#stockton slap

[kvvvnjamz]

I just had it in my head a while back to do like a bay area flavored flip of Accordion by Madvillian. I think it would pop off if someone like EBK Jaaybo used it or something, cuz it's a classic sample and it would be unexpected to pop up with an artist like that. Just my thought on it. LMK what you think...

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

"Hey, Babs,"

"Dick? It's late, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"I'm about to go on patrol, D, can this wait?"

A sigh. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Blockbuster's after Oracle."

***

Gotham Proper is a thirty-three minute drive from Bludhaven. The drive to Bristol from Bludhaven is a fifty-one minute drive through Drescher, Burnside, Sumerset, Victoria Place, and Little Stockton before crossing the bridge over Gotham River into Bristol. Gotham Proper is made of four islands connected to each other and the mainland via several bridges. Technically, all of those cities and towns - as well as Charon and Brentwood - are sister cities like Bludhaven, but everyone counts them as a part of Gotham anyway.

Dick spent the entire drive alternating between sulking and panicking.

Danny would know. Ghosts, as he's come to understand, are beings made of emotion, meaning that he can sense emotions better than living beings. Though, he didn't need an empth ability to read the air around Dick.

'What if something happens while we're gone?" Dick asked for the nth time in the past few minutes, "What if Brutale decides to blow something up while I'm gone? What if Blockbuster starts something big?"

"Bigger than what he's already doing?" Danny didn't bother to look up from his conversation with Tim. "The fact that you can't even name specific examples proves that you're not actually worried about Blockbuster or Brutale."

"I'm worried about Brutale blowing something up, thank you very much."

"Yeah, 'something'. Who even is Brutale anyway? I don't think I know that name."

"No one you need to worry about." He moved into the right lane.

Danny turned his phone off and set it face down on his leg. "What are you really worried about, Dick? I've known you for five weeks now, and I've never seen you this worried about anything."

"You've known me for three weeks."

"No, you've known me for three weeks. I've known you for five weeks. And don't change the subject."

Dick sighed, running his left hand through his hair before dropping it back onto the steering wheel.

"Is it Bruce?"

"...yeah."

"You know he's at work, right?"

"Yeah, I- How do you know that?"

He waved his phone a bit. "I checked with Tim. So, it's just going to be Tim and Alfred at the Manor when we get there."

"You know Alfred?"

"I know of Alfred." Danny slapped his right shoulder, "Stop trying to change the subject!"

"I can't help it! Deflecting has worked pretty damn well for me up until this point!"

"Oh, yeah? Against who?"

"Literally everyone!"

"Everyone?"

A beat. "Okay, so maybe only most people, but that's not the point!"

"Doesn't matter what your point is because we're going back to talking about mine!" He huffed. "If you don't want to go straight to Wayne Manor, then stop by somewhere else. You had to have gained at least one friend in Gotham before you moved to Bludhaven."

Dick paused for a moment, eyeing the signs. They'd only been driving for twenty minutes. He could hang a right just before Sumerset to cross the New Trigate Bridge into Arkham Island, take another right onto Midtown and drive to Old Gotham to meet Babs/. Yeah, that'd be nice. But, the detour would increase the chance of running into Bruce later on in the day. Maybe he could have Bab's drive to the Manor?

"Is it too late to turn around?"

"Yes."

"Why are you even so insistent on going? You don't know anyone in Gotham!"

"I know Tim!" He argued. "Besides, healthy relationships are good in this kind of work."

Dick raised his eyebrow, glancing at Danny from the corner of his eye. "You wanna second to rethink that or..?"

Danny clicked his tongue. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to Bruce, and I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to apologize to Tim for snapping at him. If you end up with better relations here in Gotham, then that only works in your favor."

Dick groaned, ditching the turn onto New Trigate and continuing on through Sumerset. "Fine! But we're leaving before Bruce gets back. I can't stand him right now."

Danny smiled, a sad look in his eye. "Alright."

He knew very well that Dick's relationship was near irreparable. From what he'd gathered, from either overhearing or snooping, Bruce had been a pretty good dad and boss to Dick up until he'd turned seventeen. He hung up the Robin mantle when he was eighteen, appearing as Nightwing when he was nineteen. Bruce, apparently, hadn't taken this very well, but copped, adopint ong Jason Todd when Dick was twenty years old, giving him the Robin mantle a few months later.

According to Dick, when Jason was killed, he'd been off world. Bruce hadn't even called him to inform him, let alone tell him about the funeral. And, when Dick got back and heard what happened from Batgirl, he'd confronted Batman in the Batcave. Batman, apparently, though he's inclined to Dick's side, punched him the face and shifted the blame.

Danny doesn't blame Dick for being angry. Not for a second. He can't really relate, but he understands.

Entering Bristol, there was a shift in the air. Outside was stuffy and smelled like money. Inside the car, however, was tense. Dick's attitude shifted to his work smile. It was plastic.

This was going to be a long day.

He didn't say anything. Quietly, Danny messaged Tim, letting him know about the shift. Tim was quick to respond, letting Danny know that he was fully prepared for whatever was coming. Danny didn't think he was.

Danny knew that something was going to happen. The air was suddenly suffocating, the world fake manufactured to perfection.

"You alright there, bud?" Dick asked, his voice perfectly professional.

"Yeah, fine. I-I'm fine." Danny wanted this car to turn around.

Part 10 Part 12

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

This I Promise You

Pairing: Juice Ortiz x female!reader

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Word count: 1,608

Summary: Patching up your injured boyfriend turns into making a big decision.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cuts, bruises and scratches, mentions of blood but nothing graphic

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner.

It was late at night, close to two in the morning, when Juice finally arrived home. He tried being as quiet as he could, given you would be fast asleep in the bedroom that was a short distance from the front door. Cuts and bruises littered his arms, hands, and a few scratches resided on his cheeks.

The ride out to Stockton was rough. The MC ended up getting some cops on their tail as they rode into Stockton on top of that they had gotten ambushed by the MC they were supposed to meet to reach an agreement on the issue at hand and to discuss future steps toward working together. All members of Samcro had gotten their share of cuts, scratches, and bruises from the brawl.

As Juice attempted to make his way silently into the bathroom to clean himself up and bandage a particularly deep cut, he did his best to keep his groans to a minimum but you were still awake in the bedroom. All you could do was toss and turn as you waited for you man to come home to you. You were never able to sleep well, if at all, without him next to you.

In the bathroom, Juice rummaged through the medicine cabinet in search of the first aid kit. A few medicine bottles and antibiotic creams tumbled to the floor as he pulled out the small kit. “Shit!” He frustratedly whispered as the few medications hit the tile floor, clattering and rattling upon impact. In the quiet house the sound seemed to be magnified times ten. He just knew he had woken you up. How could he not with all that commotion?

As you laid in bed, you kept thinking you heard something so you grabbed your gun out of the top drawer of the bedside table and hopped out of bed to investigate. You hoped it was Juice but if not, you weren’t afraid to shoot. You heard the clattering of things falling to the floor in your bathroom so naturally you made your way to the door. You cautiously peaked your head around the doorway and let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the love of your life. “Oh thank God!” Your hand rested on your chest where your heart resided.

Juice spun around hearing you speak. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be loud.” He watched as you looked him over. He hoped you wouldn’t see the nasty slash on his side. The guy he was fighting with during the ambush managed to whip out a switchblade and ended up making contact with Juice’s side. He didn’t think it was that bad at the time thanks to all the adrenaline but on his way home, the gnash as stinging and painful and still bleeding. His bloodstain soaked shirt proved it. He had contemplated on pulling over and calling Chibs to slap a bandage on it but he decided not to. He wanted to get home to you asap.

Your eyes roamed his bloody and battered body, taking in each cut, each bruise, and each scratch. Your eyes landed on his side, the blood appeared to still be fresh and deep. You hoped it wouldn’t require a trip to see Tara this late at night. You wondered if the others were in the same rough shape. “You’re hurt. Let me take care of you.” You insisted, reaching for the first aid kit from his hands. You didn't have the skills Tara or Chibs had but you knew enough from watching the two and doing a little bit of research to understand what to do.

Juice knew you were a good care taker, a good nurse — in more ways than one. Honestly he would rather have you taking care of him more than than one else. You always knew what he needed before he did and how to get him to cooperate when it came to something he wasn’t particularly fond of. Juice passed you the kit and propped himself up against the bathroom sink. “Be gentle. It really hurts.” He practically pleads with you. Juice knows the last thing you want to do is hurt him more and that you’ve always been gentle with him but he still wants you to know just how painful the wound is for him.

“Always baby.” You lean up and gently kiss his forehead. It’s one kiss that always comforts him whenever he’s hurt or nervous or upset. It’s the one kiss you give him every morning and every night when he’s home, even when you’re at the clubhouse or TM. You remember how embarrassed he used to get when his brothers would see you kiss his forehead but now he doesn’t care anymore. You mean more to him than anything and anyone in the world.

You opted against having him try to remove his shirt knowing it would cause him more pain so you grab some scissors and cut it down the middle. Any other time Juice would protest but at this point he just wanted to be cleaned up and the pain to ease by any means necessary. You gingerly peel his shirt away from the bloodied skin. Damn. This was nasty. Nastier than you expected. You sucked in a breath. Here we go. You grabbed a clean wash cloth from the closet and wet it, beginning to lightly wash off the blood. Juice groaned and hissed as you worked. “I’m sorry lovely. I’m trying to be gentle.” You glanced up at Juice’s face and saw how hard he was trying to be still and let you bandage him. You had to be quick but efficient. Before too long the gnash was as clean as you could get it. “Almost done sweetie.” You promised, hands digging through the first aid kit. “Did I ever tell you what I wanted to be when I was a kid?” You thought getting his mind off you patching him up would help pass the time.

“No, I don’t-” He sucked in a breath as you applied antibiotic cream to the wound. You knew it had to sting and burn. When Juice finally exhaled, he continued his sentence, “think you have.”

“I wanted to be a florist, have my own little shop and maybe sell some little trinkets and balloons and cards. Be a one stop shop for gifts for special occasions or those just because moments, you know? I know it’s silly but that’s what I wanted. I always loved flowers — the way they smell, all the different colors and types, the way you can make so many beautiful combinations of different types of flowers, and how much they make people smile when receiving them.” You shrugged. Gently placing the bandage on the wound, you glance up at Juice to see how he’s holding up only to find him already looking at you, love and admiration evident in his eyes. “What?” You embarrassingly chuckled.

“That’s not silly, being a florist. You’ve got a gorgeous garden in the backyard so why not do it? I knew that was your passion from the first time I gave you a carnation, remember? It was all I could afford. I was terrified you’d be disappointed it wasn’t a fancy bouquet and hate it, never want to see me again. But I’ll never forget how your eyes lit up and the biggest, most gorgeous smile grew on your face. You have no idea how relieved I was.” Juice confessed, recalling the memory of picking you up for that first date. It wasn’t some magical fairy tale date but it was nice. You both made the best of you had and ended up having fun despite Juice being called away for a club meeting.

You cautiously patted the edges of the bandage onto his skin to stick. You were blushing at the memory. “I remember that like it was yesterday. You looked so handsome, made sure I was safe and comfortable on your bike.”

“You should do it. Charming could use a good florist, someone passionate and caring to help make someone’s day better.” Juice encouraged. He genuinely wanted you to do this. There were plenty of vacant spaces in town that would be perfect. You always supported him so now it was his turn to support you.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just a little daydream these days.” You waved you hand in dismissal.

“Then make it a reality. I’ll help you with it. It’s only fair, you help out with Clear Passages. The club will help too.” Juice offered. He could see the hesitation and worry in your eyes. Starting your own business is scary and he gets that but Juice was going to do everything he possibly could to make sure you succeeded.

After thinking about it and seeing the look of encouragement on Juice’s face, you finally caved. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it, let’s do it!” You never dreamed that you would make this decision at almost three in the morning after bandaging up your boyfriend but here you are. “Wait. What about the money? It’s going to take a lot of money to get this idea off the ground.” You started to panic. You didn’t have that kind of money and neither did Juice.

“You let me worry about that, sweetheart. I promise you’ll have the best and most successful florist shop Charming has ever seen.” Juice wasn’t sure at the moment where he’d get the money but if he had to pull extra shifts at TM and do extra runs for the club, he would just to see your dream come true.

[whenmondaycomes]

Harleigh's POV

Harleigh was at Jax's (and her) shared house collecting laundry from the master bedroom. She had music playing from her phone, so she was surprised when she heard the front door being broken down. "Shit", she mumbled before running to Abel, to protect him, but she was grabbed around the waist when her hand touched the doorknob to the nursery. She tried fighting back, but there were too many of them. "Let me go!", she yelled before being knocked unconscious with the butt of a gun.

Jax's POV

Jax was at TM working on a car when his phone rang, and he wiped his hands on a rag before reaching for the phone and answering it. Before he could say anything his mother's voice came over the line. "Jax, I'm at your house and something's wrong", she said. "What do you mean?", was Jax's reply. He heard his mom let out a deep breath before saying "I came over to bring Harleigh some diapers I bought for Abel and when I got here the front door was broken in and Abel was crying. I can't find Harleigh anywhere Jax, I think that someone took her." Jax felt his heart stop when he heard those words, but he knew he had to pull himself together, so all he said to his mom was "Grab Abel and come to the clubhouse. We need to find her now!" After he hung up he ran to break the news to the rest of the club and make a plan to find her.

Harleigh's POV

The first thing Harleigh noticed when she woke up was the pain in her head, the second being that she was in what looked like a warehouse. When her captors noticed that she was awake they walked over to her, and when they got closer Harleigh realized that it was Zobelle and his men that took her. "Well, look who's awake", Weston said. Harleigh wasn't paying any attention to him though because she was focused on Zobelle staring at her. "What!", she yelled. Before he could answer her, Weston slapped her across the face. "Show some damn respect!", he yelled. Zobelle made a motion to Weston like 'calm down' before he turned his attention back to Harleigh. "Good morning princess, how was your nap?", he taunted. Harleigh just spit in his face, which earned her a broken nose from Zobelle. He waited until she looked back up at him before grabbing her chin and saying "I would be careful if I were you, I wouldn't want to have to kill you." That sent a shiver down Harleigh's spine, she didn't doubt that he would kill her just to get his point across. She really hoped that the guys would hurry up and find her.

Jax's POV

Jax was freaking out. He was pacing back and forth, before he was stopped by Opie grabbing his shoulders. "You need to calm down man. she'll be alright, she's a strong woman." He said, trying to calm Jax down. Jax just shook his head before saying "We don't know that, these people are capable of anything." He took a deep breath before continuing "I can't lose her, Ope." Opie could see the tears in Jax's eyes, that he was trying hard to hide, and pulled him into a hug. "We'll find her brother, I promise."

It was a few hours later when Juice came running in. "I found her!", he yelled before setting his laptop on the bar. "It took me a little bit of effort, but I was able to track her down." He started typing stuff on his computer before he continued "Apparently she has a tracker in her watch, which I didn't know about, but it says that she is located right here." He quickly turned his computer around to show the guys a warehouse near Stockton. "Alright, let's go get our princess", Clay said.

Harleigh's POV

All Harleigh could think about was her family. The pain was so unbearable at this point that Harleigh would've given up by now if it wasn't for Jax and Abel being her reason to stay alive, so she was relieved when she heard gunfire outside of the warehouse. Weston and Zobelle had left a while ago, so Harleigh knew it was only their goons left to watch her. She could've laughed at the idiocy of leaving her with these weaklings, but she was in too much pain. One of Zobelle's men came running in to grab her, most likely as a bargaining chip or as a human shield, but he was shot before he could reach her. Harleigh then heard the voice of her old man, before he kneeled in front of her. "Hey Darlin', I'm gonna get you outta here", Jax said in a panic at the state she was in. As Jax was trying to keep her alert, Tig worked on getting her out of her restraints. Once the restraints were gone, she fell forward into Jax's chest. "Jax", was all she was able to whisper before passing out in his arms.

Harleigh was confused at first when she finally awoke, but as soon as she looked around the room she realized she was in Jax's dorm. When Jax looked up from the book he was reading, and saw that she was awake, he shot up from his chair and rushed over. "Hey baby, how are you feeling?", he asked while stroking her hair. Harleigh took a moment to take in the fact that she was alive and safe, before answering him. "I'm ok", she croaked out. She could tell that Jax had been crying, so she decided to ask what had happened after she had passed out. "Chibs checked your pulse and determined that he could handle your injuries, so I picked you up and put you in the van to come back here. As soon as we got back, he fixed you up and I carried you in here to watch over you", he told her. Harleigh just gave him a weak smile, before pulling his lips to hers, and when the kiss ended she whispered against his lips "I fucking love you, Teller." Jax smiled before giving her another soft kiss and whispering "I love you too, darlin'. I love you more than anything." Then he climbed into bed next to her and cuddled her for the rest of the night, thankful that they had found her in time.

[annamaetion]

Stockton Rush saw the ocean as one big missed business opportunity…

He really said, “ I had come across this ~business anomaly~ I couldn’t explain, If three-quarters of the planet is water, how come you can’t access it?”

Disrespectfully, sir; WE CANNOT BREATHE WATER, NOR WITHSTAND THE ENORMOUS PRESSURE.

Also we’ve really got to disabuse ourselves of the notion that ‘innovations’ is a good thing to always strive for, sometimes there’s a reason something has never been tried before. I could slap together a craft made of graham crackers, and by definition it would be an innovation.

oh my god this New Yorker article about the Titan holy fucking shit fuck???

[notforemmetophobes]

M. Emmet Walsh in the 1970s

Walsh first appeared in a few fairly forgettable roles both on TV and onscreen before cropping up in several well remembered films, including Escape from the Planet of the Apes (1971), What's Up, Doc? (1972), Serpico (1973), and Airport '77 (1977).

Walsh came to prominence in the iconic 1977 hockey comedy film Slap Shot, in which he played the cynical small town sportswriter Dickie Dunn, and the 1978 crime film Straight Time, in which he played a vicious parole officer opposite Dustin Hoffman.

He also had a small but memorable role as a crazed sniper in the Steve Martin comedy The Jerk (1979).

On television, Walsh appeared as Alex Lembeck, a motorcycle cop who appointed himself as Sandy Stockton's chaperone and protector on The Sandy Duncan Show in 1972.

[positivelypositivelypostive]

Loving Lex In the Aggregate

There is something delightfully askew in loving an opera singer near a deep-water channel, with a Soviet trawler slipping by, and the water from its wake sweetly slapping the rocks below.

You see, I want to love Lex in the aggregate. I’m a glad fool. Picnics in parks on prom nights, watching screwball comedies on Channel 40 out of Sacramento, wearing thin ties in mini-knots in a town where ties aren’t required. You know, stuff like that.

Understand, I’m not playing a rake or rogue here. I want to cool my hot feral brain with any variation of C.K. Dexter-Haven I can find.

The Great Lex is no different. She has Rene Russo locks, a visage like Deborah Kerr, chocolate brown eyes, and boop-boop-be-doop lips. She walks like an ugly duckling from a small town would. You know. The ones who are outcast and uncertain about the attractiveness they’ve grown into, learning how to get even, and parlaying that attraction into a future.

We’re desperate for sophistication. We want out. And our first chakras are on fire.

Did I tell you that Lex was a coloratura soprano?

It would seem that a date at the Sherwood Theatre would portend nothing. I mean, I take Lex to see “The Jungle Book”. We are 21-years-old. Now, the fact that we are tongue-fucking each other to near injury portends everything. Using our tongues in ways beyond their design shows that Disney has no idea what their films inspire.

Desperate to experience every degree of each other’s being, we take the long slow drive on a levee road out past Ladd’s Marina. Out past the asparagus stalks planted in peat dirt fields. Out to the single road that line the banks of the Stockton Channel. Along the way, it feels that every inhale I take is an initiation. Every exhale, a death.

I park my 72’ Fiat Spyder facing east. Life has moved on from us asking any more questions of it. A Soviet trawler filled with Russian grain quietly slides east towards the Stockton Harbor.

We get out of the car, walk to the trunk searching for the perfect flat space, and Lex, in an authoritative voice tells me “Turn around”

I face the west. 5. 10. 15 second’s pass. Why am I counting? I lose the more I try to keep time. Fading. Fading. Fading fast. I pulse everywhere, especially in the parts of me that are now profoundly reliable.

“Turn around”

I do. The Great Lex sits on the trunk. Her feet rests on the blue metal. Knees bent. Thighs apart. Skirt hiked to her hips. Lex is moonlight now and I am being bathed in her sweet gypsy glow.

“I really like your tongue” she says.

Lex and I learned a lot last night. That there is honor in having knees bloodied by asphalt. That sex can be had in the presence of the Soviet Merchant Marine. We learned how to be humble, know our place in the universe, and still be bold enough to stiffen nipples, cock and clits. That, ultimately, sex and love require a linguistic base, even if it’s only two words and screamed to God. And finally, when it’s all over, that there’s love in gently touching each others randomly shaped scars.

[roseredteller]

Taken

+TIGGER WARNINGS!+

+After a busy day of meetings with #Crystal,I go around the casino checking out the renovations. Everything is coming along nicely. I noticed some people who were working that I don't know, as I am watching them, they are watching me. I get a shiver down my spine, my gut is telling me something bad is about to happen. I turn around to inform #Crystal of my concerns. I walk as fast as I can in my 6 inch heels. As I see #Crystal talking to some workers, I was about to say something to get her attention, someone grabs me as they place something on my face. As I try to fight back to have the person to release me,I can't speak and I suddenly feel sleepy. I feel like I am going to pass out, I can't resist the feeling so my eyes close as I collapse in the person's arms.+

“Hey boss, we got the girl. We are heading to Stockton now so we can deliver her to the #Niners. I will contact you when we deliver her. I then will contact Crystal with your message. “

+When I awaken, I feel like I am not in my body. I look around as I notice that I am bound to a bed by my hands above my head and attached to the headboard. I scream out. +

Help!Help! Someone, anyone please help me!

“Will you shut up,bitch! No one here is going to help you. So shut the fuck up with your screaming. “

+The man slaps my face as a warning. I softly cry as I feel the sting of the slap. I can't understand why I was taken. I overheard him speaking with someone on the phone. +

“Yes sir,we have her. She's finally awake,your guy called her boss lady to give her notice of her girl.”

+I realize that I was kidnapped for something to do with #Crystal. I try to pull my hands free but the plastic cuffs just cut into my wrists. A female enters the room, she places a cup to my lips so I can drink. As I drink the water, it feels nice going down my throat. +

Thank you for the drink. I really need to use the bathroom.

“I will see what I can do. Hey #Monroe can you cut these off, she needs to use the bathroom. Don't worry I will help you, sug”.

+The man who slapped me comes over and cuts the cuffs off. The female helps me to the bathroom. I quickly use the toilet, when I finish, the lady escorts me back to the bed. The male secures me back to the bed,but he loops other zip ties to give me room to sit or lay down on the bed. After he leaves the room with the female, I start to quietly cry, as I have no idea why this happened to me. I just hope that #Amara can get me out of here and fast.+

When is help coming?

+I had fallen asleep for the first time in a couple of days. I hear a noise but I keep my eyes closed, there are sounds of footsteps and low voices speaking. I can't make out what they are saying. Suddenly the bed shakes as I hear #Monroe's voice. +

“Yo bitch, wake up. Your breakfast is here and I brought you some water. My girl will be over in a bit to let you use the bathroom. “

Thank you for the food and drinks. Its very kind of you.

“You aren't as stupid as I thought. I guess those slaps across your face made you smart.”

+After #Monroe leaves the room, I try to eat what he brought in. Most of the time it's a piece of fruit and crackers. Today I was given eggs,which made my heart skip a beat. Is this going to be my last meal or is this done out of kindness. I slowly eat the eggs to savor the taste as this may be the last thing I eat. I hear #Monroe just outside the door, I try to listen.+

“Hey boss,how much longer are we going to keep this bitch? Has her boss even made contact? I am not happy about keeping her here much longer. Yes,you are the boss. Yes you make the decisions on her. I slapped her a couple of times. Yeah I will be waiting and I won't touch her again.”

+Hearing one side of the conversation has me hopeful that I am not going to die today. I finish my eggs and eat the apple. I hope whatever it is they want from Amara is worth all of this. I wish that I was home so I can shower and get the scum feeling off of me. I sit on the bed as I silently cry. +

#TBC….

[anchored-up-in-nc]

he learned what that Stockton slap was 🤣😂

FULL SEND

[mmality]

🔥🔥💯💯

[estiqatsi]

Stockton slap

[pacificgrimsarc]

She kicked up rocks with her boot and crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at the ground as the stranger scolded her for what she'd done. It was water under the bridge for BJ. She'd done stupider things in the past and was well-accustomed to getting slapped on the wrist. She wasn't exactly the most well-behaved woman back in the commune, which was exactly the reason why she had to leave (before she got killed). "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Off-balanced, she leaned back against the car to center herself. The guy was smart enough, at least, to park under the shade; so while the metal door was warm against the back of her legs, it wasn't scorching hot. She pointed at the road behind her and chuckled. "That way."

She was a notorious smart-ass. Predicting he wouldn't be appreciative of her vagueness, she added, "I'm from Fort Stockton. With time, we all moved north and... most recently, I was down in Palo Pinto. How about you?"

Carter ignored the fact that she snatched it away, knowing she had to be thirsty. He'd been in the same situation, and he tried his best not to judge. And losing just one gulp was a lot better than 10 gallons.

"I don't know if I'm the jerk here," he said, taking his water back. He took a sip himself. "Only one of us just broke into a car and tried to steal a jug of water, plus literally all of my food."

When she mentioned coming from jerks, his first thought was that she could be from the group that had just attacked his. Not that she would recognize him, since he was never on the front lines or involved in any sort of intergroup discussions, but that could give him some insight into who she was.

He threw the bottle back into the car and turned to her. "Which direction were you coming from, anyway?"

[aarvan20925]

anthony--dangerous (Ft. Travieso)

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[verawhisk]

the diaz brothers after slapping their opponent once, flipping the bird at them, and yelling “stockton motherf*cker” only to lose by decision