#tonight i get to be a metal rocker in a bar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

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I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!artist!reader

Part 17: A creature of love, I can't be tamed

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, series typical violence, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex with someone other than Eddie and reader, hate-fucking (consensual), oral (m receiving), sexual harassment, biker!steve, biker!billy, protective!eddie, rocker!nancy

word count: 6.4k

songs: I Hate Myself for Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Wild Child by W.A.S.P. and Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative

The second half of your first night back at the Velvet Hammer heats up with Eddie on stage, Charlene on the premises with Billy, and Steve working through his emotions in a moment of carnal desire.

authors note: It has felt so good to get back to writing this story, I missed our biker boys so much. It will probably be another week or two until the next part, but you won't have to wait too long. Thank you for your patience, I love you.

There came the sound of shrill feedback from the stage, and the drummer twisted his stick around his fingers before clapping the high hat. You took your break and met Eddie over by the carpeted hallway. The two of you huddled together, out of view from the front half of the bar, including Charlene and Billy.

“What’s Steve going to do?” You hushed, feeling the familiar anxiety rise inside of you that someone might get hurt again.

“Nothing for now,” Eddie exhaled. You put your hand on his chest, and he held it there. “You let me worry about Steve and Charlene, you have enough to do. I won’t let anything go sideways in here tonight.”

You told him about what you’d just learned from Shana, about Charlene being part owner of the Velvet Hammer, and he gave a slow blink, dragging out a long, ragged breath. “Why does that not surprise me,” you could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. “She can’t have this place, it’s ours,” he growled, walking you down the hall and clanking open the heavy metal back door to the alley.

“But,” you started. Eddie pulled a pack of smokes out of his front pocket and sparked a flame from his zippo to light the end. “Isn’t it too late for that? It sounds like she already took it?”

You held two fingers like you were making a peace sign for Eddie to pass you a smoke and he raised his eyebrow at you curiously. You gave a nod, answering his unspoken question, and he put a second one between his lips to light it for you before passing it over.

You took a tiny drag and coughed smoke out of your nose at first, but then the second inhale was smoother. Thanks to so many nights at the Hammer, your throat and lungs were sufficiently coated with tar and ready for the challenge.

The other owner of the Hammer was a well known real estate investor and builder named Murray Bauman, and he was a friend of the MC. They’d done several “jobs” for him over the years that were clean by MC standards, but dirty enough to ruin his reputation if they came to light. Murray was also notoriously unfriendly with the Gregson’s, and Eddie wondered how much Charlene had paid, and what kind of scandal she’d dug up on Stephen, to make him give up his share like that.

Eddie tilted his head back, exposing his throat, to take a long, thoughtful drag, looking up at the clear sky that was blinking full of stars. “I wish I could go back in time before I ever met Charlene, and avoid her at all costs.”

“I don’t know,” you looked down and kicked the heel of your shoe against your toe. “She’s awfully determined. I think she would’ve found you anyway. Plus, I don’t think it’s you she wants anymore.”

“I feel responsible though,” Eddie muttered, blowing smoke out through tight lips. “For everything that’s happened to the people around me because of her.”

The sound of Nancy saying something into the mic, followed by the crowd cheering, came muffled through the door, and you really wanted to change the subject, to pull him out of his dark thoughts. “I’d love to see you play tonight,” you told him right before both of your cherries glowed orange at the same time in the dark.

“I don’t have my guitar here,” he stated the obvious, sucking his tongue on the roof on a sharp inhale, angling his head back to blow smoke up while keeping his eyes on you. “But I might sing one or two with her. Just for you.”

“You can sing too?” Your eyes got wide like a little kid watching the twinkling lights on a Christmas tree.

“Hi, baby, have we met?” He scoffed, slipping his bottom lip through his teeth to repress a grin, and then he winked at you and smashed his smoke on the brick wall before throwing it in the dumpster. He caught you by the hips and pulled you flush to him. “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

—--------

Back on his stool, Steve rolled a toothpick between his lips while he scanned the crowd, and did his best not to look over at Billy and Charlene. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him more; the fact that she had the nerve to show up after everything, or that she was there with Billy.

The crew from Lucifer’s Own were known for doing the dirty deeds no other MC would touch. They ran a high-end escort service on the outskirts of town, and did a lot of blow and opiate smuggling over the border. It was also a front for an underground fighting ring that was dirty and rigged, and sometimes, the fools who participated ended up with broken bones, or had their lights turned out completely.

Billy Hargrove and Steve went way back, and they’d actually been friendly acquaintances for a while back in high school, until Billy had pursued a girl Steve liked at the time just to piss him off. Also, to prove to Steve that he could take whoever he wanted. “Nothing wrong with a little competition, right, Harrington?” Is that what this was? Was Billy escorting Charlene around just to rub it in Steve’s face?

“Yeah, well, you can have her,” Steve mumbled to himself under his breath, thoughts racing so fast that he was starting to talk to himself, head bent to work the end of the toothpick with his fingers. “Good luck with that one, buddy, you’ll need it.”

There was more feedback from the speakers. “Hey there Hawkins, who is ready to rock?” Nancy purred into the microphone, one hand gripping the fretboard of her guitar before she slung the strap around her body. People shouted and cheered, and there were a few high-pitched whistles of encouragement.

The bassist with the band looked like a younger version of Eddie, but with a mane of black hair that was thick with tight curls, and the drummer had a black goatee and long, straight hair way past his shoulders. The backup guitarist looked like he was cut right out of the James Hetfeild playbook.

“We’re gonna start out with a little something familiar to get y’all warmed up,” Nancy said into the mic. “This one is called I Hate Myself for Loving You.”

The crowd roared, pounding their fists on the tables. Nancy said a countdown before she began a slow clap to the beat and the drums kicked in, deep bass vibrating in the walls.

When Steve looked up, he saw Charlene making her way across the room, either for the payphone or the restrooms, and Steve straightened up, wondering if he should say something to her. He went up to the bar and patted Thumper on his broad back, asking him to watch the door for a few minutes. Thumper was three beers and several shots in, but was not yet showing any signs of inebriation. He fisted a handful of his graying beard and told Steve it was no problem.

“Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you…”

He followed but he hung back, hiding in the crowd until he saw her go into one of the bathrooms. When you and Eddie came out from the alley, you found Steve leaning against the wall that was heavily papered in band flyers, next to the payphone.

Eddie was walking behind you,his hands firm on your hips, moving his legs in time with yours. You both came to a halt at the sight of Steve, and you had to shove off, back to work, but Eddie took your hand to kiss your knuckles before you walked away.

“Everything cool?” Eddie asked his friend, checking around to make sure no chaos had ensued while he’d been outside with you. There was a huge crowd there, packed in like sardines. All of the tables and bar stools were occupied, and plenty of people were taking advantage of the standing room only, blocking most of the walkways.

“I’m not sure yet, man,” Steve put his head back against the wall, Adam’s apple jutting out. “But I’ll let you know.”

“I called Van and told him to get over here with Devlin,” Eddie let him know. “Just in case more of Lucifer’s Own try to cause trouble.”

Steve only nodded, absently, his eyes twitching to the bathroom door every so often. Eddie clapped Steve a few times on the arm before turning to watch the band as he pushed his way through the crowd. Nancy made her fingers into devil horns in the air at him and Eddie returned the gesture, raising his arm high.

“I think of you every night and day

You took my heart and you took my pride away…”

The crowd was stomping their feet to the rhythm and belting out the chorus. Nancy detached the mic from the stand to make her way across the stage.

The second Steve saw the door open, he took long strides across the hallway to keep Charlene from exiting, pushing her back inside the single-person bathroom. She did not protest as he braced the door and locked it behind him, turning to face her with a tight jaw.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Char?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” She hushed it, dropping her gaze as if suddenly she was afraid to look at him. “I missed you.”

“Jesus Christ, Charlene, you need to stop.” He rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated. “I’m sorry for how I treated you at the hotel, but this needs to end.”

“But what if I don’t want to stop?” She closed in on him, lifting her hands to hold his face, but he blocked the effort, restraining her at the wrists. “What if I want you so bad, it hurts?”

He met her eyes. “You miss me and you thought fucking Billy would be the answer?”

“We’re not fucking, it’s not like that with him. Not like it was with you.” She struggled a little in his grasp just so he would tighten his grip on her.

Steve scoffed. “You mean, not like it was with me and Eddie and your husband and every other dude you’ve spread your legs for in this town?” Steve wasn’t one to judge, not with the amount of pussy he’d run through over the years, but still, showing up with one of his rivals was a low blow.

Charlene slammed forward so that Steve’s back hit the door, her breath hot and urgent on his neck. “No one fills me up like you do. I need your cock to split me open one last time, Stevie, please.”

She sank to her knees, kissing down his chest as she went, and he let her, releasing her wrists so that she could make quick work of unbuttoning his Levi’s. She licked around his balls and nuzzled her face in the hair at the base of his thick shaft, making hungry gasps of need as she did so.

He hissed when the fat head of his cock sank into her mouth. “Juss…just one more time,” he groaned as she lapped him up. She hummed around his length and nodded, looking up at him, agreeing as her lips strained to take the measure of his girth.

“I know you’re angry, Steve,” she flicked her tongue out over the ridge a few times like a poisonous snake about to strike. “I want you to take it out on me.”

He fisted a handful of her hair, tight, so that he controlled the movements of her head, and it made her whimper with pleasure.

—------

The next song Divine Filth sang was an original, a real headbanger that had Nancy growling into the mic and jabbing her devil horn fingers in the air. The bass guitarist’s fingers strummed the keys while the drummer spun his sticks high in the air and caught them. You noticed that a few of the male patrons were choosing to go outside to take a piss, which meant there was another line at the bathrooms again, but you were too busy to go over and check out why.

While Erika was on her break, it was your responsibility to go over and check on Billy, since Jackie was working the other side of the room. Two more of the Coffin Kings had just arrived and Eddie was out in the parking lot having a talk with them, being that it was hard to have a conversation inside with the band playing.

You made your way over to Billy’s table, noticing that Charlene was nowhere to be found. One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin while he watched you approach, and you wondered if he knew who you were and who you belonged to. You also wondered if he gave a shit.

As you got closer, you noticed that he had a pronounced scar from his eye to his jaw, and he didn’t have a ton of tattoos like the other boys, but there was the word “mother” above a heart with a dagger through it just under the sleeve of his t-shirt on his bicep and a Lucifer’s Own insignia on his opposite forearm.

He was slouched down a bit in his seat, knees spread wide, voice raised to be heard over the music. “You must be War Machine’s old lady,” he gave you a lift of his chin.

“You are correct,” you said with your best customer service smile.

“Damn,” his hand made a cage around the pack of smokes on the table so he could pull it toward him. His eyes locked onto your face, unwavering. “That son of a bitch always had good taste.”

“If you say so,” you checked over your shoulder, expecting to see Eddie charging over with that dangerous scowl on his face, but he wasn’t inside yet. You cleared your throat. “Can I get you anything else?”

He ordered another beer for himself and a tequila for Charlene, even though you knew she was much more of a wine drinker.

“Just put it on Charlene’s tab,” he said with a wink, alluding to the fact that she was practically your boss now. “But this is for you,” and before you could reach for the 20 dollar bill he had in his hand, he was stuffing it into the waistband of your shorts, fingers grazing your bare skin, watching the discomfort wash over your face as he did so.

You turned on your heel without another word, bee-lining back to the bar, when Eddie stepped through the main door so abruptly, you almost crashed into him.

Devlin and Van moved around the two of you while Eddie put one hand on your lower back and the other cupped the back of your neck. “You okay, baby?” He mumbled, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, but then Eddie looked over in the direction you had just come and saw Billy there, flicking the flame on his lighter and watching the interaction between the two of you. You knew what Eddie was looking at by the way his body tensed. “Did Billy say something to you?”

“I had to wait on his table while Erika was on her break,” you were pulling your boyfriend away as you were talking, practically dragging him back to his seat at the bar. “Nothing happened, I’m fine. I just missed you.”

On stage, Nancy lit into a mean guitar solo.

“You sure?” Eddie’s stare was hard.

“Hey,” you grabbed Eddie’s face, making him look at you. “Baby, can’t you see? He wants to start trouble. Just ignore him. Please, for me.”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw muscles bulged and a dark fell over his brown eyes, making them almost black.

“No baby,” you hummed the lie. Eddie had quite a bit of common sense, more so than Steve when it came to affairs of the heart, but you knew that someone would get hurt if you told him about the way Billy had slid that money into your shorts. You had no doubt that Eddie could handle himself, but you didn’t want there to be any more fighting; everyone had already been through enough. Plus, Billy was not the first guy at the Hammer to overstep, and he wouldn’t be the last. Sadly, that was the nature of the work, you’d come to realize.

Eddie took a breath and lowered his forehead to yours, slotting his fingers around your ears so that his thumbs grazed your cheeks. “I’ll be good, sweetheart,” he promised.

Everyone clapped at the end of the song and then you heard Eddie’s name being said over the speakers.

“We’re lucky enough to have the frontman for Corroded Coffin here with us tonight,” Nancy started. “And he said he might get up here for a song or two. What do you say, Munson?”

The crowd went wild at that suggestion, and some even chanted his last name, punching fists into the air. Nancy motioned him on stage with a few scoops of her fingers.

“I guess I’m doing this,” he said, parting your lips with his tongue for a brief but firm kiss before he made his way to the stage. The James Hetfield guy was already taking off his guitar to hand it to Eddie before he could protest, and they clapped hands together in greeting. Your “old man” was adjusting the strap over his shoulder when he looked out over the sea of heads and caught your eye.

“I love you,” Eddie mouthed, taking the pic off of the chain that he had dangling around his neck.

—-------

Five minutes earlier, Steve had Charlene bent over the sink in the bathroom, jeans low on his hips, yanking her head back by the throat as he jackhammered himself inside of her.

“Tighter,” she whined, and his fingers closed in on her windpipe. He’d pushed her thong to the side and was spitting every so often so that he could watch it slide down her slit and mix with the frothing wet mess of her arousal where his cock sank into her. He didn’t need the saliva to lube his brutal pace, but he liked the idea of spitting on her, it helped him work through his hatred.

“God Steve, you’re so fucking good, fuckkk,” she dragged the last word out as hips clapped onto her with rapid, forceful grunts, making her whole body jerk each time he made contact.

He slowed the pace for a few thrusts so that he could spit again, and then he used his thumb to rub the saliva around the pink hole that tightened at his touch. He’d never been with a woman who had every inch of hair removed like her, she looked like some kind of porn star. He wanted to be in her ass one last time, but it felt too tight and warm where he was. He was close.

He let go of her throat and clutched her hips on either side in a way that would bruise, angling to finish himself off.

“You’re such a fucking whore for my cock,” he bit out. He wished she didn’t feel so fucking good. He wished that his disgust for her didn’t also turn him on in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Charlene’s eyes rolled back in her head, orgasm mounting rapidly as he buried himself base deep to a point where the line between pleasure and pain was blurred. She knew this was a farewell reminder, and it made her cry out his name.

“Fuck Steve, I’m cumming,” a few more pumps and she was exploding around his length, legs shaking at the way the wave crashed over her, making her see white.

“Get on your knees,” Steve told her, his hips stuttering. When she was down in front of him, he jerked himself the rest of the way off onto her outstretched tongue, ropes of cum painting her chin and dripping down to her cleavage. He made her lick the rest of him clean, and then she sucked her fingers.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, hold your fucking horses,” Steve shouted, pulling his jeans up. He helped Charlene get her bodysuit back on and zipped up. He almost kissed her, but then he remembered who she was.

He checked himself in the mirror and slicked his hair back before letting her know she should wait a minute until after he was gone before she followed him out. She was cleaning the mascara that had leaked down her cheeks, and was about to apply more lipstick, when she caught his eyes on her in the reflection.

“What if I told you I had a gift for you?” Her expression was coy.

Steve sighed. “I don’t want anything from you, Char. This was it, I’m done, I mean it.”

She rolled the red lipstick out of its gold tube. “What if it was something that would change your life?”

He thought about that, wetting his lips. “Listen, we’re never gonna fuck again. I don’t care if you buy me a Ferrari.”

“Well, it’s better than a car,” she huffed a small laugh. “Let’s just call it a…parting gift. A way for me to say sorry for everything I put you and Eddie through.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and put his back against the door. “Yeah, well, if this is about to be some grande gesture from you, I’d like to know what the catch is.”

She turned to him, fixing the ends of her hair around her face. “No catch, not this time,” she took a step forward, holding her black clutch in one hand. “Listen, I know it sounds childish and stupid, but I think I…I think I fell in love with you.” She furrowed her brow as if the sentiment didn’t make sense to her, as if she’d never grasped the weight of the words before.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he rolled his eyes and barked a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“I can’t change the past,” she tried to push her chest out, to get her statuesque posture back. “But I can try to make it up to you. To both of you.”

“Yeah?” Steve gave her a bored shrug. “Personally, I think you’re way past the point of redemption.”

“Maybe,” she pressed her lips together and took hold of the door handle. “I guess we’ll see.”

—------

All of your attention was eyes front on Eddie as he leaned over to discuss something with Nancy, lengthening the strap on his guitar as he spoke. You barely noticed someone trying to make their way through the crowd until Steve bumped into your shoulder, making you sway on your feet.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he caught you and helped you find your balance. “I didn’t see you there.”

Steve looked…disheveled, and his face was flushed, as if he’d just run around the block. There were lines in his hair from raking his fingers through it so many times.

“You good?” You called after him, but all he offered was a “thumbs up” over his shoulder.

It was barely a minute before you caught sight of Charlene coming out of the hallway, following in his wake. She had a pink flush to the pale skin of her throat, almost a perfect handprint impression, and your brain was busy putting the pieces together when Nancy got back on the mic.

“This one is called Wild Child,” Nancy started on the guitar and people in the crowd got crazy again. The Hell’s Belle next to you whistled so loud, it almost blew your eardrum out. You weren’t too familiar with the band W.A.S.P. before Eddie, but you knew the song, and waited eagerly to hear his voice as he leaned in, moving his fingers along the strings.

“I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain

A creature of love, and I can't be tamed

I want you, 'cause I'm gonna take your love from him

And I'll touch your face and hot burning skin

No, he'll never ever touch you like I do…”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sang the first bit, hair hanging down his shoulders, muscles flexing under the ink that covered his forearms and hands. When his eyes opened, he found you in the crowd, and your heart swelled at the way he cracked a smile around the words at the sight of you.

“So look in my eyes and burn alive, the truth

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you…”

God, he was magic up there. He looked like a natural, holding that guitar in his hands, the way his fingers flew deftly to each note.

And he was all yours.

The chorus came and you sang the words, smiling so hard already, your cheeks hurt. You’d never known your eyes to “sparkle” like a cartoon before, but you felt like that’s what they were doing.

“My heart's in exile, I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I want you”

Someone grabbed your elbow, and you spun around to see who it was.

Jackie had a full tray in her hand, trying to balance it amidst the moving bodies. “Hey, are you on the floor right now? Don’t mean to be a bitch, but I need you. A table full of jarheads just showed up.”

“Oh shit, right,” you’d honestly forgot where you were for a moment, you’d been so caught up in that Munson Magic. You took another glance at the stage, wanting to catch Eddie’s eye, but he was looking down at his hands, concentrating on where they worked the guitar.

The table in your section that Jackie mentioned had seven guys in their mid-twenties sporting that type of “high and tight” haircut that you saw almost exclusively with members of military or law enforcement, and you took a deep breath, because you never knew what the vibe would be for those types of men who visited the Hammer. Either they’d be extremely polite like they just came from church, or they’d be vile and disrespectful.

“What’ll it be tonight, boys?” You asked, sidling up to their table. “Buy one pitcher of draft and get the next half off.”

They all turned to appraise you, not caring that the way their lewd stares locking on your body and tits made you uncomfortable.

“See, I told you,” the dark haired one said to the one in the red and white striped polo shirt. “The bitches here are super hot.”

You gulped, doing your best to restrain from looking as disgusted as you felt while they talked about you like you weren’t even there.

“How much for you to sit in my lap?” One of them asked.

“How much for you to suck me off?” One of them whispered, and the whole table guffawed into the type of laughter that was not warranted for something that was so not funny.

You checked over your shoulder for Steve, and he appeared to be escorting someone out who’d just been cut off. There was a bench outside, and he always had them wait there while he called a member of their family or a taxi to come pick them up. The guy was having a hard time getting his legs to work, and Steve had to practically carry him out.

You glanced up at the stage when the other song ended, and you could tell Eddie was searching for you, and so you stuck your hand up in the air to catch his attention.

“This one is for my girl,” he pushed hair out of his face and the sentiment made you freeze. A goofy grin stretched across your face and you let out an actual giggle. You were very familiar with the opening notes of Cinnamon Girl by Type O Negative.

“So, a pitcher of beer, then?” You asked, distracted, but in a much better mood than you were a few seconds ago. The guys at the table were too busy being crass to decide what they wanted to drink, so you chose for them. They agreed on the pitcher, and ordered a round of shots.

You kept your attention on Eddie as you made your way across the space, and your heart was in your throat at how proud you were to be his. His voice was deep and powerful, and it seemed like no one could pull their eyes away. The air was a bit humid inside, and you could see a sheen of sweat on his skin already glistening, bangs sticking to his forehead. He’d taken off his Coffin Kings cut and shirt, so he was up there in a ribbed, white tank of the Hanes variety, exposing the wash of dark tattoos over his shoulders and arm muscles that bulged from hours upon hours of manual labor.

“I want to live with a cinnamon girl

I could be happy the rest of my life with her

A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night

You see us together, chase the moonlight…”

At the bar, you considered letting Van and Devlin know that there were some guys there who might start trouble now that Steve was distracted, but then you remembered that you were the bad bitch who stabbed Craig in the balls and brought him to his knees—-you could handle a few young douchebags.

You gave Shana the drink order while Eddie’s deep voice bellowed, “my cinnamon girl, my cinnamon girl…” to the collective swooning of the crowd.

You waited on two other couples, lingering in the middle of the room so that you could see Eddie more clearly, dragging your feet before you had to return to the guys with the matching haircuts.

You took a cleansing breath and squared your shoulders before heading back. You tried not to be bothered by the way the dudes checked you out as you put the drinks down. When you were finished, the guy closest to you, with close-set eyes and a thick neck, ran his hand up the back of your leg.

“Hey,” your stare hardened on him and you stepped away, eyebrows pinching together. “No touching.”

The guys all snickered at that, as if it was so funny that they all knew they weren’t supposed to touch the staff, but they still got away with it.

“No he’s sorry, really,” said the tall, skinny one who hadn’t spoken up yet. His face was unreadable, you couldn’t tell if he was being a shitheel or not. The table fell silent for a beat. “But we would really like to know how much it would cost for handjobs, all around. Is there a group price for you girls?”

More idiotic cackling.

You turned to leave them, to go find Steve, to let him know you needed his assistance, but the one with the blonde hair and Limp Bizkit shirt caught you by the arm, digging his fingers in, and yanked you back so that his other hand could roam the curve of your ass. “Just a little feel, baby, we’ll tip good, I promise.”

You pushed him off and were just about to yell for Steve or Thumper when you saw the guy across the round table get his face smashed into the wood, so hard that blood splattered and you could hear the sick crack of breaking bone.

You were surprised to see Billy there, standing behind the one who was clutching his broken nose and wailing. He was smiling, cigarette bobbing between his lips. “I think you bozo’s should apologize to the lady.”

You hadn’t heard the music stop, didn’t realize that the commotion had drawn most of the attention to you.

In a flash, the guy in the Limp Bizkit shirt was ripped from his seat, and there was Eddie, picking him up by the throat to punch him across the face, sending him flying.

The impact made saliva and possibly a tooth go spitting from his mouth and you screamed at the shock of it.

“Eddie look out!” You shouted. The tall one was about to take a cheap shot at Eddie’s ribs while he sank another punch into the guy’s jaw, but you came down with your serving tray as hard as you could and nailed him.

“Holy shit,” Steve cursed when he stuck his head inside to see what the commotion was. Thumper was nowhere to be found, and Steve figured he was taking a piss. Starting brawls inside the Hammer was not protocol. Bouncers were always encouraged to take everything outside, but now it was too late.

“Get her out of here!” you heard Steve’s voice, he was talking to Devlin, and then you were being pulled back by cautious hands, away from the chaos.

One of the jarheads was just about to break a beer glass over Eddie’s head, but Billy showed up out of nowhere and kicked him in the back, sending the asshole flying right into Steve’s awaiting fist. The guy’s body crashed into a table, shattering glasses, and making the other patrons scatter.

“You better leave this one for me, Harrington,” Billy smiled and wiggled his tongue. “Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Billy was helping them, and that was a twist you hadn’t expected. Perhaps it wasn’t so much for them as for himself, since you could tell Billy had been looking for a fight all night.

Steve got one of the other guys in a choke hold and began to drag him outside. Billy made wide eyes at one of the leftover trouble makers and charged after him, making the guy shriek like he was about to pee his pants before running from the building.

While the one Eddie had been punched was babbling at the foot of unconsciousness on the ground, he took hold of the one with the close-set eyes and the thick neck who had rubbed your leg first.

Eddie had been watching, and quick to cut off before the end of the song to jump down from the stage in a blinding rage.

Devlin held you loosely by the arms, but you shook him off, and stood next to Shana and Erika, continuing to keep your distance for the sake of Eddie and Steve’s peace of mind, and wincing each time one of the other dudes took a hard hit from one of the Coffin Kings.

Eddie took the guy by the shirt and sent a punch into his stomach. Mister Thick Neck doubled over but then Eddie took him by the throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. Eddie had his fist winding back for a punch when Steve shouted his name to get his attention.

The rest of the dickheads had been escorted outside by a few Hell’s Belle’s, while the rest of the crowd kept their distance. You saw Charlene in the far corner, touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror, seemingly unphased by it all.

“Not in here,” Steve pleaded with Eddie, breathlessly. “Like you said.”

Eddie’s eyes were black and cold like that of a shark. His mouth trembled with the urge to actually bite into the guy’s face, to mutilate him with his bare teeth and make him beg for mercy.

Eddie banged the guy's body into the brick wall again, locking him there with his forearm. “Apologize to my girl,” he growled.

The buzz cut guy coughed and struggled, having a hard time breathing. “I don’t know who your girl is, man,” he was only able to squeak out a mild protest under the pressure of Eddie’s grip.

“Your waitress,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth.

The guy against the wall tried to turn his head to look for you, but Eddie squeezed his face. “You don’t get to look at her,” Eddie fumed. “Just say you’re sorry.”

Multiple desperate “sorry’s” followed, and then Eddie told Steve to get the guy’s wallet to take all of the cash out. A quick count said there was about a hundred bucks.

“That’ll be her tip,” Eddie announced, dragging him by the shirt collar to take him outside with the rest.

They were all told to empty their wallets of their cash, and Steve made a scene of noting the addresses on their driver’s licenses.

“I have a memory like a steel trap,” Steve lied, pointing to his temple, grabbing the guy in the red and white polo by the side of his neck, getting up in his face. “If you so much as walk by this place ever again, or tell the cops about this, you’ll see me in your nightmares. Now, get the fuck out of here before I call your mommies.”

You sank in next to Eddie’s side just outside the main entrance, and he put his arm around you. “Will things ever calm down around here?” You asked with a heavy sigh, watching the broken group scurry and limp away down the street.

Eddie gave a low laugh and hugged you a bit tighter. “God, I hope so, baby.”

Divine Filth started another song, to try and get things back to normal, and most of the crowd returned to their drinks as if there had not been actual bloodshed just five minutes ago.

No one but Shana heard the phone next to the cash register ring over the sound of the music, but after a few seconds, she shrugged by you and Eddie to stick her head out and scan the sidewalk.

"Steve?" She craned her neck to look for him.

"Yeah, that's me," he came from around the back side of the door, flicking his cigarette, knuckles split and bloody again.

"Some guy named Dustin called," she said, merely passing on a message. "He said Suzie just went into labor."

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Love love you all for cheering this story on, hope you enjoyed this one. Your thoughts and reblogs are appreciated and cherished.

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#I'm on Fire #Eddie munson fic #Eddie Munson series #biker!eddie #biker!steve #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington smut #biker au #90's au #Nancy Wheeler #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Spotify #protective!eddie #jealous!eddie

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cchoibit · 1 year ago

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Johnny Silverhand x Reader

Start of a series <3

-this is my first fic!

Word count: 950

Night city was breathtaking at night. The people that had filled the streets earlier in the day were home. It made the bustling streets look like a ghost town. It was always somewhat quiet down here. The occasional honk or yelling from streets away. The neon signs illuminated the streets below just enough to cast a good enough light. It made you feel like you were the last person on earth.

You sat in an alley way, a few steps away from the door back into the club. The lights from the windows danced along the walls of the alley.. Pulling out a new cigarette you discarded the other, dropping it and putting it out with your boot with one quick movement. You lit the new one and took a long drag and looking up at the muted sky. The music from the club carried its way towards you. Making you feel like you were still inside, getting tossed around in the crowd. Samurai. It had taken you an embarrassing amount of time to find out when and where they would play, but here you are. And you’re sitting outside the club, smoking.

At some point you had gotten off the curb and headed back inside the mess. The lights and sounds were the complete opposite of how it was in the alley. Pulling your t-shirt down you made your way to the bar. Perfect, could enjoy the show and have a drink. You ordered the strongest thing they had and downed it. You were out of your zone. You turned in the bar stool and watched the band play. How happy they all looked together. Then you looked at him. Johnny silverhand. The best rocker in all of night city. A girls wet dream. You watched him play the his guitar, he seemed so comfortable with it. It astounded you, the last time you tried to play the guitar you get mad and never tried again.

When the music began to die down and the people inside started to fill out of the club you decided to have one last drink. Just something to tie you over before you had to find your next place to sleep. A man slid into the seat next to you, talking to you about god knows what and obviously trying to find a way into your skirt. Bottle in hand, you left. Heading straight back towards that alleyway.

You took a cigarette out and lit it, standing in the corner where the two buildings connected. It was humid. You noticed the door to another section of the club open, a bright light, and voices. Yelling voices. Someone stumbled out, talking shit to someone else you could barely see in the door. You walked forward just to see who was there when you stopped. Johnny fucking silverhand stood in front of you. His hair a mess and his eyes locked on to yours.

“What the fuck are you doing back here” Johnny hissed at you

“I’m sorry - I really am I was just coming back here to smoke I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry” you stammered out to him, this was embarrassing.

Johnny took a step towards you, and then stopped. “You got a light?” He asked you, an eyebrow raised. “Oh god yes of course.” You handed him your light, cringing as he grabbed the pink lighter from your hands. He chuckled and threw it back towards you. You watched the smoke leave his mouth and you averted your eyes. You were being so weird. You cleared your throat and looked up at him. You didn’t expect him to be so tall, or maybe you were just short.

“You at the show tonight?” He asked you, sounding very unimpressed.

You nodded at him, telling him about how you had came out here previously when it was getting to be too much in the club. Johnny took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke to his left and then smiled at you. Your face flushed and you immediately looked away, taking a drag of your cig again, your hands shook. Down the street there was yelling, farther away were sirens. You looked at him again, side eyed, not wanting him to know you were looking at him. His metal arm glistened so pretty in the semi dim light back here. He was pretty. That’s for sure. You cleared your throat again. “The show was good, I enjoyed it, I mean I’ve been listening to your music for god knows how long.. first time to a show though.” You were rambling and he knew that.

He chuckled, “yeah kid? Glad you enjoyed it”. He alone was something you didn’t expect. Johnny was known for his over the top ways and here he was, calling you kid and listening to your ramblings. How uncanny. You took one last drag of your cig and stamped it in the ground. “Well, I should uh get going.” He looked at you for a second, “yeah sure kid, here hold on.” You watched him fiddle in his pocket, “shit. Wait right here.” He went to the door and opened it, the light seemed brighter. When he returned to you he held a pen. Johnny smiled at you and grabbed your arm, a jolt went through you and your face flushed, no hiding it this time. “That’s my number. Call me.” He flicked the pen on the ground and walked back to the door. “I uh, I will thank you.” You told him as he opened and walked through the door, shutting it behind him. Leaving you completely alone in the alley.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk x reader #johnny silverhand #silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x reader

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touchbased · 10 months ago

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she isn't normally in the habit of approaching strangers (unless it's for some bullshit sponsorship video, but tonight is distinctly a night off from the job), but he doesn't exactly feel like one. not in that one look and i'm falling in love or i feel like i knew you in another life bullshit, but in the very practical i'm pretty sure we had a class together before you dropped out and we didn't talk that much, but you let me copy your notes when i was too hungover to pay attention sense. and while kara doesn't exactly know what compels her to follow him out of the dingy bar, sticky beer clinging to her booted heels as she walks out, she suddenly finds herself on a mission. approaches him slowly, carefully, like he might run at the sight of her, or maybe like she's already second guessing herself and debating leaving, before relaxing slightly. "oh, no thanks. i prefer to kill my lungs with good ole' metal, thanks." takes the vape out of her pocket and waves it at him before taking a puff. "you should try it. my fingers never smell like tobacco and i get to try weird flavors like blueberry ice." if you're gonna die, you might as well make it fun, right? tilts her head as she leans a shoulder against the wall. the dj is now playing some song that was popular in the nineties, the crowd drunkenly belting along, and she thinks about how nice the cool air feels at her red cheeks. "you look kind of familiar." thinks she'll remember that stature, those curls, until the day the nicotine makes her kick the bucket. "were you ever in a seminar about the iliad and how homer was like, totally off his rocker?"

open to: anyone.

featuring: samuel 'oz' osbourne, twenty two, bisexual, aspiring poet.

plot: after dropping out of college to pursue a failing career in writing, oz spends the majority of his time lurking around bars and coffee shops in the centre of the city, searching for inspiration in whatever people or situations charm him. one night, verging towards the end of his daily escapade out, he meets your muse at a bar.

oz didn't know when smoking had become a habit, something he needed to do to feel sane, it had once been nothing more than something to feel cool and mature, yet now it was a necessity. an expensive one at that. his mother would have slapped the cigarette out from his mouth if she could see him there, leaning up against the outside wall of the bar, fiddling with his paper and tobacco, before dragging him to the nearest bathroom to wash his mouth out with soap. not because smoking was a nasty habit, no, her upset couldn't be so simple, she'd have to make it about her somehow, turn it into an insult about how ungrateful he was to be alive that he had to destroy his body out of spite, all to make her suffer. he brought the paper up to his mouth to lick as the door beside him opened and someone hobbled out. he didn't look over to them, instead, he focused on rolling his cigarette into a tight roll, careful to not let the filter slip out from the end. it tastes better when you roll them yourself, a girl he once dated briefly had told him, and he'd never bought another pack of marlboros again. the person who had stumbled out seemed to be hovering, not close enough for him to be uncomfortable, but enough so to feel their presence. once his cigarette was rolled, oz turned his dark eyes up to the stranger and met their already expectant gaze. "do you want one?" that was usually the reason people lingered around, he didn't mind as it sometimes led to interesting conversation, and he liked to keep his hands busy anyways so he was often prerolling for later. he held the cigarette out between two long, slender fingers and waited for them to take it, if that was the reason they insisted on their close proximity.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ filed under ⤳ kara andersson ( interactions )#thcophagy #you are an enabler

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hongism · 4 years ago

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touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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housewarningparty · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! Big fan of your writing. :) For the writing prompts, could I request #3 for Chloe Price and Victoria Chase?

hi i’m so sorry it took me a month to do this! thank you for the prompt! i think this is my first chaseprice. originally this was going to be sad, but i didn’t feel like bumming anyone (including me) out tonight so instead it got, uhhh, vaguely smutty.

3. “It’s three in the morning.”

“It’s August 17th. Grass is green. That sleeve is way more trailer trash than badass punk rocker.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were we not just reciting a list of the obvious at each other?”

“Fuck, Victoria, just get in the car before I change my mind,” Chloe practically growls, leaning across the cab to throw the passenger side door open in invitation.

“Why would I do that?” Victoria asks, but doesn’t stop, forcing Chloe to keep creeping down the street in her truck with the door open, like some kind of stranger danger-ass creep.

“Because it’s three in the morning and you’re walking down the street alone at night by yourself, like an idiot,” Chloe barks. She’s trying to do the right thing, trying to be like… all conscientious and shit. It hardly feels worth it, when once again, Victoria Chase finds a way to make her feel like a totally useless idiot the moment she opens her mouth. “Why are you walking down the street alone at night by yourself like an idiot?”

“Why are you stalking me in your truck?” Victoria tosses back. “You know, you’re not doing much for all those awful stereotypes about predatory lesbians, Chloe. What’s next? Going to offer me some candy? What, are you a friend of my mom’s?”

“Your mom and I aren’t friends, she just eats me out when your dad’s not home,” Chloe says and the tension in her shoulders, the sharp sting of humiliation reddening the back of her neck eases when Victoria chokes out a laugh. “Now stop being a bitch and get in the fucking car. It’ll be faster. Put us both out of our misery.”

Victoria actually pauses this time, glancing around the street before eyeing Chloe’s truck with suspicion.

“No one’s gonna see,” Chloe rolls her eyes and leans back into her seat. “Literally everyone smarter than you’s at home in bed right now. So, like, the whole town.”

With a huge sigh, Victoria hauls herself into the truck, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the whole cab. She smells like expensive perfume, peppermint schnapps and wood smoke. She kicks her towering heels off immediately, pulling her stockinged feet up onto the bench and tucking herself into the corner of the cab.

Stockings. She’s wearing stockings under that short skirt, riding up even shorter with the twist of her legs. Stockings, like some kind of sexy old-timey movie star fantasy run amok. Chloe wonders how Victoria Chase finds a way to be 18 and 81 at the same time.

“Whose party?” Chloe asks once she drags her eyes away from Victoria’s legs, pretending she doesn’t see the smirk on Victoria’s face that means she absolutely noticed.

“The Vortex Club’s. Who else?” Victoria asks, running a hand through her hair. It’s shorter now than the last time Chloe saw her, a few months ago. It makes her look older, more mature. It leaves Chloe feeling even more like a stupid teenager, fumbling and uncouth, even though she’s technically older than Victoria.

“Yeah, stupid question,” Chloe mutters. It feels dangerous, just the two of them in Chloe’s truck like this. “Not like you hang out with anyone else.”

“It’s called having standards,” Victoria sniffs. “Maybe if you tried it sometime you wouldn’t be nearly twenty and still getting busted by the cops for smoking pot and blowing up GI Joes with firecrackers behind the Circle K.”

“You heard about that?” Chloe laughs. It’s a little embarrassing, and David had given her absolute hell over it once word got back to him from his little buddies in blue, but Christ, it had been funny.

“About how somehow you’re an adult who has the life of a Toy Story villain and you’re, like, fine with it? Yeah, Chloe. I heard about it.”

“And you think my life would be, what, different? Better? If I just wanted it to be? If I had your standards?” Chloe asks, pulling into the darkest corner of the Blackwell student lot and killing the engine. The cab is dark but for the light streaming in through the back window from streetlamp a few rows over. The night is silent without the rattle of the truck’s old engine. Chloe slithers across the seat like she’s been wanting to do since Victoria got into the truck. Closer, she can read the expression Victoria’s face a bit better – a little expectant, a little disbelieving, like she always seems to be when they’re together like this.

Like she’s halfway between scared and excited and she likes it best right there, between the two.

“I think our lives are what we make them,” Victoria says, voice even and calm, despite the quickening of her breath. Her makeup’s gently faded from the night, except for the lipstick Chloe saw her touching up on the street before she pulled up alongside her. It’s bright red, applied just a little too thick, Victoria a little too drunk to make it perfect. “I think if you want to be successful and you work hard for it, it will happen.”

Chloe wants to lean in and mess it up. She wants to taste it herself, scrape it off Victoria’s bottom lip with her teeth, smear it messily down her chin, her cheek. She wants that lipstick staining the collar of her shirt tomorrow when she wakes up.

But she waits.

“So people who don’t succeed, it’s just their fault for not wanting it enough, huh? For not working hard enough,” Chloe says and it makes her mad, kind of. But it doesn’t make her want Victoria less. Victoria says nothing, just keeps watching Chloe from across the bench, leg still tucked up under her. “Pretty rich girl like you, you would think that. Mommy and Daddy sending you to a fancy private art school. You would think that.”

“I worked hard to be here,” Victoria says.

“Yeah,” Chloe nods. “You and your standards.”

She leans forward, one hand behind Victoria’s head flat on the glass of the window, the other grasping the inside of a thigh, just under her skirt, just over where the stockings end. She applies the gentlest pressure, feels Victoria turn for her, legs falling open for her, hears the breath catch in Victoria’s throat.

Chloe knows an invitation when she sees one. She slides her hand higher.

You wouldn’t know how she was being touched from that perfectly cool look on Victoria’s face. Smug, almost bored. Chloe kind of admires her for it, even though she wants nothing more than to ruin that poise. It’s the challenge, the vaguely adversarial nature of the sex that keeps these encounters, brief and few that though they’ve been, interesting.

It doesn’t take long, really. Chloe’s good enough at this by now and Victoria’s drunk enough to not care that she’s being obvious. Within minutes she’s writhing against the door, shaking and swollen, dripping down Chloe’s wrist and begging to come.

So, of course Chloe pulls away.

Victoria keens, scrabbling desperately at Chloe’s retreating arm, panting and lipstick-smudged and nearly delirious. “Fuck. Fuck. Why’d you stop?”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t want any handouts, right?” Chloe drawls, and reaches over her shoulder for a fistful of her tanktop. She yanks the shirt up and over her head, liking the sound her necklace makes when it falls against her bare skin. And yeah, technically, this is a tremendously bad idea because they’re in the Blackwell parking lot and there’s security wandering around out there somewhere but, well. Fuck it. Life’s a risk.

“Are you serious right now?” Victoria glares, looking very regal and pissed off for a girl with her skirt hiked up over her hips. All the incandescent rage in the world couldn’t disguise the way her eyes keep drifting down to Chloe’s exposed breasts, though, the way she has to fight to meet Chloe’s eyes when she speaks.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been very fair of me not to give you a chance to earn it,” Chloe shrugs. “But, y’know, most people don’t know this about me but I’ve actually got a pretty fuckin generous spirit and shit. So, like, if you were to ask me nicely, I’m sure I could…”

“Oh fuck this,” Victoria snarls and for a moment Chloe thinks she must have finally pushed too far, that Victoria’s going to fumble her way out of the cab and stalk back to her room.

But instead she launches herself across the cab, shoving Chloe up against the other door so hard and clumsy and fast her elbow bounces hard enough off the steering wheel to make her whole arm go numb. But before she has a chance to complain about that Victoria’s in her lap, grinding against Chloe’s bare stomach while her fingers tug insistently at the metal bars through Chloe’s nipples.

She’s rough and pissed off and neither of them is going to last like this but, well. Victoria’s kind of a perfectionist, control-freak weirdo, right? Chances are she’ll want a few more rounds, to make it perfect.

Chloe’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

dialogue prompts

#life is strange #chaseprice #chloe price #victoria chase #good lord i hope this readmore sticks #prompt fills #the backstory for this WOULD BE #before max shows up #chloe and victoria have probably hooked up a few times but they're like. mean about it #basically my read on chaseprice is #mostly they're just hot jerks who would hook up a lot #and be absolutely terrible to each other ninety percent of the time #but the other ten percent has a tremendous capacity #to be tender #like chloe not letting victoria wander around drunk alone at night #and victoria being frustrated bc she thinks that chloe's better than the life she's living #anyway! we love some class tension in our smut #morphophoneme

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a-sweet-pea · 6 years ago

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Cowboy : Part Five

Anne tried to settle down and take stock of things, which was difficult with the pounding of a giant heartbeat at her back. Covering her ears had worked well enough for muffling Boone and the mystery “Cass”’s shouting conversation, but even with that over with, shutting out the world remained an impossible task as long as there was a rhythmic thud every moment, reminding her of it.

She ran her hand along the rough woven fabric surrounding her; she could work her fingernails between some of the looser threads. The pocket swayed in time with the distant thump of boots on dirt, which was replaced by a louder hollow thud, accompanied by a rusty creak. Saloon doors I bet. Anne covered her ears just in time to muffle another shouted conversation, this time with someone she guessed was a bartender.

It was all well and good for Boone to say he’d take her along with him but for how long? What if she was here for hours, for days? Was she just going to tag along with him wherever he went? Presumably, he had some kind of job working long hours in the hot sun moving cattle around or something that having to look after her would get in the way of. On the one hand, she didn’t want to be a bother. On the other hand, as overwhelming as the giant cowboy’s presence was, his absence was more frightening. Cats, rats, bugs, they would all be enormous; and if Boone was off somewhere without her, she would have to deal with them.

Light spilled into the pocket. Anne looked and stiled a yelp at the sight of a massive finger and thumb coming down through the opening of the pocket. It’s okay, she thought, taking a slow shaking breath as the fingertip brushed against her side. The thumb moved to the other side of her ribcage and both squeezed inward, trapping Anne between them. As the cloth hammock dropped out from under her, she wrapped each of her arms around massive digits for extra support as they lifted her up out of the pocket into relatively fresh air of the saloon.

“You alright?”

Anne blinked in the sudden (albeit dingy) light and found Boone’s face filling her vision. There was a slight upturn to his lips as he stared at her.

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” She hung there a moment. Boone was staring; smile growing on his face.

“C-could you…” She kicked her legs. Boone’s eyebrows went up and he cleared his throat.

“Right, sorry.” The hand moved down slowly. Anne took in as much of the room as she could as she was lowered to the wooden table; dusty patterned wallpaper, a few dingy windows, a wooden bar at the far end with no sign of the bartender (although there was a door to a back room left partway open through which the distant sound of scraping chairs and clinking glasses could be heard). Wonderfully, all but one table in the back was unoccupied, and the one occupant was slumped over in a booth snoring loudly.

“I don’t think dynamite would wake Doc Wilson.” He whispered, gesturing toward the sleeping man. “But I reckon I outta keep my voice down all the same; to keep Spencer from thinking I’ve gone off my rocker if nuthin’ else.”

Anne nodded and turned slowly to take in more of the room. Most of the view to the left of her was taken up by a tower of liquid and glass twice as tall as she was.

“That’s mine,” came the voice of the cowboy from above her. “Sorry we ain’t got cups your size.” Two enormous fingers nudged a cylinder of glass in front of her, sloshing the water inside. “I thought this might be a bit easier to manage.” A shotglass the size of a large trash can. She couldn’t have lifted it even if it were empty, but it was definitely easier to deal with than a pint.

Anne craned her neck; Boone had a shy, expectant kind of look on his face; like a second grader presenting his teacher with a crayon drawing to see if he ought to be proud of it or not. Anne smiled and nodded. “It’s great, thank you.” He smiled back, and Anne turned to the water and tried to work out how best to get it from the glass to her. She settled on scooping a bit up in her cupped hands which, while some portion of the liquid was lost in transit, mostly worked. Despite the metallic aftertaste and the lukewarm temperature, it was refreshing (any liquid would have been after all that desert wandering). From above her came a deep gurgle. Anne looked up; Boone was drinking as well, gallons and gallons drained in moments, an adams apple the size of a beach ball sliding up and down his neck as he did. He’s so big.

“Ah.” Boone exhaled and down came the glass with a thud that sent ripples through her own water. Anne must have jumped because he leaned down a bit and whispered “Sorry!” out of one side of his mouth.

“It’s okay.” She dipped her cupped hands back down into the shotglass and drank the handful before it dribbled through her fingers. “So,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on her own water (though even just the sound of Boone drinking was enough to make her knees feel weak). “You’ve got a card game tonight?”

“Sure do.” Boone’s whisper was many times louder than her normal voice, but the doctor sleeping in the booth didn’t show any sign of hearing it. “Every couple of days the boys from the ranch come into town and we play a few rounds of poker.”

“You don’t live at the ranch?” There was a pause as Boone downed another few dozen gallons of water from his glass.

“Naw, that’s for fellas doin’ the cattle drivin’. I’m more ‘a…” he frowned. “A what you might call a hired hand. Doin odd jobs for Mr. Calhoun when he needs it. Fixing fences, that sorta thing. How about you?” Anne looked up; Boone’s eyebrows were raised. “You live around here? I mean,” he chuckled. “I reckon I’d a seen you by now if you did, but mebbe not.”

Anne looked away from his encouraging smile. “No, I’m not from around here. I’m…it’s complicated.” She wasn’t sure complicated was the word for it. ‘I’m from about two hundred years in the future’ and ‘I’m not usually doll-sized’ these were simple enough concepts, it was explaining them that was complicated (primarily because Anne had yet to come up with the explanation). Worse than that, the perfectly simple answer to his simple question ‘You live around here’ wasn’t even simple. The answer was no of course, but the inevitable follow-up, ‘where are you from’ had no answer. Anne was from somewhere, and it was in the twenty-first century, she was sure of that. America, she was ninety percent sure of that; she was leaning toward midwest with a moderate level of certainty. But nothing more specific. Her house, her job, her friends, she struggled in vain to come up with anything specific, but it was like her head was hollow, all the memories scooped out and replaced by a grey fog.

“I’m having…trouble remembering…” Her voice wavered.

“Hey don’t worry about it,” Boone’s whisper had a forced cheeriness to it. “Better wait til we got the space to talk proper anyway” The screetch of the chair legs against the floor made her jump. Boone stood up to his full height, casting the whole table in shadow. “I gotta step outside anyhow; won’t be more’n a minute.”

Anne looked at the massive glass, mostly empty now.

He’s going to pee. Or pretend to so he can escape the conversation.

“Coast is clear.” He looked back and forth across the saloon. Anne did as well; the doctor was still asleep and the bartender was in the back room, presumably getting things ready for an evening of cards. “But you keep a low profile, awright?”

She shrugged. “That’s the only profile I have.”

Boone smiled and walked away through the doors of the saloon.

A/N: Consider this a 200 follower celebration! (I’m only at 198, but I have decided to count two porn bots I had to block, so that makes them good for something I guess)

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t fluff #g/t fiction #g/t writing #giant #giant cowboy #cowboy #asweetpea #asweetpeawriting

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tetrakys · 6 years ago

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My rewrite of MCL UL first dates - Castiel

I liked the Episode10, I just think the writing could have dared more. Here’s my take on Castiel’s date.

I was finishing my shower when I heard someone knocking on my dorm’s door.

“Yeleen? Come in!” I wrapped a towel around me before going into the room. “Why did you…”

It wasn’t Yeleen.

I pulled my towel tight around me, making sure nothing was showing and let him in.

“What are you doing here, Castiel? Weren’t we supposed to meet at the Snake Room?!”

“Y-yes, but, do you mind getting dressed first? It’s kind of flustering to have a conversation like this.”

He tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t hide the heath in his eyes while he tried and failed not to stare at me from head to toe. Was he really a little flustered? The big bad wolf. The famous rocker, man of the world.

“My my… did you change your mind about that shower?” I came a step closer grabbing the end of his tie nonchalantly “you are a little overdressed though.”

He looked me straight in the eye with a barely contained mischievous smirk at the corner of his lips and I realised… he was baiting me! He really was the big bad wolf! Damn… was I ever going to play on an even field with this guy?! Backing off before giving him a chance to call my bluff, pointing at the wardrobe behind him, I said “Just teasing” voice shaking just a little while avoiding his hot stare “move so I can grab some clothes.”

Instead of moving he rummaged through my closet for a few seconds and then handed me some clothes wadded up in a ball.

“I have always found your innocence so endearing, particularly when you try to act out all grown up.” He was openly grinning now, the asshole! “Get dressed, we’ll worry about that afterwards.”

I grabbed the clothes with one hand and locked myself securely up in the bathroom. Geez…

I straightened the clothes he had handed me and realised what he had picked. It was a little black dress he knew very well, he had given it to me as a gift for my birthday a few weeks before our break up. I had never had a chance to wear it while we were together and never had it in me to do it afterwards. I put it at the back of my closet and left it there for years but, for some reasons, I took it with me when I moved back in town. The subconscious can really work in funny and not-so-mysterious ways sometimes.

I put the dress on and realised right away that there were two big problems. First, my body had definitely changed in the past four years. Now I had boobs, and hips. The dress was very tight around my chest, making breathing a little more difficult than what it’s supposed to be, and short on my legs, reaching mid-thigh. This may have not been a great inconvenience if it wasn’t for the second problem: the bastard didn’t give me any underwear! I looked myself in the mirror and briefly considered asking him to get me something else to wear. Hell no, no tapping out. Endearing innocence my ass.

I quickly put on some make-up, just mascara and eyeliner, left my long hair still a little dump hanging on my shoulders, and stepped out of the bathroom barefooted. He was looking out of the window and turned around when he heard the door opening. If I didn’t know him as well as I did I would have been a little disappointed because, as he started at me, he looked completely relaxed if not slightly bored. But I knew better, he had some tell-tale signs he wasn’t completely aware of that had been quite revealing in the past. When he was nervous he tightened his fists. When he was sheepish (crazy I know, but sometimes it did happen) he swallowed. When he was aroused he became very stiff, everywhere.

Right now? He was doing all of it.

“I though I was going to fall asleep”

I just looked at him without replying, sitting down on the bed, and his eyes didn’t miss how my skirt rose a few extra inches along my thighs. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“There was no way around it… There’s a huge crowd in town. It looks like there’s some kind of festival organised in the park. I’d barely left my apartment when a bunch of girls rushed up to me in the street. I tried to get to the Snake Room but I got followed.”

“You got rushed by groupies? High school girls, I assume.”

“At first yes, except the swarm kept getting bigger. They were asking for selfies every which way. I hurried towards the bar, but a lot of them kept following me. So I came here, thinking they’d give up at the campus entrance, but…”

“They followed you all the way here?”

He didn’t reply.

“They followed you all the way here!”

“Still, I managed to get into the dorm alone, but the rumour must have spread.”

I picked the key on my desk and hurried to lock the door.

“… I guess it’s not the night-out you were expecting.”

I could tell he was feeling guilty but, to be honest, I was happy to be with him no matter where we were.

“I’m sure we can have a nice time here. I can put on some music and we can chat. Well… I don’t have anything to drink, but other than that, it’ll be just like the Snake Room!”

“Hmm, I’d like to see that” he said with his typical lopsided grin.

I switched on the music on my laptop. Some nice background music, kind of rock, obviously. Then, I turned on the string of lights hanging over my desk. “So, impressed?” I asked sitting back on the bed.

“Very” he laughed.

“Still, is it always like this? As soon as you leave home?”

“No, we released a new videoclip… and it has done really, really well online.”

“Oh really?” I picked up my phone “Show me.”

“Are you interested?” he asked surprised.

“Of course.” He searched online and clicked on the video before handing my phone back to me.

The videoclip started up.. The music started with bass sounds, and all of a sudden the drums joined accompanied by the guitar. It was powerful, it almost sounded like heavy metal. Much gloomier than what they’d done up until now. The first person that appeared in the video was Castiel. He was at the wheel of a black car and tearing through the forest at top speed. I recognised him, without recognising him… even though he was barely wearing make-up but… He got out of the car, dressed all in black, low-cut jeans and a black tank top. As he moved to close the car door, you got a glimpse of his hip bone and V-line abs. He was… incredibly charismatic and sexy. As I watched the video, he got up and leaned against my desk, watching my reaction. His voice rose in the music, powerful and soft at the same time… In the video you saw him go into a huge castle and hurtle down the stairs four steps at a time before joining a young woman in a bedroom. She was just wearing a see-through, navy blue negligée. He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck forcefully, and she abandoned herself totally in his arms. Close-ups of certain parts of the two actors’ bodies were the only things the viewer could see… I felt bile rising up my throat and didn’t even dare glance over at Castiel. God, I was jealous. The video ended focused on her, totally nude on him, blindfolded. She hold a vial of poison between her teeth and pretended to kiss him so she could pour it into his mouth. Castiel pushed her away, she got up and run off, letting him strangle alone in the bedroom. The other musicians weren’t in the video, just him. And the directing was incredible. It seemed like a short film.

“So there…” he said maybe a little embarrassed. I laid my phone down.

“Wow, that was… I understand the infatuation better now. The video’s awesome.”

“Thanks.”

“Up until now your face wasn’t in the videos. But you’re a really good actor.” Too good.

“They convinced me to do it, telling me it’d be successful if I put myself in the spotlight. I wasn’t really convinced but… I was the only one against the decision. So I gave in.”

We heard giggling. I got the impression they were sitting right outside the door in the hallway.

“Looks like they were right” I said smiling.

When he told me he had put it online just early that afternoon I almost couldn’t believe it. There were already 400,000 views and thousands of comments. I scrolled through the comments, they were all about Castiel. Mostly stupid thigs like “Marry me” or “To think that this guy goes to MY school!” I saw a link about a fan page asserting they had all the info about Castiel and clicked on it out of curiosity. “Castiel…geez… look!”

The latest post online was a picture of my dorm room door, indicating: ‘He went into an Anteros Academy resident room! OMG!’ Castiel looked at the picture for a long time before reacting.

“Well now, it definitely looks like we’re going to spend the evening here. They’ll end up getting tired of waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t care.” He sat down on my bed.

“Aren’t you afraid of what they’re going to say when you leave here?”

“There’s another solution…” he said serious.

“What, using the window as an escape route?”

“Never leaving this room.” He looked at me straight in the eye and my heart skipped a bit. I could feel my skin burn everywhere he was caressing it with his eyes, and I suddenly remembered that I was completely naked under that little piece of fabric that was supposed to be a dress.

“You know… You have no reason to envy the girl in the video.”

He could tell, could he. “And yet, there’s good reason to” I said matter-of-factly. She had had her hands all over him.

“You are so very wrong…”

He sat closer to me and laid his hand on mine gently before looking me in the eye.

“Castiel…”

“The proof… I’m here… with you. Not with her. And you’re the one I want to be with tonight…”

His gaze went down to my lips. He raised his hand to caress my thigh, up and down, and up again always a little higher… When he moved his face close to mine I could feel his cool breath caress my chin, and then he left a small tender kiss at the hollow between my shoulder and neck.

I was about to lose my mind, but he had said something that had ticked me off a little. He wanted to be with me tonight. Meaning what? Tomorrow he would be with her? Or someone else?

“Funny how you were the only one in the video though… your bandmates never showed up.”

“Of course not” he said in between kisses along my neck “the story is about me.”

He froze at those words, like he had shared something he wasn’t supposed to. And then it hit me.

Him running to her. The passion, the hunger, the love. Then she betrays him and runs away, leaving him for dead. The actress had my same hair colour. Similar high and built.

“To the risk of sounding really pretentious… was that video about… us?”

He didn’t reply and I knew I had hit the nail on the head.

I raised my hand to his cheek caressing him with fake tenderness and, with poison in my voice, said “what a nice opinion you have of me… a murderous bitch.”

“The video was filmed in the summer, before you came back in town.”

“Still…”

He pushed me and I fell with my back flat on the bed. Setting between my legs, hands at each side of my had, he brought his face close to mine.

“You have no idea… Four years ago… how I felt.” Oh he was angry, looking at me with dark eyes… but I was angry too.

“I think I kinda know” I spat out.

“You left” he growled.

“You stayed!”

VLAN!

What the…?! A big bang on the door. We both jumped fast. It was so hard I thought the door was going to break. We heard giggling in the hallway. “Damn, watch out, you’re going to bust the door! We could get into trouble with the administration!” a voice said. “It’s the only way to find out if he’s really in there!”

“Well, looks like we’re going to have to cut the evening short. I’m going to handle this once and for all!”

He got up, really pissed off, and I was sure the crazy groupies were only part of the reason. I grabbed him by his wrist.

“Don’t do that, it’ll make the band look bad, it’ll calm down over the next few days! Don’t do anything you’d regret.”

Still, he flung the door open, and about fifteen speechless girls stood face to face with him in the hallway. A long silence ensued.

“Excitement’s what you want? Here you go!”

He took my face in his hands and angrily put his lips on mine in front of the group of girls gaping in the hallway. He kissed me with fervour and hunger and, at first, I just stood there, shocked, letting him have his way with me. However my body quickly acted on his own grabbing his hair and following him in the kiss. When my mind finally snapped out of it and I remembered all those people staring at us, he pulled away.

“Hi there!”

Castiel cut through the group before running down the hallway towards the exit. I stood there in the same position for a second, in the doorway, as the girls stared at me in shock. I stepped back in my room as soon as I saw one of them rummaging through her bag to pull out her phone, and slammed the door hard behind me.

Wow. I shook my head as if to get my thoughts straight. What had just happened?

The night was going so well, amicably chatting and flirting a bit at first. Then things got heated and we were about to… when we started to fight, still on the bed though. Who knows what would have happened if we had been left alone. At this point we would be either making out or killing each other. Possibly both by the look of that kiss. A kiss he gave me in front of a bunch of strangers to… what? Make a point?

I turned around right away and locked the door, thinking that those maniacs could open it if they wanted to. I caressed my lips… despite everything, he had definitely just kissed me. Did he really do it just to shut them up? Even though… before those silly morons banged on my door, we were going to…

I checked my phone and considered sending him a message, but I didn’t know how… or what to say. I let myself drop down flat on my stomach onto my bed, arms spread out in a cross. What had just happened for goodness sake?!! I played his video again and watched it non-stop, until I finally dozed off.

#my candy love #mclul #episode 10 #first dates #castiel #fanfic #my writing #mcl fanfic #university life #amour sucre #dolce flirt #amor doce #corazon de melon

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theempressar · 5 years ago

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Pick one for Johnny/Shannon Tinder date. 4,14,46, or 100

4 “I thought things were going great.”

Johnny kept swiping left. None of these chicks were doing anything for him. One was too bottle blonde. One had too much tits hanging out of her shirt. One had no tits at all. He was surprised that so many people were wanting a date with him.

“Still got it.” he smirked. Since Miguel showed him how to used this Ap thing he thought about nothing much else. He wanted a date. No...he wanted something to get the thought of Carmen out of his head. He frowned. Swipe Swipe Swipe.

“Hold on what’s this?”

Johnny quickly set up a date with this mystery babe...she was SMOKIN hot. Later that night when he got home he texted Miguel.

“How did it go, Sensei?” Miguel was eager to know if his matchmaking skills were paying off. He had a tough assignment...but one success story would make all of his troubles with his socially awkward friend worth it.

“I thought things were going great...”

“But?”

14 “You look amazing tonight.”

Johnny knew he had to look his best for this one. It wasn’t hard...but he went out and bought a new leather jacket...and tried to keep it casual everywhere else. He took Miguel’s advice and put on some old jeans. He’d had them for a while and one of his favorite Metal T-shirts. He had a feeling this babe would appreciate a hardcore rocker like he he was. He had read her stats and she was pretty cool.

They were going to meet at the local bar...another plus. With the other dates he had chosen to go on...the kid friendly dingbat, the technobabble princess, Ms. Activist who wouldn’t know what to do with a stick shift if it hit her in the face...and UGH...that Bit....Nope...NOPE! This one had to be the one!

She had her back to him when he walked in he bar. All he knew her by was her profile name @hotcougarmama45 and he only told her his @chicksdigkicks to keep it interesting. She told him she’d be in the far corner so it had to be her.

“Hey Babe...your prince charming is here.”

She turned around slowly. She had recognized his voice and almost visibly cringed.

“And to think...I got THIS dressed up....for Johnny...Lawrence.”

“Son of a...Heyyyy, Shannon...you mean to tell me there wasn’t a businessman’s convention in town somewhere?”

“Real cute, Johnny...What the hell?!”

“You tell me! Where’s our son?”

“God...it’s the same script with you. I dunno...where is he?” *she swallowed her drink in one gulp* “You’re paying for that.”

“What else is new?”

*Sigh* “I didn’t fucking ask for this. I’m going home. This was a bust...and a cosmic joke apparently!” *she grabbed her bag*

“Wait...hold on...alright?!”

“What? Got some other comment about me being a bad mom or blowing the whole firm at Edward Jones for a slice of Apple Brown Betty? You can save it.”

“No...I mean...since you’re here you might as well. I dunno...come on. I’ll get you another what is it you’re drinking...Tequila Sunrise?” *Johnny smirked at the girly drink of choice. She would be waking up with a hangover the next day. He might have some fun with that.*

Shannon paused and looked at him critically. She didn’t know what his game was this time. “What’s the angle, Johnny...no smart comebacks? You just want a...drink with me?”

“Sure...I dunno...call it...I need to feel something normal for a minute...Please? You look amazing tonight.”

Part 1! Part 2 coming soon!! I’m working my way through this CHALLENGE @curiousdamage !! THANKS!!!

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thatfairyfangirl · 6 years ago

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True Colors Chapter 14

Finally home at the tower the remainder of the Christmas season flew by as you and Ali hammered out the final details to the new year performance. Though he tried many times to speak with you about pretty much anything that happened in Philly you always just seemed way too busy for him with the rehearsals and the music edits you needed to get done in time for the show...hell, you were barely at training these days!

“Hey Tony...can I talk to you?” Bucky asked with a sheepish look as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Tony looked up, assuming the look meant it had something to do with you he simply nodded, getting up from his seat. All the room raised a brow at the question, wondering what was so important that would prompt those two to behave civilly.

“What’s up Frosty?” He asked as they left for somewhere a little more private. Bucky told him everything that happened on your trip home, in one long rambling breath, fingers in his hair pacing back and forth. It was driving him insane keeping it inside. He HAD to know if those girls were fucking with him or not. “Okaay. First off...I don’t know what you did to make those two old biddies listen to you, but Thank Christ you did it! Glad to hear that family might actually be saved. As for this whole-” he paused trying to put words to it as his hands gestured from him to the common room where you sat wondering what was going on, “thing...Did her hair go pink?”

“What?” Bucky’s brow folded in confusion. “Umm I think it did sometimes…Why? Doesn't her hair change all the time?”

With long overly sciency words Tony explained to him how your hair can sometimes denote what you were feeling, if you weren’t actively covering up the effect with your powers. “For example,” he opened the door poking his head in, “oh by the way Double Rainbow...I can count on you for the party tomorrow night, right?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin as the red streaks in your hair grew brighter, dominating the other colors.

“Anthony Edward Stark you had better be kidding!” You snapped as you stood. “You know full well that I have been working my ass off for weeks to play on national television that night!”

“But you never miss one of my parties!” Tony bounced up and down actively trying to annoy you. “Where am I going to find another DJ this close to the ball drop?”

With long angry strides you made your way to him, the rage in your eyes and fire engine red glow to your tresses building until you were in the doorway that separated the two of you. “Listen here Stark...You didn’t ask me. I’m going to be in Time Square until about 9pm...Then maybe if I’m really lucky I’ll be able to get through the swarm of people and be back here to party with you guys...I’ll make you a playlist….but I’m booked.” He held back his giggles until you slammed the door in his face.

“Red means she’s pissed.” He chuckled before taking a moment to calm himself. “Look, she likes you. It’s written all over her face...Sometimes literally. Go for it” He gave Bucky a reassuring smile as he patted him on the shoulder. “Besides...if you hadn’t noticed she’s got a thing for metal,” he teased as he knocked at the bionic arm before retreating back into the common area to smooth things over with his bestie.

“What was that about?” Steve asked, coming to see if everything was alright.

Bucky just flashed a blissful smile as he looked to his friend. “I love her,” he answered with a shrug.

“Well yeah...Anyone could call that a mile away.” Steve laughed with a shake of his head.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey everyone shut up!” Bucky’s voice rang out over the music as he turned the volume on the TV up as high as it would go. “She’s on!” Heroes and friends alike gathered around the large screen to watch your performance with your idol. All except for Tony who was using this time to suit up, planning on making sure you get to the party on time. Bucky’s eyes widened a bit at the beautiful contrast of your rainbow dress to Ali’s black, loving how the skirt flared out in a cut reminiscent of his time...He couldn’t help wondering if you had picked it out with him in mind. He leaned forward in his seat as he let the music you had been working so hard on washed over him, Ali’s harsh voice meshing perfectly with your techno beats...he could even swear he heard your sweet voice mixed in among hers, but her vocals were so strong it was hard to tell. The lights colors and music of the two mutants made a memorable performance that they were sure would be talked about for years to come. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49tpIMDy9BE

“Hey there rainbows...ready to go party?” Tony’s half mechanical voice nearly made you jump out of your skin as he swooped down from the sky.

“Tony what the hell?!” You took a few breaths as you held your hand over your heart forcing yourself calm. At least he waited until the cameras stopped rolling. "I set up the playlist to go hours past midnight what more do you want from me?!"

“Well, you and Buck-a-roo actually admitting your feelings for eachother would be nice but I’ll settle for you coming to the party.” His mask came open as his eyes widened, realizing what he said. “Shit...I mean…”

You blinked as your mind processed the words. “I’m sorry...what?!”

“You see this is why you people shouldn’t tell me things!”

Stammering half formed words you looked back to Ali as she finished putting away her guitar. “Well now what do I do?”

“Umm, you go?” Ali suggested with a chuckle.

“Will you come?” You asked with hopeful eyes, both looking for any kind of support outside of the iron blabbermouth and hoping to spend more time with your idol.

“Nah, Warren’s promised to take me out for a flight of my own.” She pointed up to the winged mutant waiting for her above the city. “You go get your guy kid, you don’t need a half-assed rocker like me.”

~ ~ ~ ~

You stood across the floor from the blue eyed assassin looking extra good in that damn black suit with a plum colored tie, his hair pulled back really bringing out the sparkle of the blue. “Tony no! Don’t make me go over there!” You whispered as you felt your heart speeding, drumming against your chest like it needed to escape. “Let’s just go to the bar instead huh?” You both subtly struggled against each other as you tried to find any way out of this, perfectly fine with pretending these feelings weren't there and going on with life. “Never have I ever...?” you struggled to find a new one.

“Go!” He demanded, handing you a drink and shoving you in the correct direction.

As the blue eyes fell on you suddenly your entire world fell out from under your feet. You tried to talk yourself down, remind yourself that he was one of your best friends, convince yourself that Tony must have been mistaken...No way Bucky felt that way. But yet still as his smile widened at the sight of you you knew you were going to be lost in it all night. “Hey there’s the star!” He wrapped an arm around you, “so was it as amazing as you hoped?”

“So much better!” You squealed as you jumped up and down, watching him laugh at your excitement before taking a much needed drink, letting the alcohol calm you. “But honestly...I’m really glad to be away from the equipment for a bit.” And just like that things felt like back to normal, Tony’s words washed away as you remembered that you could talk to your soldier about anything.

As the night went on you both laughed as you showed him how to dance to more modern music and the conversations just flowed from you...Until the music shifted into something older, slower. You gulped your heart back down from your throat as arms wrapped around each other. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsALgi5yM_A Your head came to rest against his broad chest as if it was home. Hearing the reverberating of him humming the familiar tune to himself you began to chew on your lip, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks as your hair took on an electric pink hue. The shift in color caught his eye, making his smile grow as he leaned in grabbing your hand as he took you for a spin that brought the best joyful laugh out of you. Your eyes met as your hand came to rest on his shoulder, his on your waist and lips parted to sing along with the remainder of the song. “And that laugh that wrinkles your nose It touches my foolish heart Lovely, don't you ever change Keep that breathless charm Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you just the way you look tonight” You felt his grip on your waist tighten as he dipped you down low, noses touching as his lips curled into that charming 40s smile that you were pretty sure stole your heart long before you were willing to even like him. “Mm, mm, mm, mm, Just the way you look tonight.” As the song tapered off he leaned into you as you pulled up to him until you finally knew what his lips tasted like. He refused to let your lips leave his as he pulled you upright, wrapping you up in his strong arms, never wanting to let go as fireworks lit up the night sky.

“Oh my god finally!” Clint shouted seeing you both.

“About damn time!” Wanda agreed.

#marvel #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #mutant!reader #bucky #bucky x reader #winter wolder #winter soldier x reader

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doomedandstoned · 5 years ago

Text

Southern Sludge Acolytes Midmourner Talk Roots, Drop New Sounds from Cavity Split

~Interview by Shawn Gibson~

Foreword by Billy Goate

It's been just a few years since I encountered MIDMOURNER at a show. The southern sludge band from Birmingham, Alabama was making a rare West Coast appearance and stopped in Eugene, Oregon to play an all ages venue called The Boreal (which sadly has since closed its doors). I was on hand with my trusty camcorder to capture the action and the sound turned out so well that the band issued it as a live album. For all the savagery of their music (and when you're standing right in front, just feet away, it is quite frightening, believe you me), I found the guys to be quite friendly -- reminding me of the fabled southern hospitality I missed most when I lived in the Bible Belt as a kiddo.

Since that encounter, Midmourner has been busy, most recently issuing a split with the band Cavity. Doomed & Stoned is proud to debut the song "When Knives Still Drove Conversation" from the Midmourner side of the record and, to accompany your listening, we've got an in-depth interview conducted by Shawn Gibson, who has made it something of a mission to document the unsung heroes in the underground sludge metal scene. Here, he speaks with fiery vocalist Shane Geoge and guitarist Bobbie Harris and they take an unexpected turn into the history of the punk scene in the southern states. A fascinating conversation in deed. Enjoy it while you soak in Midmourner's new track, "When Knives Still Drove Conversation."

Give ear...

An Interivew with Midmourner

Shane: Have you got a punk background? Because we do.

The first shows I went to were punk and hardcore shows in high school. That would be early to mid-nineties.

Shane: Beautiful, beautiful.

In school I listened to The Clash, Sex Pistols, The Exploited, Charged, G.B.H...

Shane: Oh, my god!

Misfits, Minor Threat, Day Glo Abortions. I told Billy Goate I love sludge and heavier doom just because it's some of the fucking heaviest styles of music.

Shane: I'm glad you can appreciate it. That's the thing, is people classify us as doom. All of us come from punk backgrounds. I think we hit our limit. Punks discovering metal. We add the heavy element to it. You've got to have the punk background, man. That's what differentiates between doom and sludge. I think that's why I gravitated towards sludge. It still has that "fuck you!" attitude. There is a lot of professionalism in doom that I can't subscribe to, you know?

Bobby Harris: It has a lot of punk D.I.Y vibe to it.

Shane: Exactly.

Bobby: You got old punk rockers who grew their hair long and have beards playing sludge. They dig the doom stuff. It's so metal and we are not metal. It's a little metal, more punk. We grew up in Birmingham Alabama punk scene. We'd go watch Cavity in the early nineties. I didn't know about sludge until I saw Cavity. Have you heard of ATP?

Alabama Thunder Pussy? Oh, yeah, I've seen 'em! Dude, I took my Mom to that show! She lives in Nashville, Tennessee, and wanted me to go to The Grand Ole Oprey. "No problem, mom, you have to come with me to a GWAR show." I was not going to tell her about the fluids!

Shane: Everybody must see GWAR before they die!

We were in Charleston, South Carolina. She was in town and Clutch, Alabama Thunder Pussy, and Suplecs played at the Music Farm. I said, "Mom, we got to go to this" and she did. She always jokes, "What was the name of that band we saw?" "Alabama Thunder Pussy, mom!" We laugh.

Shane: All that comes back to Kilara. Eric from ATP played drums. There was also the drummer from Avail, which was the greatest punk band that ever fucking existed, in my opinion. We went to a show, Kilara and Cavity inside a record store one night. Dude! Blew the fucking roof off the place! I don't know if your into Cavity or not?

I have heard of them. I haven't heard their music yet. I'll check em out.

Shane: You need to check em out!

Bobby: Without Cavity, I wouldn't be doing this right now. That's how much Cavity had an effect on me as a kid. That made me realize there was more beyond punk rock. It was more pissed off than punk! How can you be more pissed off than punk?

I'd say punk's pretty pissed!

Shane: Midmourner is Cavity plus Grief. That is Midmourner. That's it right there, man.

Bobby: It's a big fascination with Cavity. It's a big fascination with Grief. Cavity has that pissed off, fast, aggressive sound. Grief has that crushing heavy sound, you know? Together that's what we dig.

Shane: That is why we are tickled fucking pink knowing that next year we are going to play with Come To Grief!

Bobby: This is going to be a dream come true! I've been a fan since 'Disrupt,' man!

Shane: That's definitely a bucket list check, you know? We've got Carl, the merch guy from Come To Grief, with us.

Yeah, I talked to him when I was getting some Midmourner shirts from the table. Good guy!

Bobby: He's awesome!

Adorned in Fear and Error by Midmourner

Shane: So who is your favorite sludge band? Let's hear it!

There's a really good sludge band from Tulsa, Oklahoma I love, Senior Fellows. What's up, James!

Shane: Never heard of 'em.

Bobby: I've heard of 'em.

Shane: Good shit?

Dude go check them out on Bandcamp. 'Ecclesiastical Servitude' (2013) is my favorite album, their first. Very bitter, very dry. Heavy! I think Carl and I were talking about "No Cross and No Crown" attitude and ethos. One of their slogans is "Religion Mandates Oppression." Very pissed off!

Shane: I could see that.

I would say Midmourner is some badass sludge that annihilates. Glad to see you guys live and rip it up!

Shane: What did you think of it? We are interviewing you. How about that?

Uh, wow. First time. Usually the other way around. (laughs)

Shane: We are interested in what you think. How did you get into this, ya know? That's what I'm interested in.

I got into this because I love music! I will always do this. I will always share music that I like and know other people that would love to hear the same music. Music brings us together for a small moment. We are part of a family in this musical scene and I want the world to take notice.

Shane: Beautiful thing. Beautiful thing.

It still feels like a scene for me. I caught the ass-end of tape trading, but I love it and want to keep some that going. Now it's digital. You share music all day, anywhere!

You are going back home and wrap up this tour real soon. You were at St. Vitus bar in New York, as well as Charleston and Birmingham. It is a small world! When you meet people and you go on tour next year with Come To Grief: "Holy fuck, Midmourner! I love you guys, man!" Someone will say that to you guys and they will be stoked to see you live.

Shane: We are definitely going to remember you.

The comradery. I don't think you have this much of a family with other styles of music.

Shane: People don't give a shit, man.

I love meeting people and making new connections. Meeting people that you'll keep in touch with for a long time, if not forever.

Bobby: It's getting to know people on a personal level.

Shane: That's the fun of this whole thing.

It's intimate. It's a bond that some people don't understand.

Bobby: Unfortunately, they don't. I don't get it.

Shane: Keep it small. Keep it underground.

(Billy Luttrell of Hexxus sits down and rolls a cigarette.)

Billy: I'm not interrupting, am I?

No not all. Join us.

Shane: We were talking about influences of Midmourner.

Billy: Molehill.

Shane: I don't know if you know Molehill.

No.

Shane: Sludge pioneers from 2000? '97 to 2000-something.

Billy: '98 to 2002.

Shane: That was the beginning of this. Me and Billy, who is our fill-in guy, we've been friends for thirty fucking years! We did a band called Molehill. We raised a few eyebrows. If you go back and look, you can find it on Bandcamp. Matt, who passed away, and Sonny, the guy taking pictures -- he played bass in Molehill. Now I'm 44 and still doing this shit. It's ridiculous. It's for the love of fucking music, man! That's why it pumps our nads to meet people like you, you know? Who enjoy listening to this shit!

I'm excited to listen to it, to be able to discover new heavy bands or obscure heavy bands that are definitely underground.

Bobby: Oh, we're definitely underground! (laughs)

That's why I'm glad to meet you, shake your hands, hear and feel your music live. We've been talking prior to this show about meeting up, being able to grab an interview in person, and especially grab some merch.

Shane: That is the most meaningful shit.

I've shared this show tonight for awhile now, psyched to finally be here.

Bobby: It was cool because I did know you from Facebook.

Shane: He said your name, I was like I know that fucking guy! Are you friends with Billy on there?

Uh...

Shane: Billy plays in Hexxus. Man I'm promoting all your shit today! He cut in three weeks before we were going to leave. We were going to cancel this shit! He came in and said, "Let's fucking do this, man."

Wow! Love to hear about stuff like that.

Billy: You don't have to twist my nipples to make me go on tour! (laughs) I do a lot of fill-in stuff because I'm self-employed. I can leave anytime. I do stuff in friends' bands. They hit me up two to three weeks before the tour and Bobby was like, "Can you fill in for this tour"? "Shit, bro. When do we practice? Let's go!"

I'm glad you did! I'm glad you guys trekked forward.

Shane: It's been a blast! This is the last night. I could go another six months, maybe.

Bobby: No! (laughs) You've run out of Molehill money!(laughs) He was homesick before he got to Ohio! (laughs)

Shane: I'm ready to see the wife. I'm excited! It's cool to be talking to Doomed and Stoned again, man! That's cool!

Yeah!

Shane: We were hoping that wasn't a one of a kind of thing.

Not if I have anything to do with it. I would like to keep in touch with you guys. I'd love to share or promote anything I can for you guys. Next year when your on tour with Come To Grief -- holy fuck!

Bobby: We are going to have a new album come out with Matt [Heath] on bass.

Shane: We have a CD coming out eventually. Excited! We were able to keep all bass lines and bass recordings. That was cool as shit. I am looking forward to that! Doing what the fuck ever! Try to have fun!

That's what it's all about, having fun. Life is too short.

Shane: Oh, exactly!

Live at The Boreal , Eugene, Oregon by Midmourner

You guys are from Birmingham? So Roll Tide?

Shane: Absolutely, man!

I'm from South Carolina, so I'm a Clemson fan!

Shane: Uggghhh, sorry man! (laughs)

I player hate on Alabama big time! I give em respect them even though Nick Saban is the devil (laughs)

Shane: I got to give it to you guys, you took it one year.

Renfrow sneakin in there! Whew!

Shane: Tua is the shit man! We're proud, man! It was good to almost see Clemson get beat by Syracuse again.

I was nervous as shit! They pulled it out. Lawrence had a concussion, Brice and the Tigers did it.

Shane: I'm kinda worried about LSU just a little bit.

I saw they beat Miami.

Shane: They beat Auburn, too. I think Georgia is going to fall.

On that note, I'm good with what I have from you guys. Is there anything else?

Shane: Find Midmourner on Bandcamp! Find the latest shit. We have a new CD coming out. We have a 10" split with Cavity coming up. Very fucking excited about that. They are personal heroes of ours! Somebody is putting out the new album on vinyl in Europe, so we will have a vinyl release which is fucking awesome! We are looking forward to the Coming To Grief tour. We got to find a bass player. If you know anybody that's interested. (laughs) Have the gear and the drive to do this shit and we can talk! It was fucking great talking to you, man.

Yes!

Shane: We appreciate it. We love Doomed And Stoned! Fucking cool man!

Bobby: Thanks for coming out!

Shane it was nice to meet you and finally see you guys live!

Shane: Very nice to meet you, too! It's nice to see the actual face behind the posts on Facebook. We have nothing but good things to say about Doomed And Stoned and Shawn Gibson!(laughs)

I've got nothing but nice things to say about Midmourner!

Shane: Thank you very much! It means so much more than people realize! You know, it keeps you going. Unfortunately, the post-tour depression begins now. We are going to get back out there and slug it out!

Hell, yeah!

Shane: Hopefully get back here. That's about it, appreciate the hell out of it!

Thanks again!

Shane: Thank you man! Doomed And Stoned all the way! There's Billy packing cigarettes! (laughs)

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#D&S Interviews #Midmourner #Birmingham #Alabama #Doom #Sludge #Metal #Shawn Gibson #D&S Debuts #Doomed & Stoned

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thecreatiivecorner · 6 years ago

Text

I Feel the Same Way (1/2)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (at first) Bucky Barnes x Reader (eventually)

Summary: He just wanted her to be happy. If that meant she was with Steve, then so be it. Warnings: Uhhh... being stood up? Steve being an ass!

Words: 2.2K

A/N: This is my first fanfic... EVER!!!! I’m so excited to share it! Don’t get me wrong, I love Steve but sometimes he’s just painted too perfectly. There will definitely be a part 2. Possibly more.

“I’m staying! End of story. I’ll be at the bar right across the street.” Bucky insists as he helps her off his bike. “If I don’t hear from you within a few hours, then I’ll know things went fine.

“Buck, he’s your best friend. You don’t trust him?” She hands him the helmet and fixes her hair. Bucky fakes a cough when he catches himself admiring her. “Do I look okay?” He lets his eyes run over her. Her dark hair is pinned up. Strands stick out out here and there, perfectly framing her face. She wears a short strapless lace dress with bell sleeves. The powder pink shade accents her tanned skin and the strappy beige wedges make her nearly as tall as he was.

“You’re beautiful.” He mutters, barely audible. She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she glances into the tiny mirror on the bike, although she can’t hide the blush that rises to her cheeks. “You look fine and it’s not that I don’t trust him. There’s just no way I’m leaving you. Don’t matter who you’re with.” She straightens up and smiles at him. “Besides, if something happened to you, who would sit around for hours on Saturdays eating rocky road ice cream and watching old westerns with me?”

“Steve probably would.” She retorts.

“Correction. Who would do all that and actually enjoy it?” She giggles and playfully shoves his shoulder, leaving Bucky with a goofy grin on his face which he quickly tries to hide. “You should go. I will be right over there if you need me.” Bucky gently pushes her along, pointing across the street.

“I won’t!” She shouts as she strolls off toward the fancy restaurant.

“Yea. I know.” Bucky mumbles to himself as he watches her walk away. He waits until she’s enters the restaurant then waits a little more. Reluctantly he hangs her helmet on the handle bar and makes his way to the bar.

---

Watching people has always been something Bucky enjoyed and hated at the same time. He finds people interesting, even entertaining at times but they can also be so annoying. Like the two knuckleheads sitting across the bar from him. Drunk off their rockers, they have managed to insult every single woman in the place with distasteful pick up lines and disgusting manners. Bucky almost finds it impressive how they managed it when the place was pretty busy. A few women have approached him but he politely declines every time.

It has been two hours since Bucky dropped his best friend off to go have dinner with his other best friend. It gave him plenty of time to kick himself for how stupid that was and drown his sorrows in club soda. Normally he’d choose something a little harder and just walk home but he couldn’t leave her stranded, should something go wrong.

Looking at his watch for the millionth time that night, he decides he should head home. He’s torn between feeling relieved and disappointed. All he wants is for her to be happy and if that is with his best friend then so be it… at least that’s what he tries to tell himself. Sliding off the bar stool, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, throwing a twenty on the counter. He grabs his worn leather jacket and pulls it on. Just as he turns to head for the door, he’s stopped dead.

“Bucky.” Her sobs make his name barely audible. Her cheeks are stained with black streaks running down them. In a split second, Bucky has his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly into his chest. He catches the eyes of a few patrons in the bar, some wear concerned, pitiful expressions while others have mocking, snickering grins plastered on their faces. He wouldn’t normally care much what people thought of him but he knows she doesn’t need the scrutiny. Reluctantly he pulls away to escort her out of the bar, shooting a few death stares at some of the more childish people.

Once outside, Bucky guides her to a nearby bench. She sits and he kneels in front of her.

“Doll, what happened?” He swiftly shrugs his jacket off his shoulders to wrap around her. She snuggles into it, pulling it around her body.

“He… He never showed.” If he didn’t have super soldier hearing, it would have been hard to make out her words through her sniffles.

“What? Doll, it’s been two hours.”

“I wanted to… to give him a chance. You know, maybe he… maybe he got caught up or was running late.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Bucky mutters under his breath. “Did you try texting him? Calling?”

“Yea. Here.” She hands Bucky her phone before sobbing into her hands. Bucky looks through the texts, growing more and more furious as he goes.

Today 7:56 PM

Me: Hey. I’m at the restaurant. Take your time. I’ll get us a table.

Today 8:12 PM

Me: You know, I was kidding when I said take your time.

Today 8:27 PM

Me: Are you ok? I’m starting to worry. Please text me back!

Today 9:21 PM

Me: I’m really worried, Steve! Why aren’t you answering me?

Today 9:45 PM

Me: Steve, please answer the phone! I can see you’re reading my texts!

Today 9:48 PM

Steve: Stop texting him, you stupid bitch! We’re a little busy right now!

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to hold the phone in his left hand. Pieces of glass and plastic crumble between his metal fingers. He looks up to see this beautiful creature before him, completely distraught and he wonders how someone could treat her that way.

“C’mon Doll, let’s go home.” Bucky stands and pulls her with him. When they reach his bike on the other side of the road, he hands her the helmet but she freezes. He steps in front of her, putting his hands on her arms trying to comfort her.

“Bucky.” She sobs. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Doll. There ain’t no way in hell, I’m leaving you alone tonight.”

Once on the bike, Bucky revs the engine. The tires squeal, sending smoke rolling into the air. They speed away leaving a dingy fog behind.

----

The bike rumbles to a stop outside Bucky’s apartment. He helps her off and guides her inside. The cool air dried her tears for the time being. Bucky searches for the key when they reach his door, realizing it’s in his jacket pocket. The one she’s currently wearing. He reaches down, feeling both pockets for the keys.

“Sorry, Doll.” He reaches into one pocket as she does the same. She lets her hand linger on his and glances up at him. For a moment, he gets lost in her eyes. Even when they are swollen and red from her tears, they are still the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. Quickly he snaps out of his daze, pulling the keys from the pocket, and away from her hand. Immediately, he feels the loss of contact like something is burning his skin. He ignores it though, quickly unlocking and opening the door. He holds his arm out for her to enter first, closing the door and locking it behind himself as he follows her. She slumps down on the couch, relinquishing his jacket in favor of a large fluffy blanket.

“Do you want some water?” Bucky calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you” she calls back. “Maybe something stronger.” she mutters, only loud enough for a super soldier to hear.

Bucky appears in the living room, placing a glass of water on the coffee table and sitting next to her on the couch.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Doll” He shoots her a pointed smirk to which she rolls her eyes and huffs. He smiles a little bigger, happy he was able to make her forget her pain even just for a second. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Bucky.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have to. I’ve crashed on this couch plenty of times. I’m okay here.”

“I know you are. You’re still taking the bed.” He stands and holds out his hand to help her up. “C’mon. You need to rest.” She sets her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up. Bucky grabs the glass of water and guides her to the bedroom.

The mattress creaks with her weight as she begins to fiddle with the straps of her shoes. Bucky sets the glass on the bedside table then goes to his dresser, pulling out one of his old shirts and a pair sweatpants. He freezes when he hears faint sobs coming from behind him. Instantly, he spins around to see her hunched up in the fetal position, one shoe half undone the other untouched. Bucky is by her side in a heartbeat.

“Doll. It’s okay. Please don’t cry. He’s not worth it.” He sits next to her on the bed, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her. She does the same, burying her face in his chest.

“Why? Why would he do that to me?” She sobs.

“I don’t know… but I promise, I’m going to kick his ass for it. If I don’t kill him first.” She pulls away to look up at him.

“Bucky, don’t say that. He’s your best friend.”

“But he hurt you. The one thing I told him never to…” Bucky stops, exhaling deeply. “How can you defend him anyway?”

“I don’t want to come between you two. You’re my best friend Buck, but you and Steve… You guys are brothers. What kind of person would that make me if I ruined that?”

“This isn’t your fault, Doll.” Bucky pulls her into his chest again, but only so she couldn’t see the anger flooding his face. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Why else would he do this? We’ve only been on a few dates but I thought… I don’t know I thought we had something. I’m so stupid.” Bucky pulls her away to look into her eyes.

“You are not stupid. Don’t you dare say that. He’s the one who’s stupid for not seeing how lucky he was.” His hands are on her arms as his eyes meet hers. Once again he gets lost in them. His breath hitches when she blinks tears out of her eyes and bites her lip.

“You’re just saying that.” She mutters shyly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

“No. Doll. You’re perfect.” Her eyes snap back to his. She searches them for any sign of lies or mistrust but all she sees is admiration and honesty. Without realizing, they had moved closer to each other. She tilts her head up until her lips are just hovering over his. He feels her breath mix with his. His eyes flutter closed along with hers. His hands move to her back, pulling her even closer, until he stops. He pulls away just barely but enough for her to open her eyes. His heart stings to see the pain in her eyes.

“I can’t. I won’t take advantage of you like this.” He pulls back even more, grabbing the clothes he had tossed onto the bed when he heard her cries. “You should get to sleep.” He hands her the garments, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of her. He grabs one of her feet, easily unlatching the straps of her shoe and sliding it off. He does the same to the other shoe while managing to avoid eye contact. When he stands, she grabs his hand before he can turn and walk away.

“I know what I want, Bucky. It’s taken me awhile to admit it but I know now.” She looks up at him through her tear soaked lashes. Reluctantly, he forces himself to look back at her.

“If you still feel that way in the morning, then we can talk. For now, just get some rest.” He pulls his hand from her grasp and walks to the door. He stops in the doorway like he wants to turn back but doesn’t.

“Bucky. Just tell me how you feel.” Bucky doesn’t turn around.

“I feel the same way.” Without looking back, he pulls the door closed behind him.

He sits on the couch, tense and antsy. His eyes are glued to the bedroom door, waiting for something. What, he’s not sure of. He listens intently to her movements. She enters the bathroom. The water runs for a moment then she leaves the bathroom. She moves to the dresser, pulling out a drawer and sliding it back in then again to another drawer. Then he hears her footsteps approach the door. His heart races with anticipation. He’s not sure what he hopes to happen. There’s a brief pause before the light goes out and she makes her way back to the bed. He hears the mattress creak and the comforter shuffle. Silence. Then the comforter shuffles again. Silence. And again. She’s restless. Bucky has to fight the urge to go in there and comfort her; to lay with her until she falls asleep.

Eventually the shuffling stops and now Bucky has to fight another urge. The one that’s telling him to go find his best friend and strangle him until he pleads for his life then do the same to the whore he’s with. It would be hard for him to choose who goes first.

Tags: @wonderlandmind4

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #thecreatiivecorner masterlist

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this-is-for-the-record-blog · 7 years ago

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Pearl Jam - Riot Act - Album Review

Riot Act is the seventh record from the alternative rock band and is the first Pearl Jam record I purchased upon release in 2002. It was a few months after the albums release that I saw the band live for the first time, my first major concert. The concert was at the Irvine Medows Amphitheater, the last time the band would play the beautiful outdoor venue and is a venue that sadly was just recently torn down. Riot Act contained the bands most politically driven work and offered a very gloomy and angsty sound. After the release of Binaural the band had played the Roskilde Festival, where nine Pearl Jam fans were trampled to death and 30 others injured during the bands rainy, muddy set. This led to the band questioning continuation as a band and ultimately became the factor for why they quit playing festivals for the next 7 years. Seemed everything the band did from then on had more purpose and meaning especially when it came to social and political issues. Also, republican governor of Texas George W. Bush would be elected for president of the United States who manipulated the country into a war in the middle east after the tragic events that took place in New York on September 11 2001 and finally Dee Dee Ramone, bassis for the Ramones and Layne Staley singer of Alice in Chains and Mad Season both died in 2002 of an overdose to heroin. All of this played a role in the writing and production on Riot Act. The record would mark the first album produced by Adam Kasper, producer for Soundgarden and is also the first record with organist Boom Gasper who gets a big spotlight on the tracks “Love Boat Captain” and “I Am Mine” and was the last record with major label Epic Records.

With the band out of the spotlight completely now and many of the 90s bands disbanded the genres of new metal (Slipknot, Korn, Disturbed, System of a Down, Deftones) emo/pop punk (AFI, Green Day, Taking Back Sunday, My Chemical Romance, The Used) and post grunge (3 Doors Down, Staind, Puddle of Mudd, Seether, Creed, Nickleback) were dominating the radio. Pearl Jam didnt seem to fit the mold anywhere and nor did they want to, but after some time staying away from music videos on MTV, a silence they broke with the release of Yield in 1998, the band made a pretty big return offering 4 music videos from Riot Act that actually featured the band members and this time produced in a similar fashion as the record live raw and seemingly uncut. The videos feature the band paying the respected song live in a room and even the audio was captured in live form rather than the typical conceptual lip sync video you normally see. Pearl Jam would also partake in published interviews for the first time in 10 years with the release of this record. Some background behind the records concept, the name Riot Act comes from an English statute of 1715 which provided that if 12 or more persons assemble unlawfully and riotously, to the disturbance of the public peace, and refuse to disperse upon proclamation would be considered guilty of a felony. Being a very political record that stands against the President and the current policies, in a very tumultuous way, the records title would have likely been named after this Act, however an act that was implemented here domestically in the United States after 9/11 was the Patriot Act an Act of Congress that was signed into law by President George W. Bush. With its ten-letter abbreviation (USA PATRIOT) expanded, the full title is “Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism”. The Act led to a lot of racial profiling and seemed to legally allow the FBI to wrongfully accuse individuals based on these racial profiles, which went against the 14th amendment in the US Constitution. The band may be calling this Act that president Bush signed as riotous or the patRIOT ACT. Either way the band is rioting in protest against the government on this record and for good reason. The records cover art was an artistic photo taken by Jeff Ament which features two skeletons wearing crowns appearing to be a king and prince. Two monarchs who lie dead smoldering in a tomb. A kingdom now just dusted ruins of what was. Based on the records themes Its safe to assume this fallen kingdom depicted had crumbled due to the greed, corruption and deception of its leadership and that tge skeletons may represent presidents Bush senior and Bush Jr.

Like the last couple records from the band each member brought songs to the table and collaboratively contributed to the writing process. The songs again here are more structured like their previous two records. Many times in the past, despite a couple records in the mid 90s, the band would redo parts over again when they feel mistakes were made in the recording of the songs or when they feel they could perform better with a second or third take, with this record many times the band would do one take and not overthink it. The record has a live soundscape and went through very little editing in the production department and written last minute and recorded in a very natural way, much like the bands No Code and Vitalogy records. If errors were made they were left in and would be apart of the final cut. Much of this record experiments with many sounds and styles like folk rock, and art rock. After the turn of the century organ and keyboards were a big instrument in music especially in the alternative rock genre. Bringing Boom Gasper into the band and incorporating him on their old songs in the live setting really opened the band to a much more dynamic sound and new styles. The guitars on the record are very textured. At times Mike McCreadys guitar tremolo effect mimics a Hammond Organ’s Leslie rotary speaker. Other times is soaked in tube driven distortion, delay and reverb. McCready and Stone Gossard really seems to be channeling guitarists Jimi Hendrix, John Fogerty, Larry Parypa, Joe Strummer, Pete Townshend, Johnny Marr and Jimmy Page.

Riot Act opens up with “Cant Keep” a song that reminds me of Led Zeppelin’s “Poor Tom” with its rumbling drum beat and triad of guitars, slowly building with a gloomy, melodic, atmosphere like an impending storm. The song was originally written on ukulele by Eddie Vedder, but then transposed into the full band version. Many of the songs on Riot Act feature alternate tunnings like on the experimental and rhythmically unique love song “You Are” written by drummer Matt Cameron. The track features a guitar played through a drum machine giving a sound similar to The Smith’s “How Soon Is Now”, “All or None” a bittersweet, somber and folky tune and the dark and moody spoken word of “Bu$hleaguer” all feature varied tunnings. A few of the songs have a live, warm and acoustic rich ambiance to them like the tracks “I Am Mine”, “Bu$hleaguer”, “Cant Keep”, “All or None” and “Thumbing My Way” a song played by Jeff Ament on the upright bass. The track “Save You”, the fuzzy and grungy Mudhoney inspired “Ghost” and “Get Right”, and the blues stomping, bar rocking “1/2 Full” are some of the heavier tracks on the album; in fact “Save You” got so intense in the studio during the recording of the song, drummer Matt Cameron lost his headphones. He was able to finish the recording of the song by watching bassist Jeff Ament’s fingers as he played the bass. Cameron said “It was me watching Jeff’s fingers and hoping I was in time, you know? There’s a breakdown of just me and Jeff. I hit a cymbal, moved my head, and the headphones went flying.” These songs capture a very Vitalogy era Pearl Jam while the song “Green Disease” has a drum driven pacing that reminds a bit of “Reviewmirror” from VS. and “Cropduster” is a midtempo rocker that contains a pounding tambourine and has a riff and rhythm very similar to Skid Rows “Into Another”, a band that also just so happens to have a song called “Riot Act”. Experimentation with vocals and harmony is more present this time around like on the tracks “Help Help”, and “Bu$hleaguer” as well as the track “Arc” is an experimental track that features layers of Eddies vocal harmony and is a tribute to those who died at Roskilde. Eddie’s vocals for the most part on this record are very subdued and laid back. Hes very much the mumbler hes always been but a bit more calm and centered even on the more energetic songs a sound and vocal style very similar to The Boss Bruce Springsteen especially on one of Eddie Vedders first acoustic written songs, “Thumbing My Way”.

Lyrically, much of the records messages revolve around love, loss and the struggle to stay positive after mournful events such as the September 11 attacks and the accidental death of nine fans during Pearl Jam’s performance at the 2000 Roskilde Festival, with a big emphasis on the theme of love and seeking positive leadership. The track “Love Boat Captain” a song that promotes love as an answer in a time of anger, grief and mourning and mentions those 9 fans who died when Vedder sings “Lost nine friends we’ll never know… two years ago today”. The song “Ghost” is about TV adds and their manipulative agenda and expresses how true love never fails. Vedder said “Love is one resource that the corporations aren’t going to be able to monopolize.” Empirical tracks like these as well as “Cropduster” a song about a self centered egoist, addresses the idea of Darwinism v Creationism and the optimistically determined and inner spirited waltzing “I Am Mine” were born from tragedy and in response to political angst and personal struggles. The words “We’re safe tonight” in “I Am Mine” are a reminder that the band and their audience or America in general will make it through ok, a hopeful notion in response to the Roskilde tragedy and 9/11. Also in the song Eddie writes “And the meaning it gets left behind. All the innocents lost at one time.” could refer to either Roskilde or 9/11. Eddie said “There’s been a lot of mortality…It’s a weird time to be writing. Roskilde changed the shape of us as people, and our filter for seeing the world changed.” Themes of exile, war, peace, friendship, past, greed, politics, changes and love as higher salvation, similar subjects found on their previous record Binaural but are presented with a bit more explicitness and passion here. “You start feeling like, ‘What do I have to say? What is my opinion?’ Then I realized I did have an opinion. Not only did I have one, but I felt like it was formed by processing a lot of information and having good influences.” Vedder said. Bassist Jeff Ament also added “I think the time’s right to turn our voice up a bit… And Ed did it in a great way, with humor and a mystical, magical approach. It isn’t just, ‘We’re pissed off, and fuck you! Riot! Anarchy!’ Cos I don’t think that’s the method. At least at this point.”

Many of the lyrics on Riot Act Eddie wrote last minute before recording and were written raw on a typewriter. Eddies lyrics can be seen in their typewriter form errors and all in the bands liner notes. Riot Act is Pearl Jam’s most politically direct and forward record up to its point. Its a record of protest and at times seems to attempt to change society for the better with songs like “Green Disease”, “Bu$hleaguer” and “1/2 Full,” being politically driven songs about a world lead by disconnected politicians and business men, and point out social classes, big corporate CEO business profits, the destruction of capitalism and President George W Bush’s influence on the country at the time. Vedder said, “I have to admit this record came out a bit one-sided, but I think we as a country need to understand why we’re involved in the Middle East. This hollow patriotism frightens me.” Singer Eddie Vedder said that Riot Act‘s lyrics “represent my state of mind these days. I’m optimistic yet disillusioned, hopeful yet frustrated.” “1/2 Full” reprises some lyrics and themes from their song “Porch” when Eddie sings “There’s ain’t gonna be/No middle anymore/It’s been said before.” The track “Save You” is an angry track that expresses the frustration of watching some one you care about waste their life away. The song may reflect the struggles with drug addictions that led to the fatal overdoses of Dee Dee Ramone, Layne Staley and John Entwistle in 2002. Eddie commented on the song that “One thing I’ve learned about addiction in the last few years is that having seen other folk go through it, and really not having done that, with heroin which can grip you that intensely. I didn’t have a complete understanding and a lot of times it was easy to come to the conclusion that you place blame on the person or accuse them of weakness or ask, “Why couldn’t Kurt [Cobain] keep it together?” There was always that in the back of your mind.” The song “Thumbing My Way” is a song about walking wounded with a broken heart but has hope for something positive down the road. Sometimes you hope for anything to come along and pick you up when you are down.

Finally Riot Act is one of my favorite Pearl Jam records, definitely in my top 5 and maybe from a bias stand point, but i truly think the band was very driven and inspired in a very deep way at the time even if it was being channeled from some dark places, a spark had ignited in the band. Where Eddie faced severe writers block on Binaural, Riot Act came at the perfect time when Eddie had a lot to say because he had a lot he was feeling. I love the diversity on Riot Act from experimentation to the rich folky art rock tunes to angsty moody garage rock vibe. It brings to mind an older more angry Pearl Jam. The record is like Vitalogy meets Yield. The angsty rebellion of Vitalogy meets the maturity and melodic drive of Yield. Its a record with determination for hope, love and positivity during a bleak and hopeless time. With the heavy collaboration in song writing on Riot Act, many songs were cut from the record. Songs like the Social Distortion inspired “Down”, as well as the folky Neil Young meets Phil Ochs “Last Soldier”, “Undone”, “Other Side”, and “4/20/02” a song written in tribute to Alice In Chains lead singer Layne Staley after his tragic heroin overdose. The date reflects the day Eddie Vedder had heard the news of the singers death. A spoken word song “Im Still Here” similar to “Im Open” sounds like it may have been more of the story behind Black or his recent divorce with ex wife Beth. Their cover of Sonics’ “Dont Believe In Christmas was recorded at this time too. If you like Temple of the Dog, Mad Season, The Rockfords, Soundgarden, Skin Yard, Brad, Wellwater Conspiracy, Hater, Candlebox, Three Fish, Mother Love Bone, Neil Young, Our Lady Peace, 3 Doors Down, Pete Yorn, The Doors, The Who, The Walkabouts, The Wallflowers, Queens of the Stone Age, Foo Fighters, Stone Temple Pilots, Seether, Green River, Mudhoney, Seven Mary Three, Credence Clearwater Revival, Skid Row, Electronic, Sleater Kinney, Bruce Springsteen, The Clash, Led Zeppelin, or John Lennon you will love this record. If you voted for Bush youll probably hate it. My favorite songs are “Love Boat Captain”, “I Am Mine”, “Thumbing My Way”, “You Are”, “1/2 Full”, and “All or None”.

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mnranger5 · 5 years ago

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“Falling” in the NorthEast, Boston, MA, Portland, ME, Boothbay, ME, Whitefield, NH, 9/27/19 – 10/1/19

More than once on this trip, we heard people say they “SUMMER” in the Boothbay, Kennebunkport and in the rolling mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont. One older gentleman, with a sweater draped over his back, sleeves tied around his chest, explained it on our evening ocean sail, as “Summering, as a verb.” Well, we here in the Midwest have our own term - it’s called “VACATIONING.” And since it is no longer summer, this trip is VACATIONING IN THE FALL. But, in the spirit of rebranding words to sound like an East Coast Hoity Toity, this blog is all about Dyan and I FALLING across the northeastern United States.

One of our bucket list trips was an east coast roadtrip which included indulging in an obscene amount of lobster and taking in the brilliant fall foliage in the White Mountain National Forrest. So, for Dyan’s birthday, I booked this trip for her. This turned out to be a wonderful getaway as we wandered around the NE with no real agenda. Having no plans really allowed us to get creative with the journey and we ended up stumbling on some very interesting locations and activities. And the people watching on this trip was priceless. Surely worth more laughs than the best SNL skit.

9/27/19

Like all our trips, we were up early. Our 6:50 flight took off just after sunrise and we surfed the clouds at 35,000 feet all the way to Boston. A quick little 2-hour flight of smooth sailing is my kind of travel!

We Uber’ed over to the Courtyard Marriott hotel in downtown Boston. This hotel is directly across the street from the TD Boston Garden, the venue for the concert we’d be attending later that night. With the room not being ready yet, Dyan and I ventured out into downtown, in search of a lunch-time lobster roll. We settled on Luke’s Lobster. We ate at Luke’s on our first visit to Boston, and we both recalled it being delicious. We ordered the lobster rolls, drizzled in warm butter and a side of clam chowder. The lobster rolls were fabulous, albeit pricey. At $25 for a hot dog sized sandwich, it’ll leave you wanting two more.

After lunch, we walked around a bit more seeing some of the Freedom Trail sites. We walked the entire Freedom Trail on our first visit in August of 2016, so this time we hit one main exhibit that had been closed for restoration. Old Ironsides, also known as, the U.S.S. Constitution. We toured the ship for nearly an hour. An absolute highlight for me that I had been hoping I’d get to see since our trip in 2016.

For dinner, we chose Bell in the Hand Tavern, American’s oldest tavern. This storied establishment has been around since 1795. Obviously, it’s been renovated, but the bones and stonework of the building are original. Of course, their specialty is cold drinks and seafood. Yes please. We got the best seat in the house, the table at the point of the restaurant.

Obviously, we ordered oysters and lobster rolls and beer. While we ate absolutely everything on our plates, they were probably our least favorite lobster rolls of the trip, and most expensive at $28/roll. The lobster was a bit dry, the buns weren’t griddled and the shredded lettuce under the lobster was wilted. Complaining about having to eat lobster…first world problems.

After dinner, we walked a couple of blocks over to an establishment where everybody knows your name. And they’re always glad you came!

Yep, the original Cheers! bar. It was here Dyan fell for unfiltered, “chunky” cider beer called DownEast Cider.

From there, it was over to the Boston Garden, home of the Boston Celtics and Bruins. A storied facility, like its well-known brother down the street called Fenway Park. But tonight, was not about Larry Bird’s basketball team or Bobby Orr’s hockey team. Tonight, was a different kind of birthday gift for Dyan. Tickets to The Chainsmokers & 5 Seconds of Summer (5SOS) concert! We had great seats too, sitting low on the side just off stage left. Opening act, Lennon Stella, was underwhelming, as she played to about 5,000 fans that were in the process of filtering into the area. Her set felt very small on the massive stage and worse, all her songs sounded the same.

The second band of the night were the Ausie Punk Rockers, 5SOS. These guys were full of energy from the moment they hit the stage. Easily could be headliners of their own show, they rolled out all their hits including their hard rock version of Easier, one of my favorite songs. They did a sweet cover of Blink 182’s What’s My Name and closed their set down with an amazing rendition of Youngbloods. 5SOS was amazing, and we agreed we’d both go see them again.

The headliner was the DJ duo, The Chainsmokers. This is one of our favorites. While we aren’t part of the stereotypical rave or EDM crowd, we do love a good Chainsmokers remix on then Sonos while we’re cooking dinner for the kiddos! Anyway, the show was more like a spectacle. There were more laser lights, smoke, pyrotechnics, flaming drumsticks, motorbikes, giant suspended metal globes (which the bikes rode in), and great music than any show I have ever been to. The show was probably the best show either of us have ever been to. They opened the set with Takeaway (with Lennon Stella) before hitting just about every hit they’ve ever made, like Paris, Something Just Like This, Don’t Let Me Down, Call You Mine, This Feeling, Who Do You Love (with 5SOS) before closing with Closer. From 5SOS to The Chainsmokers, Dyan and I never sat in our seats. Boston got to see all my best dance moves! It was an incredible concert.

9/28/19

By 8AM, we were checked out of the hotel, and Uber’ed back to the airport to pick up our rental car. We rented from Alamo. Just our luck… Alamo had the ONLY line in the entire rental car reservation area. We waited in line for about 30 minutes before reaching the counter. Obviously, I rented as cool of car as I could get my hands on. Afterall, this was going to be a roadtrip and we needed to drive in style! So I selected the Mustang convertible class several months earlier. When it was our turn to approach the counter, the attendant asked me the car class I was looking for. I told her we reserved the standard convertible. She shot me the most dead serious look and told me the last couple at the counter had just upgraded to the last convertible. My jaw dropped as I searched for words. Then she flashed her pearly whites at me and said, “Just Kidding!”

Within minutes, we were headed out to the garage. Sitting right up front were two gorgeous Mustang convertibles. One was bright red car under the “Standard Convertible” sign, and the other was silver under the “Premium Convertible” sign. The silver was the 5.0L Mustang GT. The lot attendant was a 16 year old gal who likely had no idea the difference in the cars. She lead us over to the red car. I asked if we could take the silver car. She shrugged her shoulders. We picked the silver GT and got out of the garage before anybody knew any better.

Our road trip had officially begun! First stop, Salem, MA. Salem is a cute little town that 100% plays to tourists coming to learn about the town’s history. Specifically, Witches and the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 – one of the most tragic events of early American History.

There were dozens of historical sites to see in a one-mile radius stretching from downtown Salem to the waterfront. We only had time to hit a couple of sites, so the first site we visited is the Witch House, widely considered ground zero in Salem’s eerie history. In 1692, the home was owned by Jonathon Corwin, a wealthy merchant and politician. He was also the magistrate and judge in Salem who presided over the Salem Witch Trials. In short, Corwin oversaw the imprisonment of 150 people (witches, thought to be practicing witchcraft) and the death of 19 (18 of which were hung, and one pressed to death. Our second stop of the day was at The Salem Witch Trial Memorial, just blocks from Corwin’s residence. Each of the 19 killed in 1692 have their own granite slab indicating their demise.

Our reaction to Salem was mixed. Interesting, yes. Creepy, yes. Sad, yes. It is too bad all those people had to die because a couple of kids were acting out (acting like kids when they don’t get iPad time) and their parents thought somebody was casting a spell on them. Time for people to die. Sheash! Obviously, the story is tragic and cruel, but the entire town plays to the story. Virtually every shop in the historic area has to do with spooky costumes, Halloween decor, dark presences and witches. It really is a bizarre place to visit with a creepy vibe. Doubtful we’d ever go back.

Next stop on the roadtrip was Kennebunkport. This little gem of a coastal town is quaint, yet insanely overcrowded with tourist milling around. The two hotspots, The Clam Shack and Arundel Wharf Seafood had very long lines, so we settled on Alisson’s Restaurant because it had immediate seating. Talk about a sleeper! This place gets none of the seafood hype but delivers up some fantastic lobster rolls! Dyan got the regular lobster roll, while I ordered the lobster roll trio “sliders.” Finally a lobster meal that was filling!

Back on the road! By 3PM, we reached Portland. Our hotel, the Westin Harborview, sits beautiful perched up on the hill overlooking the Fore River dumping into the Atlantic Ocean. While waiting for our room, we had a couple of drinks at Top of the East, the rooftop hotel bar.

Later that evening, we walked from the hotel to the waterfront as we evaluated all the seafood restaurants. Obviously, we were having lobster again, but there was a lot of restaurants to choose from. The Fisherman’s Wharf had at least a dozen piers, all of which appeared to be working docks. They all had shops, businesses, seafood markets and a few restaurants. So many signs stating “Best Lobster Roll”, “Freshest Lobster”, “Most Lobster”, “Affordable Lobster”. How do you choose? We were drowning in choices. We took a walk down Portland Pier seeing neon lights at the very end. Must be another lobster joint… As we got closer, the establishment’s sign came into view. It wasn’t just any lobster joint. Nope, this was Luke’s Lobster’s flagship location – a brand new facility that just opened in June of this year. Winner-winner-lobster-dinner! Dyan and I got seated waterfront on the patio. We had an amazing view of the sunset at low tide.

9/29/19

It was another gorgeous autumn morning. After a delicious breakfast at the Westin, we headed north. With the heater blasting, and Dyan covered in our jackets, we cruised with the top down through the Maine Points.

One of our stops was at Bath, ME. Prior to the trip, dad gave me a tip that this is the location of Bath Iron Works (BIW), the defense contractor that builds the United States elite warships. While we really couldn’t get close to the ship, we did have a couple vantage points of the USS Daniel Inouye (DDG-118), and Arleigh Burke-class destroyer. This destroyer is widely considered the world’s most advanced surface warship.

As we crossed the Kennebec River, we got a different view of BIW, and saw a different ship currently being fitted. It was the USS Lyndon B Johnson (DDG-1002). The Lyndon B will be the third and final Zumwalt-class destroyer. With out of controls costs, and 29 canceled orders, the total project costs were spread over the three ships at a staggering price of 7.5 billion dollars per ship. Yikes!

On our way to Boothbay, we made a wrong turn and ended up at Knickerbocker Park, a small island on the Black River.

What a hidden gem this little park is. We used this pit stop to walk a bit in the sun, and warm up!

We arrived in Boothbay around 11:00, and proceeded to shop around the small town for about an hour. Dyan picked up a new wooden lobster marker for the family room picture shelf and also booked us a three hour afternoon sail to the nearby lighthouses on the Atlantic Ocean coastline.

But first, lobster. We needed some in our bellies. We had it narrowed down to two options. McSeagulls or Mine Oyster. Both on the water, both with seafood on the menu. However, McSeagulls had this great cover band on their patio belting out some 80’s hits. This was my kinda place. Mine Oyster on the other hand seemed to be known for their oyster menu – not my thing. I remained silent, hoping Dyan would succumb to the great tunes bellowing from the bar. Dyan chose Mine Oyster. Of course, she did. But this is her birthday extravaganza afterall, so whatever makes mama happy makes me happy! We were promptly seated at the patio overlooking the Boothbay Harbor. Full disclosure, other than for breakfast, we had lobster for every single meal thus far. We kind of wanted to try some other fresh caught seafoods. First up, Dyan got a small order of Oysters Rockafeller (sambuca flambéed spinach, garlic, shallots, bacon, cream and Swiss cheese) – the same style of oysters her and dad fell in love with while we were in Florida Keys for Alissa’s wedding. I tried one, but it just reaffirmed that oysters are not my thing! Dyan on the other hand was in Heaven. We also got an order of fresh Maine squid, fried up into delicious calamari.

But oysters and calamri weren’t very filling. The waiter told us that if we ordered the woodfired lobster dinner, he would personally guarantee that we’d never have better lobster in our life. EVER. That’s a hell of a guarantee. Obviously, there was no saying “NO” to that claim. And so, we had lobster for lunch, again.

It was served, pre-split for us. The shells and edge of the lobster were a bit blacked from the wood fire. But the meat glistened with a garlic/lemon butter. It was obvious this place knew how to prepare lobster, and from bite #1, they made good on their guarantee. We had had some great lobster on this trip, but the smokiness of the woodfire put this lobster in an entirely different category. There literally was no comparison to this lobster. The meat literally fell out of the shell and into your stomach…not sure if I ever chewed. Dyan and I spent 30 minutes peeling every tiny shred of meat out of every tentacle, tail orifice and claw. This was one of the best meals I have ever had in my life. And the fingerling potatoes served with it would have stolen the show on any other entrée except this one. They were roasted perfectly in a butter glaze. Crispy skin and soft creamy middle. This restaurant This meal could easily be the ONLY reason necessary to visit Boothbay. Just wow. We sat on the patio for two hours drinking cold beers and watching lobster boats coming and going from the harbor.

Next up, was our sail boat ride on the Schooner Eastwind. A perfectly relaxing sail for Dyan, but a working sail for me. Within 5 minutes of boarding, we broke dock and were out into the harbor. The captain and 1st officer needed assistance raising the sails.

Obviously, I volunteered. Me and another guy hoisted the main sail to full mast. Immediately, the wind caught the sail and we were heading south out to the ocean. The trip took us past Burnt Island Lighthouse and Cuckolds Lighthouse.

While no whales were spotted, some on the boat claimed to see multiple porpoises. We did see a seal swimming through our wake which was pretty cool. It was a perfect day for sailing – bluebird skies, temps in the 60’s with some decent wind. At the midpoint of our sail, we passed Cape Island, better known as Witch Island. This island was owned by Margret Hamilton, better known as the Wicked Witch of the East from Wizard of Oz. Apparently, she was a lovely woman and was known in the area for the being such a kind and sweet natured person!

After our sail, we headed out to Spruce Point Inn, our resort for the night. Our cabin had a front row seat to a gorgeous Boothbay/Atlantic Ocean sunset.

We had a very comical end to the night that Dyan and I just could not stop laughing about. It was 8PM and we were famished. We took the shuttle back into Boothbay for dinner. There was a quaint Italian restaurant, The Ports of Italy, that seemed to be the local favorite. We didn’t have reservations, so it was a bit of a wait. Great people watching, however. Like, better than the state fair or airport. Lots of old money and tourists made for an entertaining dinner. Because this restaurant is quite small, the tables are virtually on top of each other. After being seated, a younger couple was sat directly next to us. They kept looking over at Dyan and I, clearly judging what we were eating. I had this GIGANTIC plate of spaghetti in front of me and Dyan an equally large portion of lobster ravioli. We chowed like nobody’s business. We even ordered a second basket of bread just so we could mop up the sauce left on our dishes. Meanwhile, the other couple was eating dainty salads with their glasses of vino. They obviously could not believe how much food we had consumed. They didn’t disguise their non-verbals very well. Then we ordered dessert…not one, but two! Cheesecake and lemon cake. Obviously, those plates didn’t last long. And the looks from our neighbors just kept on coming. I could have eaten another basket of bread, but I refrained.

After dinner, we walked around town. Most of the shops were closed. It was cold, as temps had dropped into the 40’s. Neither of us had brought our jackets. There was a shop that was open a couple blocks ahead of us with people streaming in and out of. It was an ice cream parlor, and our hope was that they’d have some hot coffee. We walked in, stood in the long line and glanced at the menu. No coffee. We turned around and guess who was right behind us in line. Yep, the couple from the Italian restaurant. They must’ve really fallen off their rockers when they saw us in line – probably thought we were ordering our second desserts. What a riot!

9/30/19

As beautiful of a resort as Spruce Point Inn is, we didn’t stick around long in the morning. We were headed for the hills of New Hampshire by 9AM. We stopped for a quick breakfast-on-the-road at Dunkin Donuts which brings me to a rant about the Northeast. I am a pop drinker. At several locations in the NE (including this Dunkin), we stopped to get pop – Dr. pepper for Dyan and Diet Pepsi for me. Everytime we cracked a 20oz. bottle, there was no “PSSSSST”. The pop was perfectly flat - no fizz, no bubbles, absolutely void of any carbonation. It was like this nearly everywhere.

By the end of the trip, the common denominator for the carbonation-less soda was bottles with this symbol on the cap. Bizarre and disappointing because we probably wasted at least $10 on bad pop before figuring out not to buy pop with that cap.

The drive into New Hampshire was stunning. We drove winding mountain roads as we climbed in elevation. The fall foliage went from early signs of fall to full blown peak colors in a matter of an hour. Brilliant reds and oranges cascaded down the mountains. These are the colors that people rave about on NE fall road trips!

With the top down, we cruised along New Hampshire backroads that aren’t even recognized by the GPS. Around noon, we arrived at our stately resort, Mountain View Grand Resort, perched high on a hill in the White Mountains.

The resort, built in 1865, is a massive, sprawling compound complete with a golf course, farm (with animals), mountain trails, pools, tennis courts and axe throwing. The place is magnificent.

We were too early to check in, so we had a great lunch in the restaurant before heading outdoors to rent mountain bikes. Yep, we were about to go mountain biking dressed in our Sunday-best. And for the record, we aren’t bikers. Renting bikes had as much paperwork as buying a new car. The Activities Manager, Mike, asked us our skill level, which prompted a response like “This is our first bike ride in 30 years.” He laughed. He was planning to send us on Trail 1. He assured us it would be easy. He built up how much fun we’d have. “It’s a nice scenic view of the White Mountains.” We were sold! His parting words were, “Stay right on the Old Farm Road (OFR) until you see a sign for Trail 1, then take a left.”

Great! We were off. OFR is a significantly long downhill dirt road out the backside of the resort. Within moments, Dyan and I were going WAY too fast on the loose gravel.

At this point in the story, I should mention that OFR has no clear signage. There are several forks in the road to other dirt roads. I recalled Mike saying “stay right”, so I called out to Dyan to take the right fork. It led us into the resort maintenance area…a dead end. We retraced our path uphill to the fork, walking the bikes up the steep road. This was the first moment I regretted jeans and a sweater.

We headed back down OFR approaching another fork. This time Dyan called out the right fork. The road meandered into the woods and abruptly dead ended after a quarter of a mile. Ugh, backtrack again. This was annoying.

As Dyan walked her bike uphill, I rode my bike hard in a standing position, to get more power. SNAP! My pedal flew out from under me as my foot slipped off causing me to nearly lose my balance. The chain had popped off.

Frustrating. I spent a few minutes getting the chain connected again, leaving my hands black with oil and nowhere to clean them off. After backtracking, we continued down OFR looking for Trail 1. We came across a an unmarked trail. Feeling like we had gone WAY TOO FAR on OFR, we decided to take it. It turned out to be Trail 3, and Intermediate blue rout full of up/downs and rocks to dodge. We obviously had gone the wrong way, but whow would we have known since the trails were not clearly marked.

As we huffed and puffed on Trail 3, we approached a fork in the road. To the right was Trail 5, but straight was unmarked. The unmarked trail turned out to be Trail 4, the most difficult trail on the mountain. It was So steep, there were points we had to stop and walk our bikes. My chain continued popping off, and Dyan’s bike wouldn’t shift into higher gears. She was stuck doing uphills in very low gear settings – which made the challenging ride virtually impossible!

Trail 4 was the most challenging because it was super steep. I swore under my breath a few times at the long meander downhill that OFR tool us on. This was the payback. An intense uphill with seemingly no end in sight. After 30 minutes on Trail 4, we arrived at a junction with a sign that said, Trail 1! Finally. Trail 1 gave us a nice easy ride out to the paved Mountain View Road where we could enjoy some of the beautiful scenery without having to worry what was over the next hill! By this time however, Dyan was beat from her gear shifter not working, and I was a filthy mess from fixing my chain a half dozen times. When returning the bikes, Mike made a comment about how greasy my hand were. I told him of our chain and gear shifting problems which caused him to react oddly. He actually blamed the problems on us stating that while Dyan’s bike was gear shifting hard, it must have been user error because “it worked for him.” He went on to tell me that I was obviously riding the bike wrong if the chain kept coming off. He was quite defensive, so Dyan and I headed to the front desk to check in to the room – we had lots of plans this evening!

First up, we had a wine tasting in the 1865 Wine Cellar. I can’t tell you the kinds of wine we tasted, but they were pretty tasty. They also served cheese, crackers and fruit, which was a nice little snack before dinner.

And speaking of dinner, we had reservations at Stickney’s Steak and Chop Pub, in the iconic Omni Resort at Mt. Washington – a quick 15 minute drive from our resort. This place is supposed to be a world-class steakhouse, but it ended up being anything but that.

We aren’t wine drinkers, but thought we might try it with our steak dinners. We asked the waiter for a sweeter red wine. Dyan and I chose differently based on his recommendations. Neither ended up being sweet at all. Mine tasted like jet fuel, and Dyan’s was like a glass of red vinegar (although, she didn’t complain about hers). After one sip, I ordered a Diet Pepsi.

For starters, we selected the crisp fried mozzarella, which was a giant brick of mozzarella with little fried coating. We also both got the filet mignon. I don’t know how you mess up a filet, but they surely did. No seasoning not cooked very well and just overall a tough piece of meat. That would be the worst $150 we spent on the trip. Dinner was a bust, but at least we got a good laugh!

10/1/19

I had expected today to be a boring drive on the interstate back to Boston to catch a flight home. However, the drive turned out to have some really fun impromptu stops which ended up being highlights of the trip.

Being that we were only 10 minutes away from the Bernie Sanders territory, we decided to make the trip west to the N.H./Vermont border town of Lancaster for breakfast. Then, we crossed the state line into Vermont and made our way down highways through the sleepy towns along the Connecticut River. Just outside of Lunenburg, VT, we crossed the Mount Orne Covered Bridge. This was our first covered bridge of the trip!

We continued south winding along the river and valleys, taking in the vibrant red and orange foliage that canvassed the mountains. It was the most beautiful fall colors we had seen the entire trip.

We joined up with I-93 in St. Johnsbury and headed southeast toward Boston.

It didn’t take long for us to start gaining elevation as we made out way out of Franconia and up Cannon Mountain.

Just past the very intense black diamonds of the ski area were signs for Flume Gorge. I recall seeing the first sign for the area and turning to Dyan and saying something like, “That sounds like a cool place!” Dyan looked at me and said, “I was thinking the same thing!” Neither of us knew what a Flume Gorge was, but we took the next exit, because we were now on an adventure to find out. The Flume Gorge could have been a trail, an amusement park ride, a historical site, a logging mill or maybe even a hotel or restaurant. We didn’t even know where it was. It could have been an hour away or maybe longer? Just off the interstate we got our first idea what and where the Flume Gorge was. On the exit ramp was a state park sign for Flume Gorge telling indicating it was less than a mile away. Sweet!

The parking lot was in the middle of the mountainous forest, and it was packed with cars. Hikers were milling around in their big boots, rain gear and cold weather clothes. Dyan and I looked like we were dressed for a summer day on the water. Shorts and flip flops. The cold damp weather was not going to stop us from doing or seeing whatever this Flume gorge thing is…

We approached the visitor’s center where mountaineers stood in line for tickets. When it was our turn, we asked, “What are we standing in line to buy tickets for?” The ranger pulled out a map with hiking trails leading to Flume Gorge. It was deep ravine with rushing water running through it creating multiple cascading waterfalls. It was a 2-3 hour round trip hike, but if we used the shuttle, to the base of the gorge, it was a 1.5 hour hike. The ranger told us it would be wet, slick and muddy. I looked down at my flip flops, and Dyan’s cute canvas shoes. Our eyes met, smiling, knowing there was no chance we were leaving that place without experiencing the Flume Gorge. We bought tickets.

Because we were pressed a bit for time (we did have a flight out of Boston in 6 hours, and were still a solid 2 hour drive from the airport), we opted to take a shuttle to the base of the gorge. The shuttle ride is super cool because it took us across the Flume Covered Bridge – the most photographed covered bridge in all of New Hampshire.

After a .5 mile hike up a steep trail, we reached our entrance to the gorge (which is actually the exit because it’s where the water flows out of the gorge). The granite walls shoot straight up in the air nearly 100 feet. The pathway through the gorge is a narrow platform that has been constructed to walk above water level. The water flows through the gorge, which is never more than 20 feet wide. If you have claustrophobia, this is NOT the place for you. The walkway raises alongside the gorge wall as it zig zags across the water giving visitors the best views of the waterfalls.

It took about 45 minutes to make our way through the 800-foot long gorge. And by the end, we were way up on top of the gorge, where the creek dumps in. This was one of the coolest stops on our trip.

By noon, we made it to the Mustang and were about to get back on the interstate, but first needed some fuel. We were in the run down resort town of Lincoln, NH when we stopped at Irving Oil. A Gas Station that will certainly leave an impression on you. This is ground zero to the Betty and Barney Hill alien abduction. The gas station is full of newspaper articles, pictures and documents explaining the events that had taken place. Complete with alien blow up dolls and visitor t-shirts this gas station was an experience that caters to the tourists.

The remainder of our drive into Boston was not nearly as eventful. We actually arrived a few hours early, so we sat at Constitution Beach Park and watched jets land over Belle Isle Inlet.

Around 6PM, we were wheels up en route to Minneapolis. There were some pretty good lines of storms over the NorthEast and upper Midwest, so our flight path diverted us way north over Sault Saint Marie in Canada before finally bringing us home. The flight was over 4 hours, which was nearly double our flight time to Boston.

This trip solidified Boston as our favorite Big City to visit.

0 notes

rockerrick-555p · 8 years ago

Text

Humble beginnings..

{So in light of his anniversary I have pulled together Rocker’s first thread ever with @sigmarickandmorty.. I remember being so freaking nervous and asking so many questions, having never roleplayed before..}

{I remember Sigmun asking “do you want to write the starter or should I?” and my response of “I don’t even know what that means” haha }

{But I figured it out with their help and the Rocker you know and love today is the result. But it all started way back then with Sigma’s mun asking if I’d like to do a thread..}

{Put it below a cut to not crowd the dash, but fair warning. Something happened rather quickly in the community and this scene wasn’t finished so it just abruptly stops.. but I still had to post it anyway.. Enjoy!}

“S-so Morty, what did you think?” Rick was asking as he led Morty backstage. “Y-y-y-… D-didn’t know Grandpa could rock, huh?”

Morty was in awe, looking around them at all the aliens and groupies that were begging for a chance to see the rocker version of his grandfather. “I-it was amazing! You used to do that?”

“Sure did, Morty,” Rick answered, grinning. He nodded to the security guard who stepped aside for them without a second glance. They were used to other Ricks visiting, it seemed. “Hey heeeey, me!” Rick cried as he entered the greenroom. “Great show tonight.”

------

RockerRick groaned inwardly when he saw the other Rick approach ~guess these guys are just going to keep coming out of the woodwork now~ He eyed the kid at the old man’s heels, gleefully looking up at him and back at the old Rick like it was fucking Christmas, that was new.

“I-It’s always a good show.” he coolly replied, handing a fan back her autograph book and turning to face himself. “W-who’s this? Y-Your protege or some shit?”

------

“You wish,” Rick snorted, putting a hand between Morty’s shoulders and ushering him forward. “Actually, this is your grandson.” The groupie who’d been in line to get her autograph next gave Morty a strange look. The line dissipated soon after. Well at least they’d get to talk alone now.

Morty’s eyes were wide as he looked up at the other Rick. Most Ricks at least looked like his grandfather with the lab coat and hairstyle. There were a few variants, but never anything this excessive. “U-uh… Hi,” he murmured, rubbing his arm.

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RockerRick looked around the old man to watch his disciples fleeing from the room. He gave one a threatening look when he turned back before leaving, he was furiously typing on a cellphone. Fucking great, this would be tomorrow’s headline. He glared at the other Rick ~Thanks a lot asshole~ “No, no, no… backup. Grandson means kid first. I don’t think so biiiitch … y-you’re Grandson maybe.”

He looked back at the teenager, patting himself down trying to find his smokes. As far as he was concerned he was just another groupie. A stagehand anticipated his need and came over to pass him a cigarette, then held up a lighter for him to spark it. He puffed it to life, letting the smoke out through his nose. He ran a well practiced hand through his long hair before he spoke to the kid ”So y-you, you got a name or something?”

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Morty was chewing on his lower lip when Rick addressed him. “M-Morty!” he cried. “M-my mom is Beth, a-a-and I have a sister, too.” So this version of Rick didn’t have kids yet? That was definitely different.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Y-yeah, genius, grandkids means kids first. Y-you bang that drummer chick from Muskeegan a-a-and get her pregnant. So watch out for that. At least, that’s how it happened in my universe,” he added, shrugging.

Making a mental note to cancel that show in two weeks with Muskeegan he stared at Morty. The kid was adorably anxious in his presence. RockerRick never imagined himself with kids. Granted he still hardly believe he would ever give up his posh rockstar lifestyle for a labcoat either. He decided he’d indulge the kid and show him just how cool his grandfather was..or could be.

------

He snapped his fingers summoning over another stage minion. “My guests and I-I are, are going to my penthouse for the after party. Have the car brought around.”

He swirled around and picked up his leather jacket “C-come alone then, let me show you how we do things here in 555p”

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Rick rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “F-fucking show off,” he grumbled but nodded for Morty to follow. Hell, if he could get some free booze and top-shelf drugs out of this then who was he to complain? Morty meanwhile was trying not to act star struck. This was still Rick, after all, but he was so cool compared to the other Ricks. Probably because he was so young.

Hurrying to keep up, Morty asked, “W-w-what’s it like then? I-I mean, if you don’t do science, i-is it just music?”

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RockerRick smirked as he lead the way out through the back of the concert hall ~that’s right kid, worship me like the rest~ “Of course I ‘do science’” he made quotations with his fingers before ashing his cigarette “Where do you think all this high tech sound equipment comes from? Best Buy?” He gave Morty a playful smile “Or this” he gestured at the sleek black custom painted car they were walking towards and pressed the button on his keys. The car beeped, purple neon undercarriage flashing to life, before the tires rotated and the vehicle hovered in midair. He laughed at Morty’s reaction and opened the door for him to hop inside before meeting Rick’s unimpressed gaze. He leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t worry old man, there’s a liter of top shelf Transfloorkian whisky with your name on it.”

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The pair got in, Rick giving Morty a ‘don’t be lame’ look and Morty shooting Rick a ‘why can’t you be this cool?’ look in return. With Rocker Rick in the middle, Morty pulled on his seatbelt, turning to face his grandpa’s past. “S-so you built all this stuff? That’s pretty cool. R-Rick just builds dangerous machines and subterranean lairs.”

Rick was busy raiding the mini bar, shooting his younger self a suspicious look as he pulled a few bottles out. “L-l-look, Morty, this may seem impressive b-but it’s not even science. I-i-it’s it’s engineering at best, a-and not even that impressive.” He took a swig from one of the bottles before continuing his tirade. “Y-you want me to build cars, I-I’ll do it but Morty lemme tell ya that shit gets o-urp-ld real fast.”

Morty crossed his arms over his chest, pouting as he leaned back in his seat. “Y-yeah Rick, whatever. I-I-I think it’s awesome though, that this that the younger you wasn’t so lame.”

“Oh he’s plenty lame,” Rick grumbled. “W-wouldn’t want to ruin the ride for you, though, Morty. Maybe kiss his ass a little more why don’tcha.”

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RockerRick flicked on the car’s sound system, his own music filling the air as they took off towards his place. He picked up a can of beer from the floor where Rick had disapprovingly discarded it and cracked it open, quickly slurping up the escaping foam before it could travel down the sides of the can. He gave it a final lick, tongue ring clinking against the metal, then passed it to Morty. “He’s j-j-just sour he had to, gave this all up when he knocked up your grandmother kid.” He snatched the bottle Rick was drinking from away from his lips and put it to his own, stretching an arm out along the backseat resting just over Morty’s head. “I’ve got a subterranean lair of sorts” he said fondly, a wicked glint in his eyes “But you’re too young for that”

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Rick bristled, reaching over his younger self to snatch the can of beer out of Morty’s grip. “L-look I know you don’t have grandkids yet but lemme just stop you right there a-a-and tell you to fuck right off. D-don’t look at your grandson that way.”

Morty looked between them, confused. What way? He pouted as he watched Rick down the whole beer. “H-hey, that…” He sighed, leaning back in his seat, realizing that Rick wasn’t going to let him have any fun. What was the point of coming here if Rick was just going to suddenly be responsible?

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The rocker raised an eyebrow and gave his old self a shit eating Sanchez grin “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, look at him how exactly?” voice heavy with sarcasm and innuendo. He laughed and added “Sheesh old man l-lighten up” RockerRick reached past Rick into the minibar and withdrew a wine cooler he stocked for the girls he sometimes brought home, it was lower alcohol content than the beer. He used his lighter to pop off the cap and handed it to Morty.

“Wh-what is, what’s the damn difference? Y-you’re no doubt plastered all the fucking time around the kid, not exactly setting a g-Uurrpp-ood,good example there. Let him live for once.” he ruffled the teenagers hair “Uncle RIck will look out for his virgin liver, don’t worry.”

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Uncle Rick was definitely a weird way to refer to himself, but Rick couldn’t fault him for not wanting to be called Grandpa. Morty didn’t even call him that, just Rick, and when Summer did it was always accompanied by ‘Rick.’ He quirked an eyebrow at Morty across the bench. The teen was eyeing the wine cooler and sniffing it apprehensively. When he glanced up and met Rick’s gaze the scientist sighed and nodded, Morty’s eyes lighting up. He sipped at the sweet drink, but immediately choked when it burned on the way down.

“Geez, Morty, chill. M-maybe I should have snuck you some stuff, d-don’t, don’t embarrass me by being a lightweight,” Rick groaned, leaning back in his seat with his remaining borrowed bottle.

-------

RockerRick smirked when Rick conceded to Morty having the drink ~Oh now this is going to get interesting~ he wondered how much he could sneak the kid without the old man losing his shit. He was a terrible influence after all.

When they pulled up to his building the standard post show crowd was surrounding the front doors. At least this ‘grandson’ business hadn’t traveled too fast. RockerRick scooped Morty up to swap places with him so he could be the first out of the car, and stepped out into the screams of his adoring fans. Coolly ignoring them in favor of lighting a smoke, he waited for Rick and morty to get out behind him.

“Holy shIT THERE’S TWO OF HIM!!” a chick shrieked and RockerRick laughed. He leaned in so Rick would be able to hear him over the yells “We could have some fun with th-them, that idea. Imagine what two Ricks would do to a girl?”

He put his arm around the old mans shoulder’s, raising his arms overhead hands folded in the classic rock and roll horns to get a rise out of the crowd then tugged Rick forward into the building with Morty at their heels.

-------

Rolling his eyes, Rick grumbled back, “Yeah, c-cause I just totally missed looking at my younger self naked.” As tempting as it sounded, he had Morty to think about and no one around to babysit the little shit. He wasn’t the most responsible grandfather but he wasn’t going to let Morty out of his sight in this place. Rick had lived this. He remembered what being a rocker was like. Although, he hadn’t had this much attention. Probably because back when he did it they never got very far.

Morty stumbled after Rick, trying to ignore the screams of the people around them. He felt lightheaded, this was all so surreal. “Rick!” he gasped once they’d gotten safely inside. “W-w-why didn’t you tell me about all this?”

Rick was screwing the cap back on his flask. “What, about groupies Morty? I-I-I think that’s something you can figure out on your own.”

-------

“They are what you get when you focus on music and not science kid” RockerRick said, placing a slender hand on top of Morty’s head to guide it too notice a hot redheaded goth girl who was staring right at the teenager.

He summoned over a lacky, pointed at the girl, who looked about to faint when the stagehand went to retrieve her. She stammered and tripped over her words unable to get much out to the rockstar besides “I’m you’re biggest fan”

RockerRick smiled his most devilish grin at the girl “Y-yes I’m quite sure you are. This is my nephew Morty by the way.” he gestured to Morty briefly before resuming his strut inside. The four of them got into the lift and started zipping up to the penthouse, loud pumping music and another crowd of cheers greeting them as the doors opened, though granted this group was much smaller. RockerRick’s only choice favorites got up here.

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Morty swallowed hard, trying to keep his gaze off the beautiful redhead. Her hair was shaved on one side, but it was the same shade as Jessica’s. He chanced a look at her before looking away again. Rick didn’t fail to notice this and began patting himself down for his portal gun. “S-so, pick of the litter, huh?” Rick droned to his twin. He followed the other out of the lift as he brought his portal gun out, adjusting the location.

“W-w-wait, Rick!” Morty cried, trying to grab the gun out of his hands. “W-we just got here, aren’t you always saying we should we we need to find places to relax once in a while, after our crazy adventures?”

“Mmhm… I have said that Morty. I said that when I wanted to go to the movies last month but your dumb ass was being lame a-a-a-and wanted to g-URP-o home instead so you could study or some shit,” Rick snapped, zapping a portal into the wall. “Sex, drugs and Rock n’ Roll is a bit too much for you right now.”

Morty groaned, then turned to Rocker Rick. “C-come on, Uncle Rick, you won’t let him send me home, will you?” he begged.

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RockerRick chuckled “Y-you’re, you are a walking oxymoron Rick.” He grabbed two bottles of a smoking purple liquid from a girl and offered one to the old man “Besides that won’t work in here. I’m still you, and we know full well our mind can prevent unwanted visitors… or departures.”

RockerRick could tell Rick didn’t like the threatening nature of being trapped when he turned to the lift instead. “N-no no, come on man l-look relax would you? How much trouble can he really get in here? I’m sure it’s less than one of your adventures where he almost got killed or worse.” he held both bottles in one hand and reached out the other for Rick’s shoulder adding in an undertone “I’ll have one of my people keep an eye on him all right?”

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“F-forgive me if I don’t trust your people,” Rick hissed, narrowing his eyes. Dammit. He knew he’d forgotten something. So they couldn’t portal out, if they wanted to leave they’d have to physically leave the building. He glanced at Morty who was awkwardly trying to flirt with the red headed girl that had been brought with them. “I guess I really don’t have a choice in this, huh?” he grumbled, taking both bottles from Rocker Rick.

He downed one, then the other, a feat that was met with cheers from the crowd. Bemused, he tossed the bottles over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. “G-gotta keep up, kiddo,” he teased, making his way to the bar. If he couldn’t leave just yet, at least he’d have some fun.

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“Th-that’s what I’m talking about biiitttch!” RockerRick yelled over the music “Shots all around !!” which earned more applause from the gathering. he was actually looking forward to getting shitfaced with himself. He winked at Morty “Have fun kid, I-I’ll catch, catch b-Uurrp-ack up with you later” and he watched the redhead drag Morty over to wear people were dancing.

He scanned the crowd and found the woman he was looking for sulking in a corner furiously typing away on a laptop and sauntered over to her.

Her brow creased further when she saw him “What the hell are you thinking bringing another version of yourself and a ‘grandson’ back here ? Do you have any idea how much work its going to be to keep this quiet?”

“Psh y-you love it Sasha.” he paused as a waitress came by with shots. RockerRick grabbed two downing them both. Sasha refused “You know I don’t indulge in your bad habits Rick”

“Exactly why I came over here, l-look I want you to keep an eye on the kid okay? L-let him have fun, but don’t let him get his hands on anything too strong” he reached into his back packet and passed her some condoms “I highly doubt the anxious little guy will get this far but slip him them if hell has frozen over” RockerRick got up and sauntered over to meet Rick at the bar before she could protest.

Still she shouted at his back “I’m not a babysitter Rick” but she moved her seat to better watch Morty on the couch he had moved to all the same.

RockerRick shrugged when Rick gave him a questioning look when he rejoined him “Now about that Transfloorkian whisky”

----------

Rick already had a glass of blue green liquid in his hands, swirling it as Rocker Rick approached. “Gimme a minute,” he murmured, staring down the liquid a moment before downing it. “Or a se-urp-cond. Hand it over, I don’t even n-need I don’t need a fuckin’ glass, kid.” Reaching a hand toward his younger self he made a grabbing motion, giving him a serious look. “D-don’t skimp on me now, that’s some good shit you’re teasing me with.”

Maybe he was getting old, but those few drinks he’d had (on top of the alcohol he’d consumed during the show) were starting to get to him the tiniest bit.

--------

A wide crooked grin spread across RockerRicks face. Oh this was delicious, someone who could keep up with him for once. ~some hot as fuck~ he added to his thoughts. He was so full of himself after all.

He passed the bottle over after taking a long swig and watched in amazement as the other Rick downed three quarters of his expensive shit. “Shhiitt dawg y-you, you’ve.. I’m impressed! Grandpa can paaarrtyy!”

They made their way thru the two other bottles of the whiskey the rocker owned as the crowd started to thin. The pair of Ricks stumbled over to a sofa having switched to bottles of beer. RockerRick pulled out his pipe, sparking it and leaning back to rest his long legs up on the table. He kicked off his boots then settled in close to Rick, leaning up against him slightly, testing. He passed the other man the pipe and gestured to Morty “l-looks, looks like your boy is having fu-Uurrp-n, fun for a change”

The teenagers eyes were heavily lidded and he swayed in his seat slightly. The redhead had slung her arms around his neck, but the kid looked like he didn’t know what to do next.

--------

t had gotten to the point in the evening where Rick was no longer giving a shit about anything. He was pleasantly drunk, the room swirling around him. And he had to admit that the more he drank the more attractive his younger self was looking. Yeah, he used to have a pretty good body. What had happened? Oh, yeah. Twenty years of boozing. When his eyes were directed toward Morty, he quirked an eyebrow.

Morty looked like he was trying to decide if he should kiss the girl he was sitting beside or grab at her. Either way he was too unstable, and he was just going to be sloppy. Sighing, Rick called out, “Morty!” Snapping his fingers until Morty looked up at him, Rick cocked his head toward Rocker Rick. “Watch and learn, kid.”

In one fluid movement, Rocker Rick was pulled into Rick’s lap. He slid a hand up the other’s side, bare fingers touching the bare skin from his ripped tank top. Bringing his hand around to the small of his counterpart’s back, Rick wrenched him closer, bringing their lips together in a hot kiss. His other hand shifted down the other’s back and he paused to snap at Morty, directing his attention as he slipped it beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Even with the instruction Morty wasn’t sure he could have done all that. On top of the fact that he was too busy trying not to watch, turning away from his grandpa in embarrassment.

--------

RockerRicks head spun as he was turned around and yanked into the older man’s lap. He was used to making the first move, and was not used to being manhandled in such a way. He greedily took the offered kiss regardless, clutching his hands into Ricks hair to deepen it. When the kiss broke his chest was already heaving, and he was hard as a rock. ~fuck this guy can kiss! ~ when he felt the hand slide down his side and into his jeans a breathy moan escaped his lips.

“Oh fuck y-yeah.” he growled popping his body up slightly and swinging a leg over to properly straddle his older self. He cupped Ricks face, brushing his thumb ring along the others man cheek before tilting the other man’s face aside and diving for Rick’s neck. Bitting down hard where his neck met his shoulder he then set at sucking a large purple bruise onto the pale skin, while grinding his body into the other man’s lap. Releasing the suction with a pop the Rocker leaned his head back as the room spun. Amazed he had even noticed in his current state, his attention was drawn to a shaky “oh jeez” from Mortys direction.

--------

“Get over it, Morty,” Rick was grumbling, rubbing his hand lazily up and down the rocker’s sides. “One day all you’ll have left is yourself a-and then you’ll be grateful you can travel the multiverse.” Even still, he wasn’t one for voyeurism. Well… He was. He loved being watched. Just not by his own grandson. “Hey,” he murmured to his counterpart, pulling him down again. “Y-you think I can ship him home now? So we can have some time to ourselves,” he added with a suggestive purr.

------

RockerRick reached down and shifted himself in his pants. The tight skinny jeans worked wonders for his image but were quickly becoming too tight. His lips curled up into a mischievous smirk at the suggestion and he looked across the room at Morty.

The teenager had finally mustered up enough courage to kiss the girl it seemed and was quickly trying to catch up with his Grandfather, running his hands all over the girls back. The rock star didn’t have it in him to cock-block the poor kid, he wouldn’t think Uncle Rick was cool anymore if he allowed Rick to send the kid home just when he was nearing second base. Maintaining his reputation preceeded even his own lust, so he could wait a while to get the old man up to his bed for the sake of his image.

“naw l-let him have his fun, there’s nothing like you-Uurrp-re, you’re first groupie. We’ve already been there, done that.” he kissed himself again then added “Besides, w-waiting will only heighten things for later”

He stood running a hand through his hair and adjusted his clothes back into their proper positions. “I know how to keep us busy. Come with me, the good shit is in the back” he said with a wink like leading the way just out of the main room into a smaller one. He took the collaxion crystals out of a cupboard and set to grinding them up for them both. After taking their hits he slammed Rick back against the wall capturing him back into a rough kiss. It seemed he couldn’t help himself now that he was high as fuck. He was just about to suggest they did send the kid home when Mortys voice cut thru the penthouse “HEY-HEY WHAT’S Y-YOUR PROBLEM MAN? ”

-----

Even though Rick was still coming down from the line of K-Lax they’d just done, Morty’s shrill voice cut through the haze. “Morty?” he murmured, removing Rocker Rick from himself and hurrying out into the other room.

Morty was on the couch, obviously having been pushed over by the larger man standing over him with his arm around the young redhead. “W-what’s goin on out here, man?” Rick asked, quirking his brow at the stranger and crossing his arms over his chest.

“R-Rick, h-h-he said I stole his girlfriend! I-I-I didn’t know!” Morty insisted, eyes wide.

-----

But the redhead was struggling to get her arm out of the guys arm “EX girlfriend Morty! EX” She started pushing against him with her foot trying to pull free of him “I Dumped his ass 6 months ago, or at least I tried to…”

RockerRick has heard enough. Quick as lightning thanks to the lingering k-lax in his system he jumped up and towards the shitbag bringing his fist down crunching into the tool’s face. The jerk stumbled backward. finally releasing the girl who ran to duck behind Morty. The bastards nose started to bleed and clenched his fits glaring back at the Rock star.

“W-who the FUCK you shitbag? and how did you get up here ??” RockerRick was furious. His sanctuary had been invaded, violated but this dickanus. He had been throughly blue-balled and the bastard had messed with Morty. Who, RockerRIck was surprised to realize, he felt the need to protect. He ran at the fuckwad again, pure blind fury at this point thanks to the drugs and the booze.

Everyone who remained in the room started chanting FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

------

Morty held onto the girl, mustering up his courage and standing in front of her in case the guy managed to get past Rocker Rick. Sighing, Rick ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit… I always used to do things the h-urp-ard way,” he grumbled, pulling out a small device from inside his lab coat. Walking over to his younger self, he put a gentle hand on his shoulder before yanking him back behind himself. “I got this, stop making a scene,” he sighed.

The man had just gotten his bearings and had started to fight back, but paused when Rick stepped in. A harsh laugh cut through the chanting crowd. “What, is your dad gonna fight your battles for you now?!” he mocked, grinning as he spit some blood onto the floor. “Alright then, Gramps, sock it to me.”

Rick snickered, amused by the comment. “Hear that, baby?” he cooed to Rocker. “Th-this guy thinks I’m your daddy. I-I think I could get u-urp-sed to that.” The next few seconds were hard to figure out. Rick flicked his wrist, and suddenly the guy was on the floor, twitching. Turning to himself, Rick held up a little coin for him to see. “Sends an electrical pulse straight to the brain, temporarily shutting down body functions. A-a-although sometimes i-urpt just shuts the brain down, so, uh… Be careful.” He handed the coin over as the crowd began to dissipate.

--------

RockerRick closed his fist tightly around the coin in annoyance. Rick had just thoroughly embarrassed him in front of his flock. Nostrils flared he tried to calm his breath ~he also saved you a night in hospital and some broken bones, that guy is twice your size~ his rational mind pointed out. He sighed and summoned a member of his staff “Get everyone th-the, the fuck out, I’m done with them. Also find out how in the hell that shitbag got up here so I-I can fire someone.”

He turned to Rick and held up the coin examining it in the light “Th-that’s, this is going to be pretty handy thanks.. Daddy.” He added in a purr with a wink “I-I’m never, I’ll never have to switch to ‘science’ thanks to the gifts I-I keep getting from Ricks. I’ll be the first one of us to ride this Rock and Roll train to th-the end motherfuckerrss!” He ran his hand through his hair at the thought, all of his cool composure back in place. Snatching up a pack of smokes from the ground he light one and offered the pack to Rick before stooping down on one knee to meet Morty’s level. Grabbing the teen’s chin he turned his head left and right checking him over that he hadn’t gotten hit before the Ricks had intervened. “You alright kid?” He asked, his tone soft and concerned.

--------

At the comment, Rick frowned. That definitely wasn’t his intention. Then again, this was a different universe. Things weren’t going to be the same for this version of Rick anyway. He just wondered how the Council would deal with him when they realized he wouldn’t ever get a Morty.

His own Morty swallowed, tenderly reaching up to dab at his swollen cheek. “I-I-I’m fine,” he murmured, pulling away from Rick. “J-just a bit of a bump.” He glanced at his Rick who, knowing that look, nodded in response.

“I hate to cut the party short, but I think it’s about time I got Morty home,” Rick stated, stepping up beside the boy. “Don’t worry, I-I’ve got some stuff in the lab that’ll fix him right up. Won’t even bruise.”

--------

RockerRick rubbed his neck as he stood up. Still staring down at Morty as his mind argued with itself. If getting to hang out with a tough kid in his old age was an inevitably, well maybe he could deal with that after all.

He shook himself out of his gushy thoughts and turned to Rick “y-yeah, yeah” he cleared his through to steady his voice when it betrayed his thoughts “r-right, right sure, good.” He ruffled the teenagers hair “s-sorry things got a bit out of hand kid, but y-you’re, you can handle your shit.”

Offering a fist bump to the older version of himself he laughed “Y-you are, you’re alright s512. Still an old shitbag though. Y-you, you know where to find me if you’re ever lusting for your old cooler life.”

------

Morty blinked at the touch but smiled, getting up. “Y-yeah, it was nice to meet you.”

“Don’t go soft on me now,” Rick grumbled to both of them before returning the fist bump. “You know I’ll be back. Gonna have to finish what we started someday,” he added, winking. Morty looked confused for a moment but didn’t have time to question it as Rick grabbed his arm, leading him to the lift. “Say goodbye to Uncle Rick,” he teased, nudging Morty as he got his portal gun out.

“A-ah! Good-bye Uncle Rick!” Morty cried, waving as the elevator doors closed.

There was a long while of silence in the building. Everyone had been escorted out and the bodyguards were downstairs trying to figure out who let in the guy who’d caused trouble. But a minute or two later the elevator dinged again, Rick stepping out alone. “Hey hey, guess who’s back.”

-------

RockerRick felt suffocated by the silence when the lift doors closed and flipped his stereo back on before yanking his tank over his head. He grabbed someone’s discarded beer from a table and downed it. It had been a strange night, he vaguely wondered if Ricks would start showing up with Mortys all the time now.

Suddenly aware he needed to piss with all the commotion now gone, he padded to the bathroom undoing his belt and dropping his pants as he walked. He stepped out of them leaving them where they landed, grateful to be free of clothing finally.

He had just settled his long lean naked frame across a sofa when he heard the elevator ding, a devilish grin speaking across his face when he saw Rick walk out of it. His hand snapped right to his manhood, pumping it back to life. “Sanchez y-you, you sexy fuck, get my sweet ass over here”

-------

“W-woah, that didn’t take long,” Rick snorted, quirking his brow. “Don’t get t-too, too worked up now,” he added as he sat the younger him up and say beside him. “We need to talk. And it’s pretty serious so maybe-m-maybe get some pants on until we’re done,” Rick suggested.

-------

“Psh” RockerRick snorted “well wh-what, what did yo-Uuurp, you expect I-I would do the moment I was alone after y-you got me all worked up? ” grumbling as he got up and headed back towards the bathroom “do I-I need need a drink for this?” he called out, grabbing his purple silk robe and wrapping around himself.

--------

It wouldn’t hurt,” Rick admitted, sitting on the couch. “I-it’s about Morty.” He hesitated. “I-I really think you need to go through with having a kid. A-and you need to be a man about it. You need, n-need to help t-urp-ake care of that kid.”

--------

RockerRick put two scotch glasses down rather harder than intended on the bar at the statement. Not what he wanted to be talking about when he would rather be snagging. He raised an eyebrow as he poured the amber liquid “I-I’m assuming from, from your tone that you didn’t care for yours?”

----------

“None of us really did. But you’re one who could break the cycle,” Rick pointed out, frowning. “I-I-I’m not telling you what to do. I think you should decide on your own. B-but you’re gonna see more of us. And I-I want you to pay close attention to how happy they seem.”

----------

He passed Rick the scotch and sat down next to him. “I-I don’t understand, none of y-you chumps rode out this rock n roll life, but you still didn’t commit to the family deal? W-what, what the hell did you do that I’m suddenly expected not to may I-I ask? Dozens of Ricks in the finite curve and I have to be the one to break the cycle?”

---------

Rick stared down at his glass for a long moment. “It’s something you won’t have to worry about.” He took a drink from his glass. “We left to protect them. We went to war.”

----------

War was definitely less appealing than kids. But still he just didn’t see himself doing it. “I-I don’t know man, like marriage? Only one partner! who’s a woman!” he shuddered and continued “9-5 jobs? Three piece cages? Soccer practice and homework?” he emptied his glass and got up for more, deciding he needed the whole bottle and brought it back topping off Ricks glass “it all gives me the creeps man. Shhiitt”

--------

Y-you don’t know anything about what it’ll be like,” Rick murmured, taking another sip. “I didn’t give up rock and roll completely even after I got married. The war fucked it up.” He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer. “And it’s not the woman I want you to stick by. You’ll probably hate her as much as I did. What you need to do is take care of the da–… Of your kid.”

-------

The Rockstar sighed in relief “Good, because men are t-the, the better fuck. N-not, not that I’m saying I’m agreeing to t-this, this shit. But that would have been a complete deal breaker. I-I can handle knocking a chick up and like dropping in on the kid now and again, between tours or some shit.”

He leaned back sipping the scotch and threw his legs up on the table, trying to figure out where this night had taken such a nutso turn. This fuckfest was right up there with the first time he ever met another Rick.

--------

Rick was quiet for a while, sipping his drink. “We can talk more about this some other time,” he murmured, draining the glass. “Since I’m here, what do you want to talk about instead? Or do.”

---------

RockerRick eyed Rick suspiciously “I have the distinct feeling y-you’re keeping something from me Rick.”

He flipped on his massive TV and grabbed a pair of controllers tossing one at his older self, flicking through the option menus to start a supersmash brothers fight.

“But fine, keep y-your, your secrets old man.”

Taking Ricks glass he set them both on the table and refilled them “looser drinks both” he challenged settling back to choose his character.

“How many other Ricks do y-you, you know anyway? Do you try and get us all to settle down and fix your mistakes?”

--------

Rick flipped through the characters until he found who he wanted. Wario. He and Morty played the game quite a bit back home, or they used to until Morty complained about him winning too much. “Every other version of me is the same age, dipshit,” Rick pointed out, frowning. “You’re one of the few younger ones, and most of you are off limits by orders of the Council of Ricks.”

He shot the other a glance. He was tempted to lose on purpose so he’d get to drink both glasses. “So to answer your question, n-no. I don’t do this often. I-I-I’m giving you some free, some free advice kid. S-so take it.”

--------

“Oh fuck! ” RockerRick snapped after his Kirby got shot off screen for the third time, dammit Rick was good. He thought he’d have one up on the old timer with a video game, he should have known better really. It was himself after all.

He sat up putting his feet back on the floor and leaning on his knees to put forth more effort

“Th-that, that makes sense since the other three Rick’s I’ve met are geezers like you. I-I’ve never met a council Rick or any of their stooges. Wh-why off limits? What the fuck do they care about us?”

---------

“They don’t w-want us giving you advice,” Rick sighed, leaning forward to snatch the nearly empty bottle of liquor from the table. If the younger one got the glasses, at least he could polish off the bottle. “I-i-it’s up to you if you wanna join the council, but I d-don’t think it’s worth it, really. Th-they just like pushing people around, telling them what to do.” He couldn’t help remembering his last encounter with Riq-IV, frowning. “They’ll fuck you over, me… They’ll fuck you right up the ass.” He wasn’t being subtle but he doubted his younger self would recognize it.

--------

“It defeats the purpose of a drinking game if we b-Uuurrp-oth, both drink Rick.” RockerRIck teased getting up to go grab another bottle, and coming back with three. His robe fell open in his movements, he didn’t bother to fix it. He sat back down with it cascading behind him.

He refilled their bottles, grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the table and sparked it “Military kink eh Rick?” he laughed at his own joke more enthusiastically than warranted since he was trashed. “I-I’ve, I’ve been fucked b-by a couple Rick’s myself. Seems we can’t keep our hands off ourselves.” He was nothing if not blunt, and incredibly sexualy orientated. “I’ve been told though they don’t give everyone such a choice, some Rick’s are just claimed”

--------

Snorting, Rick shook his head. “Nope… Sometimes you just don’t get a choice. I-I-I still don’t get why some other Ricks see me as an automatic bottom.” He shot Rocker a suggestive look. “I-I’m not by the way. I-I mean I’ll take it like a cha-a-a-mp, but, uh…” He reached over, sliding a hand up the other’s thigh. “I dunno i-if you noticed, but I’ve got some skills to share…”

-------

RockerRick jumped slightly at the contact ~so we are back here again~ he thought, the previous anticipation reigniting within him instantly “Naw, y-you are, you’re a tease Rick, th-that’s what you are.” he dragged on his smoke shifting on the couch to face Rick. He slid a leg behind him positioning the other man between his legs. “Sh-show, show me these skills of y-yours and see if y-you can’t make up for leaving me hanging earlier and then, maybe, if you’re as good as you say you are, you’ll get to top for once.”

who was he kidding? He was going to let this Rick fuck his brains out since the second the foxy grandpa had first kissed him.

--------

“Y-you think you’re funny, huh kid?” Rick murmured, easily sliding the younger man into his lap. He shifted, pushing him so he was straddling Rick’s hips. “But i-if you don’t hush up th-that pretty mouth you won’t be getting anything out of me.”

--------

RockerRick mimed a zipper crossing his lips before licking them and waited, he was essentially naked, already halfway to a full hard-on and wanted to be taken. This Rick had already played the dominance card and he wanted him to run with it. He was bored of always being alpha.

But he was also impatient, and Rick had entirely too many clothes on. He rushed his face forward into a sloppy drunken kiss, running his hands up under Rick’s lap coat trying to coax it off his shoulders.

--------

Hours and several more bottles of beer later, Rick was suddenly sitting up, gasping for breath. He rubbed a hand through his head; it was pounding. He groaned, reaching for the flask he usually kept on the table beside his cot – and got a handful of his own hair. Peering an eye open, Rick took in the younger man’s form, the bed, the room. In seconds he remembered where he was, and moaned in agony, flopping back against the pillow. “Ffffffuck,” he sighed. No more fucking Ricks for him, this was the last one, he swore.

----------

RockerRick startled awake when he felt a hand in his hair “Still here sunshine? Rick’s usually disappear in the night” he rolled over, propping himself up on an elbow to look inquisitively at his bedmate and the curious expression on his face “Wh-what, whats with the face, regret not bottoming after all?”

----------

“Y-y-you guys push me too hard,” Rick grumbled, pulling a pillow over his face. “W-where’s my flask? N-need it,” he added, shifting to block out as much light and sound as he could. Only other Ricks knew what was in that flask. Years of boozing had screwed with Rick, and he’d come up with a solution that kept the headaches and light sensitivity at bay. Maybe he should have let himself stay sober for a few days to make sure there wasn’t any lasting damage, but he didn’t care.

----------

“Still in your sexy lab coat maybe?” RockerRick didn’t see it in his room “I-I think you left it downstairs. I-I’ll get it old man, gotta go take a piss anyway”

he got up out of the bed swaying slightly and found a cigarette before leaving the room. He got to the bottom of the stairs and looked around at the carnage left from the party, glad he paid people to clean up after him. It was odd knowing Rick was still upstairs. Oddly comforting. He was preferring the company of his selves over anyone else more and more. He grabbed a beer to chase away his hangover then found Rick’s coat still on the couch, shirt on the tv and pants on the stairs. He gathered them up and headed back into his room.

“H-hey, hey here” RockerRick tried to get Rick’s attention to give him the flask sitting down on the end of the bed with his beer. “How long are, when are you taking off?”

------

Relieved, Rick peered out from beneath the pillow, snatching the flask and taking a long pull from it. Within minutes he was feeling refreshed and sat up, rubbing at his hair. Great, it was starting to flatten out. “Mm… I dunno. I don’t have anywhere to be,” he admitted, shrugging. “U-u-unless you wanted me to get out of your hair,” he added, taking his pants and pulling them on.

------

RockerRick rubbed his neck, feeling awkward “I-I don’t, I mean if you’re tired of my ass then yeah you can split, but if you wanted to, I-I mean …” Damnit he sounded like a fucking idiot. He whacked himself in the face to focus “If y-you, you and Morty wanted try and build your argument for the whole kids thing sometime I-I, I could tag along I guess.”

------

Rick took another sip from his flask, not sure how to answer that. Seeing Beth would be a good way to convince him, sure, but at the same time he’d see how well Beth turned out without him. Beth’s drinking wasn’t apparent until people were gone. “… Y-y-you know what? Th-that’s not a half bad idea. Show you off to Su-URP-mmer, then m-maybe she’ll stop harping on me for f-for being lame.”

------

“Summer?” RockerRick said with his most flirtatious grin “W-who’s summer?”

He got up and starting rummaging through the clothes strewn about the room trying to put together his rocker best without resorting to stage clothes. He was somewhat excited, though he was sure it was going to be tediously domestic, he’d never gone anywhere with another Rick before.

------

“D-d-don’t even think about it,” Rick snapped, frowning at the other. “Sh-she’s your granddaughter. S-so don’t get any funny ideas.” He narrowed his eyes, pointing at the other firmly. “A-and you’re not her type anyway.”

------

“Old man I-I’m everyone’s type” he purred pulling on his boots “H-how many grandkids you got Rick? Jeez.” he fastened their many buckles, then slapped his dog collar around his neck. He put his arms out to his sides “W-what do you think? Am I non-lame enough for Summer?”

--------

Ignoring the other’s comment, Rick looked his counterpart up and down. “Y-yeah. You’ll do. C’mon,” he grunted, pulling his lab coat on as he headed for the lift. He held the doors open for the other man, pressing the button the moment he was inside. “N-n-now don’t make a –a sc-URP-ene, alright? I-I don’t want Beth knowing why you’re coming over. Th-that’s your daughter by the way,” he added.

--------

“I-I promise nothing. Beth, daughter. Morty and Summer Grandkids. Check. W-what are you going to tell her? Can’t be Uncle Rick in this situation I’m sure” He leaned back in the corner of the lift as it sank through the building lighting a cigarette. “Anyone else I need to know about?

-------

“Y-you just need to know about Jerry,” Rick answered, shrugging. “He’s Beth’s ex husband, he-he lives with them. I-I-I’ll introduce you as me, they-they now about o-URP-ther versions of me so it won’t be th-that confusing.”

-------

RockerRick zipped up his leather jacket as they stepped out into the street

“All right motherf-Uurrp-ucker lets do this !”

--------

The moment they were outside, Rick set a portal down against a tree. “Ladies first,” he teased, nodding to it. “Just kidding, I g-URP-et to go first.” Tucking the gun away in his jacket, he stepped through and into his lab.

------

RockerRick raised his eyebrows as he stepped through into the garage “Damn Rick y-your lab is in a garage? Jeez I-I was expecting a subterranean lair or some shit.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and wandered around.

“So this is pr-Uurrp-oper, proper science eh?” he teased peering in the window of the space ship “Looks like random garbage thrown together in a drunken stupor to me.”

Looking at all the crazy equipment on tables and shelves he picked several things up trying figuring out how they worked or what they did. “W-what the fuck is this thing?” he asked bending down to look through the bars of a cage.

--------

gnoring the ‘proper science’ jab, Rick leaned against his workbench, crossing his arms. “I-I-I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. H-he’s kinda contagious, I haven’t f-figured out how to cure h-his chronic acid vomit,” he advised.

As he was saying this the creature behind the bars, a purple furry lump with chunky arms and nothing else, opened a mouth on the top of its head and vomited. A tractor beam set in the top of the cage pulled most of the vomit out, but a small drop got between the bars and began eating its way through the concrete.

“D-dammit!” Rick snapped, throwing a bottle at it. Exploding, the liquid in the bottle foamed up and covered the hole. “D-don’t want Jerry getting on my ass about that,” he grumbled.

---------

Jumping back as the vile flung from the critter RockerRick checked his boots to ensure they were unscathed. “W-woah! Sweet, what a wild little dude.” He was impressed with the creature, thought it would make a fun pet.

“So wh-what, is this Jerry some sort of force to be reckoned with or some shit? Need a hand in taking him down a peg, show him who’s the boss?”

---------

Rick let out a barking laugh at the comment. “Jerry? N-no way, he just likes to think he is. H-h-he’ll bitch and moan about the garage, b-but seriously, he won’t do anything about it,” he admitted, snickering. “Force to be reckoned with… Y-you’re hilarious. Then again, you’ve never m-URP-et Jerry.”

----------

RockerRick continued his inspection of what he supposed was his future lab. The thought gave him a shudder. “So th-this is where you spend your time? Tinkering around in a garage ? This is some fucking boring shit old man, so far you’re not making a very strong argument for me to give up my life style…” He stopped ragging on Rick when he heard the door to the garage open and turned around.

“H-heyy, hey there he is! Wh-what’s up little-dude, how’s that hang-over treating you?”

-------

Morty paused in the garage doorway, not having been prepared for Ricker Rick. “Uh… H-hi,” he answered, waving uncertainly. “I’m… Fine.” He gave Rick a confused look, who shrugged in response. Morty determined he didn’t want to know what that meant. “A-are you staying here for a while, Uncle Rick?” he asked, eyes widening. “D-d-did you meet Summer and everyone yet?”

“Not yet, Morty,” Rick answered before his counterpart could. “W-we were getting to that, he was just checking out my lab.” He shot Rocker a glare. Ungrateful little bastard.

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RockeRick walked over and ruffled Morty’s hair “Y-yeah, but it’s so booorning in here.” He teased slumping his body down dramatically.

“Oh! OH! Morty, I-I’ve got something for ya.” he shrieked popping back up and unzipping his jacket. Reaching into his inner pocket he mockingly tried to pull something out as if it was stuck, spinning around on the spot with the pretend effort. He laughed at his own craziness and handed a small black square to Morty. “It’s from the redhead! she left it with my people” RockerRick explained exuberantly “Jessie. Look push here” the screen came to life containing a slide show of her photos and on the last one coordinates “Seems you’ve made quite the impression little man” he nudged him in the side “If your Grandpa ever allows it you can find her with this”

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“J-J-J-Jessie?!” Morty repeated in disbelief. Even Rick looked impressed. So in another universe he was easily able to get with Jessica, just one night of making out and being a hero. “Woah… Th-thanks Uncle Rick!” he cried, looking at Rick over Rocker’s shoulder pleadingly.

“Y-yeah, Morty,” Rick sighed, nodding to the interdimensional phone in the corner. “J-just don’t use up all my minutes,” he added as the teen rushed over. “C’mon, time to meet everyone else,” Rick added to Rocker, shoving him playfully into the house. His tone completely changed when he noticed Beth sitting alone at the kitchen table, reading a magazine. “Hey sweetie!” he cried, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Well, me.”

Confused, Beth looked up, eyes widening as she noticed the younger version of her father. “Beth, th-this is me, from a different dimension. Before you were born.” Rick paused, considering. “W-we haven’t come up with a good nickname to distinguish him, b-but Morty calls him Uncle Rick.”

Beth rose from the table, slowly walking over. “From… before I was born?” she repeated, suddenly holding a hand out to shake, then lowering it and raising her arms for a hug, then pulling them back into her chest, looking conflicted. “I-I’m Beth,” she settled on. “Your… Future daughter. I’m a horse surgeon,” she added, wincing a bit at the distinction.

Rick gave Rocker a threatening look over her shoulder, putting an arm around her for comfort. ‘Don’t you say anything to hurt my baby girl,’ he seemed to say.

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RockerRick knew how to read his own face, shooting back a quick ‘as if’ to his older self. He slid his most charming smirk into place as he offered Beth a fistbump “W-what-Uuurp, what’s good baby-doll? I’m your Dad back when he was cool. A Surgeon eh? Must have a big beautiful Sanchez brain under those gorgeous blonde locks.” Damn was he flirting with his own daughter? Hell if he knew, he didn’t know how else to talk attractive people. His future offspring or not.

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Though Rick didn’t seem pleased with the specific nature of his counterpart’s statement, he nodded a little. Beth was completely taken in by her younger father’s charm. “Well, yes, actually. I put myself through veterinary school after having my daughter, Summer. So… What did you do before me, Dad?” Rick had been hoping he could avoid the ‘dad’ confusion, possibly because Rocker had a bit of a daddy kink, but he’d deal with that later.

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RockerRick threw his hands in the air “Woah, no, no. Rick. Call me Rick. Or RockGod, your choice. “ he added picking his smirk back up. He stepped back arms wide to allow her to take him in fully “I’m living the Rock and Roll life baby! Not a ca-Uurrp-re, care in the world, millions of adoring fans. Top of my fucking c-class.” He took a mock bow, flipping his long hair back as he stood back up, then running a hand through it. “Th-that is, that’s bananas republic to think of doing school and the parent gig at the same time.”

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Beth gave Rick a sly look. “Dad, you never told me you were a rock star.”

“You know, he’s ex-UaRP-ggerating a lot sweetie. L-like I barely had a few thousand fans,” Rick pointed out. To be fair, they came from different universes, and Rocker had been at it longer than Rick had. “A-although, I was a god among men. So. There’s th-there’s that.”

Looking back at the other she decided to address his comment. “Well, Rick, it definitely wasn’t easy, but I did have Jerry around to help.”

Rick rolled his eyes so hard Morty might have heard it. “Y-yeah. Real great work there. H-h-he did a bang-up job ‘helping’.”

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“Exaggerating! Psh you wish. Y-You never gave The Curtains a chance. If you had applied your genius to the band like I-I did, I have y-you would have had millions of fans across the universe.” he gave Rick a look that said I’m way better at being us, then laughed.

“Regar-Uurrp-dless of the number, I’m sure they worshiped your fine Sanchez ass the same way they do mine.”

He laughed again at the tone in Ricks voice as he talked about Jerry “Jeez this guy sounds like a real man among men.”

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“Well, he’s uh… He’s my ex husband,” Beth admitted, rubbing her shoulder. “Dad doesn’t like it, but he’s still living with us.” Rick rolled his eyes. “He didn’t have anywhere to go, Dad, besides this is technically our house until I get the deed signed over in my name.”

Rick nodded. “Mmhm. And when is he gonna help you take care of that? He h-h-he hasn’t exactly been eager about it.”

Beth huffed, turning to Rocker. “We fight about this all the time… Jerry can’t help that he’s stupid.”

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RockerRick was out of his world, marriage and divorce foreign concepts in every sense. “I-I will never understand why people tie themselves down like that, like fucking sheep falling in line because it’s what the other sheep do when it never works out and only ends in torment. T-the guy sounds pathetic. How tediously domestic of you to fight with her Rick. J-just craft something to take care of him, I’m sure y-you, you have some place in the universe you could dump the moron.”

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Daughter and father fell silent for a time, giving one another an awkward look. “It’s… Not that simple… The kids, they… They really do need their dad, as much as we’d like for him to leave.” Rick nodded a bit, though he didn’t look nearly as convinced.

“O-on top of which, Jerrys don’t last long off world. Th-they pretty much die as soon as they’re left alone,” Rick explained, shaking his head. “I-I-I don’t think the kids would like that.”

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