#the answer to whether i have more hayden in the vault is always yes

[retquits]

Could we possibly maybe possibly get more Hayden pretty please? I love him in your style, he's so hecking gorgeous 😍 💖 No pressure, of course 🥰

some hayden hairstyle wips for you 🌼

[passable-talent]

nobody requested this but here it is

dedicated to: the new love of my life, for whom I reopened my lip piercing. also to @haydens-moles​ 

Sam Monroe x Male!reader because this is 100% self indulgent

Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, you’d outgrown a lot of things. Thinking you were cooler than the need for school, that was one of them. Trying to scream along to your music was another- you just let the professionals handle those parts, and picked up the song again when the singing came back. 

The two things you hadn’t outgrown, through the last two years of high school, and the first two years of college? Your excessive amount of piercings, and your crush on Sam Monroe. 

Honestly, fuck that guy. Fuck him and his high cheekbones and smooth biceps and long-sleeve-under-short-sleeve fashion sense. Fuck him and his dyed hair and his rings and his piercings. 

You’d been closer friends with him then your sister, Alyssa, for most of your life. She stopped talking to him for a while in the first few years of high school when he moved out of his dad’s house right next to yours, but he stayed close to you, your taste in music and drugs keeping you familiar. 

Sometime right before his dad died, you started to pull away from him. It was a dick move, yeah, to abandon him when he so desperately needed his friends, but you were crushing on the straight guy who’d started fucking your sister, so. You had some valid feelings, too. 

You both went off to college, and didn’t see each other, pretty much ever- you went to different colleges, and both of you roomed on campus. You thought that maybe you would even escape him when you went home for the holidays, since Alyssa broke up with him before freshman year. Because she liked to ruin your plans, though, she stayed friends with him, for some fucking reason. She wasn’t one to hold onto an ex-boyfriend, so you didn’t really know where that was coming from. 

Especially since... 

Okay, Alyssa tells you practically everything. You’ve always been really close, being fraternal twins and all, but when you figured out you were gay in fifth grade, it gave the two of you so much more to talk about. And yeah, she knew you super well, and she knew you were crushing on Sam. She had always assumed the two of you were the perfect match, with your piercings and your attitude and your band tee shirts. It didn’t hurt that she thought he was gay. Right up until she started sleeping with him. 

You couldn’t exactly blame her. 

And then she broke up with him a year or so later because she could feel something was off, and it seemed like he took about a year or so to figure himself out before texting her one night with the words ‘you were right, turns out: I am gay.’  Which pissed you off more than surprised you, because- honestly, the bad timing, right? 

Either way, you grew to loathe holidays. Whenever you came home from college, so did he, and he always came to see Alyssa. 

Every time he did, he felt the simmering anger you held toward him, it’s not like you hid it very well. It’s hard to look into a face adorned by dyed hair, just like yours, and lip and ear piercings, just like yours, and still manage to hide your emotions. Dammit, he really was perfect for you. The older you got, the more he proved it.

It just made you hate him more. 

He never said a word about your animosity, when you disappeared into your room whenever he visited, not to be seen again until after he left. He didn’t say a word when you got snappy with your sister when he was around, he said nothing when you didn’t come down to eat dinner with your family, so long as he was at the table. He took it in strides. 

And then he decided to stop sitting idle, and figure out what was wrong with you. 

You were in the living room on December eighteenth, watching TV. Your mom and sister had left to do some Christmas shopping, so you’d tossed your feet up onto the arm of the couch and raided the alcohol your mom swore up and down she’d notice if you swiped. 

She never did. 

It was about eight PM when the doorbell rang, and you groaned, knowing it meant you’d have to leave your extremely comfortable position practically upside down on the couch. Throwing your legs to the floor, you made it to the door, moving the remote from its place on your chest to the coffee table. 

Pulling aside the curtains covering the door’s window, you realized that it was Sam- why the hell he’d come after sundown, you didn’t care to know. 

You popped open the locks, then opened the door. 

“Alyssa’s not here,” you said, voice short, and went to close the door again. He stopped you before you could. 

“I know,” he said, then shouldered past you and into the house. What a dick move- to assume he was welcome inside, to assume he could wait until she got back. 

“Jackass, she’s not gonna be home for a while,” you said, hostility in your voice even as you took another sip of your beer.

“I know,” was his only response, leaning against the stairwell. He crossed his arms, just... looking at you. How did he know that? And why was he staring into your soul?

“Yeah, alright, whatever,” you conceded, skirting past him and into the stairwell, retreating to your room as you always did when he entered the house. “You know where the food is. Enjoy doing fuck-all until they get back.” 

“Four years ago, we were friends,” he said, catching you off guard when you’d made it to the landing halfway up the stairs. “What happened?” You froze, then turned to face him. 

“You..” you trailed off, giving him a look. That was why he’d come over? To interrogate you? “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you don’t want to know.” 

“What if I do?” You glared for a moment longer before stepping forward, leaning your elbows onto the banister of the stairwell. Before you spoke, you grabbed your lip ring between your teeth. 

“You’re in college, you’re smart enough to puzzle it out,” you said, looking at him like he was scum on earth. “What did you do four years ago that might piss me off?” You could see him begin to consider, thinking through his history. It only frustrated you further that the obvious answer wasn’t obvious to him.

“Okay, jackass, I’ll give you a hint,” you said, beginning to let anger into your voice, “What did you do in this house that might piss me off?” You saw a realization light his eyes, but he didn’t say a word. 

“What, you need another hint, dumbass? You slept with my fucking sister!” Sam looked up at you, and finally you began to see some anger cloud his gaze. 

“So? What’s that got to do with you?” You leaned forward further, lifting a single finger toward him.

“First of all, I’m pretty sure its a fucking rule that you shouldn’t sleep with your best friend’s sister.” He rolled his eyes, which just pissed you off further. 

Like you’d been doing all your life, you vaulted over the bannister, landing in the center of the entryway. You righted your spine, stepping toward him dangerously.

“And you know what I was doing while you were sleeping with my sister?” You snarled, intimidation in your step as you approached him, “You wanna know what your best fucking friend was doing?” He stood his ground, and fuck him, he was just a bit taller than you, so you couldn’t be as intimidating as you wanted to be.

“I was trying to stop being in love with you,” you snarled, lip piercing clacking against your teeth as you spoke. “My best friend’s in the next room over, his dick in my sister, and I’m the dumbass who’s in love with him.” For a moment, there was silence in the house- you hadn’t really expected to admit it to him, especially not like that, and he hadn’t expected such a confession at all. 

You couldn’t let the silence last. You were too infuriated. 

“And then, you had the fucking nerve to go off to college and find out you actually were gay.” An odd thing to be angry about, sure- but you weren’t sure your anger was really at him. Maybe you were angry at yourself, maybe you were frustrated with how the past had unfolded. “How dare you? You had the fucking nerve to be into guys the whole time and still go for my sister over me? You know how much easier it would’ve made high school if you’d just figured that out a little earlier?” You turned your back on him, incapable of looking at him directly. Whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, you didn’t care in the moment to discover. 

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was into dudes when I was with Alyssa.” Somehow, hearing him say that made you even angrier. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You were fucking done with the whole conversation- fuck the movie you were watching, fuck the beer you left on the kitchen island, fuck him. You were going to go upstairs and wallow in some self-pity. Mr. Brightside by the Killers had been your latest song obsession- if it had come out while you were in high school, it would’ve been your anthem. 

“You’re studying to be an engineer, right?” he asked, once again surprising you. 

“Yeah,” you said, not turning to face him, hissing the word over your shoulders. 

“So you’ve probably not taken too many humanities.” What the fuck was he on about? 

“Just ethics, freshman year.” 

“I took a human sexuality course last semester,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Where the hell was he going with this? Did you really care to know? “Figured out a lot about myself. You know, some gay guys sleep with their friends’ girlfriends because they can’t sleep with their friends?” 

He couldn’t be serious. 

He could not be implying what you thought he was. It would make him not only an idiot, but a destructive one, too. 

“Are you telling me,” you said, voice almost a growl as you turned to him, “That you slept with my sister because you wanted to sleep with me?”

He didn’t say yes. But nothing about his body language said no.

“You fucking prick-” you snarled, and it was like all of those issues you’d had with discipline and anger in high school rushed right back. In that moment, you really did mean to punch him. You took the deliberate step, aimed for his jaw, right below that pretty blue eye with the accentuating eyeliner. 

He saw you coming and ducted out of the way, letting the swing pass over his head. This meant he was close enough, though, to receive your right knee under his ribcage. He reacted in time to grab the knee before it reached him, holding your leg in the air, and time paused while you stared at each other. Rage boiled behind your eyes, and he dared you to try again. 

“Get off me,” you hissed, ripping your knee from his grip and shoving him backwards by the shoulder into the wall. When his shoulder blades impacted the drywall, picture frames hanging halfway across the room rattled. You held him there, right hand keeping him against the wall. Your face inches from his, you brought an accusatory finger under his chin. 

“Fuck you,” you growled, but you noticed when his gaze flicked to your lips. Whatever you had meant to say was absolutely gone from your mind- no way you could think of anything after he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours.

‘Cause, like... fuck. 

This is what you’d been thinking about since you were twelve, you know? This is what you’d been dreaming about, waiting for. Holy shit. His lips were so soft, the slight chapping catching and dragging across your lip piercing, and his hands had left the wall and now dragged across the fabric of your shirt, wrenching you closer. You dug black painted fingernails into his hair, freshly blue for the holidays, and damn, this really was everything you’d ever wanted. 

He brought his hand down to your lower back, tugging you closer until there was no space between the two of you anywhere, especially not where his tongue invaded your mouth. 

You pulled away, breath heavy, eyes half-lidded. 

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but he knew you didn’t mean it anymore. Or, not in the same way, at the very least. 

“Were you really gonna punch me?” He asked, reaching up to cup your face, running his first finger over the first of your two earrings. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You asked, and he just laughed, pulling you in to kiss him again. This time, you took your arms all the way around his neck, willingly pressing your chest and hips against his. He reached down to your thighs, lifting you up, carrying you back to the couch and the movie you’d long forgotten about. 

He broke from your lips and started attacking your neck halfway there, and when he dropped you onto the couch, he fell with you, like he’d rather risk smacking his face to the couch than lose his lips on your skin. Only when you had a nice dark spot on your neck and your heels trying to drag him closer did he pull away, a smirk pulling his labret to one side.

“Still gonna go up to your room whenever I come over?” He asked, expression playful, like he expected you to swing for him again.

“Ass,” you sneered, dragging him back down to you again. 

-🦌 Roe

part 2