#mans hasn’t shown up in a hot sec

[padfootastic]

hmmm i thought i could have the next chapter of FoD up like. yesterday night, which obv didn’t happen and now i’m thinking tonight, but this conversation between harry & sirius just. does not want to end lmao

it’s at 4k rn, which is…a respectable amount, and i think it might reach 4.5 by the time it’s done. and then i want to have, atleast, the outline for the next chapter fleshed out before i post it just as like. buffer. hmmmm thoughts, thoughts, decisions, decisions…

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well - - Chapter 9

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warning: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 5.3k

Liv clung to the man in front of her, at this moment uncaring of the rift that had formed between them. Her chest pressed firmly into his back as her hands remained glued to his hips, and she could hear her breath coming out in panicked little rasps just barely over the pounding of her own heart. As she stared, her eyes grew wider as the bigger of the two walked into the room, the younger, smaller one on his heels, their faces angry as they stared at Gabriel. As the duo advanced, Gabriel’s arm constricted tighter into Liv’s body; he’d be damned if they laid one finger on her. “We’re here for the angel,” the taller one snarled, “and his whore.” As the men’s faces began to glow green, Liv pulled herself impossibly closer to Gabriel. They wanted her and him, they knew her, and they were not anything like anything she’d ever seen before. The overlay of a skull illuminated the older one’s face, as the other peered at his brother beside him with the outline of a horse extended down from his own head. “It’s okay,” Gabriel whispered to her, his lips barely moving as he began to back them up, “stay with me.” That wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Her feet shuffled backwards with his as Sam and Dean looked between each other, then back at Gabriel who had somehow already made his way back behind them. “The hell are you guys?” Dean asked, attention turning quickly to the inhuman pair before returning it to Gabriel, “The hell are these guys?” “Oh, just a couple of Norse Demi-Gods,” Gabriel responded, keeping his voice nonchalant as he kept his feet shuffling towards the closet at the side of the room. “Demi-Gods?!” Sam exclaimed before the two Norse brothers lunged at the hunters. The taller ran to Sam, the plaid-wearing to Dean and Gabriel quickly took advantage, whipping around and grabbing Liv by her waist to pull her into the closet. She could hear the fight ensuing, no doubt the bodies of her two friends being thrown around like rag dolls, crashing into furniture and walls, but all she could see was him. His face was centimeters away, golden eyes bearing into hers filled with concern as he assessed her current condition. When his hand came to rest on her cheek, gentle and warm, almost all of her anger was forgotten. “So many better things we could be doing in a closet,” he laughed, and reality came crashing back around her. “What are we doing? We need to help them!” Liv snapped, the groans and grunts of Sam and Dean pushing to the forefront of her thoughts. “We are hiding, because they will kill you, or worse…” “What’s worse than killing me?” “You don’t wanna know.” As Gabriel pulled himself away from her to peer out the crack in the door, she felt her ire returning. He was about to leave again, two Norse Demi-Gods were here tearing up a room looking for both of them, and he’d randomly showed up at their front door covered in blood. Not to mention, he still hadn’t addressed his leaving two weeks ago after making more empty promises. Although, she was pretty sure she was living the reason why right now, but it still left the door open as to why two gods were searching for him in the first place. She heard Dean call out for Gabriel, begging for help as they were losing their respective battles. “You owe me answers Gabriel!” she demanded, keeping her voice quiet but harsh. “I know I do! You’ll get them!” he hissed in response, his teeth grit together, “Just… stay here. Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t even breathe.” Gabriel crouched and grabbed something out of the massive briefcase he’d been carting around since he’d shown up and then quickly ran from their hiding place. Liv watched on from the confines of her sanctuary as Gabriel snuck his way behind the larger of the two and pushed a long wooden blade straight through his back, then shoved his body off of the sword and onto the floor. As the older one fell, the younger‘s eyes went wide, realizing he was now outnumbered, and Gabriel pulled a second katana from his belt loop. “Hiya handsome, you ready to die?” Gabriel insinuated, pointing the weapon straight towards his opponent. The horse-faced god ran from the room, and as soon as he was out of sight Gabriel keeled over in pain, groaning as he held his hand to his wound. Liv emerged slowly from the closet, her eyes staying locked on the angel, but this time she didn’t run to him. Being close to him was dangerous, it changed her mindset and clouded her judgement. When she could smell his familiar arid warmth and his eyes looked at her with that softness she knew was saved only for her, her resolve broke. Every time. She stayed close to Sam, using him effectively as a wall between herself and Gabriel, his eyes never straying from her. “You okay?” Dean asked, still out of breath. “Uh, yeah. I’ll go after him in a sec. I just… need a minute,” Gabriel responded, his voice once again hoarse with pain. “Wrong. You’re not goin’ anywhere. Liv?” Her heart broke as she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a pair of Enochian-etched handcuffs. She watched as his facial expression changed from physical discomfort, to betrayal. She wouldn’t lock him up. There was no way she would do that to him, knowing what he’d been through. “You don’t need those… come on,” he pleaded, holding his hands out in surrender to her. “Don’t I?” she faltered, harsh and cold. “Sweetheart… no.” Sam and Dean watched on as she approached him. She knew Dean wasn’t going to allow Gabriel to sit unrestrained, it was part of the deal. They needed his grace and they were willing to stop at nothing to get it, and she needed answers. When she came to stand in front of him, she felt that head cloud forming again. Even with a blood-soaked shirt, she wanted nothing more than to bury herself into his chest. Why she was so unrestrained and uncontrollable around him was always a mystery. It was like some piece of her deep down craved him constantly without cause or reason. She threw all common sense and caution to the wind as soon as he was within arms reach. Finally, the courage to look at him surged through her and she kept her gaze hard and unwavering. She wasn’t going to let him or her traitorous self-control win this one. He bowed his head as he willingly held a wrist out to her and his submission almost brought her to tears. She knew if anyone else had asked he would have fought it, which was why Dean was having her do the dirty work. He’d do anything she asked of him, he was already a goner when it came to her. Whether she believed it or not she owned him, wholly and unconditionally. He loved her with every shaking tendril of his diminished grace and he always would. When the metal cuffs clanged against the bars of the partition, successfully locking the archangel in place, Liv went to stand between the brothers, eyes unable to meet Gabriel’s. She knew it was wrong. She’d tried to talk Dean out of it, saying it would only anger him, possibly send him back into another depressive episode, but he didn’t care. None of this was about Gabriel or even her. It was about the mission. Always. The room was silent, the air heavy with words and thoughts unsaid. Gabriel wanted five minutes alone with Liv, that was it. He wanted to explain himself, he wanted her to trust him again, to want him again. She needed to know that everything had been for her. “Well, I guess we should take care of this,” Dean grunted, gesturing to the dead Demi-God at his feet, “Sammy? Can we just trust you two here alone together?” Gabriel and Liv’s eyes snapped up to Dean, “uh… yeah,” they answered in unison. “I don’t care what he promises, he stays on that bar, in those cuffs. Understand?” If there was one thing Liv didn’t take to, it was being ordered around. Gabriel smirked to himself as he saw her nostrils flare and her lips harden into a thin line. That was his girl. She said nothing, her only response a slow, enraged blink as she sat at the dining room table on the opposite end of the room as him. She needed to keep her distance. As the boys dragged the corpse from the room, leaving the pair alone, she felt her face grow hot. “So are we just gonna sit here awkwardly ‘til Rocky and Bullwinkle come back?” Gabriel scoffed, shifting his body to face her as much as he could, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them once again. “Did you always know you were going to leave?” she asked, eyes still averted. “I have never wanted to leave you.” “Right…” “Why, do you think I did any of this to hurt you? Not everyone in the world is out to get you, Liv. Especially not me. I had to do this. For you. For me. For us.” Those words anchored deep into her stomach, the tears she’d been fighting finally spilling over. She tried to reason with herself to stay strong, to stick to the plan, but he didn’t hate her. That was what she was banking on, to make this that easy, clean break, but he didn’t. Clearly he still felt the same. “How many times have you just… left me?” she cried, his face growing angry at her question. “Twice! And oh, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the one where I’d be taking an extended, luxurious vacation in the shit-stained bowels of hell, so I may be gone until someone comes and pulls me from fucking Margaritaville!” he snapped, “I came to you, and told you I wasn’t dead, so you’d know I was coming back to you. I can’t help that I got taken to Paradise City against my will.” She knew he was right. If he’d never been roped into the Apocalypse, she had no doubt in her mind he never would have strayed from her side. He’d proven it, time and time again. Her anger wasn’t directed at him though. She knew she was using him as nothing more than the whipping post for her own self-loathing that had been crawling through her since the moment she got that phone call. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?” she asked softly, needing to know the answer. ”What happened in hell? Uh… that should be obvious,” he retorted, eyebrows furrowing. “Just tell me.” “No! Did you ever think for one eensy second that just maybe I don’t want you to know? That I don’t want you to picture me being…” Memories flooded his mind. He was an archangel. He was one of the most powerful beings to ever exist and he’d been reduced to nothing more than a juice box. Played like a fool, kept filthy in a box desperate for nothing more than a gentle touch, for her. He’d been turned to a desperate, quivering shell of what he was meant to be, of what he was. Sold off for a cheap buck and a laugh. “I sat there, for years, without putting up a fight,” he continued, his voice softer, “for you. To keep him from coming after you. I’m not dragging you down there myself when I gave everything to keep you safe.” This was far worse than she could have ever imagined. For you. It echoed against the walls of her skull, churning her stomach as her lungs began to close off. For you. She watched as his face fell into unease as her anxiety overtook her. His body jolted upright, the restraints holding him from doing what every cell in his body was screaming at him to do. Shaking her head, she jumped from her chair, running to the bathroom and slamming the door quickly before hanging her head over the sink. “Liv!” Gabriel hollered, anger coursing through him again as he pulled on the cuffs imprisoning him “Liv, are you okay?!” What did he say? He’d tiptoed around the subject for a reason, so as not to upset her just like this, but this was always the outcome. Every time he tried to protect her, to keep her safe, it always ended in tears. As he collapsed back into his chair, his head dropped in despair. Every good intention he’d ever had in the end, was always in vain. He never should have touched her, tainted her with this curse of knowing him, of loving him. She was silent in her hideaway, he couldn’t even tell if she was still in there. Intently, he listened for any sob, sniffle or cry, but he heard nothing. “Sweetheart?” he called gently, “Can you say something… please?” Her body was still trembling as she tried to regulate her breathing. Thoughts spun around her head, making her dizzy as she gripped the edges of the sink for stability. He’d subjected himself to all of that, for her. Whatever it was, that had turned him catatonic, that had ruined him, was her fault. She was the cause of his nightmares, panic-stricken responses to noises and fast movements, for the way he tried to hide in plain sight now. He’d lost himself to keep her safe. She wasn’t worth that. She never had been and especially not now. The years she spent without him had seemed like torture at the time, but now, this was worse. A gentle knock at the door startled her, it couldn’t be Gabriel… “Hey,” a soft, gruff voice greeted as someone slipped into the bathroom with her, “You okay?” Dean. She’d expected Gabriel to find a way out of those cuffs before seeing Dean coming in to check on her. Words evaded her as she stared at him, wishing that instead of green it was gold looking back at her, but relieved it was him nonetheless. “Dean, there’s… there’s something I need to…” she began, her voice shaking as she confessed to the one person she hoped may understand. Gabriel sat on the other side of that door still, his eyes hard as he waited for Dean to emerge, hopefully with Liv in tow. Sam stood near him, unsure of what to say but curious as to what had happened. The angel tried his hardest to hear any bits of the conversation but the two hunters were well-versed in hushed tones and keeping secrets. “What happened Gabriel?” Sam finally asked, his voice startling. “I don’t know,” Gabriel admitted, his exasperation very evident in his voice, “I…. told her that Asmodeus left her alone because I played along with his games downstairs and she freaked.” Sam’s face wrinkled in confusion. In his mind, that would elicit the opposite reaction, gratitude and love, not be cause to barricade yourself in the bathroom. He knew Gabriel was just as confused, his eyes still having never left the door separating him from her. Sam said nothing more, not wanting to upset him any further, the poor guy had been put through the ringer enough already it was a miracle he was even still standing. Tortured in hell for what Sam knew was hundreds of years, shoved back into reality and running off on a revenge mission all while he fought to win back what he figured, was the only thing in the universe he actually truly loved. That thing now locking herself away from him after learning that what’d he’d been through was all for her. None of it made any sense. Dean emerged moments later, Sam recognizing the look on his face immediately. Guilt. “Well?” Gabriel asked as Dean closed the door behind him, leaving Liv alone again. “She’s fine,” Dean lied, “needs another few minutes.” With a hand clasped firmly around her mouth, Liv stifled her sobs. Her eyes were clenched shut as she tried to shove the noises trying to escape back down her throat. Getting that off her chest had not helped, nor had Dean’s words, which had unintentionally only made it worse. She could hear the three of them talking on the other side of the door, she could tell the conversation was being dominated by Gabriel and she knew she was missing what she’d been so desperate to hear. His story. At the same time she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it, not now. Would knowing ease the burden she’d been carrying? She owed it to him to know what happened, that she knew, she owed him far more than anything she’d ever be able to repay, but she had to start somewhere. “Well, Vegas odds had my bro pulling off a big win,” she heard Gabriel say as she slowly opened the door. “Yeah? And whose fault was that?” Dean replied as the three men came into her view, Gabriel’s eyes shooting over to her immediately. “Hey…” Gabriel cooed, his entire body softening as she entered the room. “Well, go on,” she urged, hovering closer to Dean than she normally ever would have, using him to hide from Gabriel’s concerned gaze. She listened silently as he retold bits and pieces of his capture. He’d been sold off by his former friends, the ones he was now running around killing, Loki and his sons. The real Loki. She recalled that night all those years ago, when he entered that room full of Pagan Gods as him, when Kali had outed him as Gabriel and shoved his own blade through his chest. After faking his death, he’d ran to them for aid once again, and they’d tricked him into false protection all to sell him off to Asmodeus. Now, he was on a mission to kill all four of them, and he was halfway there with no intention of stopping now. He’d tapped into his time in hell, again glossing over any details other than what they knew of the demon feeding off his grace, but the look in his eyes as he traveled back to those years was all Liv needed to see. Sam and Dean had agreed to help him finish this off in exchange for his help with their own mess and Gabriel had half-heartedly agreed. The three of them were still not sure if he would actually stick around when he was done, but what other choice did they have? “It’s not your fault,” Gabriel whispered to her as she stood beside him, unlocking him from his restraints, “Liv, it’s not your fault, I didn’t mean for it to… sound that way. Please look at me.” As she turned the key, popping the cuff open, her bottom lip quivered as her eyes snapped shut again. She couldn’t look at him, standing this close to him was reopening that hollow pit that had formed in her stomach less than an hour before. As he stood, his hand landed on her hip, and one tear escaped her eye, rolling lazily down her cheek. “I still meant what I said, before I… before I kinda lost it there. All of it,” he promised, pressing into her skin with his fingertips, holding onto any chance he had, “just tell me where and, we’re gone.” How many times could a broken thing break before it was irreparable? Her heart was heavy, his gentle touch and soft tone not helping the situation at all. This man loved her, there was no question or doubt, not anymore, but that brought her no solace. It should have, but now, it was only pain. She didn’t deserve him, she never had. She could feel the Winchesters gazes on them; Dean knew the truth, and he was the only one. She could picture his face, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed as he awaited her response. What he was rooting for, she wasn’t sure. She needed air. Quickly, her feet carried her out of the room, Gabriel’s fingers lingering as long as they could until she was out of reach. He didn’t chase her, although he wanted to. Now wasn’t the time and this wasn’t the place, once Loki and Sleipnir had been taken out he’d figure out what had snapped in her head. Until then, it was complete the mission, all else came secondary. Yet, as he went into the bathroom to change back into his regular clothing, he knew his priorities were shifting. If he’d loved her any less he may have found it easier to stow her away, but this was different. It had always been different. The sun was shining as she flung the doors to the seedy motel, warming her skin, but that chill in her chest remained. She could see the Impala from where she stood and lying down in it’s back seat to think about everything that had happened in peace and solitude seemed like the best idea. Cursing herself for not deciding to just drive her own car, wishing she could hop in and take off never to be found again, she started towards the shiny, sleek classic thirty feet away. Gabriel and the Winchesters emerged from those same doors no more than ten minutes later. He was on edge, ready to end this fight and move on, make amends and prove to that little hot head that occupied his every waking thought that he was ready to be what she needed of him. His eyes scanned the lot, and when she was nowhere to be found his heart sank. Whipping his head from side to side, the brothers noticed his frantic change of mood and within seconds it clicked. Liv was gone. They shared a knowing look before taking off in opposite directions, checking behind every wall, car and door. Sam began calling her, each time no answer as Gabriel threw open the doors to the Impala, finding it empty. “No…” Gabriel muttered, “ no no no no no…Liv!” “She’s no where, won’t answer her phone,” Sam reported as the three met at the car, Gabriel running his hand through his hair panicked. “They got her.” “What do they want with her?” Dean asked, his naivety only irritating Gabriel further. “What do you think, hot shot? I’ve killed two of them!” The men then piled into the car, the wheels squealing as they took off in the direction of the Ophidian. Gabriel’s heart pounded, this was the one thing he was meant to avoid. Loki was never supposed to get his hands on her, Kali had warned him, and he knew. The things Loki would do with Gabriel’s small, fragile, downtrodden human were nothing pleasant. He needed to get there, and fast. Before she was lost forever. Liv groaned as she came to, her cheek rubbing up against something smooth and cool. It was soft, like she was lying on a bed, her head gently being cradled by a pillow. So now she was dead and this was heaven? A bed with satin sheets? She’d never laid on satin sheets at any point in her life, wasn’t heaven just a bunch of your favorite memories all played out? “The hell?” she muttered, pushing herself upright to sitting, her eyes finally adjusting to the light pouring into the room. This room was unfamiliar. It was swanky, far too rich for her blood even with Gabriel around. He’d always respected her love for the mundane. “Hello Olivia,” a smooth, deep voice rumbled from a couch on the opposite end of the room, foreign, yet with a hint of something she knew. “Who are you? And where the fuck am I?” she asked, that creeping feeling that something was very, very wrong dominating every other emotion. The man stood, slowly, almost predatorily and when he turned her eyes widened in terror. It was Gabriel, but it wasn’t. He was dressed in a striped vest and white button down complete with a tie, nothing her Gabriel would ever be caught dead in. Her Gabriel refused to even button a shirt up all the way, always said it was ‘suffocating’. He’d never voluntarily strangle himself with a tie. His face was all wrong, this one was arrogant, hard, self-assured. There were no smile lines, or sparkle in his eyes, there was no warmth in this man. His cheeks held no dimples, and his mouth seemed to be permanently stuck in a slightly down-turned grimace. This was not Gabriel, even with the same face he didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. “I know this must be… jarring for you,” the stranger taunted, monotoned and cold. “Who the fuck are you?” Liv barked, comforted by the cold metal of her gun still tucked safely into the waistband of her jeans. “Didn’t he tell you? This face you adore isn’t really his. I see you aren’t the only one keeping secrets.” A smirk crept onto the man’s face. This was Loki. This was the root of nine years of hell, for both herself and Gabriel. Rage bubbled in her chest as she glared at him, playing over every plan of action available to her as he approached. “We kept an eye on you, after disposing of Gabriel. I was shocked to say the least, and that doesn’t happen very often. You’re an interesting little thing you know, for a human,” Loki continued. “You know nothing about me,” Liv spat, sliding off the bed to her feet. Attacking would be far easier from here. “Oh on the contrary Miss Olivia, I do. Tell me, did you even want him back?” Before he could gain sturdy ground, Liv lunged, using all of her weight to knock the Demi-God backwards to the ground. As he fell, she followed, pulling her gun from her back and landing straddling his hips, the tip of her weapon pressed firmly against his throat. She knew this wasn’t going to kill him, silver bullets or not, but hopefully blowing his face off would at least slow him down enough for her to escape. “You know that won’t do anything to me, sweetheart,” he laughed, the name sounding like a curse as it fell from his lips. “Don’t call me that,” she demanded, cocking the pistol with her thumb. The response was nothing more than a chuckle, his hands coming to her thighs on either side of him. Slowly, he ran his hands up her legs to her waist, his touch seductive and eyes darkening with what appeared to be lust. “Well, I am seeing a little of the allure now,” Loki purred as the fingers of his right hand danced along her stomach, the other, digging into her hip where Gabriel’s had been an hour before. Liv’s finger shook on the trigger. This wasn’t Gabriel, but something in her brain had frozen her hand as she looked down at his face. His eyes were the same color, his hair tousled around his head on the floor beneath him just like Gabriel’s would be. She was so starved for the angel, that the Demi-God’s touch was almost as entrancing. She’d lingered too long. Before she could react, the man beneath her hoisted her up and slammed her into the wall, pinning her arms above her head by her wrists. The clang of her gun onto the floor as it fell echoed through the room as she grimaced in pain from the pressure on her upper limbs, Loki’s body pressing up against hers as close as he could get. “Now now, no need to get angry. Just answer my question. Did you want him back?” Loki implored, his breath hot on her cheek. “What’s it matter to you?” Liv snapped, trying to twist from his grasp to no avail. “It matters,” he breathed as he pressed her further into the wall, his free hand coming and pressing around her throat,”that weak, pathetic little archangel. Broken beyond repair, too far gone in his own self-antipathy to even be what you need him to be.” “Trying to get me to switch teams? Look, I know you have the same face and all but… let’s be honest. I don’t much compare to a horse. Bit too tight in all the right places, if you will.” “Hmm. You find yourself charming, do you? I have no use for a tiresome, apathetic human whore.” “So why am I here then? You know he’s coming either way. You don’t need me as bait.” “Because you’re going to tell him that secret you’ve been hiding. I’ll be sure of it. Nothing would please me more than watching that nuisance’s heart break right before I gut you in front of him. I may not be able to kill him, but I’ll mar him so deeply he’ll wish he was back in Hell.” Loki’s hand squeezed around her throat a little harder, she could feel the bruises that would be there when he released her, stifling her roar as she fought against his hold. She felt his breath along her neck as her feet kicked the air, trying desperately to land one, but failing. She was rendered completely powerless with no choice but to concede. Gabriel was fueled by his anger, but motivated by his love. When he snapped the lights out as he emerged from the elevator, it was as if he was no longer in control of his actions. He rushed Sleipnir, whirling him by the collar of his jacket throwing him easily to the ground. He’d always been weak, depending on his family to fight his battles as he danced and laughed to their dirty work. Gabriel was happy to put him out of his misery, but he’d be sure the little foal would be staring at his face as he did it. With another snap, the lights were back on, and the fear etched into his features gave Gabriel’s heart a little jumpstart. “Please…” the boy begged, his eyes wide. “Where is she?” Gabriel fumed, pressing the wooden blade a little harder into his stomach. “She’s with Father, she’s… she’s alive. But hurry.” “Did you take her?” The whimper that fell from the monster’s lips were all Gabriel needed to hear, and he plunged the katana through Loki’s last remaining son, one more piece of himself snapping back into place. As he pulled a rag from his pocket, he searched the area for Sam and Dean, ensuring they were also still safe after the fire fight they’d been caught in, but all he saw was Sam. “Dean? Dean! He left,” Sam was calling, searching for his brother. “Ah. Big bros right? Always think they know best,” Gabriel stated as he cleaned the blood from the katana, prepping himself for the big boss. “The penthouse. He went after Loki!” “No. No, Loki’s mine!” Gabriel took off, not caring if Sam was left in his dust as he ran to the top floor. Liv was there, with Loki, the two things he needed most in this world were waiting up a few more flights of stairs. He feared for what Loki had done to her, he was merciless and cruel, he would not have taken it easy on her. He also knew that Liv was never, ever one to lay down and obey, which no doubt would only have fueled Loki’s fire. Silently, he pleaded that she was still alive, unharmed and still herself. Loki had many tricks up his sleeves, and he wasn’t afraid to use them. “Liv!” Gabriel yelled as he rounded the corner from the stairwell into the hallway of the uppermost floor, his call to her instinctual as he hoped for the impossible of her there, waiting for him. “Hello, Gabriel,” a different, but still familiar voice greeted. Showtime.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel

[soldatbarnes]

This Is War [8]

Summary: After being rejected by your best friend, Sam sets you up on a date with one of his friends. When it goes horribly, he gives you an ultimatum: Go on a makeup date with the guy, or download a dating app. You choose the latter.

Bucky Barnes X Reader [ft. OC Brent X Reader]

Warnings: Bucky being extra

Word Count: 1165

[1]  [2]  [3]  [4]  [5]  [6]  [7]  [8]  [9]  [10]  [11]  [12]  [13]

“And this is the gym.” you declared proudly. This was the last stop on your tour for Brent. He had arrived just after breakfast that morning, so the team was spread out throughout the compound, all working on their own things. With the gym being the last stop, the last people for Brent to meet were Bucky, Sam, and Wanda.

“Were those guys at the coffee shop on the night of our first date? They look familiar..” he asked, pointing at the men who were in the process of helping Wanda practice throwing with her powers. They were all so concentrated that they hadn’t noticed you entering the room.

“You know.. I just don’t know..” you fibbed. You didn’t want his first impression of them to be completely daft before they even met. “Hey guys!! Come over a sec!”

You watched as the trio stopped what they were doing. Wanda jogged over, excitement written all over her face, as Bucky and Sam trailed behind, whispering at each other.

“Wanda, this is my boyfriend, Brent.” you beamed, “Brent this is one of my best friends and team members, Wanda.” She pulled him into a friendly hug.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard so many good things!”

“Likewise, Wanda!” Brent smiled at her, making her visibly blush. From what you’d seen, that was normal with him. He was quite charming. You looked away from them to Sam and Bucky. Bucky looked like he was trying to analyze Brent. While Sam mumbled something low enough that only Bucky could hear.

“AAaand here are two of my favourite men! Brent, this is Sam, and my sort of best friend, Bucky.” you motioned between them.

“Sort of best friend?” Bucky asked, staring you down.

“Well.. we haven’t had the opportunity to talk in a while so…” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Bucky, like Wanda, I have heard many good things.” Brent stuck out his left hand to shake Bucky’s. You watched as his eyes widened as Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around Brent’s.

“That’s a good solid handshake you’ve got there.”

“Likewise.” The sudden tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

“Why am I just Sam?” Brent winced before Bucky dropped his hand, turning his attention to Sam.

“I’m sorry?” you asked.

“They’re both your best friends and I’m just Sam?? Y/N, I thought we were closer than that.” you watched him feign being hurt. You smacked him on the arm.

“You’re just.. indescribable Sammy.” he burst out laughed.

“Hey man, it’s nice to meet you!” he pulled Brent into a ‘man-hug’.

“You as well! I hear you have quite the personality!” Brent laughed.

“You know it, you know it!! Anyways, we should probably get back to it.” he motioned at the gym. “If you wanna join we can show you some cool moves?”

“I don’t know, what do you think Babe?” you saw Bucky roll his eyes at the nickname. He hated modern pet names.

“Hey, it’s your weekend! I brought you here to see everybody, so if you wanna hang with these gym rats, that’s all you.” you laughed, placing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “I myself, would like to go relax for a bit.”

“Then we’ll relax.” he smiled at you. The door slamming behind you brought your attention back to the room. Looking around you saw that Bucky had left. Wanda and Sam looked at each other confused.

A little while later you were snuggled up with Brent on the couch, just enjoying your time with each other. The TV droned on in that background, but neither of you were paying much attention. It was peaceful. Until heavy footsteps brought your attention toward the kitchen. Looking over you saw Bucky pacing around the kitchen, looking in cupboards and opening the fridge. He was obviously just out of the shower, because his hair was wet, droplets dripping down his neck onto his bare chest. You rolled your eyes. He was waltzing around in just sweats. He never dressed like that.

“Hey Buck?” you called, drawing Brent’s attention to the other man as well.

“Yeah?” He stopped what he was doing and turned to face you both.

“You lose you shirt?”

“Nah, It just felt too hot to put one on after my shower, y’know?” he stretched his arms out, and back, pushing his chest forward. “It just clings to my body, and you know how much I hate that.” his flexed his arms when he lowered them before returning to digging through the fridge.

“Is he always like this?” Brent whispered.

“Not at all..” your brow furrowed. Bucky had been acting so strangely lately. Before Brent could respond Bucky was standing in front of you both.

“Hey can I just..” he trailed off before situating himself between you and Brent, leaning you up so you were now partially snuggled to his body and so that Brent was now sitting up straight. He threw his arm over the man’s shoulder.

“James, what th-”

“So Brent. I think we should get to know each other, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah I-”

“You’re gone a lot for work? Why is that?” he looked as if he was staring through Brent.

“My uh.. Buddy and I started a small hotel chain a while back, and we have a couple throughout America, Canada, and a handful in Europe. We’ve always been very hands on with the company and never wanted to be just a name to our employees. Most of my time is spent traveling to each one and making sure everything is running smoothly and that all of our employees have everything that they need.”  

You couldn’t help but smile. He had shown you one of the hotels that was in New York. It had been stunning.

“The hotels are amazing Buck.” You spoke up, drawing his attention to you. “The next time we go to that coffee shop you like so much I’ll take you inside.”

“That’s sounds great.” he smiled sweetly at you, before whipping his head around to face Brent once more.

“Can I ask what exactly you’re goal is, in this relationship?”

“What my goal is? In mine and Y/N’s relationship?”

“Yes.” You could see Bucky’s jaw clenching at the way Brent spoke to him, and you squeezed his arm, in both comfort and warning.

“Well I’d like to see where it goes. So far it’s been going incredibly well. I have yet to meet another woman who is so comfortable and sure of herself. Y/N is the only woman I’ve dated who hasn’t left me because of my absence, or accused me of anything because of all the traveling. If she’d have me I’m in it for the long haul.”

“What?” You and Bucky said in unison.

“Y/N, I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I can confidently say that I’m falling in love with you.”

Part Nine

[notthelasttime]

for @gunkers!!  the requested ignyx tattoo/flower shop au that got... massively out of hand. (read on ao3)

Selena is the first to notice, if only by virtue of the fact that they spend so much time in the shop together. More and more, ever since their mother had started to spend less time on her feet and more time at home. Nyx couldn’t blame her, long days were hard on old joints, though he had a feeling her absence from the shop might have had less to do with arthritis and more to do with a growing addiction to daytime soap operas.

But alas, a son’s duty is to take an interest the the family business, this one being a dim little florists shop, the best place in Insomnia to find rare blooms- or so the sign at the door proclaims. There had been a time when Nyx had a growing grudge for the place, a young boy spitting back all the things he’d heard the other boys saying at school, at that age where eschewing anything that so much as had a lingering whiff of the feminine was what boys did. “Flowers are for girls,” he’d whined, standing at his mothers hip while she worked on a massive centerpiece, something grand in white roses, a special order for a wedding.

“Nyx,” she said, bending down to his level and taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger so he couldn’t look away, so he’d understand the gravity of her words, “flowers are for everyone.”

Flowers for every occasion! Chipped paint in looping cursive across the wide glass window, otherwise crowded with a display of foliage and flowers. The window’s wide, but not wide enough because Nyx still only gets all of 4 seconds to look when he’s lucky enough to catch the man when he walks past.

4 seconds to take him all in.

Dark jeans, a button up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his skin a blur of ink that Nyx can never make out the details. Black glasses with thick frames today, it’s sunglasses when the sky is bright, v-neck shirts only when the weather gets scorching hot. hands in his pockets sometimes, or else carrying a cup of coffee. Straight back when he walks, looking forward. Long legs and ashy brown hair, sometimes styled, sometimes not. He never turns his head to look inside. He doesn’t know he’s being watched.

“Huh.” Selena’s tone says it all, and Nyx knows he doesn’t want to look at her, but he turns his head anyway. There’s an expression on her face, something a little too knowing, just smug enough to be infuriating and Nyx knows he’s been caught red handed. So to speak; as it is his hands are laying useless on the countertop. Selena’s fighting back a smirk when she turns back to one of the vases on display, filled with frisco lilies, and she pinches off a bloom to tuck just over her ear. 

“Stop stealing the merchandise,” he tells her, words rolling straight off her back.

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m cuter that you,” she says, starts making her way into the back room before calling over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll get myself a cute tattooed boyfriend from next door.

Nyx, still embarrassed enough to be flustered only managed to yell back, “Shut up.”

Crowe saw it next, thanks to bad timing. 

She’s gushing about her girlfriend- has been gushing for probably a solid 20 minutes while Nyx makes her a bouquet. A bouquet for said girlfriend, in celebration of their 3 month anniversary, which according to Crowe was a very big deal. The primary flower is sylleblossoms (”Nyx she’s obsessed with sylleblossoms”), dotted with moon flowers (”her name’s Luna, you have to do something with moon flowers”), filled in with small bunches of tiny white flowers, an attempt to not make this bouquet look incohesive and dumb as hell. At least Crowe seems to like it. Then again she’s been too busy waxing poetic about the perfect shade of blue that is Luna’s eyes, so there’s a good chance even from her perch on the counter where she’s watching Nyx work, she’s not actually seeing anything at all. 

The bell over the door rings. Nyx’s is about to yell at Crowe to get off the counter while there’s a customer in the store, but the words die in the back of his throat when he sees who walked in. 

It’s him. Here in the flesh, looking half distracted at his phone as he walks up to the counter. Pinstripe shirt today, and Nyx is so busy wondering how anyone can wear suspenders in earnest this day and age and look ridiculously attractive and not just foolish, he almost doesn’t say hello. 

“Hello,” this man says and there’s the touch of an accent, a voice deeper than Nyx had been expecting, “I was wondering if you had any irises?”

“Sure. You want an arrangement or...?”

“No, just the flowers.”

“Color?”

“Whatever you have.”

Nyx moves from behind the counter to pull the flowers. Not the strangest request he’s gotten, although this customer doesn’t seem particularly interested in what he’s buying. 

“You want to write out a gift message?” Nyx asks, a standard question and most definitely not an underhanded way of finding out if these are maybe a gift for a special someone.

“What? Oh, no, I...” for this first time this man looks at him, truly, not in that half distracted kind of way he had been, and he lets a sigh escape from between tight lips, “I work next door, at the tattoo parlor. I’ve a request for irises and I can’t get the design quite right. I was hoping the real thing would help.” Frustration then, aggravated at a drawing that wouldn’t come together, probably much the same as when they had a big even and Nyx spent so long staring at the same flower arrangements they started to morph into looking like dogshit. 

“Well I hope this helps,” Nyx says as he rings up the flowers, staring at the back of the man’s hand while he pulls money from his wallet. Flames, something that should have been tacky, but the ink has been applied so artfully it looks instead like fire could shoot straight from his fingertips. Maybe it could. 

“Thank you,” he says, and all Nyx gets is a small little smile before he’s turned his back to leave. Nyx stares as he goes.

“Oh honey,” Crowe says, and it almost startles him. She’d all but disappeared from his vision, but now she’s wearing a look thats too close to what Selena had shown him before, aware to an uncomfortable degree. “You are so fucked.”

His name is Ignis.

Nyx learns this the next time he comes into the shop, requesting gladioluses this time, for the same reason it seems. 

Selena is there. “Nyx, weren’t you thinking about getting another tattoo?” she says, so sweetly, some innocent look on her face it makes Nyx want to kick her out the back door. He can’t complain though, because her meddling resulted in small talk, enough to make it not weird when Nyx asks for his name.

Ignis. 

They’re in a holding pattern.

Once every few weeks Ignis comes in. For orchids or hydrangeas or peonies. Tulips and sunflowers, dahlias, birds of paradise. Another tattoo, he says, but every time he spends a little more time looking at all the flowers, a little more time talking to Nyx. 

Selena, thankfully, has come to the conclusion that the best course of action at these times is to suddenly remember something urgent that needs doing in the back, or decide it’s time for her lunch break or a coffee run. Too bad that doesn’t stop her from hounding Nyx about it afterwards.

“Will you please do something about this,” she says, “it’s maddening to watch.”

“What am I supposed to do Selena? He’s just a customer.”

She rolls her eyes, mutters something exasperated under her breath. “He literally works next door. You literally work in a flower shop. For gods’ sake Nyx use your head.”

He decides on gardenias. And there’s no time like the present. 

He’s put it off for long enough, cold feet at the last minute every time. But it’s starting to feel ridiculous that a grown man can’t even try to put his best foot forward, make something happen. Plus he’s tired of Selena giving him that look. 

He know’s Ignis is in the shop today because he watched him walk past. And maybe it’s just his imagination but Ignis seems aware of him now, when he passes the window, like he’s watching Nyx out of the corner of his eye, the same way Nyx has been watching him. Then again maybe he’s being ridiculous. Nyx takes his bouquet and heads next door.

He’s never been in the tattoo parlor before, even for all him and Ignis have been talking about ink (and all the time he’s spent staring at the exposed patches of Ignis’s skin, trying to put small pieces together into the larger whole that is the work of art of his body). The walls are painted a deep shade of red, wood floors creak under his feet. There’s a blonde kid sitting behind the counter up front, more holes poked in his face than Nyx can count and the kid asks, “Can I help you?”

“Is Ignis around?”

“Yeah man, one sec,” he says, before turning around in his chair and yelling, “hey Ignis!” to the back of the shop, effectively turning all eyes on him. Ignis looks up from where he’s hunched over a work table with a dark haired boy, looking a little surprised when his eyes land on Nyx and he’s quick to make his way up front. 

“These are for you,” Nyx says, pushing forward the bouquet when Ignis gets close. It’s easier than hello, or some preamble or introduction. Just spit it out quick.

Ignis’s brows crease, “But I haven’t ordered anything,” he says and Nyx lets out a laugh, jittery and nervous. 

“No I mean I got them for you, and...” he’s becoming well aware of the fact that they’ve got an audience. “Sorry, this is weird, isn’t it. This was a bad idea.”

“Wait,” Ignis stops him, hand shooting out before Nyx can turn to leave, and it lands on the cluster of stems, fingers touching. 

“He hasn’t had to tattoo flowers for months,” someone yells out from the back of the shop.

Ignis whips his head around and hisses, “Noctis,” but the damage has been done. Except it’s not so much damage. Not when Nyx can see a pink flush rising up from Ignis’s neck to his cheeks, the kind of heat Nyx feels blooming in his chest. 

He hasn’t had to tattoo flowers for months. 

“You want to talk outside?” he says, and Ignis replies by making a beeline for the door. He takes a deep breath as they step outside, embarrassed and trying not to show it. 

“I was going to ask... I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner some time.” It feels a bit like ripping a band aid off, but he wants the words out before Ignis can do something like apologize. He holds out the gardenias as his offering. Ignis takes them. 

He leans in, smells the flowers with a soft look on his face, takes one more moment, a breath before he says, “Yes, I’d like that.”

[thosequestions-blog1]

How my aim works

Date: 01/01/2018

Time: 12:27am

Hello World!

So back to what I was saying about how my aim works, which is basically the way that I create small objectives and do everything in my power to achieve it. 

This started back in 2016 when I was in Sec 4 and it was my final year in which I had to take the N Levels in order to see which path I will take in 2017. Needless to say, I ended up in ITE, studying Electrical Engineering, which is quite cool actually. Ok so there are 3 pathways once you finished your N Levels: Sec 5 ( Additional Year in Secondary School), DPP (2 years in ITE and another 2-3 Years in Poly depending on your GPA, which is the programme which I am in now.) and PFP ( 1 Foundation Year followed by 3 years in the Poly Course). Out of the 3 pathways, PFP was the most competitive. Why? Well, its because by the end of your 4 Years of Secondary-School Education you will definitely want to get out unless you intend to go to a JC. Nobody also wants to go to ITE because of the stereotypes shown by the General Populace which essentially is “Don’t go to ITE because there are a lot of bad people there and you can get into the wrong crowd and pick up bad habits, etc.” Keep in mind that the reason why ITE has a bad public image is because of some students that do bad things which creates a stereotype on the general cohorts.

Also, sorry but I have to digress, I find it weird that I’m writing all this down as people were watching fireworks and celebrating the coming of the new year and whatnot. But to me, a new year is just another year, just like how a Macdonald’s cheeseburger is no different than another cheeseburger produced by another employee. Its just the same, if you catch my drift. It’s said that you decide your own fate, that you create and live your own life. But the very same people that says these kind of stuff blames their misfortunes and the amount of work, stress, bad things that happen to them, etc. on the year, which is ironic right?

Anyway, back to the main point, about how my aim works, right. Sorry, but you will soon realise that my story makes sense at the end. So as I was saying, naturally my classmates would aim for PFP, even though its really competitive and requires the highest score among the 3 pathways. You could just go to Private Education but who has the money right? I on the other hand, just wanted to make it to Sec 5. PFP requires a minimum of 11 points and I aim for 19 points, which is the minimum requirement for Sec 5. Why? Firstly, I am not academically inclined, I have kind of failed most of my exams except for PSLE and N Levels with the exception being the constant pass in English, which prompted me to take Literature, more on that in the future. Secondly, I know I will never make it to PFP so why even bother right? Third, if I can’t even make it to Sec 5, who am I to think that I could aim for the highest pathway? So I put all my effort to the best of my ability and did everything in my power, which is bascially me staying till 9pm at night studying at a place where its ultra-hot and the 4 entrances of the junction where I’m studying at is really dark. But I trust in the God to protect me from any kind of weird stuff so its all good.

Anyways, turns out that my score was 13 points, somehow I became the top of my class which also means that nobody made it to PFP. Not surprised. But till this day, I still believe that this was merely a fluke, that this could not happened again but the lesson is there. Aim small and do everything in your power to achieve it.

Sorry for making this so long, my fingers feel a bit numb from typing all this down, brings me back to the days when I was a Literature student, man did my wrist and fingers hurt from all the fast-writing. Thank God for the creation of computers, though it hasn’t really made my life any easier.

Signed,

-Z-

[coryboos8853-blog]

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[buddyrabrahams]

15 college football coaches on the hot seat

It’s late enough in the college football season that we can begin wondering just how much leeway will be given to some of the nation’s most notable coaches. In some instances, those at both big and small schools alike are coaching for their futures. Some can still save themselves, while for others, it’s probably going to be too little, too late.

Here is a list of the 15 college football coaches on the hottest of hot seats.

15) Jim Mora, UCLA

With quarterback Josh Rosen back healthy after missing most of his sophomore season, Mora was supposed to improve easily in 2017. However, expectations simply have not been met.

After a 2-0 start to the season — including a remarkable comeback against Texas A&M — UCLA followed with three losses in four games. They took advantage of a weakened Oregon team to improve to 4-3 — matching last year’s win total — but they have trips to Washington, Utah, and USC looming. Mora’s job is safe for now, but a bad finish to the season could change everything.

14) Kevin Sumlin, Texas A&M

That Sumlin is not higher up on this low on the list is rather amazing considering how Texas A&M’s season started. The Aggies allowed 28 unanswered fourth quarter points in a loss to UCLA, leading to many calls for Sumlin’s job.

Sumlin managed to help his team regroup and win five of their next six, with the only loss coming against mighty Alabama. Freshman Kellen Mond overcame a rough debut against UCLA and has looked like a premier dual-threat QB. Still, it wouldn’t take a huge downtown for Sumlin to find himself facing the ax again. After all, there is clearly some opposition from the school’s Board of Regents, so he can’t really rest easy.

13) Tony Sanchez, UNLV

After a remarkable run of success at Bishop Gorman High School in Las Vegas, Sanchez took the step up to the collegiate ranks and has little to show for it. He’s now in his third year at UNLV, and he has yet to post a winning season — or even make any real progress toward achieving one. After going from 3-9 to 4-8, the program looks to have stagnated again, with the Rebels off to a 2-5 start. That means Sanchez has a 9-22 record in his third season, having won just six of his 20 conference games so far. You can see why the school might be tempted to look elsewhere.

12) Paul Haynes, Kent State

Haynes is in year five of his Kent State tenure, and no discernible progress has been made whatsoever on the field. He won four games in his first season there, and he hasn’t won that many in a single season since. 2017 is not looking promising either, with the Golden Flashes sitting at 2-6.

Haynes is 9-26 in MAC play and 14-41 overall. After five years with the program, that record is not really acceptable, and even though he’s a Kent State alum, patience must be wearing thin.

11) Barry Odom, Missouri

Odom may be saved by a lack of longevity — he’s only in year two — but his team has, if anything, taken a step back since he took over for Gary Pinkel prior to 2016. Odom is winless in SEC play thus far after winning only two conference games in his debut season. The program’s record as a whole has taken a step back in 2017 and shows no signs of turning back around. Odom may be allowed one more year to show tangible progress, but it would be no shock to see him let go if the 2-5 team’s underwhelming play keeps up.

10) Lovie Smith, Illinois

The hiring of Smith, a respected NFL coach, was supposed to give the Illini credibility on and off the field. Perhaps the coach brought some name recognition and boosted the Fighting Illini in some form, but he has done nothing for results on it.

Smith is winless in Big Ten play in 2017 and has a record of 5-14 over his tenure so far. Nobody thought the Illinois job would be an easy one, but the school invested money in Smith to see improvement on the field which hasn’t manifested. Smith may get a crack at a third season, but the seat will be very hot if he does.

9) Kalani Sitake, BYU

It was less than three months ago, really, that Sitake was viewed as a rising star in the coaching profession after going 9-4 in his debut season at BYU, including a Poinsettia Bowl victory. That talk has evaporated quickly with the Cougars sitting at 1-7 and taking their place as one of the worst teams in college football this season. The Cougars are 128th out of 130 with just 12.1 points scored per game, while once-promising QB Tanner Mangum has really taken a step back with five touchdown passes against eight interceptions.

Sitake probably still harbors some goodwill from his first year with BYU, and he’ll need every bit of it to save his job. BYU has been terrible this year, unacceptably so.

8) Larry Fedora, North Carolina

Fedora is very easily having his worst season as North Carolina head coach. The Tar Heels have posted a losing record just once in his tenure before 2017. This season he’s 1-7, and it’s not just the losing, but also the manner of it.

The Tar Heels have consistently been losing in blowouts, culminating in a 59-7 loss at Virginia Tech on Oct. 21. Fedora had a good resume coming into this season. That plus all the injuries the team has suffered this season should give him plenty of wiggle room, but his team has been so bad that nothing can be ruled out.

7) David Bailiff, Rice

A few short years ago, Bailiff was consistently leading Rice to bowl games, but those days are gone now. He’s suffered three consecutive losing seasons, each one worse than the previous one. He’s just 1-6 in 2017, and there have been growing calls for his head since the end of last season.

Bailiff is in his 11th season with the Owls, so it may be time for new leadership in the program — especially when you consider the trajectory that they appear to be on under their current coach.

6) Jim McElwain, Florida

How patient are the Gators feeling? McElwain is less than a year removed from leading Florida to an Outback Bowl victory and a top 15 end-of-season ranking in the polls, but the Gators are now listless at 3-3. Adding to the chaos is a locker room that has been awash with off-field issues and distractions, which falls in part on the coach.

A good finish to the season — in addition to his two strong seasons to start his Gators tenure — may save him, but mediocrity like this won’t be tolerated at Florida for long.

5) David Beaty, Kansas

Kansas ended the 2016 season — a year that saw them win two games, which was still an improvement from their winless 2015 — by handing Beaty a lengthy contract extension through 2021 that pays him $1.6 million a year. For that price tag, the Jayhawks have received a 1-6 season and a squad still waiting for its first Big 12 win. Kansas is simply stalled out under Beaty, and he hasn’t shown any evidence that he’s the man to turn around this long-struggling program that hasn’t won more than three games in a season since Mark Mangino’s final year in 2009.

4) Kliff Kingsbury, Texas Tech

It’s never a good sign when there’s a fan movement to get you fired, but that’s where Texas Tech is at.

Kingsbury got a shot across the bow during the offseason when there was some legitimate doubt as to whether he’d return, which was a clear warning that things needed to change with the Red Raiders. That hasn’t happened. The team is 4-3, but 1-3 in Big 12 play, with Kingsbury’s typically porous defense (ranked 95th out of 130 in points allowed per game) struggling again.

His seat gets hotter and hotter with each loss, and a good portion of the team’s fanbase wants him gone.

3) Mike Riley, Nebraska

Riley’s days look numbered at Nebraska despite a 9-4 season last year. The athletic director who hired him is gone now, and Riley’s fate has seemed sealed ever since the team’s shocking home loss to Northern Illinois in September.

Riley has two Big Ten wins this season, but they’re against lowly Rutgers and Illinois. Ohio State eviscerated them at home, showing just far behind expectations they are. Riley feels like a goner, especially with a new athletic director who may want a clean slate.

2) Bret Bielema, Arkansas

The Razorbacks are not paying Bielema over $4 million per season to go .500. They are definitely not paying him that much to go 0-4 in SEC play, which is exactly what he has done so far in 2017 — especially in his fifth season at the helm of the program.

Bielema now has a losing record overall as Arkansas head coach, and his 10-26 record against SEC opponents is, quite frankly, an abomination. He’ll be lucky to last until the end of the season, and Hogs fans won’t be sorry to see him go.

1) Butch Jones, Tennessee

Jones once infamously said that his senior class had won the “championship of life,” and it sure looks like that’s the only title he’ll be able to claim in Tennessee. He’s off to an 0-4 start in SEC play, bringing his conference record to 14-22 during his tenure with the Volunteers. He’s never been able to meet the high expectations placed upon him after some encouraging seasons, and things have gone particularly poorly for him in 2017. That 41-0 home loss to Georgia may end up proving the beginning of the end.

Vols fans are fed up with Jones, and it doesn’t look like he’ll get another chance to turn things around in 2018.

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2yPic8r