#up in toke smoke lounge

[thedesertjourneys]

Check out my interview with Dharma Diana Souheaver, owner of Up In Toke Smoke Lounge in Slab City, CA.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

aaaaaaa i need poly deadclaws smoke session 🥺😵‍💫💖 you and wade being cringy stoners ripping wade's gravity bong together and logan walks in on you sitting in his lap on the couch.

"hey, honey badger, welcome home! aw, poor baby, you look so tired! you wanna hit?"

"the fuck are you two doing?"

“it’s called a gravity bong! a hallmark of stoner engineering! would you like a demonstration?”

"no."

“too bad.” wade puts the lighter in your hands, then squeezes them for encouragement. “show him, babes, just like i taught ya.”

you spark the lighter and carefully angle it into the bowl at the top. once it's lit, you grab the inner bottle and slooowly pull it upwards out of the water. the cloud inside it grows thicker, denser, bigger. it swells with the accompanying sounds of water underneath it. glug. glug. glug.

wade explains the mechanics to logan, “now THAT, boo boo bear, is about 2-liters of toke-a-cola right there. almost as fun as when they had cocaine in the recipe.” wade sneaks his hands under your baggy lounge shirt to pinch and pull your nipples, then gives you an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. he purrs his instructions to you. “chug it, honey-cunt.”

you rip the bowl out of the bottle, the smoke billowing out through the spout, and slurp it up as you sink the bottle down into the water. of course, the torrential cloud you had built was at LEAST 2-player content. you started coughing about a third of the way down, and wade had to take over.

“i got it, i got it!” he proclaimed, valiantly chugging what was left of the cloud. he blew some out and sighed with pleasure. “now… this kind of bong gives you… gives you BIG hits. so you get stupid fast.”

you nod in agreement, a hazy, air-headed smile on your face, “it also feels REALLY good for sex…”

"well, shit, why the hell ain't you lead with that?" logan climbs over the back of the couch and sits down next to you two. "give it here. show me how you work that thing.”

also i just KNOW logan gets giggly when he smokes weed it’s a fact god told me. he’s got cigar lungs so he takes to the gravity bong with surprisingly little coughing, but FUCK it makes him STUPID!!!! he gets super touchy feely too and he’ll prolly crawl on top of both of you.

“nngh, c’mon, lemme…” he grumbles, pawing for the bong that wade holds out of reach, “lemme hit it again…”

“i think the fuck not, babe! you will wait your turn in the rotation just like everyone else, young man!”

logan blows a raspberry at him and flops over to wade’s side. “pfft… bitch…”

“yes, sir, and that’s why you love me.”

he watches longingly as wade takes his rip, until his focus shifts to your shorts riding up on your thighs.

“hey. c’mere, boy.”

he tugs you into his lap and starts making out with you, stripping you from your comfy clothes, grinding his bulge up into your folds. you whimper, under your breath, and logan smirks, teasing you in hushed tones.

“ ‘s good, right?”

“mhm…”

“you gettin’ wet now?”

“mhm!”

once wade blows his smoke out, he notices what’s going on and gasps in mock offense.

“are you two seriously excluding me right now? what am i, ugly, or somethi—? wait, don’t answer that, i—“

“yes.”

“yep. knew that was coming. can’t even blame ya. i set you up for that one. anyway!”

wade pulls you to him by your hair and smooches your cheek affectionately before putting the lighter in your hands again.

“your turn, sweetie pie!”

and by the end of that rotation everyone’s clothes are off and you’re all touching each other’s junk 😌

[xmother-figurex]

She was 17. He was 18.

I was 32.

I knew they were active with each other. I knew she'd been active for a while and that he was just using her to get off. I also knew he was planning on breaking up with her. So when he came over to fuck her one last time, I intercepted him. I told him that he wasn't going to hurt her like that. If he wanted to break up with her, he had to be a man. And if he could just break up with her like a man, then I'd treat him like a man.

Later that night, my daughter was crying and I held her to my chest to comfort her. We shared a glass of wine and I told her to sleep it off and that she would be a new woman in the morning.

Around midnight, I checked on her. Fast asleep. She had a little toke. I could smell it in her room. I gave her a little kiss on the forehead and went out back for my own smoke.

I got good and high. Her now-ex-boyfriend was right on time. He was visibly nervous so I gave him a hit. He resisted but I assured him he didn't have a choice. I sat him down by the pool and pulled his trunks off. Stupid boy thought he was really going to swim?

I sucked his dick like only a mother can, then I let him fuck me doggy right on the lounge chair. I made him pull my hair, slap my ass, and when he wanted to finish, I told him he had to do it on my face.

I licked his tip clean and told him to go home and never come back.

He seemed confused, so I simply told him, "this is your consolation prize for breaking up with my daughter. You should have stuck around."

[minisugakoobies]

Should be leaving for work but laying here (yes I got back in the bed) and thinking about best friend's bro San and the threesome with the Topaz bros

I got about 90 minutes of sleep last night so I took a sick day, so I'm more than happy to lie here and pick up your train of thought, Luce…

At the party, San brings two of his friends from the club where he's been picking up shifts as a bouncer. He tells you that Wooyoung, the dark-haired one with the cheeky smile, is the most popular bartender, and given that he immediately starts flirting with you as soon as San finishes saying your name, you can see why.

He introduces the redhead as Hongjoong, says he's the in-house dj. Hongjoong doesn't say much, just sort of nods coolly along with whatever the other two say as the four of you converse, but you feel his gaze on you the whole time.

BFF comes over to drag San away to meet some people she knows from work, trying to help her lil bro do some networking. San doesn't want to talk to them, but BFF informs him that she's tired of tripping over his hand weights and wants him out of her hair sooner than later, so he sighs and follows her. As soon as he's out of sight, Hongjoong inclines his head, silently asking you to come closer.

"We brought some party favors," he says, peeling back his bomber jacket to reveal three perfectly rolled blunts in his inner pocket. "There's one for San, but he's busy, so - you want?"

You do want, so you lead the two of them out onto the little terrace that's decorated with cheap lawn furniture from the thrift shop and several fake plants because your thumb is steadfast black. Woo pats the space on the lounge chair beside him while HJ sits on the folding chair on your other side.

HJ sparks up the first blunt, but rather than taking it for himself, the three of you pass it around. Woo asks you questions about what you do, where you're from, and HJ still mostly listens. Around and around it goes, smoke filtering through the dim lighting provided by the string of tiny bulbs hanging overhead.

When the joint makes its way back to HJ, he holds on to it for one, two, three puffs. You're already feeling a little loose, that pleasant buzzing snaking its way through your body, so you pout.

"Excuse me, I believe it's puff puff pass."

HJ's lips curl as he hums. "You're right, how rude of me. Here."

He inhales again, orange embers flickering briefly, and tilts his head to the side as he leans towards you. You eagerly slide forward, pressing your mouth to his. The tip of his tongue against your lips encourages you to open, breathing in the smoke he exhales. His lips linger, lazily moving against yours, and you hold the smoke as long as you can until your lungs are screaming for air.

"Fuck, that looks like fun. My turn," Woo insists, tugging on your arm to bring you back down to earth. Taking the blunt, you suck in a mouthful. You've barely tipped your face up when Woo cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a heated kiss. More smoke ends up in the air than it does in his mouth, but he clearly doesn't care, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, whining when you caress it with your own.

"Damn, Woo, always so needy," you hear HJ laugh. Woo ignores him, continuing to plunder your mouth like a pirate. "Come on, dude, you gotta share."

You break away from Woo's embrace to ask HJ whether he means the blunt or you, only to catch sight of San standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the three of you, wearing the most sober expression you've ever seen on his handsome face. It shakes you a little, and you nearly drop the joint, stumbling to catch it before it lands in Woo's lap. When you look up again, the window's empty, and you wonder if he was really there or if the weed's making you see things.

By the time the last toke is taken, you've convinced yourself you were just imagining things. But maybe the three of you should go somewhere a little more private. You don't realize you've said that out loud until HJ nods and Woo jumps to his feet. Your room is off limits to the party, so there's no one inside when you enter, hand in hand in hand.

……tbc?

[zeenmrala]

━  A SLICE OF THE NIGHT ♡

pairing: oc x oc / mimi mirage x indika promia  rating: mature, 18+ only  word count: 2.6k song: cologne, beabadoobee summary: popstar mimi mirage and bounty hunter indika promia take their friendship to the next level when they share their first kiss a/n: space lesbians have been all i can think about this pride month. i’ve been collaborating with my dear friend @pumpkinmischief who created indika and the art for this. we’ve crafted a tragically beautiful queer love story between our two star wars original characters. you can view the artwork that accompanies this little fic here, it’s a stunning piece inspired by the classic lesbian make up meme lol. ily piper, you are an incredible artist and i’m so grateful to know you.

“i’m not done yet, please kiss my neck”

Everybody in the core worlds knows that Coruscant never sleeps. However, there are a few short hours deep into the night when the metropolis-planet is lulled, and it seems to briefly doze in a disturbed half-slumber. It is during these hours when the sounds of traffic lapse for long enough that it can justifiably be described as quiet, when the bustling crowds disperse into such sparsity that the streets can be considered deserted. The world itself slows down, and for two young women this slice of the night is theirs, and theirs alone. They sit at the window of an apartment in the high mid-levels, looking up and across a vast dreaming city as they drink, smoke and reflect. Their girlish laughter echoes between the towering buildings. 

It’s an infinitely better view at the window, because Mimi Mirage’s new apartment is a total mess. There are boxes everywhere, half of the walls glow a soft glitter pink, and the rest remain a bland grey, the painting and decorating left unfinished. Empty bottles litter all available surfaces of the kitchen-lounge, and there are clothes and beauty products strewn about the floor. There are trunks overflowing with pink garments, headpieces, heels and jewellery. Half built furniture is dotted around the rooms, the effort to construct them left abandoned.

Mimi hasn’t had a chance to unpack or finish decorating, because she is hardly ever here, and because she is exhausted. Her rise in popularity correlates with a rise in bookings, appearances and performances, and she has danced, sung and charmed her way through five sets in two days. She has finally come home to her apartment, bringing her best friend Indika Promia with her. The two of them are lounging in the small window, smoking tabac cigarettes, drinking and winding down from a few very intense nights on the Coruscant scene. The pair always look forward to debriefing in these dreamscape hours of the night alone together, and it isn’t the first time Indika has stayed the night. But something feels different tonight, as though the spark between them is flaring, burning brighter than ever before.

“I seriously don’t know how I stopped myself from killing that handsy Iktotchi guy,” Indika scoffs as she shakes her head. She pours herself a small glass of Spotchka from a bottle at her side, then takes a drag from her cigarette, the amber glow of it illuminating her pale, tattooed face. 

“Oh my Stars,” Mimi giggles as she recalls the man in question, swatting Indika playfully. “You didn’t need to! There is no way he is ever coming to one of my shows again. You scared him to death.”

“Good,” Indika says. “He was a total asshole.”

“He really was.” She tries to take a toke of her cigarette but notices that it’s gone out, so relights it. “His friends were all super weird too.” 

“How does someone as pretty as you attract such sleemos like him?”

“Awh, I dunno.” Mimi shrugs. “It’s not so bad though. You’re here after all.”

Indika smirks, the cig hanging lazily at the corner of her lips. “Good one, dumbass.”

Mimi cackles and sips at her drink that definitely isn’t Spotchka, but her own personal take on a Coruscant Cooler - the classic cocktail made a little sweeter, and a lot pinker. 

“Indi you glared at him like a feral Rancor and I totally thought he was gonna kark his ugly-ass pants. I just know he saw his life flash before his eyes when you grabbed him.” She finishes and stubs out her cig, shakes out her lekku behind her and giggles.

“If I ever see him again it’s on sight,” Indika grumbles before draining her glass and flicking the stub of her cig out of the window. “These bastards need to learn to keep their hands to themselves. I don’t care how many bones I have to break to get the message across.”

Mimi snickers and drops to her feet, offering her hand to help the shorter woman down from the window. Indika accepts as Mimi says, “So true. Are we in the double digits yet?”

“Easily. My last bone-break count was 32. Mainly fingers though.” 

They both laugh playfully, but then there is a slight pause as they notice that their hands are still clasped. 

“Thank you for protecting me.” Mimi smiles softly. “Like, seriously. I love having you around, Indi.”

“You got it sweetheart.” Indika has a curt smirk on her face again. She nods, and then squeezes Mimi’s fingers. “I love being around you too.”

Indika then releases her to grab her bottle of Spotchka and pours what remains of the glowing blue liquid into her glass. She looks up at Mimi, who is sneering at the drink in Indika’s pale hands.

“I can’t believe you brought that foul shit into my apartment.” She stretches her arms above her head dramatically as she groans. “It’s so gross.”

“Alright booze police,” Indika says dryly, then drains her glass in one go, and slams it upside down on a box to her left. “There, it’s all gone.”

“Smartass.” Mimi folds her arms. “You’re such a stereotype, my little bounty hunter.”

Indika wipes her mouth with her wrist and winks. “Shut up. You love it."

She flashes Mimi a grin and then slips past her to the refresher and Mimi follows her. She leans in the doorway and as she watches Indika wash her face, she rants about how early she has to get up in the morning to attend a meeting with a potential sponsor. Then as Indika begins to dry herself with a towel, Mimi pauses.

“Wait, how have I never seen you without make-up before?” she asks, her heart skipping at the realisation, taking in the raw beauty of Indika’s bare skin as she appears from beneath the towel. She hides her awe by scrunching up her face and jokingly says, “Oh Gods, I hate it.”

“You little bitch,” Indika chuckles and throws the towel at her. 

Mimi dodges it and screeches. “Eek! I’m kidding, I promise!”

Indika rolls her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with that mean Pantoran friend of yours."

Mimi nods and scoffs. "You're probably right. She's busting my ass."

"...Is she a problem?" asks Indika rather seriously. 

"Champagne?" Mimi shakes her head, checking herself out in the mirror. "Nah, she just works too hard and worries too much."

Indika rolls her eyes as if to say yeah right, and Mimi playfully pushes her shoulder. "Don't be so protective. She's fine. You don't have to worry your pretty little horns over Montana." 

Indika's lips curve into a smile, and Mimi pecks her cheek with an exaggerated Mwah! then grabs her toothbrush. Indika picks up her own, then raises her finger at Mimi, indicating for her to wait, and as the Twi’lek raises a brow in confusion, Indika pulls out and taps on her datapad, blasting one of Mimi’s party tracks. The two snort and laugh, and begin to dance around each other, impish and drunk as they brush their teeth, giggling and bumping into one another to the music. At one point, Indika trips over and lands clumsily on her ass, and Mimi almost wets herself from laughing when she helps her back to her feet. After they have brushed their teeth, Mimi watches as Indika undoes and then replaits her braids, telling Mimi about where her next job is likely going to be.

In a moment of silence, Mimi compliments her. “You are so stunning, Indi.” 

Indika looks at her curiously, and then softly smirks at Mimi’s sincerity. 

“You do know that I think you are the most beautiful person in the galaxy, right?” the Twi’lek continues with a sultry air, leaning closer into her. She runs her pink hand down Indika’s braid, then trails it up to her jawline, and ghosts her index finger across the length of her facial tattoo. She then tucks a piece of hair that hangs across her eyes behind her long, elegant ear. Mimi tilts her head slightly, observing her hands on Indika’s face. “I like how my skin looks on yours.”

Indika’s mouth falls slightly open in disbelief, and she looks up at Mimi with a mix of adoration and anticipation. “You really think pink’s my colour?”

“Yeah, actually. I really like pink on you,” she rests her hand on Indika’s shoulder, then drags her fingers across the exposed skin of her chest, debating whether or not to give into her desires and dip into the softness of her cleavage. “Well, my pink anyway.” 

Indika’s hands have come to rest on Mimi’s waist during this interaction, and her purple nails tease at her soft skin. She notices Mimi’s soft gasp at the contact, and begins to lower her fingers. 

She wants to feel those hips: the hips she has watched Mimi sway night after night beneath bright pink lights. She wants to caress the dips at the top of her legs that flash from beneath her skirts when she dances. The warmth of those thighs…

Indika’s thoughts are interrupted when she notices Mimi’s face lighting up, and she knows at once that the pop-star has had one of her ideas.

“What are you thinking, Mimi?” 

She looks like she is about to burst with excitement. "I want to do your make-up."

“My make-up?”

“Yes!” She claps her hands. “Let me do a pink look on you."

“But I just took mine off.”

“So?”

She smiles. Though she wasn't expecting this tonight, Indika is rather intrigued at seeing one of Mimi’s iconic looks on herself. It could be fun. But what really sells her is being up close and personal with Mimi, her fingers on her skin, her breath on her face.

“Of course, Mi. Do my make-up.”

“Let’s get more comfortable,” Mimi exclaims in victory, as she takes Indika’s hand and pulls her into her bedroom, the contents of which is a just mattress on the ground surrounded by more beauty products, clothes and jewellery. She encourages Indika to lie down on her back, as Mimi scurries around the room grabbing the tools to work her magic.

Mimi climbs on top of Indika, her legs either side of the smaller hybrid’s hips. The skin of their legs touch, the two wearing a mix of their undergarments, clothes and sleepwear. Indika feels Mimi squeeze her between her thighs, and a rush of heat caresses her spine.

“Close your eyes,” Mimi instructs with a whisper, and Indika does, her heart beginning to race as she senses Mimi close to her face. She is attentive to the gentle movements of Mimi’s fingers and the make up brush she uses, appreciating how soothing it feels as she begins to softly work the pink makeup across the pale skin of her eyelid. 

Mimi then notices the tender caress of Indika’s palm on her leg, and gasps as subtly as she can, the softness of Indika’s fingers triggering a swarm of warmth beneath her pierced belly button. Mimi tries to ignore her sudden and vibrant desires, and begins applying the make-up to Indika’s other eye. But the heat remains, and she is distracted enough that she accidentally flicks some neon pink make-up on Indika’s forehead. 

“Oops,” Mimi says with a giggle, wiping away the excess eyeshadow she spilled across Indika’s eyebrow with her thumb. She moves a piece of Indika’s hair aside, slightly brushing against the base of her right horn. Indika takes a sharp breath in, the softness of Mimi’s fingers there causing her to thrum with equal parts heat and weightlessness.

Indika’s eyes flutter open, her violet eyes irises now gazing up at the Twi’lek mounting her. Mimi looks back down at her in awe, her lekku resting in front of her shoulders. She is relishing in the touch of the hybrid’s hands on her skin, the warmth of her palm, the dexterity of her fingers. She wants to tell her to keep going, lower, lower, lower…

“You’re so pretty, Mimi,” Indika whispers, the sweet words are heartfelt, sincere. Her hand begins to slowly trace upwards, lingering at Mimi’s hip, tracing the waistband of her shorts. Mimi holds her breath and blinks softly, the tension between them charged and thick, brimming with intimacy. Her heart beats wildly in her chest, her insides fluttering with lightness. She smirks through her nervous anticipation, a sultry smile painting her pink lips as her desire for the woman beneath her soars. She tosses aside the make-up brush and leans further forward, her arms resting either side of Indika's face.

“Do you really think so?” she asks coyly, hopefully.

“Yes,” Indika says. Her lavender gaze washes across the Twi’leks face as her fingers trail back down to squeeze the softness of Mimi’s upper thigh. A charged pause, and then:

“Kiss me, Mimi.”

Mimi whimpers softly as her suspicions are confirmed, and is enthralled to be able to finally kiss her best friend. She shuts her vibrant eyes and leans closer, ghosting her lips on Indika’s. She kisses her softly at first, and Indika inhales, her hands gripping Mimi tighter, sliding up from her legs to her hips and waist. She shifts upwards, taking control of the kiss and deepening it, slipping her tongue into Mimi’s mouth. They both moan, the kiss a sweet relief from the beautifully taught tension that has been brewing for too long between them.

Indika suddenly breaks the kiss, and Mimi whimpers at the loss. Then she swiftly flips the two of them around, so that Indika is on top of her. Mimi gasps as she slides her leg between her thighs, and Indi groans as she feels the warmth of her lover through her shorts. Mimi sighs at the flare of lust unfurling in her lower back, and her legs open further of their own accord, inviting Indika into her, desperate for her touch.

“Indika…” she mutters between kisses and moans, her hybrid lover grinding her upper leg into Mimi’s heat. “You want me?”

“I want you,” Indika confirms, pulling back to look at her. She’s so glorious beneath her, with her light blue eyes sparkling in lust, the remnants of silver make-up glittering on her skin, her lips plump and glistening from Indika’s kisses. Indi glides her palms down Mimi’s lekku, which make her shiver and writhe in heated despair beneath her. “Let me show you just how much I want you, pretty girl.” She teases a finger at Mimi’s mouth, lightly pulling at her bottom lip. 

“Please,” Mimi begs. Indika indulges her, pouncing on her and planting hot, wet kisses on her neck, trailing her hungry lips down her lean body. When she reaches her chest, she helps Mimi sit up so she can peel off her shirt, freeing her perk, pink breasts. She circles her small nipples with her tongue, flicking her piercing against the sensitive flesh. Mimi groans, arching her back and pushing her breast further into her lover's mouth. Indika begins to suck on her nipple, which leads into licking and lapping at both of her breasts. She trails her tongue and teeth up to Mimi's neck, nipping and marking her skin with the depth of her desire.

Indika is enlightened at the taste of her skin, sweetened by the remnant scent of her floral perfume. She nudges her thin nose against the base of Mimi's sensitive lekku, and purrs when she feels Mimi become undone beneath her.

"More," Mimi whimpers, needy, desperate. "I need so much more of you, Indi."

"I'll give you whatever you want," Indika promises. "I'm going to make those pretty lips sing for me, Mimi."

Mimi hums in satisfaction, and the two of them indulge in one another, exploring the blossoming sweetness of their bodies for the first time, truly making the night their own with decadent kisses, wild hands and dripping lust.

-

tagging some friends in case u r interested: @stardustbee @kimageddon @sinisterexaggerator​ @frogunderarock​ @grinningnexu​

[slashervideo]

➠ @jesvshotsaucechristmascake asked: “ i’m not sure i know who i’m supposed to be anymore. ”

.·:*¨ ✘★✘ ¨*:·.  Josh considered the words carefully. He hadn't known Mike to be the doubtful type, but in the wake of the horrors they found on Blackwood Mountain, it seemed he was learning a lot about his friend that he didn't know before. One thing Josh did know for sure, though, was that Mike wasn't usually the type to talk about such vulnerability. He was good at keeping up the good natured, party boy façade. That made the confession hit all the more harder.

The pair had been sitting on Josh's back deck, sharing a joint. Wolfie seemed all too happy to be outdoors and was currently lounging by the pool, panting happily. The sun was starting to go down, making things a little cooler, but it was still nice out in Josh's opinion. "Maybe that's your problem," he offered, no hint of a joke or tease in voice. "Maybe you're not supposed to be anyone. Your mom's way too intense with your appearance, but it's not just her. In school, you always seemed to do whatever just to make your friends happy. Even Emily walked all over you when you guys were together. Not trying to be harsh, bro, but you literally went through hell. Fuck man, not even all of you made it back." He glanced to the missing fingers briefly.

"Maybe instead of 'supposed to be', you should be asking what you 'could be'." He shook his head and grabbed the joint from the ash tray, lighting it up for another toke. "Shit, I sound like an army ad." He breathed in, then added in clarification, "What do you want to be?" Exhaling the smoke, the offered the joint.

[carli-meows]

Spit A Verse - Deranged Myme Crewe

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat for me, like a corpse in a hersh

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat, step up and spit a verse

I'm miss KiKiKïr, the werebitch in here

I trade my tears for fears, and that fucks up my flow

you know how it be when a bitch gets on the mic

you better ask somebody, and act like you know right

I smash you bitches assless, I smash your glasses

you shove me and I straight Bozzo BOP your bitch asses

locker room brawling, tore my leather and lace off

Like Peppermint Patty, I'm so butch, I tore they face off

Take me seriously! No don't. No, do. don't, No, Do

Miss doing too fuckin much because i flip the script on you

I be the werebitch in the alley with my alley punching killjoys

And gnawing on you Kens and Barbies like some chewtoys

I be the V to the E the H to the K

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat for me, like a corpse in a hersh

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat, step up and spit a verse

The T Double E to the R I, replay

Bog bastard, high off acid rain soup

moss bites, mouse bites, and other goop

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

I'mma 'bout to slash the tires and seats in your Ferrari

I'mma 'bout to be the wretched abyss and ruin the party

I'mma 'bout to put hay in a needle stack and chill in the barley

I'mma 'bout to slide yo bitch asses and not even be sorry

I be the one in your nightmares the one that you might fear

I ain't the motherfuckin hat man, but tell 'im buy me a beer

and to all you bitches with that "I'm in your walls" shit

I hope you like tear gas stew, might even save you a bit, bitch

Lay a beat for me, like a corpse in a hersh

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat, step up and spit a verse

(Oh shit, my verse!) It's your verse, dawg

Back in this bitch like Count Dracula

(Oh shit, my verse!) Oh, my GOD!

(Oh shit, her verse!) (About time, you lot delayed me!)

(Oh shit, Goddamn!) Scary Lady Silent KayTi

With my fangs to your neck when I'm attacking ya

Use a crossbow bolt for backstabbing ya

Ms. Steal Yo' Bitch and I'm mackin' ya

I came straight from the Cathedral and I'm spitting hard

I'm as crazy as Nard Ward in a Mental Nard Ward

I'm with my alley, we're lounging, it isn't that hard

Out of Ringling Row I play you like a Joker's Card

Pass the candy, let me toke some smoke,

Can i bum some off a motherfucker? (Here ya go) Dope.

Got this brand new flavor straight from Laa-Laa Land

I hear it gets a 'Zzo so high you become a human, damn

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat for me, like a corpse in a hersh

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat, step up and spit a verse

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat for me, like a corpse in a hersh

Lay uh, beat for me, lay a beat down

Lay a beat, step up and spit a verse

[twdsunshine]

Crazy For You (One-Shot)

Summary:  The reader unleashes her crazy side on New Year’s Eve.  Will Daryl Dixon be able to resist?

Pairing:  Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings:  None

Word Count:  1,684

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note:  Well, hello.  It has been a long while since I posted.  This blog has been open, on hiatus, open again, on another hiatus, closed for a while... And now, finally, I have found the urge and ability to write.  My main focus has been the new series I’m writing, which will start on Sunday, but I also threw together a couple of little one-shots for my Walking Dead faves to celebrate the holiday.  So, Happy New Year to you, my lovely followers and welcome back!  I hope you enjoy...

****

The main street of Alexandria was lit only by the porch lights of the houses that lined it and the silvery glow of the full moon, dancing off the rain as it continued to fall from the sky.  Narrow streams had formed where the road dipped towards the sidewalks that bordered it, and the gardens were saturated, water creeping up the length of the grass until only the very tips stood clear, gasping for breath.  The steady roar of the downpour drowned out any noise from those of your neighbours that were still awake, as well as the creak of your front door as you pushed your way outside to join the shadowy figure lounging on the porch steps with his back against the railings.

Daryl looked up as you settled yourself beside him, arching a brow at you before he took another toke of his cigarette, the end burning amber.  'Thought ya were sleepin'.'

You shrugged, tipping your head back to pick out the few stars that were peeking through from the dense cloud cover.  'Tried.  Couldn't.  Kinda wanted to see midnight, anyways.'

'Yeah?'  A wisp of smoke curled into the air when Daryl spoke, escaping from his lips on a warm breath.  'Why's that?

For a moment you wondered whether to keep it to yourself, whether the hardened archer sitting next to you would think you childish for getting caught up in the season, but eventually you murmured your answer, keeping your gaze turned up and away.  'Because it's New Year's Eve.'

He grunted, staring down at his own knees as his thumb worried against a hole in his jeans.  'It is?'

'Yep.'

'How'd ya even know?'

It was a good question.  Since the world had gone to hell, nobody was really paying attention to the date, time passing marked only by the acknowledgement of the endless cycle of light and dark.  You doubted anybody in the Safe Zone had a clue how old they even were anymore.  As much as you would have liked to take credit for being switched on enough to know the exact date and year that you were living through, you were as guilty as anyone else for letting the concept go.  'Eugene's been keeping track.'

'Course he has.'  Daryl's hair fell across his face as he shook his head, lips quirking in a smirk at the idea of anybody having the time or energy to monitor such things when there was a community to be fed and protected.  'Ya really think that stuff still matters?'

'I guess not,' you admitted, a shiver running through you as a cool breeze gusted through the railings at your side.  'Not really.  But… I don't know.  It feels kinda nice to mark another year passing by, another year that we've all survived.' You cast a sideways glance at him as he nodded, stubbing out his cigarette and twisting so that he was facing out into the near-darkness, leaning back to rest his elbows on the step behind him.  'Besides, this is the first time in forever that we've all had food in our bellies and roofs over our heads, right?  So, maybe it makes sense to see the New Year in, say goodbye to all the shit we've been through.  I haven't felt this hopeful in a while.'

A part of you half-expected the man at your side to shut you down, kill that small trace of hope that was keeping you going.  He was still suspicious of Alexandria, of the people that lived here going about their lives as if the dead weren't walking on the other side of the fences, and you knew that he felt out of place, uncomfortable, in this make-believe suburbia that had become your home.  But instead, he tilted his head to one side, fixing you with a curious smile, blue eyes crinkling.  'So, what would ya be doin' right now?  Back before all this.'

'Partying.'  The answer slipped from your tongue without thought and you couldn't help but grin at the memory of the reckless wild child that you used to be.  'Probably on my sixth double vodka and reeling some poor victim in ready for the ball to drop by now.'  His gruff laughter warmed you against the cold night air and you turned to see his amusement lightening his usual scowl.  'What about you?'

He shrugged.  'Prob'ly out with Merle somewhere.  Gettin' wasted.  Runnin' from the cops.  Nothin' special.'

'I think we would've gotten along,' you told him, imagining a young and impressionable Daryl Dixon swept along in his brother's slipstream.  'I was always up for doing something crazy back then.'

'Yer still crazy,' he pointed out, and you knew he was thinking of the risks you took when you were fighting for the group that had become your family.  You supposed you weren't really in any position to disagree.  So, instead, squinting at your watch to see that the minutes were ticking closer to midnight, you levered yourself upright, stretching your limbs, before grasping the hem of your sweatshirt and tugging it up and over your head.  Clad only in the vest top and sweats that you slept in, the cold immediately went straight to your bones, but you squared your shoulders against it, sucking in a deep breath as Daryl watched on, bemused.  'What the hell are ya doin'?'

'Something crazy,' you shot back before letting out a cry of exhilaration and leaping from the porch into the rain.  Your bare feet kicked up spray from the path as you pounded along it, darting onto the street and jumping with a splash into the deepest puddle you could find.  You were already soaked, your wet hair clinging to your cheeks, and you span around, arms outstretched, almost dancing as the icy droplets drenched your skin.  'C'mon, Dixon, get your ass out here!  It feels amazing!'

It wasn't a lie.  Despite the stinging cold, you felt alive, rejuvenated.  The lethargy that had come from months on end of fighting and killing and barely getting by was getting washed away in the baptism of the storm, and you let out a howl of elation as another cloud burst and the rain grew heavier still.  It was lashing down now, the wind whipping it into your face and you closed your eyes against it, kicking out to send ripples spiralling down the length of the road. 

Your fingers were numb when you raised your hands to clear the worst of the water from your vision, and, when your eyes flickered open once more, Daryl was standing in front of you, dark hair hanging in rats tails around his neck.  His proximity took you by surprise - you weren't sure you'd ever been this close to him, unless you'd been back to back during a fight - and your immediate instinct was to take a step back, but you stopped yourself, gazing up at him.  His body was racked with tension, his shirt plastered to his broad chest in a way that was more distracting than you'd ever admit, and you could tell that he was uncertain now he'd moved to join you, unsure of what to do next.  Your hand sought his, fingers lacing together so you could lift his arm and spin beneath it, laughing as you went, and he went with it, spinning you back without prompting so that you collided with the solid bulk of him, your face level with the crook of his neck.

Despite the temperature, the shivers that were rattling through you, heat still radiated from the archer and you couldn't hold yourself back from burying your face in the dip of his collarbone, immediately feeling his warmth thaw your icy nose.  His hand slipped from your grasp, coming to rest on the curve of your waist, and if you were surprised at the gentleness of his touch, then there was no time to process it as you brought your watch up to see that the hour had arrived.

'Happy New Year, Daryl.'

He didn't respond, his chin dipped to his chest when you lifted your head, his breath shallow and ragged, and you didn't bother to ask permission before you leant forward and pressed your lips to his.  He froze.  For several long moments, he stood stock still, as if he was afraid that any sort of movement might scare you, and then his touch shifted to graze up your spine and he was kissing you back with fervour, teeth clashing as the wild of the storm took over.  His scruff scratched over your chin, the prickling sensation only heightening the feelings that he was awakening within you, dormant since the world as you knew it came to an end.

Your arms crept up to loop around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, and, if it hadn't been for the rumble of thunder that forced your awareness back to the cold and the rain, then you thought you might've stood out there all night, losing yourself in the man that you weren't sure you'd ever really seen properly until now. 

'C'mon, yer gonna catch yer death out here.'  His voice was rough, his breathing heavy, as he ran with you back to the cover of the porch, immediately pulling you back into his embrace when you reached the dry and running his calloused hands over you in a bid to rub some heat back into your limbs.  'Yer crazy, girl.'

'I know.'  Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you needed to get inside, to the warm, but you were reluctant to leave and break the moment that you seemed to be caught in, in case you might never get it back.  'It was fun though, r-right?  Tell me th- that wasn't the best m-moment you've had in y-years.'

'Might'a been.'  Daryl's lips were curved in a crooked smile, his touch finally stilling to linger on your hips, growing firmer and more confident as you moved closer, seeking his warmth once more.  'Guess, maybe, this year might not be so bad after all.'

'I told you so.'

*****

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Thank you for reading 

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You��d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[spunkpunx]

Are Friends Electric? (Alex Turner)

Multi Part Series

Part 1: Dreamy Days

Sheffield 2002

"Is that a fookin' United shirt?"

"Yeah, so what? It's not mine, you know I support Owls."

"Am honestly disappointed in you, consortin' with the enemy an' that," Alex shook his head, refusing to look at the offending football shirt that I'd been forced into wearing.

"It was in lost property, an' you know what the PE teachers are like, they threatened to suspend me, Mam would kill me if they did," I replied, rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them.

"Only 'cause you've been suspended before."

"Yeah well I don't want to do it again, she'd have me bloody guts for garters," I told him. He rolled his eyes. We were sat on an old bench around the back of the school, dressed in PE kits and smoking B&H cigarettes I had stolen off my mother. My football shorts were no match for the harsh January weather, but I was wearing a parka, hence why Alex had only just noticed the Sheffield United t-shirt. We couldn't leave school grounds yet, because in order to get out from behind we'd would have to go past the French classroom, and as the bell hadn't yet gone, there would still be Miss Kelly and a class of year 7s ready to catch us out.

"I'm fookin' freezing," Alex whined, putting out his fag on the wall and dropping it onto the floor. "At least you've got that bloody big coat."

I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt onto the floor, stomping it out with the toe of my trainer. "If we go over the wall you know you have to give me a leg up," I explained bluntly. He nodded along almost eagerly, likely desperate to get out the cold and home as soon as possible.

"I don't mind Jack, I just wanna leave."

"Right then," I replied, standing up, picking up my bag and putting a foot into a crack in the stone, grabbing the top edge where my fingers could just about catch grip on the rough stone. Alex came up behind me and put his hands on my shin, and using his hands to push against, I pulled herself up. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I began to fall back down, but my fall was stopped by the feeling of hands holding me up. Alex's hands, on my bum.

I felt my ears burning red, but not willing to have to try again, I pulled herself up using my arms and jumped down the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground I climbed on top of the large wheelie bin that sat against the wall and grabbed Alex's arm as he clambered over as well. He was a lot taller than me now, he'd grown in a way only 15 year old boys do, all long limbs and clumsiness. I'd barely even noticed him shoot up. I helped him over and we jumped into the street below.

"Um... I'm sorry that I touched your..." Alex stuttered slightly, his cheeks going uncharacteristically red. I cut him off.

"Al, it's fine."

"I mean I-"

"It's fine," I repeated, more firmly. He shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk down the alley toward the road. I followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides.

"Am gonna join a band you know," he told me as we turned the corner onto the street. I looked at him in surprise.

"A band? Who wiv?" I questioned, confused.

"Matt."

"Matt Helders or Matt Sheppard?"

"Matt Helders of course! Av'e never even spoke to Matt Sheppard why on earth would I be talking about 'im?"

"Well I dunno do I? I didn't even know Matt Helders played an instrument, he's not singing is he?" I queried, scuffing my shoes along the floor.

Alex shook his head slightly. "He plays drums, I'm the singer."

"But you play guitar?" I could sense my brain was really struggling to keep up.

"I can do both, like Bowie."

"Don't compare yourself t'Bowie unless you go to your gigs dressed in a catsuit an' heels an' bat away crowds of lads and lasses who want to sleep with ya."

"I'm not against the crowds of lasses, but I don't think I could commit to the rest," he laughed cheekily. I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"You're full of shit, you are," I grinned, as he rubbed his arm over-dramatically. Cars whizzed past as we reached the main road. Cars that caused slight rushes of air as the pair of us continued to walk, that's how close they drove past the pavement.  "Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours, yer mam won't be back from work yet."

"Fairs."

A silence lulled in the conversation as we continued to walk down the street, Alex was scuffing his trainers along the floor. It was annoying as fuck but I didn't say owt.

"Did you hear what Rory Pike did today at lunch?"

"No?"

"He got his cock out on the school field," Alex divulged me, a laugh spread across his face. I couldn't help but join in the joke.

"Rory Pike is a world class minger," I told him, and soon we were both in stitches, adding extra gross details to the story to the amusement of each other.

"Did Cook finally ask tha' girl out then?" I changed the subject, catching my breath back from my laughing fit.

"'Course not, he jibbed again, then Simmo asked her instead," Alex explained.

"Simmo? Did she say yes?"

"Why would she? She clearly fancies Jamie."

"He needs to get his act together and ask her."

Alex nodded, momentarily in thought. He then very suddenly turned around and gave me a playful shove.

"First one to yours!" he exclaimed, quickly speeding off around the corner.

"Bastard," I muttered, beginning to run after him. I sprinted to catch up, but the awkward coat prevented me from getting anywhere near the speed his long limbs could get him. He legged it off and I was forced to slow my pace back down to a walk. The boy was clearly going to win and I had the house key so he'd have to wait outside for me anyway. I decided to take me time knowing I'd probably bump into Alex around the corner when he came back to see where I was. He'd probably be a bit moody about it, telling me off for being a fun sponge, and I'd apologise insincerely and then he'd give me an awkward side hug and tell me he couldn't stay angry at me, there's no way I'd let him. Then we would probably walk back to mine and be done with the matter.

This wasn't the case. I got round the corner, then the one after that, and didn't see any sign of Alex. There was no way he would still be running, he was too lazy and he would look like an idiot, racing against no one. He was a dafty but not that much of one. I began to get confused after I rounded the third corner and there was still not a sign of him.

"Oi Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders from behind. I yelped in surprise and he burst out laughing.

"Fook you Alex Turner," I scolded him. "How did ya even get behind me?" He said nothing, and just tapped his nose conspiratorially.

Sheffield 2003

He knew everything there was to know about Jackie. He knew her favourite colour (red),her middle name (Arabella), her handwriting and everything else in between. Alex had known this for ages, but it had never weighed on his mind as much as it had recently.

It was the way he'd seen her the other night. There was a small gaff at someone or another's and Alex had gone with the boys. Jackie had showed up a bit later, dressed very differently to how he normally saw her. She had a leopard print mini skirt on and a tight, cropped t-shirt, along with her trainers and Adidas jacket. Of course he noticed her, lighting one of her L&B blues and trying to smoke it subtly; she was the only one smoking.

He had gone over and said hello, and she'd grinned when she saw him, glad of some company, he expected. Some 90s rave hit was playing, and cheesy lights flashed across the room. Trying too hard, he thought. She picked a beer off the counter she was leaning on and gave it to him. A Corona, lukewarm but still alcohol.

"D'ya wanna come for a spliff?" she asked him, patting her pocket, and he said yes. Her top was very tight, although he tried not to look, but he saw her bra, visible through the fabric. They went outside onto some kind of shitty balcony. She got what looked to be a large gram of weed and some Rizlas out, making an L and then ripping open a cigarette to get the tobacco out, she carefully sprinkled in some of the spliff and rolled. Alex didn't say anything, he just watched as she deftly rolled the joint. She lit the end and took her time, sitting down on a breeze block. He found himself a seat on the step.

"So how's t'band going, Arctic Monkeys i'nt it?"

"There's a gig coming up, at The Grapes," Alex told her, proudly. In fact, he puffed up slightly with pride. Jackie had never really got involved with the band, she said it weren't her business, but Alex still felt remarkably pleased whenever she showed an interest, especially if they were doing well.

"D'ya want me to come?"

"'Course! I thought you already were."

"Yeah I just... weren't sure, that's all," Jackie responded, unusually quiet. She was acting off with him.

"Is summit up?" Alex asked. She shrugged, taking another drag on her spliff and then handing it to him. "Jack?" he prompted further.

"It's nothing Al, jus' summit stupid," she replied. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. He decided to leave it, pushing her wouldn't make her tell him, it would just annoy her. He took a toke of the joint and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Wanna find some White Lightning and get hammered?" she asked and Alex grinned.

"Are you sure? That stuffs pretty lethal."

"Well fook it all we're not going home tonight," she replied, laughing slightly. Alex nodded, smiling, then passed her the spliff back. It was a still and cold night. Jackie let the smoke seep out her mouth and inhaled it through her nose.

They finished the spliff and went back inside. Alex found the rest of his mates and together they all got steaming. Simmo was acting strangely all night. Then Jackie started acting strange too. She was all quiet and snappy.

"Why were you being such a mardy bum yesterday," he asked her the next day. They were lounging about on the sofa at his, nursing two horrible headaches. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not now Alex, I'm too hungover for this," she answered, misery clear in her voice.

"Just tell me and I'll stop naggin'" he told her, shuffling a bit closer so she couldn't turn over and ignore him.

"Your mate Simmo," she replied simply.

"What'dya mean? Look, I know the joke was a bit insensitive but tha's just what 'e's like," Alex began to explain, for some reason unknown to him, in Simmo's defence.

"It's not tha' you bloody great nit, he kissed me."

Alex couldn't explain why that came like a twist in the gut, but it did nonetheless. It made him stumble for his words for a moment.

"Oh," was all he managed to get out. "Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not, he's funny, but a bit gross," Jackie replied, pulling a face, and Alex laughed. A strange sense of relief was felt somewhere in his system, although nowhere near enough to dull the queasy thud of his hangover. "'Sides, Chris asked me out the other day."

"Who the fook is Chris?"

"Chris Maher, from the garage."

"Him? You've lost your mind Jackie, he works at fookin' MotorWorld."

"He's funny! And he knows loads about cars, plus he can drive," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Why does it matter 'e can drive?"

"So I can get places, obviously," she responded dryly.

"I've almost passed me test!"

"Al, you're not even close to passing, I spoke to yer Dad an' he says you drive like you're drunk. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to get on your nerves, always cadgin' a lift." she explained, to Alex's disappointment.

"I didn't expect your type to be a guy who walks around in trackies, how desperate are ya?" Alex jabbed, a little cruelly. Jackie shot him a scathing look.

"Alexander, what is up with you? You were fine last night, an' now you're acting like I'm makin' you suck bloody lemons," she reprimanded him. She was trying to draw him into an argument, he could tell. He wasn't about to start a fight.

"Oh, it duen't matter," he said offhandedly, hoping to diffuse the issue, which seemed to work.

"He's actually a really lovely guy," Jackie added after a long pause.

"Ay, I'm sure he is," Alex replied halfheartedly.

[wickedmilo]

I’LL INVITE YOU IN | MILO & LUIS

PLACE: A Gala TIMING: A couple of months ago SUMMARY: Milo agrees to attend an event with Luis, and the two find the setting to be oddly intimate WRITING PARTNER: @ontheluis CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction tw, alcohol tw

 Luis’ footsteps were duly muffled on the intricate Ottoman rugs, all sound seeming to be soaked up by the thick window hangings and mahogany walls of this Harris Island manor. Everything he’d done for the syndicate thus far had been in the city's grimy underbelly, the kind of places the society liked to forget existed. None of the people he worked with seemed like they knew what silver spoon to use for what, Luis included. But here they were, attending a ball with some blue bloods in a place whose ceiling fixtures were probably worth more than his kidneys.  

What did the boss want here? Luis had a feeling he didn’t want to know the kind of ‘discrete favors’ a monster like Vathnek Beckford was providing to White Crest’s upper crust.  

Luis looked down at the ghoul-mark on the inside of his wrist, a misshapen scar from Vathnek’s claw that’d sealed their magical pact. The nauseous sense of accusation Luis felt on seeing it caused him to fiddle with his cufflinks and adjust his suit’s sleeves to cover the mark.  

Luis entered one of the many lounges with thick sofas and smoking chairs. Exchanging nods of recognition with several fellow criminals masquerading as gentlemen, Luis went into one of the men’s fitting rooms and rapped softly on the wooden sliding door.   

“Hey Milo? You good?”  

Milo stared at the floor length mirror opposite him, completely devoid of his reflection, wondering, not for the first time, how he had managed to get himself into this. It wasn’t unusual for him to wind up in places he shouldn’t be. He had put himself in danger more times than he could ever hope to count, but this felt different somehow. When he had been human he had known the risks, or at the very least convinced himself that was true. He understood the chances of being mugged, or taken advantage of, or injured in some way. But he didn’t know this world, he didn’t understand the endless ways the evening could go wrong, and if he hadn’t started it with a cup of blood, and a pain pill, then that would likely be making him nervous. Instead he was curious, ready to throw himself into whatever was about to unfold. Tugging at the sleeves of the suit Luis had bought for him, it felt far more expensive than any item of clothing he had worn before. The Dracula cufflinks he had chosen to amuse himself were in stark contrast with the rest of the outfit. He almost wished he could see himself in it. Maybe he could take a few selfies before the end of the night. Letting out a quiet sigh in response to Luis’ question, he reached out to open the door for him, offering him a sheepish grin. “I’m good.” He confirmed, gesturing vaguely to the mirror, knowing his lack of a reflection would be incredibly obvious. How many other vampires were there currently in the room? Would anybody notice? Would anybody even care? “It’s just- fuck, I’ve been trying to tie this for like five minutes now and apparently I cant do it without a mirror…” Slipping the strip of material from around his neck, he handed Luis the tie, feeling both ridiculous, and amused by the prospect of what he was about to ask. “Any chance you want to do it for me?”  

Dad had shown Luis how to tie a tie for church, the only time besides weddings and funerals where the Martinez family went in for nice clothes. Luis crossed the threshold into the small dressing room and slid the door shut behind him. Two walls were covered completely in mirrors while a dark wood closet and cushioned sofa occupied the other. He hadn’t completely understood what Milo meant until seeing only himself reflected in the mirrors.  

Luis had to resist the dumbass impulse to poke Milo while looking into the mirror, wondering if his finger would vanish if he stuck it in Milo’s ear or something.  

Luis was no scientist, but so many questions started popping into his head about what the hell was happening with photons here.  

However he spared Milo ameture science hour, and slung the tie over his friend’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming here with me,” Luis murmured and glanced into Milo’s eyes before returning the silken knot. “I’ll uh...figure out how to make it up to you.”  

Milo could almost pinpoint the moment Luis realised what he was talking about, the exact moment his friend’s gaze landed on the mirror and found only his own reflection staring back at them both. It would be comical if it wasn’t such a constant source of frustration for him. So he allowed a tired smile, pushing his hair back away from his face with no way of knowing whether the move had done anything to tame it. Maybe he would have to admit defeat and pull out his phone camera, though he always felt so ridiculous doing so. What if people thought he was filming a Tiktok? Honestly, he would rather die all over again. His smile growing exponentially when Luis took the tie and threw it over his shoulders, he couldn’t help catching his gaze. The close proximity felt strangely intimate, especially given the fact that the door to his dressing room was now closed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And he appreciated that, he didn’t have that with many people.  

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes when Luis eventually lowered his gaze, he shook his head. This wasn’t the first time he had shown his gratitude, but as far as he was concerned he had no reason to thank him. “Look… you bought me a suit, if anything I should be thanking you.” He pointed out, intentionally keeping his tone lighthearted. He knew the room was filled with dangerous people, maybe his death was leading to him finding crazy new ways of being reckless, and self-destructive. But he was here entirely through his own choice, and in some twisted way he was excited. Not only was this a part of the world he had never been exposed to, underhand dealings, and intelligent power plays, this was a whole new part of the supernatural. And he was always desperate to learn more, always desperate to know. “It’s going to be fine… and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I couldn’t exactly turn down a dinner date with Luis Martínez, could I?”  

Luis couldn’t help but wonder about this situation if Milo and himself were both still human. Would they be preparing for some dance? Some fancy college donor reception? Would they just be nervous about some social or dating drama while getting suited up here, rather than whether Luis’ mob connections were about to get them both killed? When exactly had two perpetually stoned accidental monster kids gotten to the point where this was the new normal? 

Luis knew deep down that Milo Summers was a predator, no matter how unthreatening that wholesome off-brand Draco Malfoy face seemed. Milo hadn’t asked to become a killer any more than Luis had, but the curses in their veins hadn't asked permission. Luis had been brought up to think of sin as something you chose, a temptation to stray from the honest clean life God intended human beings to lead. But Luis didn't have the chance to choose innocence, just as Milo now had to fight against the urge to rip the lifeblood out of people for an eternity. Empathy for the brokenness that came with loss of agency had turned a casual acquaintance of vice into something more.  

But he actually needed Milo Summers the predator tonight. Luis knew just enough about the paranormal underworld to know he was walking into danger at this posh meeting between criminal outfits and rich clients, but not enough to really know exactly what form that danger would take. Luis needed another pair of eyes and someone to have his back that wasn’t also on Vathnek’s long list of indentured debtors. It wasn’t fair that Milo being a friendly murder-corpse made him a good candiate, but Luis would find a way to make it up to him later.   

Milo’s assurance that he wanted to be here and broad smile evoked a reflection on Luis’ own face. The expression deepend in warmth at Milo’s teasing about a date. “Crime, nice clothes, and an upscale venue,” Luis replied airily as he attended to Milo’s tie. “I really do know how to show a guy a good time huh?”  

The date thing tugged at the back of his mind, as Luis looped one end of the tie up by Milo’s neck and drew it down again, palpably aware of their closeness in here and how Luis could've brushed against the base skin of Milo’s neck if the mood struck him to be purposefully clumsy. The unsentimental part of his brain knew this wasn’t technically different then when they'd toked up in the dark of abandoned buildings together, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like something else entirely.  

Yeah, there’d been times back when they’d known nothing about each other that Luis’ had considered offering to share more than pills with Milo for pleasant distraction without any strings attached. Ironically, coming to care for Milo on a deeper level had actually made Luis more hesitant. Luis didn’t have many connections left, let alone friendships, and he didn’t want to jeopardize what he had with Milo. Sure, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense, especially since Luis would’ve happily added benefits to friendship if Milo had asked. However, dread of seeing confused surprise in Milo’s eyes or feeling an unrepairable change in their emotional relationship after sharing that intensely physical part of himself, kept Luis content with the comfortable wingman status quo.  

Besides, he should probably focus on the party with the monster mobsters.  

Luis stepped back and looked Milo over before reaching out to straighten his collar and a shoulder to keep things even. “Well you’re in luck,” he continued, knowing that Milo didn’t want yet another rehash of the ‘this is very dangerous thank you’ routine. “There’s legit blood wine being served, aged with additives and everything.”  

Milo couldn’t be sure what Luis was thinking about but the expression on his face seemed deep, and distracted. He was so clearly lost in his head, and he was hesitant to interrupt what he could only assume was some kind of personal reflection. He had been there, hadn’t he? He found situations like this brought out an introspective side of himself that for the most part lay abandoned and forgotten, pushed away by substances, and his own sheer force of will. There was something about the quiet of the changing room, knowing what lay beyond it, knowing what the evening held in store for them both, that felt vulnerable. For a brief moment in time they were kids again, not two people who had been forced to grow up, who had been attacked against their will, and left to deal with the trauma. Luis too had become the very monster responsible for tearing into his flesh. It was something they shared; a dark, and twisted connection. As terrible as it was, he couldn’t help feeling grateful that his friend was able to understand. Wasn’t that why they had become so close? “Hm,” he hummed quietly in amusement, offering Luis a smile as he continued to tug at the tie around his neck. “Usually it’s just crime on its own, so… a nice change of pace.” He teased, raising his eyebrows as his company stepped back to survey his work. Resisting the urge to shrink in on himself, he feigned confidence, holding out his arms, and turning on the spot. “So?” His smile grew, and he pointedly caught Luis’ eye. “Am I presentable?”  

Glancing towards the closest mirror, it was a habit he still hadn’t managed to break, and he stared at the place where he should be standing, annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t see himself. He wasn’t sure why being a vampire needed to come with so many minor inconveniences. Weren’t the major ones enough when it came to making a person suffer? A frustrated huff of breath escaping him, he refused to let his demeanour fade, turning back to Luis with a shameless grin fixed firmly in place. “Blood wine?” He echoed. “I don’t know if I could drink that without sitting in a dark dusty castle somewhere- probably Transylvania. I feel like it has to be Transylvania.” He pictured himself sitting atop an old wooden coffin, lightning storming outside as his cape fell around him, and he sipped blood wine from a beautifully ornate glass. It was outright laughable, but it only made him more eager to try the drink. “Jeez, I’m not even pretentious enough to drink regular wine.” They both knew that wasn’t true, if it had an alcohol content then he was game, but the comment was intended to make Luis laugh. Whether or not it was accurate didn’t feel relevant right now. What mattered was the fact that they were together. What mattered was the fact that, no matter what happened tonight, or on any other night, they were always going to have each other.  

Luis instinctively looked with Milo towards the mirror, the reflex of following another person’s gaze overtaking him before he realized the dumbassery of it. “More than presentable,” he assured. It was the truth, tacky buttons aside, Milo was one of those guys who “cleaned up well” as Grandma Martinez would say.  

Luis chuckled as Milo turned the conversation towards levity. In truth, Luis had never appreciated wine before being bitten. Ever since his sense of smell had become doggishly keen, all tastes had become more intense. Most colors had faded from Luis’ vision, but flavors had become so complex and distinct that even something boringly bougie like wine now made sense to him.  

But it seemed real assholely to share that anecdote with a dude who couldn’t eat and taste as much anymore, so Luis kept that to himself.  

“Hey Milo I got something for you..real quick.” 

Luis took a handkerchief from his pocket and began to unwrap it. On the white cloth was a switchblade, a lightweight yet viciously edged toll of backalley violence. Luis took up the small flip-knife with his free-hand. Immediately, veins of irritation and necrosis began to climb up the tips of the werewolf’s fingers from where he touched the silver knife.  

“I’m not the only one here that silver hurts,” Luis explained in a low voice as he offered the switchblade to Milo, pale metal gleaming in dressing room lights. “Just in case.”  

Milo caught the gaze of Luis’ reflection although he knew Luis wouldn’t be able to see him, smiling sheepishly. It wasn’t often he was deemed presentable, let alone more than presentable. He almost felt like a different person, a new person. Not the Milo who passed out in gutters, and crashed in dirty apartments with no memory of how he had gotten to them. This was the Milo who combed his hair, who made the effort to shave, who scrubbed his face with cleanser, and actually worried about creasing his clothes. Raising his eyebrows in a silent question, he turned back to Luis, curious about a potential gift. It was only as his friend carefully unfolded a handkerchief that he realised the gift wasn’t something he wanted. The blade was short, and sharp, his clear vision allowing him to see just how deadly the edge of it was. “I-” He broke off, every instinct telling him to reject the offer, to insist Luis keep it himself. He wasn’t a violent person, it didn’t come naturally to him. He was far more comfortable on the sidelines, or actively running from a fight. But he knew that wasn’t why Luis had asked him to come, he knew they both needed to be smart tonight. Smart, observant, and prepared. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need the knife. He might have to use it. Why was the prospect of danger only ever fun until it became real?  

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he watched as Luis handled the weapon, staring for a second too long as his body began to react to the silver. He wanted to ask whether it burned but the werewolf wasn’t showing any sign of pain. Regardless, a new instinct took over, and he reached out to snatch it away, hoping to spare his company from any further damage. “You didn’t have to touch it!” He insisted. “Drama queen.” He added, a smile still tugging at his lips. Looking down at the knife, it felt so alien, so uncomfortable in his hands. But he knew he was in no place to set it down, not now. “Are you sure?” He asked quietly, his smile fading, replaced by a serious expression. What they were walking into, as exciting as it felt, was no joke. “About- y’know, all of this?”  

“I uh,” it seemed to occur belatedly to the werewolf that he could have just picked the knife up in the kerchief and handed it over. “Didn’t think about…,” Luis shrugged while his features gave way to a broad sheepish smile, dimples winking into existence on his cheeks.  

But the moment of bashful levity passed as Milo succumbed to seriousness. “Yeah,” Luis answered. “I can’t keep hurting people like this I uh.”  

The werewolf ran a hand through his sandy hair, some strands coming loose as a nervous habit quickly undid his efforts to slick it all back into presentableness. “I don’t know how you’re handling your change Milo but I’m…”

Why was he confessing this now? This wasn’t the time! Shit, but the worlds felt like they needed to come out now. But how could he burden Milo with one more thing to worry about when they were about to walk into danger? It felt selfish. “Losing me, like what made me human,” Luis confessed anyway, turning to face the mirror briefly being unsettled by the sight of his own reflection talking to himself alone in an empty room. “I can’t control any of it,”  

The phone in Luis’ pocket buzzed but he ignored it, briefly pacing in the small dressing room like a caged beast chained in an evening suit. It seemed to take Luis a minute to realize that the stress was letting out the thing inside of him. The werewolf paused, fighting down the burst of freneticism as his shoulders rose and fell with long steady breaths.   

“Milo,” Luis began when his mind was more still. “I’m...uh..I’m one of the ones the Hunters talk about,” the rabid wolf confessed quietly.  

 Luis swallowed letting the implication speak for itself. “I don’t want to die,” he assured. “But I can’t keep waking up covered in blood either.” Self-revulsion and determination made a painful interplay across Luis' face but the later seemed to win out, a long exhale adding steel back into the young man’s posture. “That’s why I’m doing all this, risking getting mixed up with these people,” the budding criminal insisted.  

“Vathek’s got a cure,” Luis asserted with the quiet fervor of the truly desperate, those souls who’ve been pushed so far past the breaking point that now nothing could be too impossible or extreme to risk everything for. “And if I have to deal with mobster politics and do some sick stuff now so I don’t have to ever kill anybody else ever again for the rest of my life? Yeah, I’m in.”  

The phone in Luis’ pocket buzzed insistently again, signalling the approach of the deadly dinner date.  

Luis tried to meet Milo’s gaze and moved away from the door in case his friend wanted to get the hell out after everything he’d shared. “I didn’t want you to go in there with the wrong idea about me, what I really am, or why I’m doing this,” the killer said. “If you're not comfortable now that you know it, and need to head out, like that's ok. I’ll understand,” Luis promised.  

Milo smiled at Luis, comforted by the fact that he seemed to be clumsy and unsure of his own condition. It was something they shared, something they had in common, and it made his friend infinitely more likeable. “I do the same thing sometimes.” He admitted. “I’ve had to stop halfway through opening the curtains before, it’s this weird instinct to let in the sunlight… I guess it’s just what humans do. You don’t even think about it.” As quickly as his smile appeared, it began to fade, stolen by the change in atmosphere, by the sudden, unfamiliar look in Luis’ eye. It was the first time he had ever heard Luis explicitly confess to hurting others, and he knew he needed to be careful when it came to his reaction. The information was personal, Luis didn’t have to share it, no doubt he would be watching to see whether he looked horrified, or upset, or disgusted by the revelation. Waiting patiently as he ran a hand through his hair, creating a tousled look that almost seemed intentional, he eventually stepped forward, reaching up to brush a few strands back into place. His friend’s hair was soft, and every time he ran his fingers through it waves of his natural scent seemed to roll off of him. But it wasn’t unpleasant, quite the contrary. “It’s okay.” He said quietly, although he wasn’t sure it was fair of him. He wanted it to be okay, but what about Luis’ victims? The people who had lost their lives to his wolf?  

Letting out a gentle sigh, he slipped the knife into his pocket before lowering his arms, stepping back again so that he could properly see his company. The man before him looked so broken, so lost, he wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him until he found a way to put himself back together. He still wasn’t sure the cure was real, but it definitely seemed more possible than a cure for vampirism. He was dead, Luis’ body had only changed. Could it be treated like an illness? Could it be reversed somehow?  Why didn’t more people know about a cure if there was one in existence? He had so many questions, but he held his tongue. Luis needed support, not doubt. Faltering briefly as he heard his phone buzz, he swallowed, debating how much he wanted to tell him. “Luis… when you lose control, that isn’t your fault, you know that, right? I know it’s your body, but you aren’t responsible. You don’t know how I’m handling my change because- because if I talk about it I feel like I’m going to go insane. But you aren’t alone in feeling… I don’t know… hopeless.” Glancing up at the mirror, at the place where his reflection was supposed to be, he frowned, turning away from it so that he could move to sit on the cushioned bench lining the wall. Patting the space beside him, he encouraged Luis to sit down too, even though he had a feeling they were running out of time.  

“When I woke up… I didn’t know what I was, or even what had happened. I just knew I felt… really fucking terrible. I hid in an alleyway, railed my entire stash- I kept thinking this is the worst comedown of my life...” Laughing bitterly at his own ridiculous assumption, he shook his head. If only it had been a comedown. “It got late, people started showing up for the clubs, and bars, and one person- they probably thought I was tweaking or some shit-  they tried to help me. The next thing I know they’re-” He broke off, choking on his words as his vision became blurred by tears. Brushing them away with the sleeve of his suit jacket, he steeled himself. It was the first time he was ever saying them out loud, fully letting somebody know the true extent of the damage he had caused. And it was far more painful than he ever could have anticipated. “I watched them die, I’ll never get the image out of my head… and all I could think about was drinking their blood. I’d just killed them, I’d just drained them of their blood, and all I could think about were the few drops that I’d missed. If another vampire hadn’t found me I don’t think I would have stopped. I probably wouldn’t even have noticed that they were…” He exhaled, his breath shaky as more tears began to run down his cheeks. “It took me so long to stop blaming myself, but the truth is… if whoever did this to me had chosen to stick around, it wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t know what I was doing, it wasn’t my fault. And now that I know how this works, I’m making an effort to ensure it never happens again. You’re doing everything you can, Luis… you aren’t a bad person. The blood isn’t on your hands, not in the that way you think it is.”   

“I have the power to stop the killing,” Luis said finally after a time staring blankly at a mahogany wall while Milo spoke. “At any time I could’ve put an end to it and saved so many more lives.” He swallowed down the tenseness in his throat. “But I’ve been too much of a fuckin coward, and other innocent people have kept paying for it with their lives.” 

Luis turned his head to look at the vampire beside him, features steeled with the bleak strength that comes from looking self-annihilation directly in the face, perhaps holding its gaze for far longer than was healthy. Already reckless even before having every emotion dialled up to a fever pitch by lycanthropy, it hadn’t taken Luis Martinez long to realize that so many more people would be alive right now if someone had put a silver bullet in him early on.  

“It isn’t about if it’s my fault,” claimed one young killer to another. “It’s about the people who’re being hurt. Does me being innocent or guilty do anything for the grieving families? I could be completely blameless but the people I ate and keep eating will still have been torn apart by a monster,” Luis said.  

He let out a long shuddering breath before saying the part that probably should have been left unsaid. “Our lives aren’t worth any more than any other person,” the lapsed Catholic asserted. “So many of the supernaturals I’ve met make excuses, they kill people all the time but then go and on about how they are real victims, that they can’t be judged for they can’t control,” said the fledgling werewolf who’d perhaps spent too much time among fellow predators in the Bloody Stake. “Human lives are just expendable extras to them now, they’ll get all upset when a supernatural gets killed, but then shrug off slaughtering a buncha humans like it's somehow not as bad.”  

“I don’t want to get that far gone,” Luis insisted to Milo, words becoming more heated and erratic as the normally amiable young man got too close to the spiritual unravelling inside of him. ‘But I can feel myself slipping...I can’t...remember their faces like I used to. The more I kill like...the more I acclimate to it.”  

Although along the way Luis Martinez had come to hold onto his remorse, that capacity for recognizing the essential humanity of his victims, as the anchor to his own personhood. But matter how empathetic you are, doing anything enough times and it starts to lose impact, and Luis had done a lifetime of killing in the space of a year. As he grew numb to death, Luis became ever more unmoored from his sense of self.  

Luis reached up to brush away some tears from Milo’s face if the other guy let him. “Thank you Milo,” he said softly, only able to guess at how much it took Milo to admit to all that. “I appreciate it man like...seriously,” he said with any scorn for his companion’s breakdown. “I don’t think you're a bad person either,” Luis assured. “I’m trying to find a way to keep that from happening again,” he gave a toothy smile that hinted at bitterness around the edges. “And I’m choosing the one that makes sure we can still do that roadtrip later,” Luis teased, gentle humor hiding the reassurance that he had chosen this road of vice and moral compromises over the lethal purity of a final alternative.  

“That’s not fair, Luis.” Milo said, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he considered the terrifying implication behind his friend's words. Would the world be better without him? Without either of them? You could use that perspective to force so many things, to blame so many people for accidents, and mistakes that were far, far beyond their control. “You can’t think like that…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. Luis was more than capable of thinking in such a way, and he was absolutely powerless to stop it. He had his reasons, and he couldn’t imagine living through the horrors he had suffered. He had witnessed one person die at his own hands. Would he be okay, would he still be functioning if it wasn’t just one person. What if it was two people? Or three? Or five? Or ten? At what point did it become too much? At what point did the horror consume you? “I don’t think you’re a monster…” Holding Luis’ gaze for as long as he was able to, he finally looked away, staring down at his hands as he thought about his life, and what it was worth now that he had taken somebody else’s. Nothing was going to change the fact that he had killed somebody decent, somebody willing to help a stranger. Why did he of all people deserve to still be here? Still be somewhat alive, somewhat living... 

“You aren’t that far gone…” He murmured. “We aren’t that far gone.” Chewing on his bottom lip, it hurt to hear Luis talking about becoming so desensitised. But not because he was considering the forgotten victims. Selfishly, he was upset because it told him just how much his friend had experienced. Just how desperate his brain was to stop processing the trauma of his situation. His expression softening, he tilted his head, looking back up at Luis as he brushed away his tears. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and definitely not unwelcome. It felt good to know he wasn’t being seen as a terrible person. That Luis was still willing to touch him, to be near him. It would be contradictory if he decided otherwise, but sometimes it was so easy to believe he was a waste of time. People could definitely do better than Milo Summers, and it often only felt like a matter of time before they realised that. “You don’t?” He asked, unashamedly needing the confirmation. If he could ask Luis to say it a thousand times over, then he would. “You’re the first person I’ve ever… I’ve never talked about it before. I still don’t know how to get over it… I’m not even sure I want to. Does that- does that sound stupid?” Offering a weak smile in return, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, tugging at his shirtsleeves in an attempt to compose himself. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you… you know I will.” He insisted, needing Luis to know he would always be there for him. It felt like the very least he could offer. “Hm… when you’re human again, you’re not going to want to go on a road trip with a vampire.” He was half teasing, though part of him felt guilty for encouraging what was potentially false hope. Another part of him was worried what he was saying might be true. If Luis ever became human, he would be mad not to put as much distance as he could between himself and the world of the supernatural. “Don’t let me hold you back.”  

“No,” Luis shook his head at the admission. “It doesn’t sound stupid,” he assured. “Thank you for trusting me.” 

There’s been a time where Luis’ had been clear, as open and bright as the sky over his father’s ranch. Honesty, hard work, love, and faith has been enough. If you kept to these things, you’d always find your way home.  

Maybe back then, Luis would’ve been pretty sure what kind of person Milo was. His heart had been clean and the thought of taking another life was unthinkable. 

But now? Everything seemed like a fog he was stumbling through, looking for a blue sky to show him the way but only sinking deeper into grim moral compromises.  

Was Luis unable to condemn Milo because of empathy, or was Luis just so totally lost that he couldn’t tell right from wrong? Did Milo and Luis deserve to take up space in the world if it cost others lives? How could Luis justify allying with criminals simply for hope of a cure? Was there moral weight in any of this, or just desperation searching for answers that didn’t exist?  

All Luis knew is that dad once said you have to keep walking in a snowstorm, because if you lay down you're as good as dead. Life right now was a blizzard, and all Luis could do was keep walking no matter what, and have faith his feet would find their way home. 

“Milo when I’m human, I am going to take you south on a road trip,” Luis reiterated stubbornly, accepting the risk even in some future time where he might be powerless against Milo should his friend lose control. “We’ll go to my place in Texas…and I’ll invite you in,” Luis finished with slow emphasis on the words, a promise to wager his safety for the sake of trust.  

Tonight Milo was risking everything for Luis’ humanity. Why would Luis hold anything back in return?  

His phone buzzed again. Time to face the serpent’s nest.  

“You won’t hold me back,” Luis said, momentarily squeezing Milo’s shoulder before rising and giving himself one last look-over in the mirror. Luis straightened his collar and painted on a carefree smile, the look of a better man who never felt lost.  

“C’mon dude, can’t wait to seem them shit themselves when they see your lapels.”

[langdxn]

What would Michaels reaction be if he met Violet? Do you think Michael would get on with her considering she is his half- sister? Like would he be kind to her or what, just wondering. 😳

This is SUCH a good idea though, we never got to see how these two got along and Violet said she stayed clear of him, but surely they met at some point, right?

Given his obvious parentage, I think Violet would have refused to appear to Michael for a number of years. He’s the product of her lover raping her mother, she has every reason to deny him any contact. But I think it all comes to a head on the day Constance throws him out.

(gif by micheallangdons)

Pacing in disbelief down the stairs with his pulse thundering in his ears, the blur of tears brimming in Michael’s eyes blocked his vision of a girl stood in his path beneath the staircase. Crudely into her and spinning on his heels on impact, he blinked rapidly and adjusted his focus on her. Her sad eyes emerged through the wisps of cigarette smoke circling around her poker-straight dirty blonde hair.

“Don’t push her away,” she sighed, an air of wisdom lacing through her syllables.

“Wha… what?” Michael half-wailed through his hysteria, glass eyes searching her face for explanations. “Who are you?”

“Someone who knows,” her lips tapered into a pout as she took another slow, drawn-out toke. “Someone who knows how much family means to her.”

“She… she told me to get out!”

“She says that to everybody,” the girl chuckled lightly, turning to usher him into the lounge as they both took a seat. “She loves you, deep down. You’ve done some batshit things but she’ll never stop loving you. Look at...” she hesitated, voice breaking softly. “Look at Tate.”

Michael slumped into a familiar crease in the black leather couch, the same one he adopted through his sessions with Ben.

“My dad hates me too,” he snivelled into his faded denim sleeve, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of all his disputes with his biological father, all the feelings he couldn’t control, all the urges that made him do terrible things that ultimately pushed away the man he wanted to be like. “Everybody would be better off without me.”

“This house, it does shit to all of us. We say things we don’t mean, we do things we don’t mean,” she sympathised, leaning forward in her seat and drawing a long inhale on her cigarette. “But here’s what’s different about you, Michael — you’re still alive. You can get out of here, make something of yourself while you’re still young.”

“Why... why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I’ve been there before,” she slumped back against the couch. “I’ve been at rock bottom thinking nobody cared, that nothing was worth fighting for, worth living for.”

Michael’s youthful brows furrowed, forehead wrinkling gently and his head cocking to the side as he computed her explanation.

“What happened?”

Gazing into the middle distance momentarily, she blinked away her thoughts.

“I got stuck here. Forever. With my parents in an eternal domestic fallout, my little brother in an eternal state of infancy... and sitting here talking to my half-brother who’s acting like the son of Satan.”

“You’re... you’re Violet?” Michael’s eyes widened, his head curiously cocking to one side.

“Yep,” Violet sighed, dramatically raising her cigarette to her lips. “Unfortunately.”

Michael paused in silence, awkwardly staring at the floorboards beside her.

“My dad,” Michael hesitated. “My dad loves you.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, waving a dismissive palm in the air and clocking her near-extinguished cigarette. “That’s what everybody says.”

“He loves you,” Michael repeated insistently, unexpected tears bursting their banks beneath his baby blues. He wanted so desperately to comfort Violet, but whatever he said would only be dismissed as a child’s ramblings. Drawing his lip between his teeth, he paused to think of a response. “He definitely doesn’t love me.”

Violet let out a defeated sigh.

“Tate wanted to be good, just like you. He tried so hard to be normal, but this house messed him up. It’s just happening to you now, that’s what nobody’s able to see through right now. But they will, if you give them time.”

A smash of glass and wild sobbing echoed from upstairs, Michael’s wide-eyed gaze darting to the hallway in fear.

“Go to her,” Violet suggested, nudging her head toward the source of the commotion. “Let her know you’re still her grandson underneath it all.”

“Oh—okay,” Michael hesitated, leaping from the couch and pacing tentatively to the hall.

As he stalled thoughtfully at the doorway, he cast a comforting glance back to Violet, now reclined in the chair and lighting up another cigarette.

“You know,” he called back, a warm smile creeping across his face, dried tear tracks littering his cheeks. “It’s real nice to have a sister.”

[jacksonroseroth]

Waste Love Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first MGK/Colson Baker fic. I’m not too immersed in the fandom, so some of my scenes might be wrong/off character. Let me know. Correct me. This is only my first one. :) Hope you like it.

Warnings: Swearing, Weed Usage

Words: 4,747

Moodboard by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

~

Jersey lounged on the couch in the bus, earbuds in as she listened to music while editing. Propped up by the armrest of the couch, with her knees up, she rested her laptop on her thighs, editing the pictures she took from last night’s show. Being Rook’s visiting cousin had its advantages. Not only did Colson hook her up with a pretty sweet bunk; Big enough that she could comfortably sit up a little more while on her computer. He also began to let her take pictures at a few shows, field testing her as the band’s photographer.

Her own photography business was slow goings to get it completely up and running--At the moment it was stumbling downhill--And she was desperate to get out of, not only New Jersey, but the States in general. She had other freelance jobs and had traveled all over the country, but never outside. When she called up her cousin, Rook, needing a good laugh and a change of pace, Rook invited her to one of their last shows in the U.S., at EST Fest, before they headed off to the European leg of the Hotel Diablo tour.

Armed with the knowledge that she was going to be backstage at a Machine Gun Kelly concert, she remembered to bring her camera this time, every other visit was so last minute it was the last thing on her mind. She brought it, not only to capture backstage shenanigans but to finally get the pictures she wanted of Rook in his element. After showing them around the next day, Colson got a good look at them and asked her to come on tour with them to do a few shows.

Jersey decided to skip every other show, not only to give her a break from the madness, not fully realizing what she had gotten herself into, but she often found herself needing the 3 uninterrupted hours to edit the thousands of pictures she ended up taking. As she finished the last few pictures from the show in Tokyo, she felt the vibrations of music fade away. Pulling out an earbud, she heard Colson’s final goodbye to the crowd and smirked. When she heard they were going to be at the Leeds and Reading Festivals, Jersey was determined to only work during the Leeds show, while Colson performed, then join everyone afterward. She took a few minutes to put everything away; Her camera and cords, along with her laptop, stowing them in her bunk, before grabbing an old looking book and opened it. It was a false book and was filled with all possible manner of marijuana; Edibles, cartridges, joints, flower, and rolling papers. She grabbed a small baggie of gummies, two joints, and a lighter before flipping the book shut and putting it back.

She hurried out of the bus, jumping down the steps and waving to their bus driver, who sat out in the sun while she worked. She pulled her VIP badge out from her back pocket and put the lanyard around her neck as she approached the security gate. Though she had been there earlier in the day and the guards all knew who she was with, she still flashed them the badge as she strolled through, tossing them a sweet smile. Jersey weaved through the tents until she heard a sudden and wild Rook scream. Her head whipped around just as her cousin came tumbling into view, closely followed by Colson, laughing. Rolling her emerald eyes and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, Jersey turned and headed for the group as they made their way through the crowd toward her.

“Oi! You fuckers better not be having fun without me.” She called, once they were in earshot. Rook turned, quickly, and smiled, chasing down his cousin to scoop her up in a hug.

“There you are! It’s about time.” Rook said, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

“Hey, the guy doesn’t pay me to not work,” Jersey said, breaking away from Rook to give Colson a quick hug before moving onto the others. Colson shrugged, looking at Rook and said, “It’s true.” He laughed and hooked an arm around Rook’s neck once he got close, rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head.

“Get off, fucker!” Rook yelled, shoving his friend away while he laughed.

“Hey, Picture Girl. About time you joined us.” Slim said, putting an arm around her to give her a side hug. “I thought you were gonna stay on the bus.”

“Nah, just until I finished the pictures,” Jersey said. Slim chuckled and nodded as he said, “Aight. How they look?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but... Guys? They’re kind of fucking amazing, okay? I’ve got a gift.” Jersey said in a fake Valley Girl voice. The guys laughed and continued along to their tent. Jersey sat next to Rook, leaning against him, and handed him one of the joints she brought, along with the lighter. Rook took it without question and lit it. As she tucked her feet under her, she opened the baggie of gummies and popped one in her mouth before passing it to Colson as he walked past. He looked through it before passing it down to Baze, who immediately popped two into his mouth, and Colson took the joint from Rook, taking a toke.

“Fuck yeah, man. Whose joint is this?” Colson asked, looking around at his group. Jersey smirked at him. Colson smirked and pointed at her, briefly. “Hell yeah, Sav. Come through. James send you some stuff from California?”

“Of course. But this is the stuff I got from Rosie out in Nevada, last time she visited her family.” Jersey said. Colson made a funny face and laughed as he took one more puff before passing it to the next person.

~

The next 7 hours went by like a blur of smoke, laughing, music, and food. Within the last half hour or so Jersey sobered up enough to lead her drunken herd back to the bus so they could make their way down to Reading for the next show. Once they cleared the gate and the rest of Colson’s crew, that wasn’t intoxicated, had them, Jersey skipped over to the bus and hopped on. She only had a few minutes before chaos boarded the bus again, as she knew the guys would take a while, sobering a little too much for their liking and needing a minute.

She hurried to her bunk and grabbed her stash, then went to the table, setting herself up, to roll a few extra joints with the kief she had left. By this point in the tour, Jersey had their routine down pat: By the time they all clamored onto the bus, Jersey had a joint or two lit, ready to be passed around. She had, by now, become more than just their photographer, supplying them with their first round of whatever drink each man asked for just so they could settle into relaxing a little quicker. Just as Jersey rolled the last blunt, she lit it as the doors opened and the drunk buzz of conversation climbed onto the bus. She smiled as Rook came to sit with her, going through her stash.

“Yes, Rook. Go ahead and take what you want.” Jersey teased, blowing smoke in his face. Rook snickered as he popped two gummies into his mouth with a wink.

“Thanks, cuz.” Rook said, quickly leaving the booth. Jersey shook her head as Colson entered the bus. He made a beeline for Jersey and the outstretched hand that offered the joint.

“Fuck, we need you here full time,” Colson smirked, taking a toke before passing it on.

“You think that now. We’re only 5 shows deep, babe.” Jersey laughed as she packed up the box, leaving two joints up for grabs. Colson chuckled and sat on the couch as Jersey stowed her stash back in her bunk before coming out and asking for drink requests.

Ever the hostess, even when she was a guest on the tour, she was a grateful one. Jersey made use of the one semester of bartending classes and slung drinks across the bus. Once each man had a drink in their hand, she went to sit next to Colson, who just got passed the joint. She waited until he took a hit, then plucked it from between his fingers and took a toke herself.

“Hey, so how was the show?” Jersey asked the room, it only just having occurred to her she never asked earlier. As she tried to decipher the loud, excited, and numerous answers, she shook her head and curled into Colson’s side, passing him the joint. “So, how was the show?”

This time, she directed the question to Colson, who put an arm around her with a chuckle, inhaling deeply before passing the joint.

“It was good. Dom was there. He came out for ‘I Think I’m Okay’. You just missed him when we found you. You should have come to this show, Savie.” Colson said. Jersey tried to hide the blush at the use of the childhood nickname he adopted from Rook. It was one that Papa Cap, Rook’s father, Johnny, gave her- ‘Savage’. Shifting in her spot, Jersey shrugged and said, “He’ll be in Reading on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Hope it’s the same energy, though.” Colson said with a chuckle, smirking down at her. Jersey gave him a look.

“They always have energy, Kells.” She teased, making Colson smirk.

“Baze, man, move your fuckin’ feet, you fuckin’ ogre!” Rook said, kicking at the feet that were propping Baze up between both couches. Baze smirked and said, “Man, go sit somewhere else.”

“I want to sit next to my cousin, bitch! Move!” Rook shouted with a smirk. Jersey practically crawled into Colson’s lap, sensing the impending fight between Baze and Rook.

“So, fuckin’ kick Kells off the couch, punk-ass bitch.” Baze shot back with a smirk. Rook swiped at him and Baze lazily dodged the playful punch.

“Don’t bring me into this, Baze,” Colson warned, his lips twisting up.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Colson! Punk.” Rook shot as he snickered. Colson smirked and threw his empty Solo cup at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Baker!”

“Come at me, bro. Nah, fuckin’ come at me, Rook. I dare you.” Colson said. Colson had Jersey’s legs draped over his lap and she was tucked under his arm, as her new high began to set in.

“Dooooon’t…” Jersey whined, softly. Colson tightened his arm around her as he grabbed the pillow next to him and started swinging at him. Jersey kept protesting, though her voice was drowned out by Rook and Colson yelling over each other.

Finally, getting a little too rowdy, not to mention the fact that Rook took four straight shots of vodka before the bus even took off after taking the two gummies, he stumbled while trying to rip the pillow from Colson. Jersey shrieked as Rook’s too topped off drink tipped a little too far. The contents of his cup spilled all over her, drenching her hair completely.

A brief hush fell on the bus, then Colson scooped her up as he stood, setting her on her feet. “Shit. Jersey, are you okay?” Colson asked. Jersey pushed his hands away and tossed her alcohol-soaked locks over her shoulder and grabbed at Rook, punching his shoulder.

“Fuck, Rook! What the fuck?!” She cried. Baze quickly stood and shuffled to the side as she shoved Rook aside, hauling ass through the divider to their bunks and into the bathroom. Back in the front of the bus, AJ and Slim had begun to mop up the mess as Rook stumbled to the booth and sat down.

“Fuck.” He muttered, softly. Colson sighed and patted his shoulder as he made his way to check on Jersey. Closing the divider behind him to give them a little more privacy, he leaned next to the bathroom door and folded his arms. He waited a while longer before he knocked softly.

“Fuck off, Rook!” Jersey spat. Colson snickered and said, “Do you think he’s dumb enough to come back here? Fuck; You think he’s brave enough?”

Colson heard a soft sigh, then the sound of the locks unlatching and the door opened, slightly. The glare from her burning green eyes all he saw, she said, “What?” The word came out a little harsher than Jersey intended. Colson leaned over a little more to look at her, raising an eyebrow at her. Jersey sighed and opened the door fully, tightening the towel around her chest as she gave him a look as well.

Colson bit his lip, trying not to snicker. In a fit, Jersey rubbed a towel over her face to get the drink off her face, and in her haste to get away from everyone, she momentarily forgot she was wearing makeup. Her eyes were rubbed black and her cheeks were red and stained with makeup streaked tears and droplets of the spilled drink.

“Want me to wait for you?” He offered. Jersey shook her head and said, “Just bring me shorts and a tank top.”

“Ooh-hoo. No panties? Naughty girl.” Colson teased. Jersey shot him a look and said, “Is this the time for jokes?”

“Sorry,” Colson said softly with a snicker, turning to go to her bunk and pull out her bag to rummage through it. Finding what she requested, he put the bag back and sauntered back over to Jersey, handing her the clothes. Jersey took them and gave him a soft ‘Thanks’, then gave him a once over before she finally broke a smile and said, “Did you really think I was going to let you rummage through my panties?”

Colson laughed, softly, as she shut the door. He sighed and waited until he heard the shower start to run, before going back to her bunk, letting his legs hang over the side and laid back on the mattress, pulling out his phone. Half an hour later, the shower turned off and Colson watched the door, listening to the rustling as Jersey dried off and changed. Just as Colson went back to his phone, the door opened and she finally emerged, dragging a comb through her hair.

“Really? Why my bunk?” She asked, hitting his knee with her comb. Colson chuckled and sat up, making room for her to climb in next to him. Turning to her, both Colson and Jersey ended up facing each other, sitting crisscross. Jersey broke again and let out a soft giggle and shook her head. She glanced away from him, looking out the window, and finished combing her hair.

Colson leaned his head back against the wall and watched Jersey as she massaged a dollop of Biosilk into her damp hair. He kicked out a foot to nudge her and said, “Hey. You okay?”

Jersey looked at him and gave a shrug, grabbing one of her pillows and wrapping her arms around it. “I’ll beat his ass later...I mean...I’ll be fine.” She said with a light smile. The corners of Colson’s mouth lifted up a little higher, glad she was able to joke about it.

“Hey. Come here.” Shifting over and closing the small sliding door of her bunk to lean against it, Colson held out a hand to her. Jersey smiled and propped up her pillows to make them both comfortable as she shifted to lean against him. Jersey pushed open the curtains to watch the Leeds skyline pass by and Colson shifted to prop up his right leg, resting his arm on his knee. His other arm was wrapped around Jersey’s waist, comfortably resting his hand on her right thigh. As Jersey rested her head on his chest, her hands covered his and she felt a soft kiss on her temple. With a bigger smile, still watching the lights pass by, Jersey said, “Thanks, Colson. You always find a way to make me feel better.”

After kissing her temple, Colson pressed his lips against her hair, lightly. When she thanked him, Colson smiled and said, “I try.”

Jersey giggled softly before a hush fell on them, if only for a brief moment. For the next 3 hours, as they drove from Leeds to Reading, Jersey and Colson talked quietly to one another about every random thing they could think of. Just before the got to the hotel, once they finally pulled into Reading, Colson and Jersey both emerged to the front.

All conversation quieted as everyone kept an eye on Jersey and Rook, Rook’s smile slowly fading as he looked up at his cousin. It was an awkward silence until Colson yelled, “Skrrt! Make yourself scarce!”

Jersey rolled her eyes as the boys all scrambled over each other and back to their bunks to give them some time alone to talk. Jersey chuckled as she made her way over to the booth and sat across from him. Reaching for the last untouched joint, Rook handed her a lighter. Jersey lit it and took a hit, then sat back, watching her cousin.

Cracking a smile, she said, “You do that shit again, John Paul, and I swear to God, I will beat you with your own drumsticks.”

Rook smirked and said, “I love you too, Savie.” Jersey smirked and watched him as he stood, standing when he came to her. The pair hugged and Rook kissed her cheek, saying, “I’m sorry, Jersey.”

“Aww!!” Jersey grabbed a pillow from the couch and turned to the boys, but Colson rushed her, catching her waist and scooping her up to carry her to the couch as the others bum-rushed Rook. Jersey cried out as Colson kept her pinned down, hollering at his boys to get Rook. Jersey shoved Colson off and shouted, “Get fucking bent!”

Rook managed to wiggle his way out of the huddle and over to the couches. Colson punched Rook’s shoulder as he passed him. The cousins settled as everyone else fell back into their usual last-minute shenanigans for the last half hour of the drive.

~

Once they pulled up to the hotel, they all clamored out of the bus, dying for some real beds and comfort. Checking into their suite, they all claimed beds, AJ and Rook fighting for the last window spot. Once the bed situation was solved, they bust out one last bottle of alcohol and had a little more fun.

Music played as they got into their usual shenanigans. Jersey sat with Baze and AJ as they talked amongst themselves, trying to ignore Colson and Rook as they tore around the place. Around 4 in the morning, Jersey tapped out and went to the other room, pulling the blinds shut and snuggling into the blankets, scrolling through her phone for a while longer. The door opened as she set her phone down, ready to go to sleep. She looked over as AJ walked in and over to his bags that sat on the bed he would share with Rook.

“Going to bed?” She teased, snuggling to get comfortable with a smirk.

“Nah. The Energizer Bunny twins out there are still going.” AJ chuckled, rummaging through his bag. He glanced at Jersey then to the door and said, “Hey. So, what’s going on with you and Colson, anyway?”

Jersey turned over and sat up a little more and said, “Going on? What are you talking about?”

AJ stopped and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. “Well, after tonight...I mean, dude was gone for 3 hours. Y’all were in the bunks when he could have been out with us partying.” AJ said. Jersey pursed her lips slightly and said, “I mean, he was comforting me…”

AJ chuckled and sat on the end of her bed. “Nah, Sav, nah. I get that. We all do. Shit, Rook felt so bad he stopped drinking and smoking, till you came back out.” AJ said. Jersey added her own, “Not that he didn’t have enough shit in his system.”

AJ snickered and nodded his head a little, then said, “True. But I mean, when have you known Colson to voluntarily skip partying on the bus?”

Rook and Jersey had always been close, so when he joined up as Machine Gun Kelly’s drummer, she started hanging out with them when they were home in Ohio the same time she was or if they came through New Jersey. Because of this, she had gotten to know the guys a lot over the years. Thinking back, AJ was right. Unless it was an important reason or an emergency, Colson never missed a chance to party. With a shrug Jersey replied, as she laid back down, “Maybe he just felt really bad? I dunno. You’d have to ask him.”

AJ chuckled and patted her leg as he stood. “Aight, Save. Whatever you say, baby. Get some rest. We want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the show.” He teased. Jersey waved at him, getting comfortable again, and offered a soft, ‘Night. Have fun.’ Followed by a louder, “Don’t let those idiots kill themselves...Or each other!”

AJ tossed his head back and laughed as he closed the door. Jersey giggled and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. If only for a few hours. When Colson, AJ, and Rook finally stumbled in, 2 hours later, Jersey let out a soft whimper at the disturbance and shifted under the blankets. Colson shifted Rook’s arm on his shoulder, trying to stand him up.

“You got him?” Colson whispered, taking Rook’s arm from around his neck as AJ took the weight in response and veered toward their bed, dragging the drunken drummer along with him. Rook suddenly started babbling, incoherent and loud. AJ swore under his breath and clamped a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Colson chuckled and shook his head as he tugged his shirt off and wiggled out of his pants.

“Shut the fuck up, Rook,” Jersey muttered, sleepily. Rook giggled and retorted back, “Why don’t you fuck the up shut...Wait...No, shut-”

“Goodnight, John Paul,” Jersey said, a little louder. Rook giggled as he slumped back on the bed. AJ took off his shoes and lifted his legs onto the bed. As Rook continued babbling in his drunk state and AJ quietly asked him to please shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Colson got in bed, slipping in next to Jersey.

“Y’all are fucking annoying. I get my own room next time.” She muttered, turning away from Rook and moving toward the sudden warmth with a shiver.

“You can stay in my room on the bus? Oof!” Colson offered, half teasing, but still earning a slap to his bare chest once Jersey reached him. She snuggled into his side and almost immediately fell back asleep. Colson chuckled and eased an arm around her and shifting to get comfortable, then drifted off to sleep.

~

The sudden, loud sound of the curtains being torn open woke Jersey and Colson with a start. Colson groaned and crossed his hands in front of his face, glancing down when he felt pressure and movement when he moved. He curled an arm around Jersey as she whimpered and pushed her face into Colson’s neck, trying to hide from the brightness.

Rook turned at the groans and smirked, “Well, good morning. Aren’t we cozy?”

“Fuck. Off. Rook.” Jersey said, her words muffled by Colson’s neck. Colson chuckled and glanced at her again, resting a hand on her arm as he gave her a quick squeeze before getting up. Jersey whined softly and slowly picked her way out of the sheets, yawning.

“Fuck, what time is it?” Colson asked, stretching with a yawn.

“Noon. We want to hit the pool. You guys down?” Slim said from the doorway, sipping his coffee. Colson shrugged as he scratched his head with a tired smile and said, “Shit. Sure. Why not?”

“Fuck. 12 O’clock? How long have you guys been up?” Jersey asked, reaching for her phone to scroll through her notifications, answering a few texts.

“Not long. We all slept the fuck in.” Slim said, laughing, along with Colson and Rook. Jersey locked her phone and looked up at Slim, taking a minute for the conversation to register before she giggled and smirked.

“Well, thank God for that.” She teased. Slim chuckled and caught Colson’s attention to start a conversation, allowing Rook to take his moment and slunk up to his cousin. “Cuddling up to Colson, I see?” He teased, lowering his voice as he sauntered up to her. Jersey gave him a look. He snickered and scooped up his bag to dig around for his swim trunks.

“Shut up, JP. Have you been talking to AJ? I’m gonna fuck him up if he’s-” Rook shushed her, gently, as he took a step closer and said, “Hey. Jers, what are you talking about?”

Jersey sighed and shook her head, moving his hands away. “Nothing. Nevermind. Don’t-Don’t say anything, Rookie, okay?” Jersey said, making her way to her bag. Rook shook his head and chuckled as he went to the bathroom to change. Jersey rummaged around in her bag before she gave a soft groan.

“What’s wrong?” Slim asked, still hanging out in the doorway. Jersey sighed and said, “I think I left my suits in my other bag on the bus. Fuuuck, I don’t want to deal with that…”

She pulled out a pair of leggings and a tank top, concealing a pretty pink and blue lace bra and panties. “You wanna hit the store?” Colson asked, with a laugh. When both Slim and Jersey looked at him, Jersey giving him a look, Colson said, “I fucking lost my trunks, bro. I must have left them in fucking Indonesia.”

Colson and Slim laughed as Jersey shook her head and smirked. “How do you lose those, Colson? They’re swim trunks.” She teased. Colson flipped her off as he grabbed a change of clothes.

“So, do you want to go get a new suit?” Colson asked as she passed by, spying Rook as he walked out of the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, she skewed her lips in thought. Finally, she looked at him, cracking a small smile and said, “Yeah. Sure. Why not? Maybe I’ll find something cute.”

Colson shot her a thumbs up and a smirk as Jersey giggled and closed the bathroom door. Slim waited until Rook walked out, before stepping more into the room and giving a chuckle as he said, “Kells. Could you want her more? God damn, bro.”

Colson gave him a look. “The fuck are you talking about, bro? Want her? It’s Savage.” He said, pulling on his jeans. Slim gave him an unamused look.

“Man, are you for real?” Slim scoffed. Colson rolled his eyes as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his deodorant and slipping it under his shirt to apply it. “Y’all are always cuddling and shit. Acting like y’all are in a relationship You like her, man.” Slim added another chuckle as he took another sip of coffee.

“Dude. She’s not my type.” Colson retorted.

“What? Hot?” Slim shot.

“A friend?” Colson shot back. “And she’s Rook’s cousin. It would be weird.”

“Bruh, he jokes about it as much as we do, Kells!” Slim laughed, shaking his head.

“Slim, if I actually started dating her, Rook would lose his shit. He jokes, but, like, if it happened? You’re telling me he wouldn’t be mad?” Colson asked, giving him a look.

“Who would get mad? About what?” Jersey asked, walking out of the bathroom and to her bag. The men exchanged glances as Jersey grabbed a hair tie and stuffed her wild hair into a messy bun. She looked between them, waiting for an answer, to which both men mumbled and looked away. Colson sat on the bed, tugging on his socks, and Slim shoved his coffee cup in his face and he turned and left the room.

Jersey shook her head and chuckled, dropping her sandals on the floor and slipped her feet into them. Grabbing her phone and wallet, slipping them both into the pocket on her thigh, she chirped, “Ready?”

Colson glanced at her and smirked. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He said, also grabbing his phone and wallet, the both of them heading for the door.

~

Next Chapter

~

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free! 

@badwolf-in-the-impala​ @lovemythsworld​ @kellsfanficalltogether​ @mgkobsessed​

[bubblieywubbliey]

Drunk!Evan x Fem!Reader (SMUT) - Practice Part 4

This is based about a month after my last fic :)

7PM

You sat on your doorstep with Evan, his hand in yours on your lap as you both waited for Connor and Zoe to pick you up. You were wearing the black skirt that had got him so riled up once before, as well as a floral button-up and a dark blue denim jacket.

“Ev, are you sure you wanna go to this party? We can always just stay home and watch Netflix. There’s gonna be alcohol there and probably weed.” You ask, squeezing his hand sympathetically.

“Y-Yes. It’s Jared’s birthday! Plus we can’t, um, keep avoiding social stuff, people are gonna think we’re recluses or something.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure. It’s completely up to you.” You smiled at him looking up you saw lights at the end of the street. “Here they come, last chance?”

“Let’s do it.” Evan said, more confident than you’d heard him in a while. You stood up and pulled him up after you, dragging him excitedly over to the car.

“Hey guys!” You greeted Zoe and Connor enthusiastically.

“Hey Y/N, Ev! Someone’s excited, huh?” Connor replied to your greeting and Zoe turned to smile at both of you.

“Well, we might finally see drunk Evan tonight and I’m very curious to see what happens, that’s all.” You replied, grinning at your boyfriend, who was turning progressively more red.

“Oh, I’m not sure there will be much to see, I’ll probably just fall asleep, hah…” Evan mumbled nervously.

“Mmh.” you sniggered and kissed his cheek. “Sure, Ev.”

7:30PM

You peeked out of the window as the car pulled up in the driveway. Evan got out of the car, coming around to your side of the car and helping you down from the four wheel drive.

“Thanks, babe.” You said as you slammed the door of the car and a vaguely familiar girl ran up to Zoe, hugging her. “Oh Zoe! Is this your new girlfriend?” You asked, teasing her.

“Sh-shut up... “ She mumbled, blushing before kissing the mystery girl on the cheek.

“Hi! My name is Brooke! I think we have Biology together?”

“Oh cool! I knew I recognised you from somewhere.” You smiled and the group of you walk into Jared’s house to grab some drinks

9PM - Drink No.1

“Jared! How did you even get your parents to let you have this party?”

“They’re out of town!” Jared replied, leaning back against his boyfriend. Connor’s arms were wrapped around his waist as they ground against each-other. The music was blaring and everyone had a drink in their hands. Evan stumbled over to you, clearly tipsy after being given a vodka lemonade that seemed to have been more vodka than lemonade.

“Oh cool! It’s nice to kick back, just chill with friends.” Evan reached the three of you as you danced and you pulled him to start dancing with you but he resisted.

“Not my thing, Y/N, you know that!”

“Oh lighten up, tree boy!” Jared shouted over the music, turning around to kiss Connor a little too vigorously for Evan’s tastes. He turned away from the amorous couple and to you. A slower song came on and you placed your hands around Evan’s shoulders.

“One dance? Please?” Evan nodded reluctantly and placed his hands on your waist. You pressed your forehead to his and he managed to slow dance with you without stumbling over your feet too much. You pressed your forehead to his and smiled, tipsy and happy with your boyfriend.

11PM - Drink No. 5

Five of you were lounging in the living room, with Zoe and Brooke casually making out on the floor. Connor was stretched out across the chaise longue with you in his lap as you chatted drunkenly while Jared began to blaze it. Evan stumbled into the room, a glass of water in his hand. Upon seeing you in Connor’s arms a wave of uncontrollable jealousy overcame him. He sat down on the sofa and beckoned you over to sit next to him. You looked at him confused, but got up and sat sideways across his lap.

“What’s up babe?” You asked, and noticed how ruffled Evan’s hair was, he had clearly had a few more drinks than you. “How many have you had?” You ask, concerned.

“Mmmhh.. Like f-five? Or seven? I can’t remember.” You run a hand through his hair and he grabs it, grunting, “Why were you sat in Connor’s lap?” His face was clearly flushed, was that anger? No… it was _jealousy?_ You sniggered slightly before regretting it as Evan slipped a hand up to rub your breast through your shirt.

“E-Evan?” You mumbled, looking around the clearly exposed room.

“You’re so hot… And mine… And I lo- I mean, god you’re hot.” He muttered into your ear as people around you danced and smoked weed.

“I, um, are you okay?” He reached his other hand under your skirt and rubbed circles on the top of your ass. You grabbed his hand and pulled it off your chest to avoid stares. The other hand was now groping our ass more roughly.

“God I want you.” He nearly growled in your ear and a blush spread across your face.

“Oh really? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked, almost daring him to take some kind of control. What you were not expecting was for Evan to slip his hand into your panties and push a finger into you under your skirt. A shock of pleasure ran through you and you struggled not to squirm in his lap as he roughly thrust a finger into you.

“I might just have to make you scream my name.” He whispered gruffly into your ear.

“Evan!” You squeaked in response as he fingered you.

“Yeah, that, but louder.” He pulled his finger out and glanced around to make sure no one was looking before he placed his finger into his mouth and sucked it clean. You could barely suppress a moan and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He pushed you away from his mouth and grinned. His face was still hovering near yours, nearly kissing you but moving away just enough to avoid contact everytime you leaned in.

“What’s up baby? Were you enjoying that?” You nodded and pleaded with him through your eyes and instead of taking you home to fuck like you had expected, he instead kissed up your neck, sucking roughly in some areas to form hickeys while everyone was distracted. Suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was shifting you so you were straddling his lap in reverse cowgirl and grinding against him, small moans escaping you as you let out little yelps of Evan’s name as you warned him, telling him to stop and attempting to act like everything is normal while he kisses your neck roughly. Connor and Jared looked up from their flirting to stare at the pair of you.

“Jesus, what got into Evan?” Jared chuckled and took a toke on his blunt.

“Vodka, I’d assume, possibly Tequila too.” Connor responded, laughing too before yelling, “Get a room, breeders!”

You jumped and attempted to move of Evan’s lap as Connor called you both out, Evan pulled you back down and ground into you harder. You gasped and froze, completely still as you flt yourself getting wetter and wetter.

“Maybe we will.” He replied, groaning into your neck, “But they’ll hear you anyway, you’re gonna scream my name.” He whispered the last sentence into your ear.

“Evan!” You reprimanded him nervously. Drunk Evan was hot and dominant, which was a huge turn on, but it didn’t stop you from feeling extremely conscious of how many people could see you two getting off. Your boyfriend finally stopped grinding into you and just gently kissed your neck, you slid off of his lap and curled up next to him, hoping he was done being so horny for now, at least until you could get home and finally fuck him. He put his arm over your shoulder and reached over to down the rest of his drink. You felt his hand snaking it’s way up your thigh as you snuggled into his side.

“Evan?” You mumble into his ear, warning him once again. “You are a really horny fucking drunk.”

“You love it though, I can feel how wet you are.” His confidence was soaring as he saw the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Hey, I’m not complaining, I just wish we were… alone right now.” You replied, kissing his neck and ghosting your lips across his collarbone.

“Oh?”

“Well I just… I _need_ you, Evan.” Evan groaned and couldn’t wait anymore, his boner was getting too painful to bare within the confines of his boxers.

“Y/N, will you help me to the bathroom? I’m worried I might fall on the way.” You nodded, nearly and Zoe laughed, calling after you, “Use a condom!”

“She’s on birth control!” Evan yelled back and you ducked down half laughing half embarrassed, as if people might notice you less if you made yourself smaller. This wasn’t true as a chorus of “ooooh!”s followed you to the bathroom. You opened the door for him and he walked in, dragging you behind him.

As soon as the door was closed and locked he slammed you up against the door, roughly sucking your neck, wedging his knee between your thighs and you ground against him, whimpering as he groped your butt and continued to kiss your neck. More whimpers escaped you and he mumbled sweet nothings into your ear as he explored you. He slipped his hand under your shirt and rubbed circles on your stomach before unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it off you. He pulled his own shirt over his head and turned back to you, kissing you passionately and this time you slid your mouth down his jawline and onto his neck, but he only gave you the chance to leave one hickey on his neck and then on his chest before he slid to his knees, pushed you against the door again and pulled your panties aside. You couldn’t do anything but gasp as he slid two fingers straight into your slick entrance, rubbing your clit with his thumb, you were close to your orgasm almost straight away as he eased his fingers in and out of you, his speed building, getting rougher and faster with his ministrations. Evan’s other hand crept up your chest and rubbed your nipple through your bra. He stopped fingering you and replaced his fingers with his tongue, still rubbing your clit as you unravelled in his hand, unable to hold back a slightly-too-loud yell of his name. Before you could recover Evan had unbuttoned his jeans, pulled his dick out and pressed it up against your entrance.

He gave you a questioning look before asking, “This is okay, right?”

“Yes! G-God, _yes_.” You could barely get the words out and before you’d even gotten to the end of your sentence he was pushing your panties aside and then he was inside you, fucking you up against the door, ravaging your neck, the sound of your bodies thumping together and your moans, his grunts, it was unmistakable to passers by what was happening in this room. There was no time to adjust but somehow that made it better, you were soaking and he stretched you better than he ever had before. His hands held on tightly to your thighs under the fabric of the skirt he loved so much, your bra still on as well as your panties. You gasped his name quietly over and he indicated for you to jump, you did, legs wrapped around his waist. He leant you against the wall, unable to carry both of your weights for very long. He was pounding into you again in moments, gasping and groaning about how hot you were, how much he was enjoying making you moan, how he couldn’t wait to see your pretty face when you came.

Then he was spinning you to place you on the sink and he’s still ramming into you roughly, grunting, panting, your moans and whimpers driving this once shy boy to fuck you harder than even Connor had before. He began to whisper things to you.

“You like this?” He thrusts once “Huh?” another thrust to punctuate his sentence.

“Y-Yeah, oh my god yes, Evan, Evan, Evan!” You cried out with each thrust, barely able to deal with the pleasure he was supplying you with. His hair falls prey to gravity as it flops over his fact with his thrusts he flips it back and you moan with each thrust.

“Good, no one could never do you like this, not the way I can, right?” He thrust harder and harder, the jarring feeling sending shots of pleasure up your spine. His muscles, though he wasn’t particularly buff, rippled, clearly all that tree climbing had helped with his physique. You leaned back against the mirror, his grunting and groaning with every thrust turning you on even more.

“Never! Never…” You trail off as his thrusts lighten up and you take the opportunity to rest before he regains his intensity. He pulls out of you and flips you around, lifting your skirt and and pulling your panties down to your thighs and shoving his was back into you. You whimpered as he filled you again from this new angle, hitting new spots that make you nearly collapse in pleasure.

“F-Fuck, Evan! Evan!” You cry out his name, not caring now who could hear you.

He reaches a hand around to rub your clit and your body convulses with the pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm and keeps pounding you, you realise he’s trying to get you to cum again, he’s never done this before. He slips a hand down your ass to your pussy, lubing up his finger with your juices before he slides a finger into your asshole and you nearly melt at the sensation.

“S-Someone’s been- oh god! - doing their, fuck, their research, huh?” You moaned and he grunted in response, moaning again about how good you are, then words are just spilling out of his mouth.

“God Y/N, you make me feel so good, I’m gonna fuckin cum, will you cum too? You’re so beautiful, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” He moans and you freeze as he thrusts inside you and you moan again momentarily distracted as he thrusts and you can feel him twitching and spasming inside you, he gives you a couple of final thrusts while he rubs your clit and fingers your ass gently, making certain to be careful since you’d never had anything in there before.

“S-Shit, oh my god, shit I love you too! Fuck, fuck!” You yell way too loud for your own good.

The dual sensations along with him kissing your neck and back, a hand under your chin as he pounds you, you cum again and you feel like you might be peeing, gasping as your most intense orgasm, probably ever, hits you and he gasps, you were squirting around his dick and this sent him over the edge as he came inside you, hips going wild as you clenched around him and squirted. He slowed down his thrusts, riding it out as you came together.

“O-Oh my god… That’s never happened before… I just assumed that I couldn’t…” You panted, looking at the clear liquid that was dripping onto the tiles.

“W-What happened?” Evan asked, still slurring his words, confused. He was still inside you, leaning over your shoulder, panting in the afterglow, you could feel the throbbing inside you.

“U-Uh I squirted? It’s like, um, cumming, but for girls? No one really knows why it happens, but I didn’t think I could do it, lots of women can’t. It just means you were, really fucking good” You explained, almost embarassed at the mess but holy shit that was the hottest sex you’d ever had.

He blushes before replying. “Shit, clearly you um, you can.” You nod, almost giggling as he pulled out and clumsily pulled up his boxers and trousers. You stood up and turned to face him, his arms snaked around your waist and you could feel his breath on your face.

“Y-yeah…” He gave you a quick kiss. You stood up properly, pulling up your panties and grabbing a towel to clean up, straightening out your clothes. You are both giggling, laughing still tipsy, the awkwardness passes as soon as you look at eachother and he kisses you again, then again. You push him off and your post-sex lethargic feeling begins to fade as you open the door and the pair of you tumble out, still stealing kisses anywhere you can.

“Holy shit! It was totally Evan Hansen and Y/N pounding in there!” You heard Jake shouting to one of his friends. You both giggled again, and you went over to the kitchen to make another drink for both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. Then he was littering your neck with them again. You can’t help but smile as you turned to give him a quick kiss before continuing to pour vodka into your cups. Passing it to him, you asked.

“Down it?’ He nodded and the night continued.

2:30AM

“W-Was that, okay? For you?” Evan asked, apprehensive. The pair of you were curled up in an armchair together while you waited for your uber as people filtered out, the party beginning to wind down.

“Evan, I squirted for the first time, it was fucking amazing! Pun intended.” You reply quietly, giggling slightly. His face flushed red at the compliment.

“O-Okay I was just, I don’t like being rough but clearly drunk me does and I enjoyed it but it scares me a bit and I don’t know…” He trailed off and you took both of his hands in yours and replied.

“Hey, we don’t ever have to do it like that again if you want, or we just stick to it when you’re drunk, it’s whatever you want okay?” You smiled and he smiled back. You kissed him on the nose and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to, if you enjoyed it too, then I want to.”

“I did.” You replied sincerely.

“I love you.” He says, your eyes widen. “Not just, ‘we’re um, boinking I love you’ but full I love you, unconditionally.” He smiled and you laugh softly at the word ‘boinking’ and kiss him.

“I love you too, Ev. A lot.” A car horn sounds outside and you see a notification from your uber.

“Time to go home?”

“Sounds good!” You both get up, stumbling to the door and yelling a goodbye to Connor and Jared, although you were sure they didn’t hear you, they were too busy making out.

3AM

You climbed into Evan’s bed, not even bothered to get into PJs, you slept in your underwear. Evan climbed in next to you and you curled up into his side, before you knew it, you were snoring away.

[axgmented]

🚬 : my muse steals a cigarette ( or lollipop ) from your muse & puts it in their mouth .

it's game night at reno's house. it's a way to keep their stress levels low, morale up, and altogether their familial bond strong. axel can be heard in the kitchen, muttering something under his breath about wanting to make the pizza rolls by hand and reno muttering back that they're all going to be higher than a junon pine in a few hours, what did it matter if they were store bought or homemade? rem snorted from the couch, dressed in her normal attire when she was out of her uniform; knee high socks and a long, comfortable t-shirt. the two go at it again, the sound of blows landing on naked arms before she peeks over the couch. yep-- axel's got him in a headlock and reno's pinching the inside of his thigh.

 " i'm start'n with'ou'ya fucks."

rem leans forward, picking up one of her perfectly rolled joints before lighting the end with her silver zippo, controller kept within her clutches. and true to her word, she's beginning the game without them; lounged against the couch on her side before the music fills the surround sound speakers in the living room. the scuffle between the two have stopped and they mumble half-hearted insults to one another before they start grabbing the snack and beer, reno protectively holding the pizza, before flocking to the living room and taking their respective places.

rem's got the joint burning away in her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she sucks down a toke before a hand reaches up and swipes it from her lips. she frowns but her attention is glued to the screen before her fingers are tapping wildly at the buttons on the controller; she exhales the smoke in reno's direction as a clear sign she was not happy he confiscated her left handed cigarette.

" i rolled six; two fer each'a us. git yer own, shitfuck."

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Cold tears lingered on my cheeks as we hiked downhill through ankle-deep snow, icy wind gusting up from Kootenay Lake and flowing full in our faces. We trudged from one streetlight to the next, squinting into the swirling darkness, lurching unsteadily. There were four or five of us migrating from a house party further up the hill, and none of us were dressed for this sudden blizzard. Paisley had me around my hips as she took careful steps down the sidewalk, and I pulled my coat tighter around my face. I’ve always been a wuss when it comes to winter, having grown up on the west coast, and I was contemplating a U-turn towards home—it was almost midnight and I knew Muppet and Buster were waiting to be cuddled. 

Since the beginning of our relationship neither Paisley or I had done much partying, as we’d settled into an increasingly cozy home life, but over Christmas we found ourselves navigating increasingly bombastic social scenarios that left us feeling like clueless ancients. Before we’d been feeling bored and under-stimulated, staying home all the time to order takeout and re-watch the Harry Potter series, but now we had the opposite problem—we were scrambling to keep up. As we crossed through the final intersection and rounded down to Front Street I wondered if there was anything at this upcoming party that could compare to luxuriating in a hot bath.

“I’m starting to ponder the nature of suffering here,” I said. “I’m like one minute away from dying in a snowbank.”      

“We’re almost there,” yelled back our friend Caelynn. “It’s right up in that building, the Hall Street Emporium. Like only two blocks further.”

“The party’s in that building? The one with the new pot dispensary?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s the one that’s putting it on.”

“Who?”

“The main grower, Niles. Apparently he’s handing out a bunch of free weed.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“That’s what my friend texted. She said there’s like 50 people there.”

I’d been keeping a close eye on the cannabis scene since the municipal election, but hadn’t actually pulled the trigger on any Star stories after the pushback I received from management over the Sensible BC thing. I didn’t want to come off to the community as overzealous, too pot-friendly, but marijuana seemed like the main Nelson story that wasn’t being told. There was a long-standing culture of silence around the controversial plant, of secrecy, but with legalization coming I felt like it wasn’t necessary for everyone to hide anymore. Paisley and I had checked out the new place a few weeks earlier, when gossip reached us, and we’d been surprised by how amateur the operation was. It was being run by a 24-year-old former forest fire fighter named Marv, and he’d essentially dragged a glass countertop into an empty room devoid of decorations and proceeded to sell weed and a variety of edibles to whoever walked through the door—he didn’t even check for ID. 

I figured it was only a matter of time before the police intervened.

“That guy Marv is such a heat score,” I said. “It’s like he’s daring the police to raid him.”

“What are they gonna do?” Caelynn asked, defiant. “It’s gonna be legal in like a year anyways, right? Fuck those pigs.”

“They may not be able to do anything right now, but he’s still going about this the wrong way.”

“What’s the right way, then?”

“People appreciate some professionalism. I mean, once legalization comes everything’s going to be so different, above board, and there’s not going to be room for people like him.”

“You wanna put money on that?”

I thought about it for a second. “I bet you 50 bucks he’s shut down within three months.”

Caelynn smiled. “Three months from today? 50 bucks? I’ll shake on that.”

A few minutes later we reached the party, and noisily banged the snow off our boots as we entered the building. The first thing I saw was a baby, unattended, crawling across the floor. Mounted speakers blared Shambhala-style EDM, there was a table crowded with ravaged grocery store appetizers, and a whole variety of bongs and smoking apparatuses surrounding a trio of leather couches. In the corner was a pile of air filtration tubing, attached to a heavy-looking appliance the size of a dishwasher, but none of it was turned on. Marv was drunkenly circling the party, taking pictures, and wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was scrawny to the point of looking emaciated, and his thin moustache was dusted with white powder. He careened across the room to embrace Caelynn, then fished a joint out from his toque and held it out in my direction. 

We lit it.

“Newspaper dude,” he said, taking a toke. “You’ve got a pretty fucking cool job.”

“It’s Will, and this is my partner Paisley.”

“Your partner?”

“I always hated the term ‘girlfriend’, and we’re not married, so…”

“You are fucking beautiful,” Marv said, as he shook her hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m really fucking high right now. I’m actually totally harmless.”

Paisley laughed uncomfortably. “It’s all good. Thanks for having us.”

“It’s not me, man. It’s all Niles. Have you guys met Niles yet?” he asked, his eyes darting. “He organized this whole shindig, he’s the guy. Hey Niles, Niles! Come here, man.”

Niles shook his head apologetically to the people he was standing with, then sauntered over. He was in his early fifties, with a Swayze-esque mane of golden hair, wearing a baby blue suit. His walnut brown tan made his eyes seem supernaturally white, his golden bowtie was comically oversized, and he even kept a chained watch in his side pocket. It almost looked like he was in costume, like he could be tea partying with the Mad Hatter himself.

“The Kootenay Goon,” Niles said. “It’s an honour. I’ve been reading your stuff for months now, wondering when I would get the chance to meet the new shit disturber in town.”

I shook his hand, half-standing from the couch. “Yeah, shit disturber’s about right.”

“And here we have your lady love—Paisley, right?” he said, turning to her. “That was one of the first articles I read by you, Goon, the column you wrote about her. I remember thinking: ‘people should write about love in the newspaper more often’! I thought ‘when was the last time you saw someone fill two pages of a community newspaper with an ode to his girlfriend?’ I find kids think it’s cool to be nonchalant these days, to never emotionally commit to anybody or anything, and I ask you: what ever happened to true romance?”

Niles sunk down on the couch beside us, crossed his legs and began bouncing his foot in the air. Paisley and I shared a quick glance, acknowledging his Shakespearean flamboyance with secret smirks. He took a few tokes from the joint and passed it to Paisley, then draped his elbow on my shoulder. There was an instant familiarity there, a comfort level I wouldn’t typically have with a stranger, and pretty soon our conversation had veered into philosophical territory. He asked me if I believe in pure, unadulterated love. Did it really exist?

I sat forward, tugging at my beard thoughtfully. “For me, there’s just so many things I’ve lost faith in — like I used to be a hyper-Christian teenager and then I ditched on the whole God thing — and love, like human love, is one of the last things I actually believe in, you know?”

“You were a Christian kid?”

“Totally. Worked at a Bible camp in the summers, did missionary trips, the whole deal.”

“And what ended things for you?”

“My youth pastor was arrested for molesting a teenage boy down in Mexico, summer of 2005, during a missions trip. He was a father figure to me, so I started questioning: if I can’t trust him, and he taught me about God, then how can I trust what I know about God?”

“What a funny word, God.”

“I thought you guys would get along,” said Marv, stumbling off. Niles whipped over to a nearby fridge and returned with three beers. We clinked them together and took long pulls as a handful of party-goers began to dance around us. I felt a pleasant heat in my eyeballs. It was starting to get crowded, and loud.

“The vision I have for this place, Goon,” Niles said. “This wouldn’t just be a dispensary. It would be a smoking lounge, a social club … I was thinking maybe massages too, like a spa. Maybe a counsellor, mental health coach, that sort of thing.”

“I’ve heard that there are multiple new ones getting ready to open. The Green Rush, they’re calling it.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s too chickenshit to pull the trigger because they don’t know which way city hall will swing. They let Phil run his club because he keeps things below the radar, but nobody’s really tried strutting out into the light with their balls out yet.”

“Well, except for you.”

He smiled humbly.

“Well, Deb Kozak’s supposed to be more pot-friendly than Dooley,” I said. “That could make a difference in how things go down.”

He sighed. “They’re all the same. All three of them. There was no real choice there. It’s not about their opinions on cannabis, or their public stances or whatever. At the end of the day it’s about the money, and when the time comes they’re going to want their cut. Doesn’t matter who’s sitting in the big seat. They’re all so full of shit.”

He paused for a moment to take a thoughtful pull from his beer, then continued.

“I mean I’ve lived here since 1976, and there’s never been an honest politician in this town. Not once. They’re all lizard-fucking slime bags, all of them dirty in one way or another. You can’t trust a single word they say, remember that. It’s all the same pablum bullshit they’re force-feeding everybody. They say they’re going to act, they have all kinds of pretty words, but what do they actually do? What do they actually accomplish?” he asked. 

“Nothing.”

After chatting intensely for twenty minutes, Niles circulated off to the rest of the party and Paisley and I found ourselves awkwardly clutching our half-finished beers. Caelynn pulled up a chair, sat down on it backwards, and we re-started an earlier debate on the moral standing of Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. I engaged hard. Paisley put her head on my shoulder and we accepted another joint that was being passed around, sitting comfortable in the rolling fog of bong smoke. My consciousness began to fuzz.

“Oh, I love him,” I heard Paisley say. “What’s his name?”

I tried to locate my partner, distinct amidst the chaos of bodies around me. There were lots of colours. She was down on one knee, laughing, as a German shepherd took happy tongue swipes at her face. Brutus. I looked beyond her to where Snapper stood, leash in hand, wearing a sleeveless jersey that nearly reached his knees. He said something to Paisley, and she said something back, while I tried to maneuver into a standing position. I tried to take a swig of my beer but found it empty. When did that happen?

“Oh, that was tragic,” said Blayne, appearing beside me. She was wearing a bright red jumper, and had her hair braided into pigtails. “You should’ve seen the look of disappointment on your face.”

I smiled. “All these beers keep ending up empty.”

“Funny how that works.”

“I was just heading over to rescue my partner from Snapper before you showed up.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” I laughed, and then I doubled over and laughed some more. “Not that bad! Not that bad!” I knew my reaction was disproportionate, maybe nonsensical, but it was just one of those evenings. Blayne had her hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me back under control, and she was laughing now too — but she was laughing at me, laughing.

“You can be kind of an asshole, huh?” she said.

“I’ve made peace with that, yeah.”

“What’s Snapper ever done to you?”

I looked over to where he was chatting with Paisley. I didn’t like how close he was standing to her. She glanced over and made eye contact with me, then looked away again. I’ve never been a particularly possessive boyfriend, but something told me I needed to keep her away from him specifically. I turned to find Blayne blinking up into my face, because I’d failed to answer her.

“He hasn’t done anything to me, I just don’t like his energy.”

“He’s actually a really generous person. You guys could be friends, if you gave him a chance. You’d just have to stop being such a fucking snob.”

“I’m not a snob.”

“No? What are you then?”

Blayne and I sat back down on the couch, still bickering. Dru and Cy were sitting on the couch opposite from us, hand-rolling cigarettes on the coffee table. The music had a pulse, like a heartbeat, and I felt time melt. What was this sensation? I lifted my hands and marvelled at how the blood pulsed into my fingertips. My gaze settled on a dude wearing a psychedelic hoodie, on the sunburst erupting from his armpit. Wow. A woman walked by with a toddler on her hip, her billowing brown hair interlaced with red highlights, beads and little scraps of leather. I wondered what was going on in the minds of these strangers, if they were experiencing a fraction of what I was. This was one more moment, in this interminable line of moments, and who could say if it was any more special than any other? I wondered if anyone else were to tell a story about this moment, would it be different? What were they feeling, what did they see?

The Kootenay Goon