despite their loved ones pleas and threats. She came up to them and pat them all on their heads. Later did the same to Nightmare. "Who are you?" Someone said. The solarite smile. "I am the wrath of life." She said as she turns into a snake and begins slithering away. Many tried catch her, but she was too fast. And those that did hands were burnt to a crisp. Nightmare took the opportunity to run. He went home grabbed Moon's scythe and spent the night at the in-hill. Planning to talk to Moon about her and about that dream.

[storiesforallfandoms]

get away ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove

word count: 1265

request?: no

description: when you decide to go to a house party, you find yourself the victim of some drunk guy’s unwanted attention, and a certain someone steps in to save you.

pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader

warnings: swearing, harassment, a little violence but nothing too bad

(y/f/n) = your friend’s name

Parties weren't usually your scene, mainly because you couldn’t stand any of the assholes at Hemlock Grove High that threw parties. But you felt obligated to go to the house party one of the popular girls was throwing. All the seniors at Hemlock Grove High were invited, celebrating the beginning of their final year of school. Your plan was to go, stay close to your friend the whole night, socialize the best you could with drunk assholes, then go home and watch Netflix for the night.

Upon arriving to the party at 10:00, it was obvious that everyone was already very drunk, or high.

“So this is a popular party, huh?” you said as you scrunched up your nose and looked around. Nothing looked particularly...desirable. Everyone was huddled in their cliques, like they were in the school hallways, drinking and being way too loud for how close they all were. Some awful techno music was blasting through the speakers while one of the jocks tried to seem like a DJ but was obviously just drunkenly dancing and pressing buttons to start up the next song, meanwhile the rest of the jocks were roughhousing with each other.

“Apparently so,” your friend responded. “We’ve really been missing out. How are we ever going to live knowing we missed this excitement?”

“I might die on the spot with sadness,” you responded. “Let’s see if they have anything decent to drink.”

You both pushed your way through the crowd of people to the kitchen, which was surprisingly kind of empty. You both found a cooler placed on the counter with bottles of alcohol stuck out of it. You both grabbed a bottle of rum and a can of Pepsi each and mixed your drinks. As you took your first sips, the party host, a cheerleader named Charlotte that was everyone’s friend to their faces, stumbled into the kitchen.

“(Y/N)!” she exclaimed excitedly. “(Y/F/N)! I’m so glad you two came! You never come to parties!”

“We’re never invited,” (Y/F/N) responded. “Something about not being popular.”

Charlotte giggled. “That’s bullshit! I like you both. I’m gonna invite you to all my parties from now on!”

Before you could both could protest, Charlotte threw her arms around the both of you before stumbling back out of the kitchen, mumbling something about looking for the bathroom.

“Yeah, now I really regret missing out on this stuff,” you said with a nod. “I’m gonna take my drink outside for a second, I already feel like I need air. You gonna come?”

“I’ll be out in a second, I’m with Charlotte on the bathroom thing.”

You nodded and opened the sliding door that connected the kitchen to the patio. The minute the cold air hit you, you sighed with relief. You didn’t realize how stuffy it was inside of that house, but it made sense with how many bodies were packed into the one house with no windows open.

You sat yourself down on the steps of the deck and sipped on your drink. You were more than content to sit here for the rest of the party, joined soon by (Y/F/N), and then leave and never come back to another party. Unfortunately, a couple of asshole jocks had a different plan.

You didn’t even hear them come out until one sat himself down next to you. “Well look who we have here. Miss. Antisocial herself decided to join us at a party.”

“Fuck off Mark,” you muttered before sipping your drink again. The smell of beer coming from him, from the three of them, was so strong you wanted to vomit.

“Don’t tempt me,” Mark responded with a wink. “You look good tonight, (Y/N). Who knew you had such a sexy figure.”

His words made you squirm uncomfortably. (Y/F/N) had to be coming soon, right? She’d save you from these jerks.

Suddenly, Mark’s hand was on your back, causing you to jump. “You know, Charlotte has quite a few empty rooms up there if you’d like to blow this joint for a while, or other things.”

Fully disgusted, you quickly stood. “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last guy on Earth, Mark. Now, if you guys will excuse me.”

You turned to walk away when Mark’s two friends stood in your way. You glared at them and tried to walk around them, but they put hands out to stop you, grinning as if it were all a joke.

“We don’t need a room, baby, I don’t mind doing it out here where everyone can see us.”

Mark grabbed you and shoved you against the railing of the patio, trying to grab a hold of your clothes. You fought back against him, hitting him hard and attempting to kick him. His disgusting jock friends merely watched as if this were an okay thing to be happening.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

Suddenly, Mark was thrown off you and almost thrown through the glass sliding door. Your surprising saviour was none other than a very pissed off Roman Godfrey.

“What the fuck, Godfrey?!” Mark snapped. “If you wanted a turn you could’ve just asked!”

“You get the fuck away from her,” Roman hissed. “All three of you. You get far, far away and never come near her again or I will fucking kill you!”

The jocks got up and walked away, grumbling something about Roman ruining their fun, slamming the glass door so hard you were sure it would shatter into a million pieces.

Roman turned to you, the anger on his face melting into concern. “Are you okay? Did those fuckheads hurt you?”

“What do you care?” you asked. “You’ve never paid the slightest attention to me before.”

“Just because I haven’t tried to get in your pants doesn’t mean I was about to let you get raped by a waste of human conception like Mark,” he retorted.

You sighed, realizing how ungrateful you sounded. Obviously Roman had just saved you from something very bad. You crossed your arms and stared down at your feet. “Thanks.”

“Wow, did that hurt?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “A little bit, yeah.”

The two of you stood in silence for a while. You noticed your discarded drink on the floor, dropped and spilt in your fight with Mark. Pity, that was the only thing that was going to get your through this party.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

Your head snapped up to look at Roman. “Wait, seriously?”

Roman shrugged. “Yeah sure, why not? Doesn’t seem like your scene, and it’s not really mind either. I brought my car, wanna go for a drive?”

“I’m kind of here with someone,” you responded.

“Well tell them you’re leaving.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not used to people saying no, are you?”

“Not really, no.”

He was right that you didn’t want to be there, but should you really go running off with the residence ladies man of Hemlock Grove? The guy who’s fucked just about every girl in Hemlock Grove High, maybe even every girl in the town. The guy who just openly admitted he hadn’t tried to get into your pants (yet).

But then again you couldn’t just judge a person by the rumors  that were spread about them. Plus, Roman was really good looking. What would one little drive hurt?

“Have you been drinking?” you asked.

“Nope, I just got here,” he responded.

After a brief moment of pondering, you shrugged. “Fuck it. Lead the way.”

I’m totally going to do a part two, I was going to continue this imagine here but I kind of want to make the second part its own thing

[celestialmystical]

MY SOJU BOTTLE!!!

I haven’t felt like I’ve actually been in Korea.

Even after I finally left quarantine on last Friday, September 25th, I still felt like I was a nomad.

Because instead of going to the AirBnB where I was placed to stay from then to the 30th, I went straight to work.

Getting there was difficult, again. I had the taxi driver, who was really, really nice and patient with me, take me to a subway station that my boss told me to go to. He took me to wrong one accidentally. He then had to come pick me up and just take me to work, which I think would have been easier to do in the first place.

I get there and it’s inside a building where there is a convenience store below, of course.

Someone comes out to find me and it’s the first white person I’ve seen face-to-face since coming to Korea. He’s the person I’m replacing.

He sees the two huge luggage cases I’m holding and kind of laughs.

He helps me bring them up to the school where we just leave it in the library.

For the rest of the day, I just sit in the back of the classrooms and observe people teach.

I made sure to take notes not only on the different teaching styles I want to incorporate into my class but also on the different characteristics of each of the students I’ll soon be teaching.

Afterwards, I was sent on a taxi with students and a Korean teacher who was talking to the taxi driver about where to take me. The taxi driver seemed annoyed. I can’t count how many times I heard him say, “Ash!” Which is like “Ugh!” And I heard the word “foreigner” in Korean a couple of times with his tone a little less than pleasant.

But I don’t really know what he was saying. When I got out of the taxi, him and this other guy helped me find my way to the AirBnB.

Old Korean men, which are mostly referred to as “ajushis” here, have been my save and grace. They have helped me so much with directions and everything here lol.

One of them walked me to where the student taxi was going to pick me up on Monday.

Walking around the neighborhood the AirBnB was in, more towards the city of Hanam, farther from the school, was interesting. It felt kind of like I was in Harlem in New York—just the shops and atmosphere felt the same.

I think some man said some slur to me as I was walking by. It was the one time I was thankful I didn’t speak Korean lol. He started following me and the ajushi who was helping me.

I felt more angry than scared. I kind of gave him a look of like I’ll fucking kill you if you touch me and then he left me alone.

I was barely in the AirBnB for the 5 days I was placed there.

The next day, Saturday, for the first time, I took the bus and the subway to go to Gangnam in Seoul.

That was honestly the easiest time I had had getting to my destination up till then.

I got to the hotel I was staying at and met with the teacher orientation group I was placed with.

Everyone was super nice and chill. There was five of us and a guide.

We had a great time. We ate everything but Korean food lol. Which was a little disappointing for me but I know it would probably be my last time for a while before I’d ever eat Indian or Mexican food again.

We did so much walking and exploring it was insane.

We also went into Itaewon which is also in Seoul and known for having a lot of foreigners. More walking. Lots and lots of cafes. I have never seen so many. And they weren’t the type where you go study, but the type where you take cute aesthetic pictures in them.

Late at night, we went to a Canadian restaurant/bar. Hockey was playing on all of the TVs.

Walking towards the restaurant, everything along the street was for foreigners. It was weird to all of us to see so many foreigners in one spot after living in Korea for some time.

We had a couple of drinks which was really fun. Some of them left to go back to the hotel and some stayed with me to go explore some more.

I never had soju before so we went to a convenience store and got some soju bottles.

I had my first sip in the back of an alley. It was truly special.

Then we went into a foreigner bar. A lot of the bars on the street that had Koreans in them were very calm and quiet. Even though those would have been fine to drink in them, I think we were all craving the familiarity of the rowdiness that accompanies bars that have foreigners.

I had lots of fun in there. I almost got in a fight with the owner for bringing a soju bottle inside but other than that, it was great!

I didn’t know he was the owner at the time, okay??

I thought he was some random drunk not minding their own business.

Apparently, you can’t openly mix soju with beer in a foreign bar which is… whatever.

He was trying to take my bottle from me. I tried to tell him that I paid the bottle with my own money and he had no right to take it from me! I said “Sir, this is MY SOJU BOTTLE!!!”

Luckily, one of the people I was with, we’ll call him Mr. British, was more peaceful than me and the girl, we’ll call her the Shy Freak. We were not as diplomatic, I should say.

Mr. British had the bartender give us cups for us to put the soju in and then he tossed out the bottles.

Once we left, I looked up a dancing club for us to go to.

We walked and walked again. I was like kind of, not really, smashed honestly. I was trying not to show it in front of them but they knew.

Mr. British said I was swerving left and right while I was walking lmao.

He also said I got really grumpy and moody when they were commenting on how drunk I was and that I started walking in front of them.

Yikes lol.

We finally get to the club, and it’s not a dancing club. It’s like a lounge. And there’s a line to get in.

So that was a bust and we went to the hotel shortly after.

I kind of wished we stayed at the bar but its fine. It’s probably good that we walked so I could have digested the alcohol lol.

The next day, I wake up super early as I always do after a night of drinking for some reason. I take a shower because that always helps my hangovers. I go downstairs to eat some breakfast.

Once everyone is downstairs as well we start to talk about teaching and questions or problems that we’ve had. Then after eating Mexican food, me and the girls go to a mall called Coex, which was really, really cool.

But by this point, I was really, really tired.

So much social interaction and walking after having zero of any of that for two weeks can really take a toll on the human body.

Then Monday came, September 28th. The taxi never came so I had to take the bus which was fine. I did more observing.

Tuesday, there was an event for Chuseok, which is basically the Korean thanksgiving where they eat ricecake and such. I tried looking up how it started—but it began 2000 years ago so no one really knows how it started. America’s started less than 200 years ago to put it into perspective.

The first half of the day was full of games and activities which I had a lot of fun doing with the kids. I finally felt like I could interact with them and guide them.

For the last half of the day, it was back to school and I decided to be more hands on with helping the students learn English. It was fun. It made me really excited to orchestrate my own class.

Wednesday, I FINALLY moved into the apartment I’ll be staying in for a year! Yay!!!

I’ve settled in my stuff. Finally unpacked and don’t need to pack for a while. I’m really happy.

Now.

I feel like I’m actually, finally in Korea.

[wickedlehane]

INJURY/HURT PROMPTS BC REASONS

@pryceism​ || Wesley

[ LACERATE ] for one muse to get stabbed while protecting/working with the other

Verse: Take it All the Way (Angel S4)

The air was thick and heady with cigar smoke exhaled through fetid undead lungs, past sour lips soaked with second-rate beer, the best a seedy joint like this could afford to stock. Faith had to appreciate the ingenuity and entrepreneurship of the owners, dedicated to providing demonic clientele with a little bit of release from the pavement-pounding lifestyle she imagined that monsters in Los Angeles had to keep. Not a one was the Hollywood type like the suited green singer she’d seen back at the Hyperion.

No, these were (for better or worse) her type of people. Rough, grimy. Versed in vice. God, any other night she might pocket a few bills from Wesley’s wallet and get herself a little pick-me-up. But they were tracking a trail of blood quickly clotting as Angelus tore through the town.

First stop of the night, a little dive called Dante’s. Sign on the door said no magic was allowed on the premises- the only salt circles these demons encountered were on the rim of their margaritas. Violators would be shot- and Faith didn’t think they meant the fun alcohol kind. 

Well, Slayers weren’t exactly magic, but she could always make someone’s consciousness disappear with a quick fist to the face if it came to that. Wesley, however, was packing heat. A surprising sight from the former watcher, but as she’d seen in the last twenty-four hours, things were different these days. Made memories of the Hellmouth seem quaint.

“Slayer,” a particularly scarred vampire growled as Faith swaggered in- his face was all forehead, yellow eyes matching the same butter-colored light emitted behind tacky stained glass lampshade fixtures.

“Hardly know 'er,” Faith replied coolly, breezing past with Wesley close at her heels. Whether it was because he wanted to give her the chance to lead (either as a show of deference or that fall from the prison window hurt him a little more than he was letting on) or this was yet another test on his part, the young woman has happy to be the face of the operation. Besides, Angelus already knew she was in town and looking for him. This time, she’d be goddamn ready.

She placed an open palm down onto the counter top, regretting it instantly as she felt the textured wood, both beer-sticky and demon-slimy, but refused to let the internal grimace pass over her features. “Hey, barkeep. I’m looking for a vampire, goes by Angelus. Psycho killer wrapped in leather- sound familiar?”

The creature tending the bar was some kind of demon, all scaled skin and vertical eyes. Wesley probably knew what he was and exactly the way to kill him, but Faith wasn’t going to let it come to that. Intimidation was a universal language, right?

He turned his back to her, picking up a glass and rag, cleaning idly. “Information’s for paying customers. ‘Sides, we protect our own here.”

“Hey, Angelus isn’t your own,” Faith said, slapping her hand down once more, lunging to grab his collar with the other arm. Her eyes hovered to the drink prices, contemplating asking Wes for the cash. $6.50 for a bottle of beer? Holy shit, that might have been more of a crime than her murder rap sheet. “I’m on a bit of a tight schedule, but my shit list has room for your name on it if you want to play dumb with me. Tell me where to find him.”

“Look, lady, you want to start trouble in here, we’ll give you trouble. But I haven’t seen any Angelus,” the bartender said, dropping the rag and letting the glass clatter to the countertop as Faith yanked him halfway across the wood. “Can’t imagine why he’d be avoiding you, y-you seem like a lovely person.”

Noticing the commotion, a large horned creature who looked like a moose and a monkey fucked in a candle factory withdrew a switchblade from his vest, pool cue in the other hand. Several others standing around- a mix of vampires and other monster-folk- tensed, either for action or self-preservation.

“Faith,” Wesley’s voice intoned.

“Yeah, just a second.”

It was not the moose-demon, but a smaller, sleeker woman who darted for the Slayer first. Faith quickly looked over her shoulder, dropping her captive before donkey-kicking the attacker clear into the pool table. Hard, colorful balls clattered against one another along the green felt surface, messing up the carefully arranged shot-in-waiting. The moose man roared, tossing his wooden cue down and taking a wide swing at Wesley while Faith attended to the diminutive, almost feline assailant who had charged her. Not vampires, so staking wasn’t exactly going to help her here. She heard Wesley grunt in frustration, but noted that he hadn’t cocked his shotgun just yet.

Besides, they weren’t here to kill with reckless abandon- the notion might give Angelus too much satisfaction.

Faith grabbed two spheres, the 8-Ball and 2-Ball, slamming them together on either side of her foe’s head. “You’re gonna be black and blue tomorrow, honey,” she quipped as she straddled the woman. Turning to leave, her boot heel caught the round pool cue beneath its treads, causing her to stumble somewhat. “Shit!”

The Slayer caught herself on the edge of the gaming table and quickly righted herself, but noted Wesley grappling with the larger demon. Faith grabbed the creature’s vest collar and yanked him hard, causing his horns to tangle with one of the dangling metal-rimmed lights. Shattered glass and electrical sparks rained down as Wesley managed to find a firm grip once more on his shotgun, aiming it at the restrained attacker. “I’d ask my associate here to mount and stuff you on the wall,” Faith explained as she held the demon in a headlock, “But the decor in here is tacky enough as it is.”

Dropping the demon to the floor with a heavy thud, Faith looked back at the bartender, who now had procured his own shotgun from beneath the racks of whiskey and tequila. The Slayer put her hands up, nodding somewhat appreciatively. “Protecting your own, got it. Well, Wesley, I think we’re finished here,” she said with resignation. “If I find out Angelus came through here, you’re going to wish I’d practiced my murder rehab mantras this morning.”

Wesley practically dragged her out of the place, but not before she added, “Your prices are the real monsters here.”

Out in the back alley, Faith blew a raspberry through her lips and shrugged. “Well, that could have gone better.” Still, it was only their first stop of the night, and the moon was young in the sky. She straightened her jacket, wondering what bar was next on their list- if they hadn’t just totally blown the game. Okay, if she hadn’t just blown it. Still, it wasn’t like this was something they taught in the Watcher’s Council either, though.

Wesley’s disapproving look and tight lips drew her eyes to the fact that he was bleeding from the deltoid, the bloody fabric of his shirt appearing near black in the dimly lit Los Angeles alley. The knife that demon had been carrying cut cleanly through his clothes, skin, and by the looks of it, possibly got into the muscle. It was a wide, deep wound, and Faith screwed up her face briefly in a look of embarrassed sympathy.

“Ah, shit- Wes,” the Slayer said, starting to reach out, but then thinking better of it. “You, uh, got any bandages in the car?”

“Faith,” he said again, that way she knew all too well. Though time and trauma had beaten the intellectual superiority and overtly British condescension out of his tone, the disappointment never changed. The way those five letters left his lips told the girl all she needed to hear. 

He continued on, wondering if his confidence in her abilities had been misplaced at all. Their search for Angelus was serious- there was no time for Faith to 'figure out' how to once again be an effective Slayer, tracker, hunter, or whatever it was she needed to be to accomplish this mission. If prison had dulled her senses, then the soulless vampire would not waste a moment to utterly annihilate her. The natural cycle of day and night were on their side now, Los Angeles no longer a perpetual vampire playground, but that did not make matters any easier. Angelus was an effective, brutal killer in any condition. Was that clear to the Slayer?

“Forgive me if I’m new to this whole ‘working as a team’ thing, if that’s what you even want to call us,” Faith defended. Even before her stint in prison, she was always used to going it alone. So, yeah, she hadn’t considered Wesley in the fight, and he got stabbed covering for her. Was she supposed to apologize for that?

-Then again, maybe yes. It was her lack of foresight that caused him harm, whether directly or not. She didn’t want to be babied, but the former Watcher had brought her out here for a reason. She either failed him- and Angel, and by extension all of Los Angeles- or learned from her mistakes and did better the next time around.

Faith sighed. “I’m sorry, Wes. Let’s get you bandaged, stay frosty, and hit the next bar. Consider this my one and only warm up.” She removed her denim jacket and tied the sleeves tightly around his right shoulder to hopefully stanch the blood until they could patch that properly. Surely this guy kept an emergency kit in the car- if he had a shotgun, he would have a bandage.

The Slayer handed Wesley his weapon, which he slung over the uninjured shoulder. The pair walked down through the alley towards their car, mostly in silence. Before they hit the street again, Faith turned to look back to where they’d started, in case any opportunistic vampires had followed them out. Nothing.

She sighed, turning back towards Wes. “Bar two- the Half Wolf Moon. Guess we’d better get to it- this time, I’ve got your back, boss.”

[asphalt-cocktail]

Kinkmas Prompt #6: Dirty Talk

A/N: Yeah, I went really over board with this fic and I’m NOT sorry. This is probably my favorite one that I have written so far so I hope you all enjoy! All your comments, likes, and reblogs are so nice to see/read and I appreciate every one of them!

If you would like to request a prompt and character yourself please reference my Kinkmas masterpost.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected, HELLA dirty talk, also smoking and alcohol, fluff, public sexy time, the WORKS people, its high key filthy, also its kind of a college AU??? But not really, (it’s still the 70s), not proof read as well

Kinkmas 2019 Masterlist

General Masterlist

Asks

If you are considered a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

You didn’t know why you had agreed to come along to this party, in fact you don’t even know how you managed to get invited in the first place. It was a friend of a friend situation that caused you to show up on Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor’s college apartment one warm spring night.

To summarize it quickly, you knew John’s girlfriend, Veronica through attending the same university. You met in a freshman seminar class and bonded over your mutual love of disco music and drive for success as women. Eventually when dorm life became too restricted for your liking and you were seeking a roommate, Veronica just so happened to be in the same position. Now, two years later and into your third year of college you found yourselves living very well together.

You knew her boyfriend, John, he was quiet and smart but also had quite a sassy mouth on him and a secret wild streak. That was a quality that John and Veronica shared, they often went out late to go dancing, leaving you alone in the flat. You didn’t mind, you weren’t one to go out and preferred to stay inside, reading or listening to LPs. But when Veronica knocked on your door the Thursday before, begging you to go, you found yourself unable to say no.

“Come on,” She whined, “Roger is going to be there…” She said in a sing song voice.

You scoffed “So,” You said crossing your arms over your chest. Sure you knew of the other three guys that made up John’s band, but it wasn’t like you actually liked any of them.

“Oh don’t even pull that, I’ve seen you making eyes at Roger.” She said lightly pushing your shoulder. You rolled your eyes in response and opened your mouth to comment but she quickly interrupted you “You could at least use a quick shag even if you don’t fancy Roger. You never leave the house.”

Your jaw fell open, “What!” you shrilly said, “I leave the house!” you really didn’t have much else to say, even if what you yelled wasn’t all that true.

“Yeah! For class! When was the last time you brought a guy home? That Michael guy? That doesn’t even count, he was in and out of the house in 15 minutes!” Veronica had a point, Michael from Lit 305 was a disappointment, he was one of those guys who aggressively rubbed everywhere but your clit and repeatedly asked if you were coming. Spoiler alert: You weren’t.

“Fine, I’ll go!” You yelled back in defeat, “But I won’t have fun and you’ll have to kill me before you put my hair in rollers!” if you were going to go out, you were going to do it your way, and not hers.

So here you were, the annual Mercury, Taylor spring end of year bash. You could hear the yelling from outside their damn apartment building and could see people cluttered on the balcony and scattered throughout the yard, Christ this was going to be a mess, you could already tell.

You lugged a case of beer up the steps and opened the door, letting yourself in and were greeted with a grinning and red-faced Veronica “You came!” She squealed and pulled you into a hug.

You furrowed your brows and patted her back awkwardly, “Yeah, yeah, I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I didn’t.” You muttered and scoped the room out, you couldn’t see Freddie, but you could hear him amongst the smoke-filled room and over the loud music. Brian was sitting on the couch his long arms comfortable spread along the back, you could tell he was in a casually heated debate. John was right behind Veronica, his arms firmly wrapped around her waist once she pulled away from you; their red faces and grins matching. But Roger, he was standing by the keg, pouring a drink for himself with several girls flocked around him, laughing at something they probably pretended was funny if you had to judge by the looks on their faces.

“Can I set this down somewhere it won’t get stolen?” You asked, nodding to your case of beer and scrunching your nose as someone bumped into your shoulder while they pushed past you.

John perked up “Oh, you can put in Roger’s room.” You opened your mouth to protest, the last thing you wanted was to see Roger, “Rog!” He called, catching the blonde’s attention and waving him over.

Roger walked up, beer in hand and looked you up and down, his grinning face settling on your scowl, “Can [Y/N] put this in your room?” John asked, swaying with Veronica lightly to the music.

His gaze broke away from you and he glanced at John, “Sure!” He said and pushed his way through the crowd with you following suit.

As the two of you pushed further into the house, the more crowded and densely packed together the bodies got. Roger reached a hand back for you to grasp so you wouldn’t get lost and you took it, feeling the callouses on the palms of his hands and on the pads of his fingertips. You gulped and clutched your case of beer under your arm while the two of you continued to push through before you finally reached his door. He pulled out his keys and unlocked it on the first try. The rush of cool air that left his room was refreshing and didn’t smell like stale beer, cigarettes, and sweat. You had only met Roger a hand full of times but knew the smell in the room was so uniquely him.

He kicked some of his clothes out of the way and looked over at you “You can keep them in here, just grab a few and stick them in the fridge, if you need a refill you know where to find me.” He said giving you a cheeky salute.

You froze, there was a reason you tried to never interact with Roger. It was because that stupid soft voice of his made your knees weak and your head begin to spin. “O-okay” You answered quickly, adverting your gaze and grabbing an arm full of beers, “Do… do you want one?” there was something about this man that caused you to lose all sense of focus and you hated it.

Roger gave you an odd look, “Sure,” He said taking a beer from your hands, “You able to carry all that?” His wide blue eyes looking down at you.

You shifted your stance and nodded your head “Yeah I got it,” You answered just as three cans slipped out from the gaps in your arms and fell to the floor “Shit,” You cursed, bending over and dropping several more cans. You let out a frustrated huff, now holding significantly less than what you had been previously and looked up, only to see eye to eye with Roger as he bent down to help you pick up the fallen cans, “I got it,” You repeated, your hand darting out.

Your hands collided together in a very cliché manor, “It doesn’t look like you do.” He teased, “I can help.” He insisted, you let out a long sigh and finally agreed to let him help you.

When the two of you exited his room, you found Veronica immediately standing at the door, “Oh hey!” She said smiling sheepishly. You narrowed your eyes at her, knowing exactly why she was standing there.

Roger, clueless as every grinned back “Hey Ronnie, you seen Fred?” He asked, craning his head to look over the crowd.

Veronica nodded her head “Yeah, I think he’s on the balcony or outside?” Her answer was more of question, some how he was everywhere at once, running around and insisting on interacting with the guests that had arrived in order to be a good host.

“Right, well I’m going to help [Y/N] put these in the fridge and find him. Roger answered, pushing through the crowd with you in tow.

You were thankful the kitchen was sparsely populated and only contained a few stragglers that were looking to mix their drinks. You placed your cans of beer in the fridge and grabbed one, cracking it open and gulping down the bitter liquid, “I need to be way more fucked up to be here.” You muttered to yourself.

Apparently, Roger had heard you, “Want a shot?” He asked, curiosity flashing behind his azure eyes, “You know to loosen up a bit?” Roger waved a cheap plastic bottle of vodka in front of you.

You looked at your beer, at Roger, and then at the bottle of vodka and your face broke into a grin, “Only if you take one with me.” You responded.

Roger poured out four shot glasses he’d pulled from the cabinets, not caring that he spilled a little as he filled them to the brim, “Ready?” He asked before the two of you raised your glasses to clank them together, tapped them on the table, and then swallowed the clear liquid, it burned going down and caused the two of you to wince and cough. Roger shook his head, trying to clear the sting and blew out a puff of air “Next one, quick,” He said grinning.

You laughed and followed the same pre shot ritual, now feeling a bit more loosened up. The alcohol caused a shiver to creep up your spine and spread through your ears, “That was awful.” You sighed out but couldn’t help but laugh.

Roger grinned back at you, “I know!” He answered back before looking around the room “I’ll be around if you want to do more, ‘kay?” Right, Freddie still needed to be found.

You nodded your head, “Yeah, course.” You responded and exchanged weird nods before he left.

Of course Veronica was waiting for you to exit the kitchen, “Did you kiss him?” She pressed, quickly bombarding you with questions.

You made a face “Of course not, we just took shots and he went to find Freddie, just like he said he would.” You made sure to point out, “Nothing, is going to happen between me and Roger.” You made sure to put emphasis in your sentence.

As the night continued and the alcohol flowed, you found that you weren’t upset about being forced to go out tonight. You and Veronica laughed and danced to the loud continuous music and continued to suck your drinks down like they were water. A wonderful buzzing feeling spread through your body, warming your face and hands. It had been ages since you’d loosened up this much.

Despite the fun atmosphere the small apartment soon became stuffy from breathing recycled air and the lack of circulation, “I’ll be back I’m stepping outside.” You yelled back over the crowd to Veronica who gave you a thumbs up.

You pushed past everyone, looking over the crowd to the balcony which looked as though it was one person away from collapsing and opted to just head outside.

Once outside you coughed at the surprisingly cool air as it filled your lungs and patted your pockets looking for your pack of cigarettes. “Fuck,” You mumbled unable to find the crumpled pack. You leaned against the cool brick of the building and huffed out a sigh of disappointment, at least you still had your beer.

“Need a smoke?”

You turned to see Roger next to you, leaning on the wall of the apartment, his hands casually in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lips, “Please,” You asked looking sheepishly at him. He stuck the soft pack out and you picked one placing the cigarette between your lips.

Roger held up his lighter and you looked quizzically at him “You need a light right?” He asked, pulling you from your daze.

You shook your head “Oh, yeah, right.” You answered awkwardly and leaned in towards the little metal flip lighter. He flicked it open and used his hands to shield the flame from the wind, you inhaled as the flame danced around the tobacco and paper, feeling the smoke trickle into your lungs. You pulled away, puffing the smoke into the air and watching it disappear.  

As you smoked your cigarette you continued to sneak side glances at him, observing how he shifted the weight from one leg to the other and stuffed his hands as far into his jean pockets as possible. The colorful and thin button down was doing nothing to keep the cool air out, especially since it was hardly buttoned. “What?” Roger finally said breaking the silence.

“What?” You answered back, slightly taken back.

“You keep looking at me.” He accused, you could hear the amusement in his voice as he spoke.

“No, I don’t.” You said defensively.

“Yeah, you do.” Roger said matching your tone and now turning to face you, “Why do you act so weird around me?” He pressed, shifting closer to you.

You found yourself leaning back away from him, looking down and making a weird face “I don’t act weird around you.” You continued to defend yourself.

Roger grinned, turning his head away and letting out a soft laugh before looking back at you “There you go making that face,” Before you could continue to deny he interrupted you “Anytime I come over you run and hide in your room, you’ve lived with Veronica for three years and this is the most I’ve heard you speak let alone seen you.” He looked at you with keen eyes.

You looked away, averting your gaze from his and flicking the ash from your cigarette “I’m just shy,” You answered.

Roger let out a loud laugh, causing you to jump “That’s a lie and you know it.” he was close, you could smell the combination of cigarettes and alcohol on his breath and felt your face getting flushed “Do I… make you nervous?” His voice was teasing and low.

It caused you to clench your thighs together as heat pooled between your legs “I-I… no…” You managed to peep out. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you had dropped your long-forgotten cigarette on the ground, placing your palms flatly against the building behind you as you turned, looking away from Roger’s face.

“Look at me,” Roger’s voice was demanding, and his hand cupped your chin urging you obey him, “Be a good girl and look over here, love.”

You chewed on your lip, stifling a whimper that still managed to seep out of your lips and looked up at Roger. He was so close to you; his shallow breaths brushed against your face and filled your nostrils with the scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol. It was intoxicating. “There you go…” He said softly. You looked up at him wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You swallowed thickly and tried to calm your rapid breaths and urge to look away from Roger’s intense gaze. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, his hand sliding from your chin to cup you the side of your face.

Roger’s thumb traced your lower lip and you found your self letting out a shaky breath, your lower lip lightly quivering against his rough fingers. His thumb pressed past your lips into the wet warmth of your mouth, “Suck,” He ordered.

You found yourself obeying and closing your lips around his fingers, gently rubbing your tongue along the soft pads of his thumb and groaning lightly as you sucked on it, “Good girl.” He said breathlessly.

You whimpered, clenching your thighs and hoping the pressure would help ease the arousal you felt. He pushed his thumb further back into your mouth, pressing at the back your throat. You gagged, your mouth opening as you coughed and your throat constricting around his thumb. He quickly pulled his finger back and looked up at your glassy eyes, maintaining eye contact with you as he pulled his thumb completely from your mouth.

Saliva dribbled down your lip and you wiped it off with the back of your hand, keeping eye contact. Your eyes were glassy, and tears had formed in them as a natural reaction to gagging. Roger’s hands cupped either side of your face and he licked his lips, “Bet you with you were gagging on my cock instead of my finger.” He boldly stated.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and you felt your face heat up. He wasn’t wrong, that was the problem, “What are you going to do about it.” You had no idea why you said that, you truly didn’t. Perhaps it was the alcohol you had been drinking, or the fact it had been well over a year since your last decent lay, either way you eagerly awaited his response.

“You wanna get on your knees here, or inside?” He asked, pressing his body against you. His cock strained through the already tight fabric of his jeans and pushed against your leg. You whimpered and felt yourself slinking down onto the ground.

The coolness from the damp grass soaked into the knees of your jeans as you knelt in front of him, palming him through his pants. “Fuck,” Roger breathed out before stepping around you to lean against the brick building and quickly scrambled, fumbling with his belt and taking his cock out from his pants.

You instinctively reached up, gripping him at the base and pumping your hand along his length. His head leaned back and he widened his stance, shoulders resting comfortably against the wall. You licked the tip of his half hard cock and looked up at him. His mouth hung ever so slightly ajar as he watched you engulf his length and begin to bob your head up and down.

You let out a content moan, feeling him stretching and filling your mouth with his length and sucked him into your mouth, rubbing your tongue along his length. His hips bucked into your mouth and Roger found himself loosing composure.

Roger roughly gripped your hair, his fingernails scraping at the base of your scalp as you began to pick up your speed, bobbing your head and moving your hand in synchronized movements. Spit began to gather and seep from the corners of your mouth and down your hand as you continued to suck him off, soon forgetting the two of you were outside.

“Shit,” Roger cursed out, bucking his hips hard against you causing his length to hit the back of your throat. You found yourself gagging unexpectedly, pulling back to wipe your mouth and catch your breath. Quickly you found yourself opening up, ready to swallow him once more “You like sucking me off outside?” He asked, tapping his cock against your flat tongue while his other hand kept your head firmly in place.

You looked up at him wide eyes and nodded your head, “Yes,” You rasped out between ragged breaths.

He slipped his erection between your lips once more, this time your hands braced yourself on his hips and he slowly pumped into your mouth. Soft grunts and moans left his lips as he held your head in place with both of his hands, thrusting into your mouth, careful to not make you gag. His movements were surprisingly slow, like he wanted to savor the moment and not waste it.

But a cat call shattered the moment. Pulling the two of you from your own little bubble and back into reality. Your face flushed and you quickly pulled away, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment. Roger couldn’t help but break into a grin, “As fun as this is.” He said tucking himself back into his pants, “We should go inside, I wanna see that pretty pussy of yours. I know you’ve got to be soaked.” He continued to speak and reached down, helping you up from the ground.

“Wait!” You said, stopping in your tracks as the two of you headed for the front door, “Do you have a back door up?” you asked and averted your gaze nervously “I… I just don’t want Ronnie snooping around.” You said, rubbing your fingers along the hem of your shirt.

Roger smiled softly and nodded his head, taking your hand in his own “Yeah, come on we can go through the car park.” He offered.

After your little detour, the two of you had successfully made it back into his flat without much of a bother. The crowd had died down and only a few stragglers and passed out friends remained in the living room. You and Roger slipped into his bedroom where he immediately locked the door and pushed you up against it, capturing you in a hot opened mouthed kiss.

Your teeth clanked together, and you let out a soft whimper feeling your back hitting the wooden door, it was quickly swallowed by Roger’s feverish kisses. He sucked your lower lip and lightly tugged on it as he pulled away, “Bed, now.” He said pulling away and lightly pushing you in the direction of his bed.

You nodded, scrambling to make your way over, plopping down, Roger pushed you back and you fell onto his plush blankets. He quickly climbed on top of you, wasting no time kissing down your neck and continuing down, nipping and licking at every bit of skin that had been exposed by your tee shirt riding up. He paused, kissing the waste band of your jeans and looking up at you, “Keep going,” You said breathlessly, “Please.” Roger grinned and unbuttoned your pants, slipping them off and revealing your panties which had soaked through. He nuzzled his nose against the dark spot of moisture that had collected and licked you through your panties. “Fuck,” You said, raking your hand through your hair with anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Roger said, spreading your legs more and kissing along your thighs, gently licking and sucking at the soft supple skin, “You wet for me, love?” He asked, “You wet from sucking me off?”

You squirmed against him, inching closer so he would get the hint, “’M wet for you.” You whimpered.

“You like having my cock in your mouth?” Ge asked, hooking his fingers on either side of your panties and slowly pulling them down.

You let out a helpless sigh “Yes, I want your cock in my mouth.” You responded bucking your hips into his touch.

Roger held down your squirming hips and spread your folds apart, giving him an unfiltered view of your wet cunt, e led with his nose as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue followed, flatly licking at your core before his tongue swirled around your swollen clit causing you to let out a whiney breath, “Ah, Rog,” You moaned, reaching down and lacing your fingers in his hair.

Your stomach tightened, as the tip of his tongue meandered around your wet cunt, making sure to explore every inch you had to offer. He slipped two fingers into your tight cunt, slowly pumping his fingers into you and curling them as he alternated between suckling and lapping at your clit. Before he pulled away to watch you, sigh in disappointment at the loss of pleasure.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged and bucked your hips onto his fingers that curled against your walls, rubbing against them. You back arched against his touches and as you felt him dive back between your legs, feeling his tongue sharply darting backing and forth on your sensitive nub. You tugged his hair and pressed his face closer into your cunt hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was building in the base of your tummy “Fuck, fuck, ‘m so close.” You mumbled out, your thighs clenching tightly as you tried to stave off your looming orgasm.

He paused momentarily, “It’s okay, you can let go.” He huffed out before swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking on it immediately after, sending you over the edge. Your chest heaved as your thighs clenched on either side of his face, your hand holding him in place as you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you.

He pulled away, watching your pussy clenching and pulsating around his fingers as they slowed down, milking and prolonging your pleasure. You found yourself pulling back from his soft teasing touches “Stop, stop, stop,” You whimpered helplessly as the pleasure and frustration soon became too much for you to handle.

Roger stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and softly grunting at the taste.

You looked at him through hazy eyes, your mouth still ajar and trying to steady out your erratic breaths. You soon found yourself pulling him back up your body, kissing him softly and sensually. Your mouths slowly moving against each other as you held him tightly against you. Roger pulled away pulling off yours and his shirts and trailing a line of kisses from your jaw and down your neck. “You want me to fuck this tight pussy of yours?” He growled right in your ear and ground his hips against your sensitive core.

You whimpered and held his hips in place, moving with them “Please,” you sighed.

“How do you want it?” He pulled away and studied your face, hoping you’d answer him honestly.

You stuttered, trying to find your words, no one had ever asked you that before “I… I…” you could hardly think of an answer “I don’t want to be able to walk afterwards.” There was your answer.

Roger’s face broke into a wide grin, “Turn over for me, love.” He said pulling away and tapping the side of your hips.

You quickly followed suit, rolling over onto your stomach and getting on your knees, spreading your legs and pushing your ass back against him. Roger licked his lips and spread your cheeks, getting a perfect view of your already swollen and wet cunt that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, you know that?” His soft voice saying such lewd words caused you to twitch with anticipation. He hummed, “You like it when I talk to you like that?” He asked and slowly inserted two fingers into you causing you to gasp, “When I call you a good girl and tell you how good that pussy of yours taste?” You let out a low moan and clenched his fingers as they began to pump in and out of your cunt, “I could eat that cunt of yours all night if you’d let me,” He let out a soft sigh, “But, fuck I want to feel you clenching around my cock.” He said and pulled his fingers out of you abruptly.

You whined at the loss of feeling but he quickly pushed into you, his cock stretching you as he filled you up. You clenched the bedsheets tightly and gasped “R-Rog,” You sobbed out as he started moving slowly, still barely recovered from your previous orgasm, “Harder, please?”

Roger pulled out from you nearly all the way and slammed back into you, “You want me to fuck you harder?” He asked leaning over to growl in your ear and gripped a fist full of your hair, pulling it back and forcing your back to arch.

“Yes, please,” You cried out, “Please,” seemed to be the only word you could choke out as his hips harshly slapped against you. The sound of your slurred words mixed with his grunts and the sound of your skin slapping together and filled the room, forming a sinful combination.

His let go of your hair, allowing your arms to collapse as he now pushed your head into the mattress, driving you into the soft plush blankets with his hard-steady thrusts. His hand reached around pressing hard against your clit “You gonna come for me again, baby?” He asked rubbing harsh messy circles on the swollen and sensitive bud. You nodded your head against the mattress, whimpering incoherently, “I want that tight cunt of yours to come all over my cock, come on, I know you have another one in you.” Your walls fluttered around him, your second orgasm building easily and quickly threatening to overtake you.

The tight feeling in your belly began to build and you clenched your eyes shut tightly, choking out a high-pitched whine before your walls clenched hard around Roger’s cock “Ah, fuck, that’s my good girl.” Roger grunted through his tightly clenched jaw. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs and hips as his pace began to lose rhythm and become uneven. He groaned loudly, burying himself to the hilt as he spurted hot ropes of come into your still clenching pussy, allowing it to milk him as he worked the two of you through your highs with a few shallow thrusts.

His hand stayed on the small of your back as he stilled, slowly pulling out and whimpering as your tight walls brushed against his sensitive member. You straightened your legs out and laid flatly against the bed while Roger flopped over next to you. The sound of your rapid breaths filled the room as a comfortable silence hung in the air before Roger broke it, “I knew I made you nervous.” He said proudly.

You turned your head towards him, your muscles aching as you did, “Shut up,” You said and buried your face with embarrassment.

Roger pulled you into his sticky and sweaty chest, kissing your bare shoulder “I think it’s cute.” He mumbled against your skin.

“Cute?” You asked, peering up at him.

He swallowed thickly and nodded his head “Yeah, cute.” He reassured and reached down, pulling his tangled blankets over the two of you. You rolled onto your side, your back against Roger’s chest as he tapped soft mindless rhythms against your skin, “You know you should come around more often.” He said softly.

You rolled over and faced him still in his arms “If this is what happens when I come around more, then I guess I can.” You tried to feign disappointment but couldn’t hide it behind your post sex glow.

Roger’s hand came up, lightly brushing your messy hair from your face, “If you would have stopped hiding in your room, this would have happened sooner.” Roger admitted, his thumb softly rubbing circles on your cheek.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, sighing softly, “Can… can it happen again?” You asked sounding hopeful.

Roger couldn’t help but grin as you resorted back to your shy tactics, “Of course it can.” He said and once again pulled you back into his chest and running his fingers through your hair.

As the two of you laid in silence and felt a wave of exhaustion claim you, you couldn’t help but secretly feel thankful that Veronica had convinced you to go out tonight.

[something-tofightfor]

Just a Place - Part 7

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 8900

Rating: M (language)

Summary: Thanksgiving and Christmas with Ryan Brenner - enough said.

** You will not understand a darn thing in this if you haven’t read “Neon Lights”, which can be found on my Masterlist page **

Author’s Note: Another long chapter to make up for it being a long time since I last updated... enjoy. 

Feel free to ask me to add you!

Tag list: @traeumerinwitzhelden @mfackenthal @songtoyou @obscurilicious @elanor-of-imladris @thesumofmychoices @suchatinyinfinity @audreychaz @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @ms-delos @lexxierave @dreams-with-thoughts @gollyderek @agentlingerie

POV - You 

 You pushed the cart through the crowded grocery store, trying to keep from blowing up at the people in your way. Yep, the middle of the aisle is the perfect place for your conversation. You rolled your eyes, turning the corner and slamming the brakes on to avoid running into a woman tugging her young child behind her by one hand. “Shit!” You said it quietly, but the woman still gave you a look and you returned it with a scowl, waiting until she’d disappeared down the aisle you’d just turned out of before continuing, scanning the path in front of you for a familiar tan coat. Get in, get out, get home. That’s what I said, and now… 

 Finally, you found Ryan standing in front of the canned vegetables, a frown of his own on his face. “What’s wrong, Ry?” He shook his head, turning to look at you. “We need corn, so…” 

 “My Ma used to make this… thing. She called it corn puddin’ when I was a kid, and I haven’t had it in years. But I don’t know the recipe.” Despite your annoyance at the crowded grocery store, you felt yourself smile, adjusting the cart so that it was right next to the shelves. “You don’t…”

 “Corn casserole?” You raised an eyebrow. “Ryan, that was a staple at my Thanksgiving dinners growing up. I can’t promise it’ll be exactly the same, but I can try.” His lips parted as he looked at you in surprise and you continued. “As long as you don’t mind regular corn, too, I have to have something to mix in with my potatoes and gravy.” He laughed, nodding. “We’ll need both kinds.” You looked at your list, chewing on your lip. “I’d say… six cans of creamed and five regular? I’ll make a double batch.” You paused as he reached for the cans, pulling one of the partially empty packing boxes off of the shelf and setting it down on the bottom of the cart before placing cans neatly into it. “And I guess an extra five cans of the regular, too, we’ll need it.” He nodded, counting silently, moving lips the only thing giving him away. 

 “We’re gonna have enough food for an army.” Though he said it in a joking manner, you didn’t dispute him - he was right. We kind of have to. “Alright, there we go.” He stood up straight, pointing. “Beans next?” You nodded, pulling the cart back a foot or so so that it was positioned beneath the picked-over green bean shelf space, stacking another twenty cans of those in the bottom of the cart. I’m going to be cooking for a week straight.  “Where now?” Ryan’s quiet voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked at him, thinking. 

 “Gotta go bet bacon and milk… butter…” You pressed your lips together, hands tightening on the handle of the cart. “Turkey’s already at the house thawing... “ 

 “Potatoes?” He grinned at you. “You said yesterday you needed your weight in mashed potatoes and stuffing.” You giggled at him and nodded. “Alright. Go.” He gestured toward the end of the aisle and you moved to turn the cart, groaning out loud as you had to stop yet again for a woman on her cell phone that was leaning on the handle of her cart, hip stuck out and blocking the entire aisle. “Hey.” Ryan reached out, touching your arm. “Let me push. You’re gonna kill someone.” I am. Gladly. You gestured to the handle of the cart and stepped aside, Ryan moving next to you and leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. “I love it when you’re annoyed at someone that’s not me.” Your lips again twitched into a small smile as he turned the cart smoothly, stopping just before the woman. “‘Scuse me, ma’am.” She looked up, her eyes widening as she saw Ryan. “Need to get past you.” Without pause, the woman stepped aside, her eyes never leaving Ryan’s face, teeth digging into her lower lip as her conversation stopped Figures. Typical. 

 Feeling slightly petty, you stepped next to him, linking your arm with his and smirking as you passed her. Ryan shook his head next to you but didn’t say anything, clearing his throat and stepping into the main aisle before turning toward the dairy section. “We need to make a stop in the beer aisle too, Ryan.” This time, he laughed, even as you dropped your arm from his and stepped in front of him, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not Thanksgiving unless you get drunk while you’re cooking.” 

 An hour later, you were unpacking the groceries in your kitchen, Ryan arranging the cold foods in the second refrigerator while you carefully packed boxes and packages into the cupboards and cabinets to pull out as you needed them. “Hey.” He stepped back into the room, phone in his hand. “Matt wants to know if he can bring his girl, I know we didn’t -”

 “Of course.” You grinned, nodding. “So that’ll make what, nine plus us?” He thought for a few moments before agreeing. “Space will be tight for them all to stay, but we’ve got the couch, and some air mattresses, and…” 

 “That’s not a problem, none of us are used to… well.” He paused, eyeing you. “I’m used to our bed now, but a few nights on spare mattresses or couches? Not a big deal.” You felt yourself blushing but Ryan didn’t look away, instead moving closer to you without breaking eye contact. “I’m going to help you out as much as I can, but I’m not that great in the kitchen, so I don’t know how much I can do. I’d prob’ly be a bigger help out of here.” He tucked his phone into his pocket as he reached you, one arm circling your waist as he pulled you close, using the tattooed fingers of his other hand to tilt your face upward so that he could kiss you gently. “I love you.” You closed your eyes and kissed him back, reaching around to put your hands on his waist, thumbs slipping into his belt loops. 

 “Love you too,” you murmured as you pulled away, shaking your head. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t be the one opening all of those cans.” He laughed as he turned away from you, heading back into the living room. “I’m serious, Brenner.” 

 “I know.” 

 --- 

 You stood in front of the stove, stirring a pan full of gravy and humming to yourself as Ryan and his friends gathered in the living room. Your guests had started trickling in two days prior, but that afternoon, there were people in every room. Jack and Matt and Matt’s girlfriend Brynn had been the first to arrive, followed by Chris and Jameson from Seattle later that evening and two young men that were barely in their twenties named Charlie and Thomas that Ryan had met in Chicago. David and Lauren were there too, accepting the invitation that Ryan had offered them without pause as both of their families lived out of state. Though you’d been determined to cook everything from scratch, the other woman had offered to bring dessert in the form of pies and a pan of the lemon bars that Ryan had sworn to you were good enough to make him forget his own name, though he’d never been able to hold off on eating long enough to get one home to you so that you could find out for yourself. Saves me hours. I’m not complaining. 

 For the first time since you’d moved in, the house was full - and though none of them were your friends, you felt as close to home as you had in years, hearing the sounds of assorted instruments and voices carrying through the archway into the kitchen - making the house feel almost alive. And we’re only here for a few more months anyway. You’d extended the lease on the house to the end of March, but hadn’t wanted to delay the process of moving any more than that, because you wanted to be closer to the west coast by the time that your exhibit opened. Ryan had agreed eagerly, excited to see more of the country and to reconnect with more friends. 

 He’d explained what he was trying to do with his music to Matt and Jack, and the three of them had started to brainstorm, locked in the spare room playing and listening to old recordings while you and Brynn had lounged on the couch, the girl enjoying the fact that she could relax for a few days in total comfort. She’d been a huge help in the kitchen, cutting down your prep time by a lot, but true to your threat, Ryan had spent more than an hour opening cans and helping you peel potatoes that morning while everyone else took turns showering. “Hey.” Glancing back in the direction of the living room, you saw Ryan standing just inside the doorway, a wide smile on his face. “Smells amazin’.” Good. 

 You motioned him over, sticking a spoon into the gravy and then holding it out to him to taste. “Well?” Ryan’s eyes closed, tongue moving over his lips. 

 “Perfect.” He shook his head, opening his eyes again and reaching out to take the spoon from your hand before placing it in the sink. “You should taste it, too.” The next thing you knew, Ryan was kissing you, his hand in your hair as he held you close. You sighed into him, using both hands to grip his shirt and pull him closer. “Told you.” He licked his lips as he pulled back, eyes still half closed and a lazy smile on his face. “I can’t believe you got all this done, and it’s all gonna be ready at the same time.” He kissed you again. “It’s impressive.” 

 “Thank you, Ry.” You finally let him go, reaching up to place a palm on his chest. “It’s going to be ready in about fifteen minutes, if you want to let everyone know.” He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you. “What?” Ryan looked at you carefully, unsure of what to say for a moment. 

 “I just…” He shook his head, hand resting on your hip. “These are my friends, not yours, and your house is full of ‘em, and… I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” He stopped. “To deserve you.” 

 “You promised me Christmas, Ryan Brenner.” You fought back a lump in your throat, hand sliding up to his neck and then the side of his head, stroking your fingers through his hair. “Just you and me and a tree. And this isn’t my house, it’s ours. So…” With a single nod of his head, Ryan agreed, lips finding yours again briefly. 

 The sound of someone clearing their throat jolted you away from him, but Ryan still didn’t remove his hand from you as both of you turned to look at the doorway where Charlie was standing with Lauren. “Can we help get stuff to the table?” With a squeeze to your hip, Ryan stepped away from you and toward the pair, gesturing back in your direction. Without pause, Lauren and Charlie moved toward you, waiting for your instructions. 

 “Alright, so we just need to start carrying this out to the table. There are pot

holders on the counter and…” 

 --- 

 Later that night, you and Ryan were lying in bed, him on his back and you on your side right up against him while your fingers traced over the tattoo on his ribs, your eyelids heavy. “What you did tonight…” Ryan started, his voice quiet. “What you did for all those people this week? All of my friends?” His hand was resting on your bare hip, fingers gently pressed into the flesh as he spoke. “These holidays aren’t always easy when you live like we… like they do.” He still sees himself… “You gave ‘em a place to feel at home, somewhere they felt…”

 “They’re your family, Ryan.” You kissed his shoulder, thinking. “Not by blood, but… they mean just as much to you as an actual relative would.” He was quiet, and from outside of the closed door you heard Brynn’s laugh from the room across the hall. “I -”

 “You’re my family, too.” His words were quiet and you didn’t hear any hesitation in them, but they still made your breath catch in disbelief. What? “You know that, right?” He shifted onto his side, rolling toward you. Even in the dark of the room, you could see his eyes, the furrow of his brow. “You’re family now. Have been for... “ He paused. “Since before I found you again.” You could feel your own heart pounding, mind working overtime to process his words. “I know you have your aunt, but…”

 “You’re… shit, Ryan.” You felt tears running down your cheeks and Ryan’s hand quickly moved up to wipe them away, fingers lingering on your skin. “I never thought that I’d have this again, and especially not with someone like you, not after my parents...” He leaned in, kissing you on the forehead before pressing his lips against yours, breath hitting your face as he exhaled. His hand had dropped to the side of your neck, thumb moving slowly back and forth on the skin just beneath your jaw. You didn’t know what else to say to Ryan in return; didn’t know how to tell him that he was the only family you’d ever need, that he made you feel safe and loved and important, that you didn’t want anyone else, that you likely never would. He has to know, he has to understand. “I love you so much, Ryan.” Your voice was thick with tears and you felt him nod slowly, hand still against your neck.

 “I know you do.” He sighed, shifting his hips as you tightened your hold on his side. “You don’t gotta tell me that, because -”

 “But I do, because…” You stopped, waiting. “Because you need to hear it.” Swallowing, you lifted your head, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, lips finding the skin above his beard. “I had my parents growing up, and my aunt and uncle, and that was it. No cousins, no siblings no… no grandparents.” You looked down at Ryan, hand still pressed flat against his ribs, the inner part of his bicep resting against the back of your hand. “When I lost my parents, it felt like I lost everything, Ryan. I was numb, I was… I just threw myself back into work and ignored everything that I could. I ignored the trial, ignored my aunt, ignored the feelings that I knew I was supposed to be having.” 

 “Come here.” Ryan’s hand slid down your side, pulling you closer and without hesitation, you lowered yourself back onto him, feeling his other arm circling you as he pulled you to his chest. “Keep talkin’.” You waited a few seconds, concentrating on his hand - the rough fingers moving against the middle of your back and calming you, and then you continued. 

 “I knew I’d have to deal with it eventually, but it was like… the house was  paid off - and as long as I paid the monthly bills and all that, I could keep from having to go back there, keep from having to deal with it.” You sighed, feeling the tears coming again. “Running from stuff isn’t the answer, but how else do you deal with…” He kissed the top of your head, muttering the words ‘I know’ as you hitched a leg over his, wanting to get closer to him. “And then I met you, and I was just… happy for those few days in Vegas. You came out of nowhere, and I felt a connection to you, Ryan, and even though it was just a short time, just those few hours spent with you… I felt like myself again. You did that for me.” What are you even getting at? 

 “When I was with Jackie, I didn’t feel like myself.” He paused. “Not the whole time, anyway. When she was praisin’ me for my talent or encouraging me, I felt like a lot of things were right, but…” Ryan stopped speaking, the room silent. “It got a little better when I left Utah, but the more I thought, the more I realized that even before Utah, somethin’ was off, somethin’ wasn’t … I wasn’t me.” Ryan stopped speaking, and you relaxed, ears trained on the rest of the house, listening for noises that any of your guests might have made. “I went to Vegas by chance, did I ever tell you that?”

 “You didn’t.” Ryan tightened his grip on you, laughing quietly. 

 “Stopped in Phoenix because it was too damn hot to be on the trains and met a girl in a coffee shop.” He cleared his throat. “She worked there, traded me a muffin and a refill to hear a song, and playin’ with her and hearing her sing… it woke me up.” You heard his voice change slightly as he remembered this woman, but before you could dwell on it, he continued. “She mentioned that Vegas would be a good place for me to play, said that she and her fiance had been there a few months prior, that she thought I’d do well out there…” Ryan sighed. “And so I went from Phoenix to Vegas and the rest… you know.” 

 “So you’d never even thought of it before?” He replied with a no, followed with a short laugh. “So you’re telling me that without the recommendation of some random person in Phoenix, we’d never have met? You’d never have… we’d never have this?” Ryan was quiet for nearly a minute, and you opened your mouth to speak when he beat you to it. 

 “You know, I’m not sure.” Ryan sighed. “I think about that a lot - think about meetin’ you and what it… how it happened.” Ryan’s hand slid down your back and to your waist, fingers still moving in slow circles. “I still would have ended up in Colorado and Seattle, still would have gone to Chicago and to St. Louis… you had nothin’ to do with me gettin’ hurt… so I think, honestly, that we still could have met in that park in Philadelphia.” You do? But… 

 “But I only went home because of you, Ryan.” Your voice was quiet, thoughts jumbled. “I never would have…”

 “You woulda. Eventually. Things happen and we can’t explain ‘em, but I feel like we were supposed to meet. And if it hadn’t been in Vegas, it would have been…” He sighed. “Somewhere.” Ryan’s grip on you tightened again. “I refuse to believe that there’s any chance we missed each other or missed this.” He said your name, the intent clear. “But it doesn’t matter, because we met in Vegas and we’re here now, and we’re never gonna…” You cut him off as you turned your head to kiss him hard on the mouth, catching him by surprise. You didn’t believe in fate, didn’t believe in things being destined to happen - but you weren’t going to question or doubt Ryan’s presence in your life or what you meant to each other - why would you? 

 Though still full from dinner and extraordinarily tired, you felt your body moving before you’d thought it through, right knee supporting your weight as you swung your left leg over Ryan’s hips, straddling his waist.  You hadn’t bothered to put pajamas on before sliding into bed next to him, and Ryan’s eyes opened fully as he stared up at you, hands resting on your waist and your palms flat on his stomach. He was smiling - that tiny smirk that you loved so much present on his lips, and you returned the expression, nails scratching into the dark hair below his navel as you curled your fingers, causing him to groan quietly. “No.” You shook your head, winking down at him. “We’re never going miss each other like that again.” 

--- 

 POV: Ryan 

 “You wanted to see me, David?” Ryan stood in the man’s tiny office, one hand on the back of his neck, the other stuffed into the pocket of his jacket. “I just finished up at the site, and stopped back to -”

 “Come in, Ryan.” David had a small stack of papers on the desk in front of him, but he gestured to the chair across from his seat, a smile on his face. “Everything go alright? I know all you had to do today was finish with the drywall.” Ryan took a seat, nodding but confused about what the meeting was for. He’d had no problems, no issues on the job or with David - or any of the other contractors he’d worked with since accepting the position, but David hadn’t ever wanted a meeting like this with him before. Things were fine last week at Thanksgiving, what… “I just wanted to talk with you about something.” He’s firing me. What did I do?

 “What’s going on, David? The drywall went fine, I may have to go back tomorrow and touch the mudding up, but -”

 “No, Ryan. I know it’s fine, that’s not…” David shook his head. “I wanted to talk to you about something because you’re the most… competent guy I have on the crew.” Ryan relaxed slightly, leaning back in his chair and waiting. Ok, so maybe I’m not getting fired. “I bought a house.” Ryan’s eyes widened, a smile spreading over his face. “Not for me and Lauren, but… to flip.” Oh, shit. “Here, take a look at this.” David slid some of the papers across the desk to Ryan, continuing. “These are pictures of the inside, tell me what needs to be done.” Ryan picked up each piece of paper, studying them carefully. 

 “Well, the flooring needs to be repaired or replaced, depending on what you want done with this room,” he said pointing at one of the images. “The walls need some patches, and the ceiling in this room… a bedroom, maybe? Looks like it’s leaking, so the roof would need to be checked, and maybe the pipes, if this is on the lower floor…” Ryan continued for a few minutes, pointing out kitchen counters and tiles, the worn carpet, a basement that needed to have electrical lines re-run and the front porch, which needed some brickwork until David stopped him. 

 “You caught things I didn’t even see, Ryan, and these are only pictures.” Ryan took a breath, waiting. “I wanted to bring you in here because I want you to lead this project for me.” His eyes widened and Ryan sat up straighter, listening. “That means you’d be giving instructions to the other guys, making decisions about supply orders, overseeing things as well as getting your hands on experience.” David took a deep breath. “I know you guys will be leaving sometime in March, and while I’m not happy to be losing you, you’ve done more for me in these last five months than a lot of the guys that I’ve been working with for years, and I want to help you out.”

 “You want me to lead a… I’ve never done anythin’ like this before.” David shook his head, pointing to the images. 

 “You have, though. This is a lot of small projects at once instead of a big one alone. Lauren and I have wanted to get in on this for a while, and the opportunity came up, so I jumped on it. She’s going to be in charge of the design aspects, but you’re going to be the one that decides what needs to be done construction wise, you’ll have the entire budget to work with.” Ryan’s heart was pounding, but he felt himself nodding, eyes moving back to the papers in front of him. “So it’s more responsibility, but that also means more pay.” His eyes flicked upward to David’s, and Ryan remained silent. “You’ll get a bumped hourly wage, and then when the house sells, a portion of the sale price.”

 “Why? Why would you -” David cut him off, holding up a finger. 

 “This flip shouldn’t take longer than two months, tops. This one’s not that difficult, and I’ll be workin’ with you since you don’t know all of the permit laws and everything, but -” David slid another paper over to Ryan, who stared down at it quietly. “You’ll get a portion of the sale of the house, because when this one’s done, as soon as it sells, I plan on moving right into a second flip and I figured you’d want to invest in it with me and make some real money when that one sells.” David shrugged. “You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a partner, Ryan. I trust you, and know you’re a hard worker. This is going to happen, and it’s going to happen how we want it to.” 

 “I’ll need to talk to -” David nodded, a smile on his face. “I’m definitely interested in takin’ lead on this one, but for the next one, and investin’, I can’t just…”

 “I figured as much, and that’s fine.” David shrugged. “Second house won’t even be up for sale until the new year, so you’ve got plenty of time.” David raised an eyebrow. “Hell, we might find that we’ve bitten off more than we can chew and not want to worry about a second house, but I doubt it.” Ryan laughed and David did too, shaking his head back and forth. “We’ll start working on this one late next week; you should only have what, two more days on the current project?” Ryan shook his head. 

 “I should be able to finish most of it tomorrow, sanding and painting are all that’s left, but if I have to mud anything else…” David’s head moved up and down slowly, and Ryan couldn’t stop himself from asking a question. “Why me? You don’t know me, and you -”

 “I know enough, Ryan. I see how hard you work, how much you care about what you do, and I want to help you out, because like I said, I know I won’t have you here forever.” Ryan stood again, reaching a hand out to shake one of David’s, still in disbelief. “We’ll talk more about this next week, but like I said, we’re already working on picking out colors and wood and all that, so we’re rolling.” Ryan paused on his way out of the office, turning to look back at David. 

 “Thank you, David.” He swallowed, giving the other man a curt nod. “I won’t disappoint you.” 

 --- 

 He’d told you the good news later that night, your excited squeal more than enough to alleviate some of the worry from his mind. You’d jumped up from the dinner table to hug him tightly, arms around his neck as you kissed his cheek. “That’s a big deal, Ryan! This is like… your project. You get to tell people what to do, and to …”

 “Hey.” He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face, but Ryan shook his head. “I’m not going to boss anyone around, I’m just…”

 “I know Ry, but he’s basically letting you take over on this, you’ll be responsible for how it all turns out and comes together, and what needs to be…” You pulled away from him, settling back into your chair. 

 “What if I screw up?” He was playing with his fork, hair hanging over his eye as he stared down at his plate. “What if I don’t make the right call or don’t order enough of something, or… I never learned this, never went to school, or -”

 “Ryan, you did learn it, though. You’ve been doing construction for years, picked up so much from your friends and coworkers. You can do this, and you will. Will you screw up? Probably, but it’s fine, it’s going to happen.” He watched you, eyes focused on your face. “You’ve got to learn somehow, and this is perfect.” You chewed on your lip. “David’s going to teach you what he knows, and then you can… I don’t know, use it wherever we go?” He nodded. “And Ryan, you actually investing in the next house he buys? That’s perfect. Gives you more incentive to work harder.” You reached out, hand finding his. “That’ll give you a cushion, Ryan. Give you freedom, and a chance to -”

 “I’ll be able to pay you back for this place and for the next place, too.” He swallowed, determined. “You won’t be the only one providin’ for us when we pick somewhere else to live.” He watched as your expression changed, a small frown on your lips. “That’s important to me.” You sighed but nodded, returning to your plate and your food. I know you can afford it, but you shouldn’t have to. It was quiet in the dining room for a few minutes, both of you eating, and Ryan decided to change the subject. “So what do you want for Christmas?” 

 --- 

 The weeks between Thanksgving and Christmas passed quickly - Ryan working tirelessly on the house project with David and the rest of his team, and though it was hard work - demanding and precise, Ryan found that he enjoyed it. He learned more about electrical work from David himself, got tips about flooring and laying tile from Andrew, and even learned some things about decorating from Lauren, whose enthusiasm about the project carried over to the rest of the men. Ryan was surprised at the confidence he felt as each day passed, and was pleased with the progress that had been made on the home’s interior, even though much of it had yet to be completed.

 David made sure that Ryan still got away from the project early enough a few nights a week to play out and to make it to his lessons, but two of the students had gone on vacation over their break from school, leaving him with only one to teach for most of December. His playing hadn’t suffered, despite his long hours at work - in fact, Ryan was almost more focused on it as the time passed, returning to writing original music as he planned out a short list of people that he wanted to reach out to and see about playing with as the two of you traveled. 

 You were understanding of his constantly changing schedule; though you’d told him that you missed him being there when you woke up in the morning, you never complained about him leaving early for work, never chastised him for tracking sawdust through the house or forgetting to put dishes in the sink because he’d left them on the table next to the couch. You understood how hard he was working, simply asking if there was anything you could do to help - and he appreciated it more than he could say to you, so he tried to show you instead. 

 He knew that you didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love from him, so Ryan would find small ways to make you smile - leaving your mug next to the coffee maker in the morning, thumbing the thermostat up a degree or two before he left so that when you woke, the house wouldn’t be too cold, stopping on the way home to rent a movie for you to watch because you’d mentioned that you wanted to see it, even if you only made it through half of the movie before one (or both) of you developed a case of wandering hands. Before you, he’d had a very specific idea of what a relationship - what staying would be like, and while he didn’t know if things would have been the same with someone else, he was almost certain that they wouldn’t have been. And I’m glad. The bottom line was that while Ryan appreciated everything about you, it went deeper than that - and both of you knew it. 

 “Hey.” He stopped in the doorway of the office, where you were scrolling through images on the computer and sorting through them as you chose for your next show. “Do you have a minute?” You sighed, hand dropping away from the mouse as you swiveled the chair around to face him. 

 “Yeah, Ry. What’s up?” He knew that you were stressing - that you wanted to include some of the same images from before, but also were worried that you didn’t have enough new choices to make for a cohesive display. She needs a break. “I think I’ve got the first 60 narrowed down, so…”

 “Get dressed.” He watched as you paused, biting the inside of your cheek. “Come on, I’m gonna take you out for dinner.” He had the night off - no lesson, no gig, no extra work for David, and he knew that you’d never turn down the opportunity to spend time with him. “And then,” he said as he stepped toward you, extending his hand. “Then we’re going to buy a Christmas tree.” The look on your face was one of shock and happiness, and you gripped his fingers tightly, nearly bouncing to your feet. “Yeah?” 

 “Ryan, I haven’t had a tree in …”

 “I haven’t had a real tree in over a decade,” he replied as he leaned forward to kiss you on the temple. “So I’ve got you beat.” You laughed at him but dropped his hand to hurry from the room, computer and images forgotten as you got dressed in boots and a coat, making your way into the living room before he’d even finished tying his laces. “Mexican alright? We haven’t been to 3 Matadors in a long time.” You nodded, grabbing your purse, but Ryan’s hand closed over yours, head shaking back and forth. “You can bring it with you, but you’re not payin’ for anything.” Don’t argue with me. You didn’t, your hand reaching over to push the hair back from his eyes as you stared at him, a smile on your lips. God, it feels good to be able to say that. 

 --- 

 An hour and a half later, both of you were full and happy, enjoying the rare date night out as you searched for a parking spot near one of the lots that was close to your house. “In a Chick Fil A parking lot?” You wrinkled your nose, laughing. “They’ll put these tree lots anywhere.” Ryan shrugged, pulling the car into a vacant spot and putting it into park. 

 “We’re ten miles from the ocean, can’t expect snow and fields of trees where you can cut them down yourself, right?” You shook your head, opening your door, and by the time Ryan had joined you at the back end of your car, you were already grinning. “Ready?” You nodded quickly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the trees and the people milling around without speaking again. Here we go. 

 You searched the lot for almost half an hour, Ryan following you around as you made your way from tree to tree, eyes lighting up as you found one that you thought was good, only to turn it and see a bare spot, or have him pull it toward him to find that it was crooked. “It’s gotta be right, Ryan.” He heard the anxiety creeping into your voice and so he finally stepped forward after waiting for two kids to move past, chasing each other down the corridor between rows of trees. 

 “Hey!” You turned at the sound of his voice, one of his hands reaching up to settle on your shoulder as he pulled you closer before the two of you continued to walk. “You almost…” he pointed down, where there was a large muddy area near your feet. “Watch out.” Both of you stepped over the spot, moving in unison. “Don’t worry, we’ll find one.” He kissed the top of your head, feeling as you settled in against him. “This was supposed to be fun for you, not…” He stopped as his eyes fell on a tree a few feet away, moving quickly from top to bottom. That one. He nudged you, noticing that you were looking in the opposite direction. “Look.” Ryan’s hand rose, the fingers on his left hand extended toward the tree. “What about that one?” 

 “Oh.” He heard your voice catch, feeling as you stepped away from him. “I…” He followed you, the sounds of the other people in the lot fading as you touched the branches, fingers skimming over the individual needles. He followed suit, inhaling deeply as he inched his face closer to the tree, his mind going back to the prior holidays that he’d shared with his mother - specifically the ones between losing his father and his mother meeting Thomas, which were some of his earliest memories. The tree was in the corner, right by the stairs. “Do you like this one, Ryan?” 

 “Yeah.” Ryan licked his lips, rubbing at his eyebrows for long moments. “I think it’s a good one.” He looked down at you, dropping his hand to his side and cocking his head to the left. “You?” Your eyes went back to the tree, shoulders rising as you took a deep breath. 

 “Yes.” You looked up at him, smiling. “This is it.” Telling you to wait while he went to get an employee, Ryan stepped away from you, still thinking about his mom, about his childhood, about the fact that ever since he’d met you, he’d started remembering random things - memories that he didn’t even know he still had, and that it felt natural. As he waited for the young man to cut a length of twine from a large spindle, Ryan glanced back at you, watching as you took a picture of the tree with your phone, quickly typing something out. This is where I’m supposed to be. 

 Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were back in the car, Ryan behind the wheel. “Let me try that?” He glanced over at you, watching as you paused with your straw only an inch or so from your mouth. “I got -”

 “If you wanted strawberry, Ryan, you should have gotten it.” You glanced at him without turning your head, and Ryan felt himself grinning. “Here.” He pulled out from the parking lot, turning back toward your house as you held the straw up to his lips. He closed them around it, sucking gently and taking a large mouthful of the milkshake. “Good, right?” 

 “Sure is.” Ryan swallowed, pointing at his own cup, which was settled between the two of you and you handed it to him. “But it’s almost Christmas, I had to get the cookie one.” The two of you laughed before settling into a comfortable silence as he drove through the traffic, finally pulling into your driveway a little before 8:30. 

 “Ryan?” He turned to look at you as he put the car in park, noticing that your eyes were focused on his face. “Thank you. I needed tonight.” I know. Ryan moved without thinking, leaning over the console to pull you into a kiss that lasted for a long time, neither of you wanting to pull away. “Love you, Brenner.” 

 “I know.” He winked at you, settling back into his seat before turning his head to look at you. “Not as much as I love you, though.” Even in the low light, Ryan could tell that your face was reddening, warmth spreading upward from your chest to your cheeks. Good. 

 --- 

 You decorated the tree together over the course of the next few days, setting it up in the stand the first night, allowing the branches to settle, adding in lights the following day and ornaments - a small box that you’d brought with you from Pennsylvania, others that you’d purchased from Target and Walmart after that. It wasn’t uncommon for one or both of you to come into the house and add something personal to the tree’s branches - You hung a small framed image of the two of you one afternoon, and Ryan, getting into the spirit of the holiday surreptitiously looped a broken guitar string around one of the branches after twisting it into a circle. You laughed when you saw it - but not unkindly, your eyes shining. “I should have thought of that, Ryan.”  But it was the final ornament that he hung on the tree that truly caught your attention, you calling Ryan into the living room after you’d made it home from photographing the lights and trees at a local display one night. “Ryan, what’s…”

 “Oh.” He stepped up behind you, winding his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close. “That?” He shrugged, feeling you lean backwards into his body. “That’s just something that I’ve been carryin’ around in my wallet for a year and a half.” You stepped away from him and Ryan let you go, watching as you pulled the ornament from the tree, turning it over in your fingers. “It’s -”

 “My room key.” You brought your gaze back up to his face, and Ryan saw that there were tears in your eyes. “The one I gave you the day that you went to do laundry and tried to leave.” Yeah, that’s the one. He nodded once. “You kept it? All this time?”

 “I did.”He swallowed, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. “Even when I couldn’t keep anythin’ big, I always took small stuff - a guitar pick from someone I played with, a matchbook, a receipt. Always lost ‘em though, after a while.” Ryan felt his tongue poking through his teeth and between his lips as he thought, mind far away. “That’s been behind my license since the mornin’ you - we - checked out of that hotel, and I thought it’d be perfect on our first Christmas tr-” You cut him off as you launched yourself at him, the fingers of one hand curled around the thin piece of plastic as your arm wrapped around his neck. “I love you, Ryan.” You spoke even as you kissed him, lips hungrily pressed against his. “I don’t know how I -” I don’t either.

 “Yeah.” He kissed you back, the fingers of both hands digging into your lower back. “We’re both lucky.” Real lucky. He moved his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking gently on the skin as he kissed it. “Put that back on the tree and lets go to bed, alright?” Once you’d replaced the key on the branch, you turned back to Ryan, holding your hand out and waiting as he grasped it tightly, pulling you close to his chest again. “I don’t need to carry it with me anymore.” 

 “Oh yeah?” You smiled up at him, Ryan using his other hand to tuck hair behind your ear. “Why’s that?”

 “I’ve got the real thing right in front of me.” He watched the expression on your face change, a slew of emotions passing through your eyes before surprise won out. “Real’s so much better.” You nodded, eyes closing as you turned your cheek toward his chest, leaning in. So much better. 

  Five days later, on Christmas morning, you and Ryan woke up late, walking into the living room hand in hand. The tree was lit, and though there was no snow on the ground, it felt like Christmas to him, Ryan reclining on the couch while you cooked breakfast for the two of you. His eyes moved over the room - comfortable, cozy, filled with a collection of things that belonged to the two of you - before landing on the tree. There were only two presents beneath it; he’d opened the microphones almost as soon as you’d purchased them for him, and so the wrapped gifts were both for you - from Ryan. Hope she likes ‘em. He pulled his phone out, opening Instagram and scrolling through it idly as the smell of bacon wafted to his nose, you moving easily through the kitchen and humming to yourself quietly. Checking his messages out of habit, his finger froze over the screen as he saw one that he’d missed from over a week ago. Not today. Close the app. “Ry?” 

 He heard your voice and tore his eyes away from the screen, looking up at you. “Breakfast ready?” Swallowing, Ryan sat up and swung his feet to the floor, standing up. “I’m starvin’. And then you can open your -”

 “What’s wrong, Ryan?” You shook your head, stopping him from getting to the table. “I know that look.” I have to tell her. 

 “I…” He paused, deciding that he needed to get it over with. “I missed a message from last week on Instagram, and I just saw it now, and…” He stepped closer to you, unlocking the phone and opening the app again, holding it out to you. “It’s from Lia.” You took a deep breath, nodding once. “I can delete it, I -”

 “No.” You shook your head. “Read it, Ryan. It can’t be…” You rose onto your toes, kissing his cheek and Ryan felt lighter immediately. She’s not upset. “She must have something important to tell ya.” Ryan walked into the kitchen, sitting down in front of his plate, eyes still on his phone. Alright, here we go. Clicking on the message, Ryan’s eyes scanned it quickly, breath catching. Hey, Ryan. Just wanted to let you know that I’m still taking real good care of your guitar. Played it at Mom’s wedding, and I thought you’d wanna see how much better I got. I don’t know if you’ll watch this, but if you do, you don’t have to say anything back. You look happy in your videos, and I hope you are. You deserve it, Ryan. 

 There was a video attached, and Ryan waited to open it, thinking. It sounded like Lia - or at least like he imagined she’d sound nearly two and a half years after the last time he’d seen her. She wasn’t asking for information about him, and it didn’t seem like she’d been told to send the message, but…She’s a kid, just watch it. “She sent me a video.” Ryan looked up, seeing that you were sitting in your own chair, watching him. “Of her playin’ my guitar… well, her guitar now, but…” He sighed. “At Jackie’s weddin’.” You didn’t look surprised at the news that the woman had gotten married after all, and Ryan realized that you already knew - that you’d likely looked it up to see for yourself whether or not it had happened, or you’d need to expect the woman showing up in Charleston to see him. And she didn’t say anything. “I’m… gonna watch it, if you want to come over here an’ watch it with me.” 

 You were up and out of your seat before he’d stopped speaking, and Ryan pushed back from the table, gesturing to his lap. You settled in, Ryan’s arms going around you as he raised his phone before pressing play on the video. It was a short one - less than a minute long, but he was pleased - and proud - to see that Lia had improved. Her playing wasn’t perfect, but she was into it, focused on the strings and the words she was singing. He felt himself smile as he watched the clip, eyes locked on the blonde girl on his screen. Though he’d expected the video to cut to Jackie and her new husband before it ended, it didn’t, instead cutting out just as the final notes died away, Lia’s face breaking into a grin. Good for her. “She’s good, Ryan. Looks like she’s taking good care of your guitar.” 

 “Yeah, she was a good kid. I’m proud of-” He stopped, still looking down at his phone. “I’m proud of her.” And he was, he realized, proud of the way that Lia had stuck with playing and singing, had stuck with caring for the instrument that had gotten him through many years of busking. “I’ll respond, but not today.” He darkened his screen, setting the phone down and kissing you on the shoulder, feeling a few strands of your hair beneath his lips. “Today’s about us, not…” 

 “That’s fine.” You stood, turning to face him, and Ryan looked up at you. “You and me and a tree, right?” He nodded, feeling himself smile. “Merry Christmas, Ryan.” Breakfast untouched, Ryan stood, hands moving to either side of your face as he cupped your jaw, overwhelmed with emotion. I said it before but I meant it - she’s everything.  “What are you doing, Brenner?” Ryan leaned in, rubbing his nose against yours before pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. “Ry -”

 “Merry Christmas.” He swallowed, lips moving over the skin of your face, trying to be mindful of his beard against all of the sensitive places. “This year… this year I don’t have to sing for you over the phone.” He closed his eyes, thinking about the prior Christmas, the way you’d both been too afraid to say anything except “I miss you” -nearly 900 miles apart. “I should have told you that I loved you last Christmas when I called you.” Ryan spoke quietly, rocking back and forth, feeling your hands on his waist. “I should have -”

 ‘No.” You moved your head from side to side, breath hitting his face as you spoke. “No, we weren’t… if you would have said it then, and then disappeared for five months…” You let out a breath with a shudder. “It would have killed me, Ryan.” He wasted no more time, turning his head slightly and using his hands to tilt your face upward. As you kissed, he dropped his hands, fingertips skimming down the front of you as you curved your body toward his. I should have. I should have done a lot differently. I - His thoughts were interrupted as he felt your hand slide beneath his shirt, nails raking across the skin of his back. 

 When you broke apart, both of you were breathless. “Let’s eat, Ryan. Food’s getting cold.” You swallowed and Ryan did too, trying to calm his heartbeat. “Then I can open my presents.” He laughed, his hands falling from your body as you stepped away from him and back to your chair, sitting and picking up your fork. Yeah, you can. Ryan sat too, watching as you ate, unable to keep the smile off of his face. You made small talk as you finished your breakfast, deciding that you’d go and see a movie in the afternoon and then get Chinese food for dinner, keeping things low-key on the holiday - your first Christmas together. Perfect. 

 The dishes cleared, you and Ryan made your way into the living room, where he paused to scoop up both gifts before he handed them to you. You opened them slowly, biting your lower lip as you ripped through the paper to expose the entirety of the first gift - a new bag for your camera, made from a waterproof material. “You just got that new lens and were compainin’ that you couldn’t fit everything in your old bag.” The grin on your face was as bright as he’d ever seen it before, and Ryan wanted to keep staring at it, but instead he reached over, tapping a long finger against the paper of the second, smaller package. “This one’s... “ He shook his head, hair falling over his eyes. “I -”

 “Shh.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “Lemme open my present.” With a laugh, he raised his hand in a placating gesture, watching as you tore the paper away. “Ryan, what’s this?” You looked back up at him, widening your eyes. “Your… passport?” He nodded as you changed positions on the couch, drawing your knees up beneath you when you turned to face him, grip tight on the blue object. “This is… what…”

 “So.” He licked his lips, reaching out to take the small booklet from your hands, opening it to look at the page with his picture on it. “I got this a few weeks ago, and I… I thought that maybe we could…” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. You live with her, Brenner. Why is this so hard? “Maybe we could plan a trip sometime next year, I’ve been savin’.” You gasped, his name falling from your lips in a whisper. “I thought that my first time out of the country should be somewhere -”

 “Yes.” You nodded enthusiastically, leaning in to throw your arms around his shoulders, pushing him backwards onto the couch so that you were laying on top of him. Ryan was immediately comforted by your weight, the booklet falling from his hand and onto the floor as he held you close. “Oh, Ryan. There are so many places that I’d love to show you, so much for you to see.” You tucked your forehead in against his neck, removing your right arm from around his neck and stroking his hair. He pushed the material of your shirt up, running his hands up and down your spine as the two of you talked quietly, discussing possible places to go and things to see. I don’t care where we go, as long as she’s... “Thank you, Ryan.” Your voice was quiet, and though you’d stretched out so that you were laying between Ryan and the back of the couch, he was unwilling to let you go. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had since I was a kid.”

 “Me too.” Ryan sniffed, feeling his eyelids getting heavy, the warmth of your skin against his and the familiar rise and fall of your chest lulling him back to sleep. “An’ it’s because we’re…” He trailed off, hearing your quiet agreement, and the last thought he had before drifting off was one that he’d never had before.

 I wanna spend the rest of my life with her. 

---

[linskywords]

1M Words Week: Hallsy/Ebs

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Aaah, I love these two. Here’s an opening of a story I started in the spring of 2018 when Hallsy was having his Hart-winning season. Should really finish this at some point -- that season deserved it!

Note that, of course, this is NOT finished. It would not end here!

It’s just a dumb bet.

Not even a bet. It was just a thing Ebs said once, at the end of their second season together. Whits had gone out and left two six-packs in the fridge, and like, they weren’t going to not make him regret that, and also they’d just missed the playoffs again, so they got super drunk and lay around on the couch talking about Ebs’ thirty-four-goal season.

“It was sick, man, sick,” Taylor kept saying, and Ebs kept laughing and betting Taylor stupid things, like which of them could stack more beer bottles on top of each other, except neither of them could stack any because they were drunk.

“I’ll, like, never score that many goals,” Taylor said, and Ebs, because he was an awesome bro, said, “Yeah, you will, of course you will,” and Taylor said, “But, like, it’s hard,” meaning goals and, like, everything else, and Ebs said, “It’s not hard, you just need the right incentive.”

“What do you mean, incentive?” Taylor asked. Words were hard when you were that drunk.

Ebs rolled an empty beer bottle across the floor toward him. “You know. Incentive. Maybe you don’t have the right one yet. Like…like, you get thirty goals in one season, and I’ll blow you.”

Taylors jaw dropped open. “You would not,” he said after like thirty seconds of not being able to speak.

“’Course not.” And then, just as Taylor’s heart was going back to its normal speed: “’Cause you’ll never get thirty goals,” Ebs said, and he was off, cackling like a maniac.

“Oh, fuck you!” Taylor said, and then they wrestled for a while so that when Whits came home the floor was strewn with empty beer bottles and puddles from the ones they hadn’t quite finished.

So it wasn’t even a real bet. Just a thing Ebs said that one time, when they were practically kids. And, okay, maybe Taylor thought about it a few times in the years after that, like when he was jerking off sometimes, but that was before Ebs moved out to be with Lauren. And then Taylor got traded and Ebs got engaged and Ebs got traded and Ebs got married and everything’s different now.

And then Taylor gets thirty goals.

***

He’s not gonna lie and say it doesn’t go through his head after the game. He’s talking to the media, and it sucks because they lost, but still, thirty goals, that’s awesome, yeah, he’s happy to be able to contribute to the team as much as he can, no, he didn’t quite see himself here last season, but it’s something he’s always wanted—and it crosses his mind, just a blip, that conversation with Ebs. Not enough for him to still be thinking about it a minute later.

He thinks about it again, though, when he gets the text from Ebs. Everyone and their mom is texting him tonight—literally: he hears from Ebs’ mom and Davo’s mom and Nico’s mom and his own, obviously, and Ebs’ text is in the mix, just a WOOOOOT with random emojis that Taylor thinks are probably trying to be vaguely insulting. Then Ebs texts him again that night when he’s going to bed, when everything’s calmed down: we shld have hallsyebs day soon! to celebrate, and Taylor starts typing back something about his schedule, and then it hits him like a bolt of lightning or whatever—what if Ebs remembers?

There’s no way that’s what he’s saying. Ebs isn’t, like, lying in bed with fucking Lauren on the other pillow (the left one; Ebs is always on the right) texting Taylor to meet up for a blow job. Or—on the road; Taylor’s pretty sure the Isles are traveling right now. But still. Taylor’s been on enough road trips with Ebs to know that he doesn’t sneak around. The only times Taylor ever saw Ebs hook up was when he and Lauren were off-again. And maybe there were hookups Taylor didn’t know about—Ebs definitely didn’t know about a whole bunch of his hookups—but Taylor doesn’t think so. Ebs doesn’t like secrets.

So he texts Ebs his availability, even though probably they won’t have time for anything until the off-season anyway. He likes that Ebs wanted to, though. They used to have HallsyEbs days sometimes in Edmonton, after Ebs moved out and they didn’t see each other much outside the rink and Ebs said he didn’t want Taylor to pine for him or whatever so he’d come over and play video games and eat ice cream and other stuff Lauren probably didn’t like as much. Sometimes Ebs would be quiet at first, and Taylor would ask if he and Lauren were fighting, and Ebs would say no. Then after a while he’d tell Taylor all about it: how she wasn’t speaking to him, or how she was really great but he just wasn’t sure, and Taylor would make encouraging noises. Then a few days later he’d show up in the locker room all smiles at tell Taylor that Lauren said to thank him for whatever he’d said, that it had really helped, even though Taylor never said all that much. He was never surprised that Lauren knew they’d talked about it, though. Ebs really hated secrets.

Taylor doesn’t hear as much about their fights this year, if they’re having any. He and Ebs text a lot but it’s mostly about hockey shit. Ebs called him when he got traded, and they were both really excited to be in the same part of the country, but they don’t actually see each other aside from games. NHL schedules.

Which is why Taylor’s not surprised when it turns out they don’t have any overlapping availability before their game against each other on the thirty-first. that super sucks, Ebs texts. But they decide that Ebs will stay over at Taylor’s that night, since the Devils aren’t flying to Montreal until the next day, and Ebs sends him a text that’s ninety percent ice cream emojis. Taylor’s grinning when he falls asleep.

He’s super not expecting anything at all. He and Ebs have hung out after a bunch of games this year, and it’s great to catch up and shit, but it’s also super different. Before when they hung out at a bar or whatever it felt like of like Ebs was an extension of himself: like there were all the other guys, and then there was him and Ebs, operating on a different level. Even after Ebs moved out it felt like that. Now it’s more like a normal friend he doesn’t see very often. Like, it’s Ebs, so it’s still better, but…not the same.

So he’s, like, a little more excited about this time, but not really. Not a lot.

The Devils kill the Isles, obviously, and Ebs looks really bummed but still gives Taylor a patented Ebby hug when they meet up downstairs. Those haven’t changed. Ebs has always been really good at hugging: he, like, makes your body his own and just wraps himself around it and lots of hockey guys are strong but most of them don’t really apply themselves to hugs like Ebby does. Sometimes Taylor thinks Ebs is giving him new bruises, but it’s always worth it.

“Ice cream?” Ebs says, and he sounds really hopeful about it. Like Taylor would ever say no.

“Let me check what’s open,” he says, thumbing at his phone like he didn’t already look.

They end up at a Baskin Robbins that’s walking distance from the arena. “I don’t know, is this safe?” Ebs asks, smirking.

Taylor jostles him with his shoulder. “Newark is, like, just as safe as New York City.”

“Um, I play in Brooklyn,” Ebs says. “I don’t know what you get up to in your big cities. With your drugs and your violence and your—”

“You got checked by two-hundred-pound guys carrying sticks tonight,” Taylor says.

“Yeah, and some of them were you,” Ebs says, narrowing his eyes, and then they’re the ones who are dangers to the passers-by, trying to knock each other down on the sidewalk.

It’s really good. It feels more like old times than it has in a while. Maybe because they’re eating ice cream on dinky little chairs, measuring to see who ended up with more. Ebs gets black raspberry, which is heresy, but he still lets Taylor have a taste. It’s actually not bad.

They’re having such a good time that Taylor doesn’t even think about the thing, which is how it used to be, too: mostly he’d think about Ebs that way when Ebs wasn’t there. It felt safer that way. When he was with Ebs he was busy being with Ebs, and if he wanted to be with him more and in other ways it was easy to squash it down and distract himself with the Ebs who was right in front of him. It was only be later when he was alone that he would shiver and feel sick with how much he wanted the rest of it.

They finish the ice cream before the Baskin Robbins closes at eleven and walk back to Taylor’s car, Ebs asking him if he feels good to drive, he did have a lot of chocolate sprinkles, and Taylor asking him if he’s cold, does he need an extra bunnyhug to put on, and then Ebs trying to dunk him in a trash can. They’re a little quieter in the car: the sugar rush wearing off, the game weariness setting in. Taylor finds his left leg jiggling against the wheel as he drives.

“Guest room made up?” Ebs asks as they go into the condo.

“Yeah,” Taylor says, and maybe it’s the last of the sugar crash, but this weird flat feeling spreads over him: that’s it, end of night. But Ebs doesn’t go into the guest room. He collapses on the living room couch.

Taylor goes over and kicks at his legs a little, and Ebs looks sleepily up at him. “Too tired. Can’t go to bed.”

“Too tired from losing,” Taylor says.

“You got me.” Ebs blinks in a way that really does look tired. Like, he kind of always looks sleepy, but Taylor knows the difference. “You did good,” Ebs says, his voice low.

The words make a little ping inside Taylor. A lot of people have told him he’s done good lately. He had a twenty-eight game point streak—or, okay, twenty-one, if you consult the official NHL stats. He got his team into the playoffs for the first time in his NHL career. He should be used to hearing it. “Yeah?” he says anyway.

Ebs snorts. “Thirty goals. You know you did good.”

“Thirty-five,” Taylor reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ebs says. “You beat me,” and Taylor suddenly can’t quite look at him, can’t look away, because he’s wondering if Ebs remembers it. That conversation.

“Damn right I did,” he says, words not quite traveling through his brain, because his brain is totally fuzzed out. His brain is focused on how Ebs is sprawled out, how Taylor’s standing in front of him, how if Ebs were to sit up his mouth would be right—

Ebs keeps looking up at him with sleepy eyes. His foot nudges Taylor’s ankle, and the touch fizzes up Taylor’s leg. “You gonna make it to forty?”

His foot is still there, resting against Taylor’s ankle. “We only have four games left.”

“What, not up for it?” Ebs asks, smirking, and Taylor wants to—

It’s been ages since he’s felt like this: so fucked up his nerve endings aren’t connected right and keep sending little shocky bursts all over his body. He wants to fall onto Ebs and kiss the smirk off his lips.

He can feel his face getting hot, because he doesn’t do this anymore, doesn’t feel it like this. Ebs probably doesn’t even notice. His eyes are blinking sleepily, more closed than open.

“You can’t sleep here,” Taylor says. “You’ll fuck up your back.”

Ebs holds his hands out to him, and for a second Taylor thinks—but no, Ebs is asking for a hand up, wants Taylor to pull him to his feet. Taylor does, bracing and feeling his sore muscles stretch themselves a little, and then Ebs is on his feet, his hands warm in Taylor’s for a second before he lets go.

Once he does, he’s still really close, listing a little, eyes at half mast. His face is inches away. Taylor would just have to lean down an inch or two to—

Ebs smacks him in the stomach with the back of his hand. “’Snot as good as our old couch,” he says.

“Obviously not,” Taylor says. His voice sounds funny to his own ears. Kind of low and rough.

“We gotta do this more,” Ebs says. “Make time for it. We’re only like, what, an hour away? Gotta hang out more.”

“Okay,” Taylor says. He doesn’t know if Ebs really means it. Not enough to carry through with it, maybe, when there’s hockey and travel and Lauren. He wants to think he does.

Ebs steps away a few inches and takes some of the heat in the room with him. “Feels like old times,” he says. “Going off to our rooms.”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. It does. He never got what he wanted then, either.

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and Post-it's - Chapter 13 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: YOU GUUUUUUUYS! All the comments, all the love. Seriously, I’ve been warm all over with all the love, which is why you are already getting a new chapter. I am not saying that we are hitting home stretch, but I do believe that we will soon be getting close to an ending.

Whatever type we will end up getting. Who knows?

Summary:

It was fine.

Doing the show, being their friendly selves. Hinting at more than friendship because the fans loved it.

It was fine.

Vanjie truly didn’t feel like her heart was breaking every single time she joked about Brooke, her dick or alluded to their ‘sex life’. She didn’t.

Vanjie was fine.

LINK TO AO3

It was fine.

Doing the show, being their friendly selves. Hinting at more than friendship because the fans loved it.

It was fine.

Vanjie truly didn’t feel like her heart was breaking every single time she joked about Brooke, her dick or alluded to their 'sex life’. She didn’t.

Vanjie was fine.

So what if she sometimes shed a tear in her bunk on the bust when it was way past midnight and they were on their way to a different city.

So what if she sometimes wanted scream in sheer jealousy over the fact that Detox and Nina got to hug and touch Brooke - in and out of drag?

It didn’t matter.

Because Vanjie was fine.

Except. José wasn’t.

Every joke about Brock’s dick that he made at the shows left his mouth feeling ashy. Every #branjie hashtag made him want to delete his Instagram account.

He missed him.

José had panicked in the elevator, afraid that Brock would leave him again, so he decided to make it easier by leaving first.

It gave him the control, something he felt had been taken away from him the last time.

Ending it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but only for about 20 seconds.

The moment the doors of the elevators had closed behind him, reality hit him hard.

He didn’t want it to end.

He had never wanted it to fucking end.

But.

He had ended it.

And well…

Vanjie was fine.

Brooke was not fine.

Brooke felt like death walking. Her head was fussy from all the drinks, the meet & greet’s and the long trips on a tour bus.

She felt like a painted queen in more ways than one. The smile on her face faker than her hips to waist ratio.

She endured all the jokes that Nina, Monique and Vanjie made at her expense. Dealt with all the #branjie tags on Instagram and tried to not care too much about every single “where’s Vanessa” question that was posed to her.

But.

Brooke was not fine.

She was barely hanging on by a single thread, knowing that it would take almost nothing for him to hit the deep end.

It was not fine.

She tried to quiet down the beat of her heart every time she packed her things in the dressing room. Tried to not look for a post-it. Tried to kill any type of hope.

Failing every single time.

But while Brooke was not decidedly not okay, Brock was numb.

He didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol, heartbreak or a combination of the two, but he just felt numb.

He talked with the others, he did the work, went to the clubs and tried to exist.

Was this how José had felt when Brock had ended things the first time around?

Fuck, he hoped not.

If he had been the cause for José hurting like that…

Shit.

They had the first day off from the tour the day after, and Brock didn’t know how or if he could get through it. The other’s had talked about bowling and karaoke, which normally would have been his thing.

But alcohol, Brock and his ex seemed like a bad mix.

Brock and alcohol on its own already the worst idea.

Brooke really wasn’t fine.

Looking back, he couldn’t tell why he had made that comment on his live. He could blame the alcohol, blame the playfulness that had been in the air the whole day.

Maybe even blame the other’s as they had all seemed to pick up on the tension between the two of them, which made them try to push them together.

Fucking bitches.

They had all gotten drunk on a lethal mix of cider, tequila and beer. It was what made José’s body feel loose and free. It was what made him look two, three, four times at Brock’s ass when they had gone bowling.

So maybe it was the alcohol’s fault.

Sober him should have realised what was about to happen. Drunk him didn’t even give it a thought as he did a live Q&A with his followers as the other’s were getting midnight junk food.

“Have you ever fisted anyone, Miss Brooke Lynn?” José had specifically chosen to only ask Meatball, the question not one he wanted to ask his ex.

Trust Meatball to pick up that dropped ball from the floor immediately.

“Sure have not.” Brock looked directly into the camera, his eyes glazed over with fatigue, alcohol and something else.

“He didn’t even barely- he never even ate ass.” The words tumbled out of José’s mouth as he looked over a Meatball, the word not even registering in his mind, nor the fact that he was live with too many of his followers.

“Never ate ass? Now, wait a minute-” Meatball sounded surprised and almost sorry for José’.

But then.

“I did it once in the shower.”

That quiet and assured voice coupled with that look. The slightly raised eyebrow challenging him to disagree.

Stone cold. Almost angry.

But also playful.

José didn’t know if it made him want to kiss or slap him.

The energy between them after that had been… Weird. As if they both didn’t know what to do with that exchange. Brock seemingly shrugging it all off, though the challenge in his eyes stayed present.

Daring him to do… Something.

It had all come to a confusing head at the club, as they somehow ended up danced against each other, their bodies gravitating towards each other like to magnets, their eyes meeting in an unspoken agreement that found them in a cubicle in the toilet.

The door slammed behind them as their lips had met in a frantic kiss that tried to say everything, but only managed to voice a cry of some form of desperation.

Brock pushed José against the wall, their kisses biting and hard. Hands everywhere and nowhere.

And then they had stopped. Almost as if someone had pressed the off-switch. One moment José had been ready to drop down on his knees and take Brock’s dick in his mouth right there in a shitty toilet in some gay bar in Newcastle… And the next they were both calmly parting ways.

After that José seemed to lose track of the rest of them. His confusion over the kiss coupled with his ADD mind and overall drunkenness was probably why he hadn’t noticed their departure, effectively leaving him behind.

Leaving him to find his way back to the hotel on his own. His anger fighting against his fatigue, hurt and want.

He felt abandoned in multiple ways, his body starting to vibrate with a classic José mix of anger, hurt and indignation. One wrong move or word and he would pop off, he just knew it.

As the cab was turning down the winding roads, en route towards their hotel he felt his phone vibrating in the fancy-ass fanny pack he had strapped to his thigh, probably overflowing with notifications as people reposted and tagged him in thousands of versions of that live.

His flustered face and that look from Brock getting retweeted and analysed to death. Maybe he should read them, knowing that the Insta-stans might have better luck figuring out what was going on in that idiot’s mind.

José certainly didn’t know. His mind hazy and tripping over twenty-two different trails of thought that somehow all lead back to that look in Brock’s eyes.

I just need to sleep.

It was all that went through his head as he walked into the lobby of the hotel.

The only thing his brain could manage voicing, as he got the elevator up to his floor.

I just need to sleep.

Walking out, the elevator doors closing behind him, he looked down at his phone, feeling his soul leave his body at the idea of the 100+ notifications from Instagram.

Which was why he didn’t see who was coming towards him until he walked smack into the hard chest of Brock, who was stumbling towards him.  

“Hey,”

“You’re so fucking drunk right now, it’s not even funny.” He had woken Detox with frantic knocks at her door, not caring that she would give him hell for it tomorrow. He needed someone to talk some sense into him, the night having messed with his head way more than he thought was possible.

Normally he would go to Nina. But she was kind and understanding.

Right now he needed the bitchiness of Detox.

“I know,” taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he tried to let the smoke clear his head a bit, hoping that it would make the image of José’s flustered face after he had clearly just remembered that time in the shower, disappear from his mind.

“So you’re drunk, an idiot and you’ve possibly just let the ‘love of your life’ as you so aptly put it, walk out of your life… Am I missing more from your week of self-destruction?” Her no-nonsense voice made Brock smile wryly.

Fuck he had missed her.

“We made out in the club tonight? And I am pretty sure that there is a video online of me stone-cold admitting that I ate him out one time in the shower. Other than that? Nope, that’s all,” finishing the cigarette, Brock immediately lit a new one, needing the comfort that the nicotine gave him. Not caring that what he had promised Nina, not caring that he had tried to stop.

“Bitch,”

“Yup,”

“No, really… Jesus. You need to grow up and act your age, B,” Trust Detox to cut through the bullshit and be the captain of team Tough Love.

“But I-”

“No buts. I am so tired of seeing you being sad and self-destructive. Be an adult. Do that fucking challenge, Brock!” The sudden harshness of her voice made him look up at her tired face. Even through his drunken stupor, he noticed the worry in her eyes.

He hated that he was the one to have put it there.

“I… Okay. You’re right, I’m 33 years old. I should start acting it,” he tried to muster up a small smile, hoping it would dissolve some of the worry in her eyes.

“You really should. Just fucking talk with him. No sex, no anything. Just talk. Fuck’s sake, it’s not that hard, Babe.”

Easy for her to say.

“Yeah. Thanks for the smoke. I think I’ll go to bed,” he gave her a long hug, lingering a bit as trying to savour the human touch so he could hopefully carry it with him to his empty and cold hotel bed.

He stumbled his way out of her room., trying to remember the way to his room. He wanted to laugh over the irony of a ballerina having trouble not falling over his own feet. Suddenly he got hit by a very familiar weight.

If this had been a Disney film, this would be that moment where everything just magically seemed to work out.

“Hey,” José looked up at him, his phone in hand, lit up with the enormous amounts of notifications that were probably mirrored on Brock’s phone, safely hidden in his room.

“Hi,” José’s voice was raspy, while his eyes seemed tired and done. The way he looked at Brock was disconcerting, but he had promised Detox, so he just had to power through.

“So. I think we need to talk,” His voice seemed far away, the words slow and almost reluctant like Brock couldn’t believe that he was saying this.

But this was not a Disney film.

“‘Bout what? Didn’t we finish this whole talkin’ bout shit a week ago?” José kept avoiding eye contact, which made the knot in Brock’s stomach grow. His anxiety seemed to slowly cover him in its slimy hold, everything turning acidic and wrong.

But fuck, he had promised Detox.

“No, I… Fuck, I keep on wanting to have this talk, but then I just… Don’t. So, given the fact that I’ve had too much to drink, and probably won’t even remember this in the morning-” before he had a chance to finish his rambling José cut him off, his eyes desperate as he finally looked directly at Brock.

“Then maybe just don’t, Mary,” his eyes seemed to scream something at him, but Brock was too drunk, too emotional, too up in his own feelings to be able to interpret it, so he just carried on.

“I am just going to come right out and say it.” But the words seemed to be stuck somewhere in his throat, lodged there together with the anger and hurt he had felt the last couple of months but had never voiced out-loud to José.

This was really not a Disney film.

“What you waiting for, hoe? I need to get me some Z’s so I can be pretty for the children tomorrow. Chop, Chop, Miss Brooke Lynn.” He was losing time, José starting to be annoyed, his voice reaching that particular impressive trucker not, that he only got when he was close to getting angry.

“Are you sure about wanting to end this?” Brock’s voice was low as he pointed between them. José seemed to freeze for a second as if the words did not make any sense to him.

“I… Right now? I don’t know. Ask Sober Me tomorrow and he’ll probably say yeah.” Brock could feel himself become heavy as the rejection hit him. Square in the chest with a direct hit to his heart. His cheeks seemed to heat as the embarrassment of what he had asked became clear to him.

“Oh. Well. Okay. That’s fair. Yeah… Wow, fuck I’m just an idi-” He needed to get away from this situation. Needed to go back to his room and deal with this refusal.

“It’s fine, Mami, we all get drunk. I won’t make a big ass deal out of. Get you some sleep and then I be seeing ya at the show tomorrow.” José’s hand softly touched his arm, making Brock flinch, afraid that José would feel him trembling, afraid that sliminess of his anxiety could be felt.

“Yeah, sleep tight, and uhm sorry.” with that he fled, not hearing if José said anything back. He needed to get back to his room.

He could break down there, he could analyse the kiss in the toilet, the look in José’s eyes and his dismissive words.

If this was acting like an adult, then it fucking sucked.

This was really not a Disney film.

[hellimagines]

Love and Death -- Patrick Hockstetter

Masterlist

Request: “Hi I didn’t know where to request but could I pretty please with a cherry on top have an imagine of reader looking back at times of her and Patrick before he died and kind of working their way up to how she reacted to his death. I’m bad at explaining it but would you please be able to kind of song prompt it to the acoustic version of Katy Perry’s ‘The One That Got Away’ (listen to it while thinking of Pat it will bring you to tears. I don’t know if I did this right but if I didn’t explain it enough just send me a message. :) - @realclassact  ”

Summary: You and Patrick were June and Johnny. Nothing could separate that, except love and death.

Warnings: angst, major character death

Pairing: Patrick Hockstetter x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,130

A/N: The timeline is different than the movie/book, so RIP that. Also, I left out some of the song, because I figured it wouldn’t work with the rest of the story.

Summer after high school

When we first met

We make out in your Mustang

To Radiohead

Patrick Hockstetter was a concoction of chaos. You had been friends with him, and the rest of the self-proclaimed Bowers Gang since the beginning of sixth grade. It wasn’t as hard as everyone made it seem to run with the Gang. A couple sly smirks, a roll of the eyes, and being able to watch as they pummeled their latest victim. A lack of moral and a lot of patience scored you your spot in the group. And you loved it.

You were closest to Patrick, out of all of the boys. He was the one who dragged you into the group in the first place. So nobody was truly surprised when they found out that the summer after 8th grade, you and Patrick got together. It was early June, and the five of you were outside Mr.Keene’s, arguing over what to steal, and what to buy. You needed tampons, but none of the boys were willing to steal you any. And Patrick needed a pack of smokes, but nobody was willing to steal those, either. So, the two of you came to a deal.

“I’ll get you your fucking cigarettes if you get me my damn tampons,” you said to Patrick, staring him down with a glare. An oh-so-familiar, wicked smirk crossed his face as he dragged his eyes up and down your form.

“Fine… if you kiss me,” he bargained triumphantly, winking at the boys. You had never shown any interest in a boy, or a girl for that matter, so all the boys figured you were a stuck-up prude. Needless to say, Patrick’s eyes almost fell out of his head when you leaned over and gave him a long, rough kiss to the lips.

Whooping and hollering echoed from the Trans Am as Patrick pulled you closer, having you practically straddle his lap. Vic coughed and groaned in the corner, desperately trying to shrink into the seats. You pulled away from Patrick with a grin and bit your lip as you shook your head.

“Better get me my fucking shit, Hockstetter,” you whispered, before crawling out of his lap, and slipping through the front seat to leave the car. Henry, Vic, and Patrick were quick to follow (Belch staying back as the getaway), and the four of you made your way inside.

“We’ll create the diversion, you two grab the shit,” Henry ordered, and all of you nodded.

You and Patrick mingled in one aisle, while Henry and Vic made their way to the back corner of the store. With a simple shove from Henry, Vic was toppling into the shelves and displays, knocking everything to the floor. At the sound of a crash, and the sight of two ragged boys, Mr.Keene was all-but jumping over the counter and rushing over. You took your chance and dashed to the counter, grabbing four packs and hastily shoving them into your pockets. Patrick grabbed your tampons, and a few other things, before grabbing ahold of your hand and pulling you out of the store. You two jumped into the Trans Am quickly, and a few seconds later, Vic and Henry came dashing out of the store, grins on their faces as they too jumped in.

Radiohead’s ‘Everybody Knows’ blasted through Belch’s radio as the car sped down Mainstreet, while you and Patrick pulled out your stealings. You tossed the smokes at Patrick, and he tossed you your tampons, as well as a chocolate bar, before giving Henry, Vic, and Belch their desired items. You smiled at the chocolate in your hands, before grabbing Patrick by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Hm, guess this is a thing now,” Patrick snickered against your lips, before pulling you closer while the rest of the boys groaned in disapproval.

And on my eighteenth birthday

We got matching tattoos

It was your sixteenth birthday, and as you sat in Patrick’s basement, shirt-sleeves pulled up, you couldn’t have been happier. You and Patrick had been together for three years now, and as a birthday present, Patrick had gotten his hands on a tattoo machine. He had given the boys tattoo’s a while ago, but you could never decide what you truly wanted- so you never got one. Until now. You were getting a lighter on your shoulder, and Patrick was going to give himself a can of hairspray on his thigh, to symbolize your relationship.

“Ready?” Patrick asked, pressing the needle of the gun against your shoulder. With an affirmative nod, Patrick got to work. Two hours later, you and Patrick were supporting matching tattoos, chaotic grins on both of your faces.

Used to steal your parents’ liquor

And climb to the roof

Talk about our future

Like we had a clue

A few months later, you and Patrick found yourselves on top of his roof, a bottle of Grey Goose and Jack Daniels placed between the two of you.

“Whiskey and vodka is not a good mix,” you shuddered, taking another sip of the amber liquid.

“Grey Goose is your favorite though,” Patrick hummed, gulping down said liquor.

You nodded, watching him with a smile. “Yeah, and ‘Daniels is yours.”

“You know me so well,” Patrick purred, moving the bottles so he could tug you to lay down with him.

After a few minutes of silence, your mouth began to move of its own accord. “What do you think college will be like?” Patrick looked over at you, startled at your sudden question.

“Fuck if I know,” Patrick shrugged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“Are you going to go to college?”

“Probably not. But with you, little Ms. Harvard, I may just hitch a ride to Massachusetts with ya,” Patrick snickered, and you huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah? You and the boys sneakin’ into my dorm?”

“Sneaking? Oh no, we’d all live with you.”

“Oh, that’s just bloody fantastic, really. You all better get jobs,” you sighed, shaking your head in mock-disapproval. Patrick grinned down at you and squeezed your body against his.

“Whatever keeps ya around.”

I was June

You were my Johnny Cash

Never one without the other

We made a pact

Everybody knew, that where ever you were, Patrick Hockstetter was sure to be right behind you: he’d be at your locker, waiting for you after every class, he and the boys would walk you to every class, and pick you up every morning, and at the end of every day. For six whole years, it was (Y/N) and the boys, and then (Y/N) and Patrick.

You remembered the day you realized you were in love with Patrick Hockstetter. You had been sitting on the hood of the Trans Am, beside Vic, watching Patrick and Henry square off in a beer-drinking competition. It was probably midnight, and there was a heavy bonfire going, thanks to yourself. You had been watching Patrick closely; the way his head tilted back to allow the alcohol to slide down his throat, the way his long, black hair was tossed out behind his shoulders, a few stray strands sticking to his wet face, the way his over-shirt hung loosely around his black tank-top. It was all too perfect, and quickly, your heart stopped.

“Vic,” you suddenly whispered, turning to him in a flash, with wide, fearful eyes. “I think I’m falling in love with Patrick Hockstetter, and this is the most painful thing I’ve ever gone through in my life. It is like I’m in a ring of fire, and I’m never coming out. I’m going down, down to the bottom of this thing. It’s going to kill me, because I would never have the nerve to tell him, nor do I want to tell him, and I know he’d never love me back.”

“(Y/N), you fucking idiot,” Vic whispered back, his own eyes wide. “Of course Patrick cares about you, in his own fucked up way. But love? I don’t think he even knows what that is.”

“That’s my point! I just signed a one-way ticket to hell,” you whined, slamming your face into your hands. Vic reached over and rubbed your shoulders, biting his lip while looking between you and Patrick.

All this money

Can’t buy me a time machine

Can’t replace you

With a million rings

It didn’t take long after your realization, for things to go downhill. You had confessed to Patrick about how you truly felt, and as expected, it went up in flames.

“No, you can’t love me,” Patrick ordered, sticking a finger in your face.

“But I do and I know you don’t love me back, but it’s fine, okay? I don’t want this to come between us!”

“It already has, (Y/N). I can’t be with you, knowing that you love me. That’s not how this works,” Patrick snarled, before he was marching out of your house, and out of your life.

Looking back on that day, you wished you could change it all. Your fingers lazily twirled the ring on your index finger, the one Patrick had given you a year prior. You were sat in class, slouched in your chair, and hands in your lap. It had been a few weeks since the breakup, and it was now mid-September. Kids were still going missing left-and-right, and you had almost forgotten about all of it, being so caught up with the boys.

But then, you saw the posters.

I should’ve told you

What you meant to me

Cause now I pay the price

Your heart shattered, into a million unfixable pieces. Your body stood frozen, staring up in absolute horror at the piece of paper stapled to the lamppost.

Patrick was missing.

Patrick had joined the other dozens of Derry kids that had been taken the past year. Patrick, the love of your life, was gone. You showed up at Vic’s house, in absolute hysterics, not even bothering to say ‘hello’ to Henry and Belch, who were sat on the couch. Your eyes were swollen, cheeks inflamed, and nose running. You couldn’t form words, you didn’t know what to even say. So, you let Vic pull you into his arms, in a desperate attempt to shush and console you. Belch joined in, hugging you from behind, while Henry stood to your side, hesitantly petting your hair.

“We’ll get him back, (Y/N), okay? You know we will,” Vic whispered, kissing the top of your head. You shook your head furiously, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

“No, no. Something is different. Something is wrong,” you cried, hands balled into fists as you tried to quiet your sobs. Something wasn’t right, you just knew it.

In another life

I would be your girl

We’d keep all our promises

Be us against the world

In another life

I would make you stay

So I don’t have to say

You were the one

That got away

Your whole body was numb. From the tips of your ears to the bottom of your toes, everything was numb. You weren’t filled with icy rage anymore or boiling sadness. Everything was just gone. Just like Patrick.

“We are gathered here today, to mourn the loss of Mr.Patrick Hockstetter. At the young age of 17…” You zoned out once the pastor started preaching, your eyes hazing over to Patrick’s closed casket. You sat between Henry and Vic, your hands fisting the skirt of your dress until your knuckles turned white.

It didn’t seem like anybody in the church was actually crying. Patrick’s mother and father sat at the end of the pew, holding one another’s hands, solemnly looking at their final son, laid to rest. Patrick’s relatives sat in the pews next to, and behind you, none of them shedding tears. Patrick had never gotten along well with his family, other than his one grandmother, who passed away a few years back. Henry, Vic, and Belch had sat as your support beams the past few weeks, letting you lean, cry, and punch on them when you needed to. So now, as they sat by you, they looked like soldiers returning from war, but ready for another one to begin. If your body didn’t feel so foreign, you probably would’ve been crying.

Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Patrick was gone and had left you behind. Your last moments together was a fight that should’ve never happened. And now, you were never going to see him again. Never touch him again. Never kiss him again. Never love him again. Because Patrick was the one that got away, and he was never coming back.

[randomparanoid]

Like Love You, Love You

A/N: This was written for @myinconnelly1‘s threesome challenge. Congrats on the 300, I’m so happy for you!! My prompts will be bolded on the story. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3604

A/N 2: So, its the first I ever post something I’ve written, and it’s like the third time I’ve ever written something, so I’m sorry if it sucks, but feedback will be appreciated to improve. Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I try to do it as best as I could and my mom helped me as well. 

Warnings: some angst and fluff, I guess that’s it. 

Y/n: Your name

Y/d/n: Your dad’s name

My dad and my mom were both raised as hunters and against all odds we were a happy family. They dropped me off at Bobby’s and went on hunts, a usual thing to do and apparently their friend John did so too with his boys, Dean and Sam. Every time the three of us happened to be left with Bobby I loved it, we became good friends and Bobby was like a second father to us, the one that instead of teaching us about weapons and monsters played ‘catch the ball’. My parents were kind of reluctant to teach me much about the life of hunting, but they needed me to know how to use a weapon and some basic lore for their peace of mind, just so they knew I could defend myself.

One day when I was eight, they took me to Bobby’s and went on a hunt for a werewolf pack. I hadn’t realized they were a day late for picking me up ‘cause I was having the greatest of times with my two best friends, but Bobby received a phone call that night.

I heard his footsteps on the stairs and approaching the bedroom he had given me and the boys. They were fast asleep, but I couldn’t close my eyes for some reason.

“Y/n, sweetheart, you awake?” He whispered as he opened the door.

“Yes.”

“Come on outside for a minute, please.”

Once outside he took me to the living room, made me sat at the couch as he kneeled in front of me. His eyes were cast down at the floor and he was breathing hard. When he finally told me what was going on, I didn’t really understand his gloomy expression. I mean, in my mind he was just taking me to where my father was and there was nothing bad about it. I ran upstairs and gave each boy a goodbye kiss and a promise to see each other soon to play. As soon as we arrived at a hospital my heart dropped, this meant that one of my parents was hurt, badly, they never went to hospitals.

We went inside, and Bobby asked the nurse at the front desk for my father, she looked it up and gave him a funny look before giving him a room number. He grabbed my hand and gave me a soft squeeze before walking. I will never forget the sight of my father, he looked so small with tubes everywhere and in pain; nonetheless, he smiled weakly when he saw me. I let go of Bobby and ran to him.

“Daddy, are you ok?”

“Yes munchkin, so much better now you’re here.” Bobby picked me up and helped me got on the bed beside my dad.

“Where’s mommy?” I snuggled my dad’s side as slowly and as softly as I could. He looked up at Bobby before he answered anything. Both with the gloomy expression again. No! I thought, this can’t be happening, she’s probably in another room.

I saw my dad hastily clean a tear with the back of his hand. His lower lip trembling as he exhaled. He opened his mouth several times before he said anything.

“She…. Umm she’s in heaven now munchkin.”

I shook my head no and looked at Bobby expectantly with a few silent tears running down my face, waiting for him to deny this and tell me it was a lie as if he could do that. He just nodded, his eyes glassy and gently rubbed my arm. That was all I needed to bawl my eyes out that night.

As I grew up, I started seeing Dean and Sam less and less, it made me sad, particularly because I had a mega crush on Dean and I would’ve done anything to just spend some time with him even if it was just as friends, because I knew there was no way in hell he would see me as something more. My father needed me for the cases, well, mostly research but he did take me on a few hunts.

Ten years later after having breakfast and 2 slices of my favorite pie (because it was my birthday) we were on the road, my dad told me we needed to get some things. We stopped at a supposed witch shop in New Orleans, a city I always loved. It was bustling with music and they all seemed so cheerful.

He went inside, and I stayed in the car looking through some cassettes to play. I finally decided on a rock mix my mom had given my dad who eventually gave it to me as a present.  

“Umm dad, why are we here?” I asked, pointing at the shop he just got out of.

“I… I just needed some stuff.” He showed me a little bag with some dirt or something. And started the car again. He booked us at a scrawny looking motel and immediately made a line of the dirt at the foot of the door and at the windows.

“Ok, dad, what the hell are you doing?” He sighed heavily and sat on the edge of one of the beds, I sat beside him and took his hand. “What is going on?”

“I know munchkin that today is your birthday and that we should do something more fun, specially today that you’re turning 18…”

“But?”

“But I don’t have more time left-“

I laughed nervously, shaking my head, “I know you’re old, but not that old. Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Sweetie… I’m so sorry, I uhm… I made a deal. When your mom was giving birth to you…” he paused for a second to swallow. “It was a risky labor, she was in pain for hours and you both got tired. Your little heart was failing and so was hers and the doctor told me they could save you, but your mom was most likely to die. I couldn’t handle that, I just couldn’t bear the thought of not having her by my side to raise you, see you grow up and give you advice and…” he trailed off.

“Ok. But that was 18 years ago, deals are 10 years.” I got up shaking my head trying to wrap it around the idea that he was going to fucking die.

“Yeah the deal I made was that I could get 18 years if I did something for the demon.”

“That’s why we never hunted demons, isn’t it?” He nodded in response. “Why would you do that?” my voice cracking for trying to hold back my anger and my tears.

“To save your mom, I didn’t want you growing up without her and I couldn’t have raised you properly on my own.”

“But she stilled died!” I yelled, and he flinched, I know it was unfair of me to say that, but I couldn’t believe I was losing him too. “And you’re going to, you will leave me all alone.”

“Munchkin-”

“Don’t Munchkin me! I don’t want you to die pops. What am I gonna do with my life now?” I crumbled, my knees landing on the floor with thud and burying my head in my hands.

He got to the floor and gently laid me in his lap like I was 10 again. He rocked me back and forth and mumble apologies in my ear. I sobbed and drenched his shoulder. When I finally could get a grip of myself again, I looked up at him. “So, the thing you put on the door, is it to keep away the hellhounds?”

“It will hold them off for a bit, but there’s nothing we can do to stop them. I’m still going.” His voice cracked this time, some tears rolling down his cheeks. “Actually, I think you should go, I wanted to be with you ‘till the last second but now thinking about it I don’t want you to hear when they come for me.”

“Dad I’m not going anywhere.” I hugged him tight. “I love you.”

We stayed at the motel room, my dad was watching something on the tv while I was trying to find something, anything to help me keep my dad alive, but I came up with squat and time was ticking by. I got up from the chair and walked to the mini fridge, grabbing two beers and opening them. My dad lifted an eyebrow and gave me a ‘what are you doing?’ look.

“At least let’s have one beer before you…” I didn’t dare finish that sentence. “It’s a memory I know I’ll cherish, as well as the first time you taught me how to shoot a gun.” I laughed.

“Ok, fine.”

Halfway through our beer the door and the windows started to shake, and horrible snarls were heard but they were gone as quick as they had started. I looked over at my dad, scared out of my mind. The next thing we heard was a knock and a woman’s voice.  

“Oh (y/d/n), open the door honey.” My dad and I exchanged a look. “Don’t make me do it the bad way.” She threatened.

My father reluctantly approached the door and slowly opened it. The woman outside pushed the door and entered the room looking around. When she spotted me, she gave me a fake smile.

“Well, well, well, so you’re the one I saved from not living at all?” She pointed a long finger at me.

“What are you doing here? Thought your pets would be the ones to drag me down.”

“Oh no, no. I needed to take you personally, you are special… I mean you didn’t kill a single demon all these years, right?”

There was something accusatory in her tone and I looked at my dad confused. I knew we didn’t kill demons, at all.

“I, no, I di-didn’t.”

“Why do I feel you’re accusing him of something?” I stepped in.

“Oh, ‘cause, you see, he may have not killed demons per se, but I know he called some of his buddies to do the job for him.”

“Ok. So, what?”

“I didn’t like that…” I was about to interrupt her, but she put up a hand to silence me. “I am a benevolent person, er, demon so I didn’t do anything about it. You need to come with me now, though, or I might turn out to be the worst demon you’ve ever seen.” My dad stepped forward and the demon raised a finger to scratch her chin. “Or maybe, you could do something to save your father.” She was looking at me.

“What can I do?”

“No! Don’t do anything munchkin, just get over here and give your old man one last hug.”

“Well, you could make a deal with me right now and I could give you both ten more years together. Then I would come back for both of you.”

I shook my head and looked at my father, maybe I should make this deal. He approached me and hugged me, whispering in my ear goodbyes and begging me not to accept the deal. He turned around to face the demon and she smirked at him. I saw him reach into his back pocket and slowly pull out his little bottle of holy water. No dad! What are you doing!? That ain’t gonna help, that’s just gonna piss her off.

I tried stepping forward to stop him but damn me for being so slow. By the time I grabbed his arm he had already thrown some of it to her. She screamed and grabbed her face and my father started reciting the exorcism.

“Oh no you won’t, you little piece of shit!” She looked at my dad and with a little flick of her face he flew across the room and got pinned to the wall.

“Run!” He screamed at me. I didn’t move, if I left, I knew he was going to die, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to do something. I heard the hellhounds growling again, now this time by the bed and rapidly getting closer to my dad.

“Stop! I will make you a deal, but please don’t hurt my dad.” She laughed, a creepy laugh. And looked at me.

I started walking towards her but only made it three steps when the door swung open and John Winchester tailed by Dean stepped inside, guns raised.

“You brought the Winchesters into this!?” As John ran to her to knock her down, she threw my dad down directly into the hellhounds and they immediately started clawing at him.

I screamed and lost notion of what was happening around me, I fell to my knees. “No! NO! DAD!” Faintly I heard John’s voice reciting an exorcism and the demon leaving the body.

“Y/n, we need to get out of here.” John’s grave voice sounded by my ear. And I could feel his hands on my arms trying to pull me up.

I shook my head, tears blurring my sight. “No, my my d-d-dad.”

“Please don’t argue. You must leave right now, you aren’t safe here. C'mon Dean help her, Sammy is in the car sweetheart.” He said it, trying to get me to move.

John pulled me to my feet, Dean grabbed me by the waist and dragged me out of the motel room. I completely shut down, didn’t really noticed when John got to the car or when he pulled into the driveway or Sam that was in the back seat with me softly caressing my arm, Dean’s nervous glances back at me. No, in my mind I still saw my dad getting clawed in the back by the invisible hellhounds, his screams of pain and the look in his eyes.

I stayed with them after that, I had no where to go and John sort of adopted me and wouldn’t accept that I went my own way. He even took me to some hunts, along with Dean. And I suffered just as much as Dean when Sammy left for college. We were both proud of him, he wouldn’t admit it, but we were also kind of jealous, Sam got the chance to get out of the hunting life and do something that he liked.

There were times when I wished my parents hadn’t been hunters, but I loved the feeling you get when you help someone, and I got pretty good at hunting. After Sam left for Stanford, John would send Dean and me on hunts while he went on his own for clues on the demon that killed Mary. I couldn’t stand seeing Sammy so sad after Jess got killed. The Winchester boys had taken a huge place in my heart and I was so thankful to the three of them for receiving me with arms wide open after what happened to my dad. They even put up with me on those days, I was so depressed and isolated, I barely spoke a word and ate close to nothing.

When I was myself again, things got to like they were before when we were kids, always had so much in common with Sam, Dean loved to call us nerds and I grew close to him which only made my crush on him to get bigger and bigger.

One day, we were still on the look for John’s whereabouts. The boys found a case in a small town in Colorado not so far from where they killed the wendigo. We booked a room in a shabby-looking motel, Sam took a shower followed by Dean and before I could get in the bathroom, they grabbed their stuff.

“I think you should stay here.” Dean said.

“What? Why?” I asked confused. They had left me out of a few hunts before, but they learned not to do that since I’ve proven that I could save their asses too.

“Look… just trust me on this.” He shared a look with Sam.

“No, just tell me a good reason why I can’t come with you guys?”

“We’ll tell you when we come back, ok?” Sam stood between me and Dean rising his hand.

“Are you taking his side against me?” I pointed a finger at Sam. “You’re the one always helping me convince Dean, telling him that without experience I couldn’t learn anything.”

“I’m sorry y/n, but we promise to explain things to you if everything goes right.”

“If? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh and left the room, Sam gave me a weak apologetic smile before closing the door. Well shit! Now what?

I spent all day locked up in that stupid horrible motel room, worrying my ass off about those two schmucks and not knowing what the hell to do. I considered the possibility of going to look for them, but they didn’t even leave Sam’s laptop for me or anything to do research for them so I had no idea where could they have gone.

Past 1:30 am I couldn’t stop pacing around, I was sure I had dug a hole on the floor. I texted Sam and Dean several times but neither of them had answered. I was about to pull my hair off when someone banged on the door. It startled me, and I stopped my pacing.

“Y/n, it’s us, open up please.”

I sighed of relief that was quickly changed to worry again as I opened the door. Sam had bruises and had a small cut on his cheek, but Dean was really banged up. Cuts on his forehead, his lip and he was clutching his shoulder. His features clearly letting me know that he was in pain but trying to act tough, as always.

“Oh my god, guys! What happened?” I grabbed Dean by the waist and walked him to the nearest bed. He just grunted in pain and I quickly helped him remove his shirt, so I could check his injuries.

He had a horrible wound on his right shoulder. I was used to patch the boys up, and Dean’s toned body always made me lose my breath, but I always tried to clear my mind to do a good job.  

Sam walked into the bathroom to wash his face and tend to his cut cheek. “C'mon guys, tell me what the hell happened?”

“We, um, we found out that the demon who made your father the deal was here and… uh she wasn’t alone, so we got beaten up.”

“Why? Just why would you that huh? There was no need for you to go after her, I didn’t ask you to do this, in fact I never talked about wanting revenge.”

“We did this for you.” Said Dean through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes, I knew I had to be thankful ‘cause I was, but I couldn’t after seeing them so hurt. I just wished they had told me earlier what they were planning to do so I could’ve convinced them to turn right back and go somewhere, anywhere else. “Bobby called us, he um, he heard that the demon bitch was looking for you.”

“So what?” I said just when I finished sewing Dean’s injured shoulder.

“So what?” he asked angry, getting up from the bed so fast that I almost fell from the bed. “She was coming for you so I, we thought we should kill her before she got the chance to even see you.”

“But why did you have to almost get killed to do that? You should’ve told me! How do you think I would feel if either of you died because of me?”

“No, y/n, I would die for you in a heartbeat, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” He had calmed down and was almost whispering now. “Look, I think it is to time for me to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I looked between him and Sam that had come out of the bathroom and had taken a sit at the edge of the bed in front of me. He was smiling at his brother and that just confused me even more.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest.” Dean sighed and sat down beside me again. “I love you, y/n.”

“Yeah I love you too Dean.” He laughed and shook his head.

“No, I mean I like love you, love you, as in something more than friends.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb and smiled sweetly at me. I was shocked… I would have never in a million years thought that he would feel that way about me.

“Dean, I’ve felt that way about you for a long time.” I whispered, unconsciously getting closer to him. His gaze falling to my lips and mine doing the same, I sucked in a breath when he licked his lips slowly. He leaned in and I closed my eyes, when his plump lips finally touched mine, I was in heaven. He kissed me slowly and gently, his hands on my neck and mine instantly flew to his hair, urging him to kiss me deeper. I lost sense of everything around until Sam cleared his throat. “Sorry,” I laughed.

“Let’s sleep, okay? Tomorrow you can continue your make out session, without me.”

“Next time you two idiots think of doing something like this, don’t, I have proven more than enough times that you do better in a hunt with me.”

“Yes, sweetheart, cross my heart.” Dean said and pulled me to his side on the bed to snuggle a little bit.

[tuliptx]

Lexi loves the club and the club loves her.. maybe a little too much. Will she find her place or is this the kind of love that kills? Rated M for sex and adult themes. (a charming mix of relationships including Jax, Happy and David Hale)

Read CH1 here!

Lexi huffed, turning and moving toward the club house. Happy’s dark obeservative eyes followed her, he’d usually be watching that perfect round ass swaying in those denim cut offs, but instead all he could see was the way she was limping and trying to keep the weight off her left foot. Tig took a moment to watch the car turn out of the lot before rushing after his little sister. 

Happy took a second to gather himself. He didn’t know what the hell was up with Tara and Jax, but that relationship was shitting all over the club and bleeding all over Lexi- which in his mind was completely unacceptable.

He lit his cigarette and continued to stare at the Club House door. Arriving late last night, he hadn’t noticed that the door had been painted. A reaper stared back with cold empty eyes. It was beautifully done in blue black and white, shaded to perfection. It was well edited, not too much detail not too little- he wondered if one of the guys had done it. He flicked out his cigarette and braced himself before walking into what he was sure was going to be a tense clubhouse.

He froze in the door way not sure what to make of the scene in front of him. Lexi was leaning over the counter, standing on the rung of the bar stool, trying to reach a bottle of Jack that the Prospect was trying to keep as far away from her as possible. “It’s 9 in the morning Lex, Gemma told me not to give you booze until after 1!” She growled and snarled, these are special circumstances Sac, give me the fucking bottle.” Half Sac was struggling to hold her back without hurting her further and looking desperately at Tig who was trying hard not to laugh. “You don’t have to die this way Sac, give me the bottle!” Sac stretched a little further causing Lexi to shift and put weight on her bad leg. She hissed in pain but refused to stop her siege. “She’s hurt Prospect, be fucking careful” came a sharp bark from Tig who had moved to retrieve the first aid kit from the other side of the bar. While the Prospect was distracted Lexi had taken the opportunity to slip under his arm in one fluid movement and to pull another bottle out from under him.  

Lexi smiled hopping up onto the bar and taking a long victory pull straight out of the bottle. She leaned her head back letting out a long sigh and then gently rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You know about thirty minutes ago I thought this was going to be one of those really good days.” Happy had grabbed a beer and was now leaning against the bar. He had placed himself a few feet away from her, between where she sat gingerly poking at her leg and the door. Tig approached her slowly with an ice pack and gauze in one hand, his other held out in a calming gesture. She glared at him slightly. It was like watching someone trying to convince a wild mountain lion not to eat them. “How you doing there Rocky Balboa?” Lexi scoffed, “Pfft if anything I’m Manny Pacquiao, I put that bitch down.” Happy took a long sip from his drink trying to hide the grin on his face. Tig smiled proudly at his sister, “yeah you did, you handled your shit like a pro.” They tapped fists, something they always did to celebrate victory. “So, what hurts?” asked Tig delicately as he tried to gently maneuver her left boot off. She pulled her foot away, not letting him, of course because she was stubborn like that. “Tara’s face.”

Yup, that did it. Happy shot beer out his nose, laughing, hard. Lexi gave him her brightest smile and he couldn’t help but shake his head. While she was distracted Tig grabbed her ankle holding it still despite his laughter and yanking off her boot. She hissed at him and froze. “Yeah that’s what I thought,” muttered Tig as he revealed an obviously swelling left ankle. “Mother fucker,” she grumbled as she took another pull off the Jack. Tig rubbed his forehead as he applied ice to her ankle and tried to dab at her bleeding thigh. “Hey Sac, go get Chibs.” Sac stood there for a second looking conflicted. “What is it now Prospect?” demanded Tig. Half Sac flushed as he looked towards the hallways, “Chibs is in there with Emily Duncan. He said not to bother him unless someone was trying to burn the club house down.” Tig rolled his eyes standing from his stool in front of Lex and tossing the pack at Happy. “He’ll come running for her you dumb shit. Happy take over for a minute. Tig cuffed the back of the prospect’s neck and led him around the bar and toward Chibs’ room.

Happy sat down on his bar stool in front of the luscious Lexi and gently picked her ankle up examining it. After determining where the swelling was the worse he gently placed the ice on the outside of her ankle and set both in his lap. Lexi swallowed hard taking a long pull, desperately trying to pull herself together. The feel of Happy’s strong rough hands brushing against her leg brought back heated memories.

Happy locked eyes with Lexi as he slid his calloused, masculine, strong right hand under her left knee. Lexi couldn't help the sudden intake of breath, her lips parting ever so slightly. The room suddenly felt way too small. No man had ever made her nervous like Happy did. She had no idea what to do with that. It had been years since their one night. One night of mindless pleasure. No names had been exchanged. No club affiliation ever discussed. That night had gone completely unacknowledged even after they realized. Verbally at least. It was for the better. 

Thank God he wasn't around more because as is, these moments are getting far too frequent. As his hand slid slowly but with purpose down her calf lifting her ankle onto his jean clad knee she held her breath. He lifted it just off his knee sliding the ice pack under to cool it from behind where it looked to be the most bruised. "Hand me that gauze." His voice was slightly deeper than normal- less raspy. She nodded dumbly and then, and then the most embarrassing thing ever, she let out a loud hiccup that was so violent it actually caused her to bounce slightly off the bar. Lexi was mortified; she couldn't look up at him. She hadn't even had warning enough to cover her mouth. Her face immediately began to heat up and she handed him the gauze as quickly as she could before taking a long pull from the bottle of Jack at her side tossing the lid across the room. This day had been exhausting- she had every intention of making it all go away by drinking as much of this bottle as she could. 'At least the hiccup had killed that moment before anyone could walk in on that super sexy eye contact,' she thought.

Her leg was so smooth and warm from the sun. Happy's mind went blank when she bounced- he'd been captivated by the jiggle of her DDs. Really, he had to get ahold of himself. If Tig kept catching him staring like this- it'd be his nuts. Especially now that she had an old man. His eyes wandered over a fresh piece of ink on her calf. She was lucky her boots had protected it. A beautiful reaper curved along her calf. The style very reminiscent of the one painted on the door- this one held more color. It was centered in a golden frame with the shadows of crows dancing behind its head and in its extended palm instead of the traditional anarchy sign it held a glowing sacred heart. He had to rein this shit in. Happy didn't like being out of control of anything- with Lexi he felt he was out of control of EVERYTHING. From the moment he arrived in Charming five years ago only to learn that sweet wild delicious piece of ass he’d fucked on the road was actually Tig’s sister, he’d been fighting to get a solid grip on things. She never followed direction, she was always putting herself in bad situations, she was ever chasing adventure and danger. That he was attached to her in the slightest was dangerous. EVERTHING about Lexi was dangerous for him.

"So what was all of that about?" he distracted as he began to gingerly wipe the blood off of her leg, putting slight pressure on the scrapes to stop the bleeding. "Fucking idiot probably should have done this first," he muttered. Lexi laughed, "yeah well you know my brother- more bullets then brain." Hap smirked nodding his head and continuing to work on her- long golden soft warm- leg. "That stick in Tara's ass has been super-sized lately. It's starting to affect the functionality of her brain." Hap glanced up at her, "but why? Why you?" Lexi scoffed taking another pull off her bottle, "I honestly don't know where this started. She's always hated me, but since she came back- she wants me dead." She took another pull, "Jax definitely isn't helping things. This reminds me I have to find a new place to hide my key." "Wasn't your old man mad when he showed up like that?" Lexi almost shot whiskey out her nose- which burns for a very long time if you've never done it. "What old man? What have you been smoking Hap and can I have some?" Hap reached into his pocket with his left hand using his right to apply light pressure. He fished out a joint and handed it over and she giggled in delight.

After a deep inhale, holding the smoke in her lungs, "What're you talking about Hap?" her accent continued to thicken with each vice she partook in. He gently tapped her tattoo and then ran a finger firmly down one side of the frame. "OH!" She was becoming more animated; her hands were now flying as she was speaking to him causing some of the booze to slosh out. "No, I got that just for me. It's not a crow. I got shot six months ago, Clay and Gem and Tig and the boys all said I earned my own reaper. I had to make it a little more girly though. I'm just not the kind of girl to rock anything overly masculine." Happy's brain had stopped on the shot part, "see this is what I'm talking about! How the hell did you get shot?" Lexi's eyebrows furrowed as she leaned forward, "what you're talking about?" He shook his head, "How the hell did you get shot?" She leaned back eyeing him suspiciously but in her buzzed state quickly let it go shrugging and smiling, "drive by." She unbuttoned the top button on her blouse allowing her to shift the collar so he could see the vibrant pink shiny new flesh where she had taken the bullet. And also a good flash of skin and pink lace. Happy shook his head. Focus. He took the bottle from her taking a long pull only to realize she’d already knocked back more than half of it. Well that wasn’t good. 

Focus. He hadn't heard of a drive by. "Drive by where?" "Oakland." "What the fuck were you doing in Oakland?" "I had a meeting with a gallery in Oakland. I sold three paintings- Jax took me to a bar after to celebrate." "What the fuck?"

Jax should know better than that.

He had put Lexi in danger.

He had started this thing with Tara too.

Lexi was the artist of the door and the tattoo. Well that made her hotter. Fuck.

Happy filed it away at the look of confusion on Lexi's face. Her blue eyes were sharp, even in her inebriated state. He schooled his features trying to look casual. He'd have to ask around about this when she wasn't around. Something about all of this didn't seem right. What the hell was Jax thinking- or better yet what was Jax thinking with?

 Before he could even process all of this new information two things happened: One, Tig, the Prospect and Chibs came laughing and rough housing out of the dorms; two, the front door to the club house was thrown open with a loud BANG. Gemma cut a formidable figure in her bitch heels; large black hobo bag slung over her shoulder.

"Little girl, you have a lot of explaining to do!" Lexi was immediately off the bar forgetting her swollen foot and leaving the half smoked joint in an ash tray. The pain immediately reminded her why she’d been smoking it in the first place and she reached out gripping Happy's shoulder for support. He stood and maneuvered her to his stool. The way the two moved with each other was so natural- the all-seeing mother bear quirked an eyebrow, not missing a thing. Happy pulled up a second bar stool and lifter her foot; replacing the ice pack, only when she was situated did he step away. Then again Alexia is family and Happy was notoriously protective of SOA family- especially the women. Though, no one would ever label him a nurturer. Gemma filed this new observation away for a later date.

"You fucking broke the doc's nose! You better have a damn good reason!" Gemma scolded charging toward her beloved pseudo daughter. "Gemma you know me better than that! The bitch started something she didn't have the ass to back up." "Why the fuck would she do that Lex? Jax was at your house last night! That's why!" Happy’s shoulders tensed and he leaned back against the bar staring at the juke box intently. Lex rolled her eyes, "that's an issue you should take up with your son." Gemma threw her purse on the counter, "I would if I could but he's too busy talking Tara down." Lexi threw her hands up, "this is nuts! Why do I have to defend myself when I was just defending myself!" "Lex, you know I’ve always thought you were better for Jax then that little tart, but when you sleep with another woman's old man she has every right to give you hell. You screwed up you should take it!" Lexi, now seeing red, threw that mother fucking bottle of booze against the wall behind Gemma who covered her head and stared at her pseudo daughter in shock. "I didn't do shit!" The entire club was silent in the wake of the bottles shatter.

Tig came up behind Lex quietly, putting an affectionate and comforting hand on her shoulder. Her chest was heaving from screaming and a tear of rage sank down her cheek. Lexi was not an angry girl but she had a temper that she struggled with at times- one that had been passed down to both of his children by Dan Trager. Chibs turned to the Prospect, "go get me medics bag." Half Sack nodded and slipped out of the room silently, relieved to be anywhere but here. "You know what Gem?" came a low soft lilting Texas accent, "If I had slept with Jax, yes, Tara would have every right. I have never slept with Jax. I don't intend to sleep with Jax. I. Don't. Want. Him." She took another long deep breath and the queen opened her mouth as if to say something but quickly shut it. "Jax," Lexi was disgusted, "broke into my house last night. I had no idea he was there until the morning. I am sick,” her voice hitched, “I am sick and tired of your fucking son putting me in the middle." Lexi looked up from where her eyes had been glued to her lap. Making eye contact with Gemma, Gemma felt her spine go cold at a look that was violent and fed up. "Tara jumped me- pulled me off the bike- Jax did nothing- I defended myself. That is the last time I am saying it to you Gemma. Believe who you want."

Gemma sat down in the nearest chair with a dramatic sigh. "Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Cueing up Ch3 for later this week. To make up for the delays. Sorry guys! I have over 20 chapters written and ready to publish but I’m taking a second pass over them to try and weed out the weird quote mark switcheroos for random characters. If you have any comments or would like to be added to a tag list- just let me know. 

@lunarbear93

[streiknine-blog]

Task 001.

BUT RED WAS WHAT YOU WRAPPED AROUND YOU. BLOOD RED.

—Ted Hughes

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full Name: Vincent James Ouellet Nickname(s): Vin, Vinny, Strychnine, Striker; Strike Age: 28 Date of Birth: 13 February 1990 Hometown: Québec, Québec, Canada Current Location: Dertosa, California Ethnicity: white Nationality: Vincent is Canadian, but his mother was American, so he’s got dual citizenship Gender: cis male Pronouns: he/him Orientation: Vincent is bisexual — but also fun fact he’s never had sex Religion: agnostic — he doesn’t think too hard about it, but I could see him going for something like Roman Reconstructionalist if he actually put thought into it. Political Affiliation: (I don’t know stateside politics and neither does Vincent) Occupation: full-time Poison babey — see also: hitman Living Arrangements: he’s got a small apartment with sparse decorations — really what he was looking for when he got it was somewhere that he’d be able to relax and cook.

The kitchen is the most put-together part of the one-bedroom place, with well-loved pots, pans, and bakeware. A couple nice dishtowels in a white with navy stripes pattern hang from the handle of the oven, and a much more ragged bleach-worn dishtowel is usually seen on the counter (used for wiping up messes as they happen). Little (fake bullet) shell casing salt and pepper shakers sit on the back of the stove, along with a little porcelain rooster — “You have to have a rooster in the kitchen.” Vincent would say, “It’s good luck.” — which its paint is chipping from how old it is.

The living/eating area has a navy and grey rug that looks like he’s had it since he was in his early twenties (and, honestly, he has) and a dark-stained wooden table with four chairs — the insert to make it into a six person table for if he ever had the Poisons over sitting against the far wall, in plain sight — and just a single placemat, that is pastel and multi-coloured and looks like he stole it from a sixty year old’s kitchen décor, sitting on the table at all times.

He’s got a small, grey, apartment-sized couch that he likes to curl up an nap on, so there’s a throw blanket and a single pillow always on it.

Language(s) Spoken: English; French Accent: Light buzzing on ‘TH’, ‘Z’, and ’S’ sounds — a holdover from his Québécois upbringing; for the most part has a fairly neutral “Seattle accent” that he’s taught himself as a consequence of being around Americans and wanting to sound less ‘different’. Still has a light Québécois accent tinging his words.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Face Claim: Zane Holtz Hair Colour: dark brown Eye Colour: blue Height: 6’1” Weight: 220ish lbs Build: lorge Tattoos: n/a Piercings: n/a Clothing Style: Simple, dark sweaters (navy, forest green, maroon, black), white dress shirts (buttoned to the top), dark sports coats, charcoal or black slacks are the standard, but he’ll wear dark wash jeans occasionally. Usually the jeans are paired with a crisp dress shirt (in any of the sweater colours) that may be rolled to to the elbows. If he’s doing the sweater + dress shirt + jeans outfit, his favourite combination is his maroon sweater with a navy dress shirt. He thinks he looks fancy in it. He’s not opposed to wearing light, airy colours (like powder blue, or dusty pink) but he gets a bit self-conscious when he wears them — thinking that they don’t suit him well enough for him to pull it off. So he sticks to dark colours and neutrals. They’re easier to hide bloodstains anyway, and the white shirts can be bleached.

Fan of French cuffs but never wears them because cufflinks are easy to lose at a scene. When he’s not on the job he’s totally breaking out the French cuffs and his silver cufflinks. There’s the occasional t-shirt + sweatpants combo but usually reserved for when he isn’t going out anywhere/not seeing anyone but the other poisons or the flower he’s booked.

For accessories, he’s got a dark grey tungsten carbide band that he wears on his left ring finger.

Usual Expression: neutral, vaguely aggressive leaning. His eyebrows make him look mad when he’s not holding them up in some form of expression. Distinguishing Characteristics: I’d say his biggest distinguishing characteristic is that he is tall and wide — like not only is this kid over six feet tall, he’s jacked as shit too.

HEALTH.

Physical Ailments: needs glasses, and he’s nearsighted — it’s partly why he prefers knives to guns. Neurological Conditions: nothing I can peg but I’m sure there’s Something. Allergies: n/a Sleeping Habits: king of the cat nap, and honestly whenever he can knock out he’s gonna. He snores too. Eating Habits: he eats a Lot and he’s decently healthy… please see his favourite food section for a more detailed food thing. Exercise Habits: Boy loves to workout — gotta keep fit for murder, y’know? He’s fond of free weights, and bars… boy loves a heavy deadlift, and he’s gotta bench press his friends at least once. He’s also one to do sprints for his cardio, especially resistance sprints. Gotta go fast.

He works until it burns and he’s comfortably sore. Totally one to have a protein shake with oats added after a hard workout.

Emotional Stability: Vincent isn’t necessarily the most emotionally competent but he’s also not especially volatile. He’s got his moments — blind fury or just enjoyment of a kill can cause him to go a lil overboard. When he laughs it’s a whole body laughs — boy’s gonna feel things all at once if he’s going to feel them at all. Sociability: He likes to be with other people but he is just so painfully awkward. He doesn’t quite realize sometimes that he’s making jokes that aren’t funny and that he should stop making poisoning jokes to the flower that is eating the meal he prepped himself but, hey, we can’t be perfect and Vinny certainly isn’t. Body Temperature: I’d say he’s a slight onto the warm side — summer is hell for him. Addictions: can I say the high of a kill? But nah he ain’t a straight up murder-obsessed guy, he just really loves that feeling. In all honesty, he loves sweet things. Drug Use: Never Alcohol Use: Rarely drinks — he doesn’t like the feeling of being drunk/tipsy, but he will go for a lite beer or two, or a mixed drink that is “light on the alcohol, heavy on the mix, please.”

PERSONALITY.

Label: the aggressor; the cold-blooded; the loyalist Positive Traits: Fearless, determined, willing Negative Traits: Ruthless, detached Goals/Desires: his biggest thing is having a balance to things, it’s a driving force behind his actions. Fears: spiders — too many legs they creep him out. Hobbies: cooking, reading, watching movies Habits: absently rotates his wrists/cracks his fingers when he’s focused on something. Mutters in French under his breath if he’s trying to figure something out.

FAVOURITES.

Weather: cold, crisp winter day with large snowflakes floating down lazily — not a flurry, just pleasant and relaxing. Probably around -15C / 5f. Colour: navy and light blue Music: top 40 hits — 22 year old Vincent was the type to sing along to ‘Call Me Maybe’ in his car by himself. Movies: comedies, supernatural themes, French and Québécois cinema. Sport: Lacrosse; hockey (fan of the Canadiens and the Maple Leafs) Beverage: Hot chocolate!

He’s one to pick the drink up from a coffee shop on the way to an appointment, or to make himself a fresh one after he’s back home. He has several different kinds of it — from those hot chocolate wands, to tins of powdered mix, to single-serve portions of it for a on-demand coffee machine — and he’s not picky. He likes the sweetness of it, and, if he’s getting one from a coffee shop, makes sure to ask for extra chocolate sauce. At home it depends how tired he is. It’ll either be basic, with just hot milk and melted chocolate or fancier on his days off with tiny marshmallows or peppermint syrup. He especially likes to make hot chocolate for those he considers friends.

Food: He’ll give most things a try, honestly.

He’s definitely fallen back on the ‘pan seared broccoli with wild rice and baked chicken breast (with smoked paprika, thyme, and black pepper)’ as a basic dinner meal for when he’s feeling lazy. If he’s not feeling lazy the sky is the fucking limit. He’ll make everything from a whole chicken or a roast with accompanying veggies, to stir-frying tofu and veggies. For lunch he’s usually eating something he’s packed — quinoa, lemon-dill salmon, asparagus; rare steak, sweet potatoes, broccolini; Cobb salad with an extra hardboiled egg or two; homemade “instant” ramen in a jar — and for breakfast he’ll either just straight up have a protein shake with oats and fruit, or some of the egg muffins he makes every few days (mushroom, cheese, ham,, quinoa) or he’ll really go all out and have French Toast or waffles.

Homemade stovetop mac n cheese is a comfort food he likes if he wants something quick (25 minutes, start to finish), but if he’s gonna make a comforting meal to distract himself he’s totally the type to go with a braised lamb sort of deal.

Animal: dogs

FAMILY.

Father: Étienne Jean Ouellet (53); president of an insurance brokerage Mother: Lillian Grace Ouellet née Richardson (51); homemaker Sibling(s): none Children: n/a Pet(s): n/a Family’s Financial Status: solidly upper-middle class. Don’t you know the insurance business is practically a license to print money?

EXTRA.

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius; 13 February 1990 MBTI: ISTJ Enneagram: type 8 — the challenger Temperament: melancholic Moral Alignment: totally pegged him as a Lawful Evil — uses murder to get his ends tidy, but has a strong sense of needing balance for things. Not one to just willy-nilly McMurder. Primary Vice: Wrath Primary Virtue: Charity Element: Earth