megxrx-blog

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she stole the thief’s heart.

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i knew i was fucked when i started looking for you in other people. – kj knight

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flynnaganrider:

❝ Don’t talk a good game if you don’t plan on playing it, ❞ Flynn retorted, about 500 percent sure that wasn’t the way the saying went, but it was far preferable to saying nothing and letting her ruffle his feathers with nothing to show for it. Maybe this was it, this was her play: do the opposite of everything he expected and mess with his head, knowing he had trouble not shoving both of his feet in his mouth — if only to catch him out on the dumb shit he would inevitably let slip. After all, how could he be the only one actively searching for a way out? Surely she’d want out even more than him, what with how deadly the glares she usually shot at him were — and that was when they were surrounded by patrons. So sue him, murder hadn’t seemed entirely off the cards. ❝ Yeah, well — ❞ He shouldered the shelf, taking his irritation out on the metal frame, before returning to the door and resuming his forceful actions. He was a fucking werewolf — sure, it was second nature to the point it hardly gave him a leg up anymore, but how was this door not giving in to his strength? ❝ At least I don’t just sit around like a damsel in distress. That a new thing for you? You get that after we split up? ❞

Meg rolled her eyes. It was as if he was actually asking her to kill him - something that normally she’d be more than willing to oblige him on. Yet somehow the prospect of sitting by herself in the closet for the next twelve hours with a dead body sounded less appealing than sitting with Flynn in the closet for the next twelve hours. Maybe she’d change her mind once he opened his mouth. She leaned against the metal rack behind her, watching Flynn throw himself at the door, desperate for an escape. She half hoped he’d get it, set both of them free and out for the night. But the other half of her remembered her last meeting with Hale, the constant reminder of her debt to the man, and the meeting with him tonight. It was almost enough to make her shudder. Frowning at his question, Meg’s lips twisted into a snarl. Did he honestly think she was enjoying being helpless? “At least I’m not throwing myself into every piece of furniture in the goddamn way. You’re still a werewolf right? Or did you stop lifting after we broke up?”

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flynnaganrider:

He felt it like a tremor in the goddamn earth the second she’d thrown the ice scoop down. Well, hey, that was something; it seemed like he’d never forget what a room felt like when an argument between them was coming on. ❝ Okay, so, I’m guessing we’re not doing that adult thing I just talked about? ❞ Flynn took a step back, jutting his chin out at her as if to say, ‘seriously?’ while splaying his hands. They were about to see some customers, but this didn’t seem like something he could put a stop to, months in the making. ❝ You know that’s not — ❞ He started, hackles rising defensively as he moved forward again, one finger pointed at her in warning. Not that he’d ever do anything to hurt her — physically, that was. He’d done plenty to fuck her over mentally, that much was painfully obvious. But for her to bring up his useless memory — her, of all people — that stung. Probably deserved that, too. ❝ What the fuck are you talking about, Meg? Huh? ‘Cause you say you don’t have a problem, then you say you do, then you tell me to deal with being here, but then you tell me to piss off — so which one is it? Do you even know? ❞ Flynn threw his hands up, thoroughly exasperated. ❝ Because I’m just trying to do what you want here! ❞

"You couldn’t do adult if you fucking tried Flynn. Gonna run from a mortgage because it’s too much commitment? Can’t handle grocery shopping because you don’t know what you want.” Meg threw her hands up in the air, exasperated with the dark haired man in front of her. The same man who she’d once meant it when he said he loved her, the first to ever say such words. It was funny, Flynn saying he wasn’t built for commitment, yet had tattoos covering his skin. Childishly folding her arms across her chest, Meg stood her ground, eyes trained on his - looking past the finger pointed at her. As if he’d ever have the nerve to touch her. “I know what, Eugene?” She spat his real name as if it was poison falling from her lips. “That you prefer the left hand side of the bed? That you take your coffee with a tiny splash of cream, no sugar? That you eat it up when I get fiesty or put you in your place? That your birthday is April 8th and that you hate pictures of yourself because of your nose? That you never loved me and that it wasn’t just that one girl I caught you with? Looks like I’m about on the same page as you, cause I don’t know her name either, but at least I had the decency not to screw her and forget it.” Her nostrils flared, the girl’s normally bored expression replaced by one of true anger, the fire in her eyes matching the one in her voice. “What I’m saying is that you made your bed. You wanted out of my life. Wish granted. Whatever problems I do or don’t have are none of your fucking business. You want to do what I want? Then shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

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And so it must be better than I think it is

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™ - for my muse to become jealous of the attention your muse is giving someone else {meg}

He knew it wasn’t his place — he knew that. After all, he’d been the one to end things, as far as cheating on her multiple times went ( definitely did the trick, anyway ). He knew it wasn’t fair — to her, to himself, to anyone who wanted to start something with her. Not that anyone here tonight would be good enough, much less the punk who was laying it on thick at the other end of the bar. Normally Flynn would have overlooked it, honest — Meg was more than capable of taking care of herself — but there was a difference between gazing admiringly at a woman and leering at them, one of which the guy was doing and yet another reason he had always been silently thankful his ex had never expressed an interest in getting up on that stage and dancing ( if she had, he imagined he would have almost certainly gotten into more… disagreements than he did now ).

It was when she started to play along — because surely she couldn’t be into a guy like that — brushing his hand as she served him a drink, giving him a look that would have made anyone weak in the knees, that Flynn felt compelled to do something, say something. Something ugly and green was taking shape inside of him for all that he knew it wasn’t his place, for how pissed he knew she’d be at interrupting her, for how irrational he knew he was being. Maybe it was rich of him to say, but Meg deserved better than that asshole, and if he was going to be working the rest of the night with her, he damn well wasn’t going to do it with that guy drooling after her every time she turned around. ❝ Hey, you, ❞ Flynn called, hovering closer, cleaning a glass in the practiced way he knew made his muscles flex that little bit more. ❝ Didn’t I see you harassing one of the girls down by the stage earlier? Beat it, prick. ❞ / @megxrx.

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madeline-morris:

“I’m aware of the ‘ovaries before broveries’ code of honor, but I can’t say I’ve heard the ‘threaten one’s life’ code. Of course I’m more than happy to offer that service to whomever you begin to see. … though I’d honestly promise to bury them in the justice system until they were so entrenched they wished for the release death would offer. … or is that too much?” 

"I always figured that was part of that code - at least it was when I was getting moved from house to house like someone’s stained hand-me-downs. You know, fuck with one of the other foster kids and you’d have an entire little army against you.” She shrugged, finding herself struck with the idea that she missed that network more than she realized. “I wouldn’t worry even if it was. I doubt I’ll be seeing anyone soon... or ever.”

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“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.” {Bryce} “His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.” {meg}

“It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.” ( @beyondbryce )

If you were going to dish it out, you had to have a decent acceptance of getting it back without it stinging but ouch, that one had cut a little. Maybe it was because once upon a time Vidia had felt something for Bryce or maybe she was just growing too damn soft and sensitive lately but she felt the verbal stinging burn and stiffened her back as her shoulders squared up and her chin tilted upwards even as her nostrils flared a bit and her brows furrowed in an attempt to push back the slight hurt. “I hope you aren’t ever shocked by the fact you’re divorced or wonder why she left your ass.”

“His ego is so visible; I can almost watch it grow.” ( @megxrx )

Vidia choked on, and almost lost, the liquid in her mouth and had to save herself with a hard cough as she put the glass back on the bar top, turning her head to locate who Meg had gestured to with her glaring nod even though by her scoff alone Vidia had a pretty good guess who she meant. “You know men,” She responded after her laugh as she swiveled back ‘round on the barstool to face Meg. “They always need something big in order to overcompensate for…other things.” Face twitching for a moment, she couldn’t help another laugh at her implication before peeking over her shoulder in Flynn’s direction. Vidia may normally feel an extreme sense of loyalty for her childhood pal but Meg wasn’t wrong — that ego of his probably had it’s own orbiting moons.

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“How long have you been standing there?” {meg}

“Long enough, I suppose.” Madeline responded, keeping her arms crossed as she moved deeper into the room. “Do you want to talk about anything, Megara? You know I would never judge you, or anything you had to say. Hell, I’ll even break out the alcohol if you want it. We can make it into a drink and bitch session. Whatever works for you.” The attorney offered, folding herself down on the bed beside the woman. “I’m in your corner, Meg. Whenever you want to take a break from being a kickass woman, I’ll be there.”

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Perhaps the fact that I chased a boy who ripped me to shreds says a lot more about me than it did about him.

Michelle K., Lessons Learned. (via wordsnquotes)

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She was not soft. She smelled like cigarettes, leather, and ground black coffee. And when you inhaled, she burned your lungs the way that made you want to do it again. She was danger, and you wanted her.

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flynnaganrider:

     Abort, abort. Getting smart with the ex he’d cheated on multiple times just before the beginning of what was undoubtedly going to be the longest shift of his life — yeah, not his best and brightest idea. Especially not while she was still wielding the scoop. At least the lights were always a little dimmer behind the bar, meaning Dimitri probably wouldn’t pitch much of a fit about any bloodstains he’d leave behind. There was no question there’d be some blood, though, when she turned it around on him; after all, Flynn was absolutely considering braining himself on the edge of the counter just to avoid hashing this out with her now. There was no easy out, no safe answer — he was well and truly fucked. It didn’t help that of all times for his memory to kick in, he couldn’t help but remember another time she’d given him this look, her smile much more playful then than it’d ever be now, touching her eyes in a way he doubted he’d ever see aimed at him again. He shifted then, turning his gaze towards the far end of the bar to dodge eye contact. ❝ A few, actually, ❞ He mumbled, more or less under his breath as he picked up his old rag, slinging it over his shoulder and busying his hands with literally anything else. ❝ Jesus, look — just forget I said anything, alright? We’re adults, aren’t we? Let’s just get these assholes drunk, deal with our shit never and keep pretending like we don’t know each other. We good? ❞

The look of desperation on his face would have been endearing if Meg hadn’t already been so worked up about tonight -  a shift with her ex who she wanted nothing to deal with and vice versa. And to top it off, him getting wise on her. He seemed awkward, realizing the grave he’d dug himself was now his trap, his eyes wide and almost pleading. It brought back memories, his eyes wide and panicked, unsure if Meg was going to like the one time he’d put in effort, a beach trip complete with picnic. Of course, he’d forgotten the sunscreen, but it’d been cute. His eyes flashed away from her, Flynn turning to look at the counter in front of him, an inaudible murmur falling from his lips. Of course he couldn’t look her in the eyes, couldn’t even apologize for the reason his eyes averted hers. It was no shock to Meg, but she couldn’t help but kick herself every time for hoping that somehow this time would be different. “Ah yes,” Meg nodded, tossing the ice scoop into the cooler on top of the pile. “Let’s just pretend we don’t know each other - seems easy enough. After all, you don’t even remember who you cheated on me with. Must not take a lot for you to do that.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, the girl bitter and jaded and hating herself for letting it show. “You wanted me out of your life that badly, congrats you got your wish. Just stay out of mine. If I’ve got a problem, I’ve got a problem - one that’s none of your goddamn business. Isn't that what you wanted?”

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madeline-morris:

Relaxing back into her seat with her drink up to her lips, Madeline tried to contain her giggles at the first response and then lost it at Megara’s threat. Trying to bring herself down from her fit of laughter, Madeline bit shook her head and looked at her friend, hoping to find a serious mien to tone her down. “Oh Meg, I’ll be sure to relay the message. Thank you so much… I appreciate this more than you could even imagine.”

Meg wasn’t expecting laughter, but she rolled with it, the brunette finding a small grin on her lips despite herself. Madeline’s laughter was infectious, how could she not? She shrugged, not caring if it sounded childish to a thirty something year old - that’s what friends did, protected you from the world of cruel men and their tricks. “Don’t mention it. It’s like some rule of friendship, isn’t it?”

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jasperjefferson:

He tried to help as much he could but he was thoroughly distracted, lost in his own thoughts. He shook his head briefly. Jasper Jefferson didn’t cry. “I’m fine,” he replied softly. He stepped back off the floor, making sure to not bump into anyone. “I’m really sorry again. I didn’t mean to.” Jasper made his way back to the bar, ordering a water instead. His mind was still swimming with the thoughts of the past, now adding the anxiety and embarrassment he felt from spilling his glass. 

He clearly wasn’t  fine, but that wasn’t Meg’s problem. Just so long as he didn’t go around dropping anymore drinks. The man wandered off, muttering apologies as Meg finished cleaning up the mess on the floor. “Fine, my ass,” she muttered under her breath, making her way back to the bar - returning the cleaning supplies and returning to her spot on the bar to find.... Jasper again. “Yeah, okay.” She began filling a cup with water for him. “But only plastic for you from now on.”

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champcordova:

A lot of the time Gina didn’t know what she was talking about. She tried to use encouraging words for the people she cared about because she believed that they were capable of anything but maybe she had a little bit too much faith in them. “Pff I know I’m not exactly the kindest person out there.” She frowned slightly. “Don’t I only order off you anyway? Unless Danny’s feeling extra nice but even then, I mainly come here to see you.” She admitted. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I was trying to say, just wasn’t saying it right.” Finally hearing her friend’s laugh again, she smiled back in return. She really wanted to keep her happy. “You know, it’s never too late to start, and if you ever need help chasing them away, I can be pretty scary sometimes. It’s certainly enough to send anyone away.”

Meg paused for a minute, considering the other woman’s ordering habits. Perhaps it was possible she always served her best friend, but it was just their thing - Gina coming to catch up with Meg while she worked, one girl getting well made drinks and the other getting a nice tip out of it. “Yeah well,” she conceeded. “Danny is a shitty bartender. Can’t fucking pour a beer without it being all foam.” Meg laughed to herself, a small grin remaining on her lips as the other girl offered. “I think I’ve got the scaring them away part down. It’s the dealing with their existence that I’m having trouble with.”

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robinhoodtf:

“Once you name something, you get attached. Form a bond,” Robin explained. “And I’m supposed to let him go once he’s healthy enough.” He didn’t much care for that part of the deal, but he knew what he was getting into when he first picked up the fawn. “I’m hoping his name will instill some kind of ingrained greatness i him and he’ll become king of the Dark Forest.”

Meg nodded, as if she actually cared about this bonding process. “So don’t name my carnival won goldfish, got it.” She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep herself from bursting into laughter, instead settling for a snicker. “Trying to live vicariously through a deer there? We both know one of the wolves here will kill Thunderbolt before he becomes king of the Dark Forest.”

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flynnaganrider:

     ❝ Well, shit. ❞ There went that. Flynn scanned the shelves for something that might help them break out of the room, absently rooting around in his pockets for something to pick the lock with. Great, he’d left his wallet underneath the counter. Hell, he’d dismantle the whole damn door if it meant not sitting in closed quarters like this with her for hours on end. They could barely make it through a shift together behind the bar on a good day — no good could come of this, especially when she sounded all too ready to blame him. He knew he’d always deserve a large part of it, but it wasn’t his fault the door was faulty and temperamental as shit to begin with, and fuck it. With everything else that was going on outside of work, Flynn was tired and feeling a little short, having been looking forward to dropping dead asleep on the couch as soon as he got home. ❝ Why didn’t you? ❞ He grumbled, moving to a shelf and shoving things aside in search of an escape route. ❝ There’s got to be something around here, like — shit. Like a… screwdriver. Or a credit card — you got your wallet? ❞  Flynn cast a glance over his shoulder, equal parts disbelieving and irate when he saw that she’d just buried her head in her hands. ❝ So — what? Huh? You’re just gonna sit there and give up? You’re not even gonna try and murder me? ❞

Meg didn’t bother searching her pockets - all that was there was a crumpled piece of paper she’d forgotten to toss and some lint. All her valuables were behind the counter: wallet, keys, phone. She merely sat and watched Flynn tear the room apart, searching for a way out, a way away from her. What else was new? Maybe if he fucked the door it’d work, after all, fucking someone else had gotten the message across clear enough. She didn’t bother to respond to his first question. He’d been the one to do inventory, where as she’d only come in here to put some things away: he was supposed to have propped it himself. Flynn again busied himself shoving things around, as if that would genuinely give him some sudden revelation or the key that would free them from this godforsaken closet - both things that Meg knew weren’t on the shelves, without having to do inventory. She pulled her head from her hands, resting her chin on her palms. Meg could only hope that it wasn’t a full moon tonight. She didn’t need to worry about getting killed by her werewolf ex in her workplace closet in addition to spending the time with him. Glancing over at him, she raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to? You know I was thinking of doing it just to spare myself the misery of spending this much time with you, but in a locked closet with only two people.... it’s a little obvious who did it. You’re not worth the time in prison.” Meg leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the worst in an emergency. Can’t keep a cool head. I always hated that about you.”