#it was Creep by radio head and it fit his character so fucking well

[lilyqueenoffrogs]

Since The Batman(2022) I thought that no one could out grease Robert Patterson’s Bruce Wayne…

AND THEN I SAW RENFIELD!

My guy Renfield is the soggiest piece of toast I have EVER seen

Look at his fucking sweater!!! I can’t 😫

He is living in my head rent free

Also look at this fuckin scene

So creepy, such a story to be said, just mwah🤌

The story of the movie was also amazing so if you like lots of blood, vampires, and greasy little guys then watch this movie

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 17: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team)

for both my incredible birthday twin jenny (@laelipoo) and a little bit for myself! i hope you are having a wonderful, wonderful day and i wish you all the love in the world. i'm so glad we became friends and i cannot tell you how glad i am for our conversations 🥰🥰🥰

many, many, many thanks to jenny as well for helping me out with the plot!

ao3 | 3.1k | firefighter carlos, hurt/comfort, pining, developing relationship, major character injury (two of them 😌)

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the soft blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

The thing about Carlos Reyes is that he isn’t only stupidly hot; he’s also just plain nice. TK can’t even make up a flimsy excuse to keep his distance. Carlos is, quite literally, perfect.

He shares recipes and book recommendations with Paul, he spars with Marjan, he discusses superheroes with Mateo, and Judd has had nothing but good things to say since before Carlos even joined them. Apparently they’d worked together a lot before the explosion, when Carlos was with the 116, and he’s ‘one of the best damn firefighters’ Judd has ever seen.

He even makes time to hang with the paramedics, which...isn’t a new development, exactly. But it is recent, and TK is willing to bet they’d still be pretty divided if Tim hadn’t suddenly transferred back to Maryland and he hadn’t taken the leap to be a full paramedic.

Even after that… His friends were hardly going to abandon him after he switched, but Nancy had still only been semi-included at best. She’d called him out about it during their first week working together, but fixing it had been a slow process.

Until Carlos came along, that is. Excluding Judd, they all regularly hang out at his place now, and Nancy’s inclusion had never even been a question. Safe to say, Carlos has charmed everyone in the firehouse, including both captains, and the worst part is, he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it.

He’s perfect, from his freakishly toned body to his infuriatingly sweet personality to his incredible skills in the field, and TK does not have a crush, goddammit!

One morning about three weeks after Carlos’s arrival, TK is greeted in the firehouse by the sound of a long, beautiful laugh coming from the kitchen. Three weeks is an embarrassingly short amount of time to admit that he’s memorised everything about him, but he instantly recognises the noise as coming from Carlos, even if he can’t see him yet.

He saunters into the kitchen, where Carlos is standing with Paul, and leans up against the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Carlos turns with a winning smile and holds out a steaming mug of coffee, clearly freshly made even though TK only got in two minutes ago.

He blinks. “How—” Then, taking in the slight pinkness to Carlos’s cheeks, “Are you seriously offering me your own coffee, Reyes?”

Carlos shrugs, forcing the mug into TK’s hands. “I only just made it so technically it belongs to anyone, and I can always make another,” he says. “Besides, you look like you could use it more than me.”

His grin has TK narrowing his eyes and stubbornly refusing to drink even though Carlos is right—he really, really needs it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an insult.”

“Who says you do know better?”

TK splutters, momentarily left speechless in the face of Carlos’s smile and the twinkle in those goddamn eyes. He turns to Paul for help, but Paul...has disappeared. Huh. TK honestly hadn't noticed him go.

He shakes his head and looks back to Carlos, only to be stunned silent again by the way his smile has softened into something else, something more.

TK’s heart skips a beat or two and he swallows, staring down into Carlos’s coffee. “Whatever, Reyes,” he mutters.

It was too late for a witty comeback anyway.

Carlos’s laugh follows him out of the kitchen, and TK wonders when, exactly, he let himself fall this far.

*

“Earth to TK? Hello?”

TK is rudely snapped back to reality by one Nancy Gillian’s hand waving violently in his face. He scowls at her, to which she responds with an eye roll.

“Stop drooling over your man and come help me with inventory.”

“I’m not drooling,” TK argues, following her over to the rig. “And he’s not my man.”

“Right,” Nancy drawls, folding her arms over her chest as she leans against the ambulance. “So you’re just going to deny that weird energy around you two that makes the rest of us feel like we’re creeping on something?”

“Exactly.” TK nods emphatically, then frowns. “Wait, what?”

Nancy casts her eyes heavenward. “You know,” she says, “you’re a lot of things, Strand, but I hadn’t pegged you for oblivious.”

TK’s next words are reflexive, said without thought for the consequences—the story of his life, really.

“I’m not oblivious!”

The grin spreading over Nancy’s face rams home just how much he’s fucked up with those three words. TK drops his head in his hands and groans, unable and unwilling to look Nancy in the eye.

“Not a word,” he warns, which Nancy appears to respect, for now. TK is well aware that there will be words—several of them—later, whether he wants them or not.

The thing is, he really isn’t oblivious. He knows perfectly well what Nancy is talking about and he has often fantasised about all the things he’d do to Carlos given half a chance. TK likes Carlos, way more than just in the physical sense, and he’s pretty sure that Carlos likes him right back. It would be so easy to start something between them and, god, TK wants to. He just… He can’t.

One year—that’s what he promised himself back in New York. One year on his own to sort his head out and figure out how he fits back into the world after the overdose. Granted, his sobriety anniversary is only a couple of months away now, but he refuses to give up on his promise, especially when he’s so close.

Maybe in a couple months, if Carlos hasn’t gotten bored of something that’s clearly going nowhere.

But not now.

*

“He did not ask me out!”

“He totally did, dude, and you know it. You want to say yes, I can tell.”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“Children,” Tommy interrupts from the back of the ambulance. They’re heading to a callout, and Nancy has not let up the entire way about something TK is certain never actually happened. “Either of you want to enlighten me on what the argument is about this time?”

“TK’s too chicken to go out with Carlos,” Nancy jumps in, before TK can stop her.

“I am not!” he protests. “Plus, he wasn’t asking me out, he said we should go over to his place for dinner sometime, which Carlos does all the time. So there.”

“Strand, you are not this dense,” Nancy snarks, probably rolling her eyes. “His exact words were, ‘You should come over sometime’.”

“We were all there! It was obviously the plural you.”

“Oh my god—”

“Alright!” Tommy sighs wearily. “Nancy, can we keep from provoking TK until we’re back at the firehouse and he’s no longer driving?”

“Ha!” TK exclaims, but Tommy’s not done.

“TK, if I weren’t your captain, I’d be telling you that Nancy is right and you should pull your head out of your ass before it’s too late, understand?”

Now it’s Nancy’s turn to be triumphant as TK struggles to form a coherent response. Thankfully, he’s saved from further torment by them finally pulling up at the scene—a warehouse where one of the workers had become trapped after parts of the upper level walkway had broken and fallen. Apparently, the falling metal had caused some of the machinery to malfunction, turning the call from simple to beyond complicated in a matter of minutes.

“TK, grab your turnout gear and your bag; I’m sending you in with them,” Tommy informs him as soon as they’re out of the rig. “Normally, we’d just talk the firefighters through it over radio, but given your training it’ll be quicker and safer for you to deal with our patient.”

TK grins; he’s missed the adrenaline rush of running into emergencies more than he can say. “Got it, Cap.”

“Maybe try and look a little less happy about a serious injury, too.”

“Copy that.”

*

The noise when they enter the warehouse is deafening, an ugly screeching cutting right through TK’s skull.

“Shouldn’t they have shut the machines off?” he shouts, fighting to be heard.

“Apparently they can’t,” Judd calls back. “Something wrong with the control panel, I don’t know exactly what.”

TK groans—just what they need. The sound is lost in the din, but Carlos still looks over and gives him a sympathetic grin, shrugging in a ‘what can you do’ motion. TK can’t help but grin back, the mere sight of Carlos easing the annoyance he feels and the headache already beginning to build behind his eyes.

Their patient, when they reach him, is pinned under a large, heavy-looking sheet of metal. He’s bleeding from a gash on his temple and his skin is worryingly pale, to the extent that TK can tell even from a distance. He jogs to the patient’s side and kneels down, pressing his fingers against his neck.

“Cap, I have a pulse,” he reports into his radio after a few seconds. “But he’s unconscious with a head wound, and I think there are probably injuries I can’t see yet. Possible spinal damage, but I can’t tell until we’ve got this metal off him.”

“Copy that,” Captain Vega says. “Get ready to run a line; he’s gonna need it as soon as he’s free.”

TK nods and moves to secure a c-collar around his neck. “We need to cut this thing off of him,” he says, addressing the team. “Quickly, but carefully.”

Judd steps forward, brandishing the saw. He hands TK a couple of spare turnouts and kneels on the patient’s other side. “Couple of you need to cover him, and yourselves.”

TK doesn’t even have to ask before Carlos appears next to him, taking one of the turnouts from him. He smiles gratefully before arranging himself to provide maximum protection to all three of them as Judd starts working on the metal. The vibrations from the saw are unpleasant, and TK dreads to think what effect it’s having on the already unstable machinery, but it’s the only option they have to get their patient free.

Fortunately, everything seems to go off without a hitch, and soon the team are able to remove the metal. TK immediately gets to work, feeling for any damage. As he suspected, there’s a pretty large gash on the man’s leg which is bleeding badly, though thankfully it seems to have missed any arteries. He also seems to have a broken wrist, but he should heal.

TK quickly wraps his leg, then gets Carlos and Judd to help move him onto the spine board. It feels like, for once, the call has gone as smoothly as possible, and TK allows himself a breath of relief as they prep to get the guy outside to the ambulance.

Naturally, that’s when everything goes to hell.

The machine closest to them lets out a threatening groan and shudders before there’s a loud roar and it explodes. On instinct, TK folds himself over the patient as shrapnel rains down on them, and he sees Carlos doing the same in his periphery.

The downpour seems to last forever, but eventually it slows and comes to a stop. TK cautiously lifts his head, his heart pounding, and sags in relief as it seems that the worst is over.

They need to get out of here, now.

He stands, a brief stab of pain running through his back—probably because of his awkward position over the patient—and turns to Carlos, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Only to see Carlos’s face tight with agony, and then the cause—a jagged piece of shrapnel running right through his hand.

“Carlos,” TK breathes, horrified. Carlos looks up at him, his breathing carefully measured and his eyes wide, and TK drops back to his knees, reaching out for him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Carlos swallows and nods, his eyes squeezing tight. TK’s heart rate skyrockets, and he’s barely able to keep his cool as he signals to the others to get their first patient out of the warehouse.

“Cap, the team are bringing him out, but we have a problem.”

“Talk to me, Strand, what’s going on?”

“It—It’s Carlos.” TK breathes out shakily and takes a moment to steady himself before continuing, “It’s not serious, but some of the machinery broke apart and some shrapnel impaled his hand. I’ve got to stabilise the shard before we come out to you.”

“Alright, but hurry. I don’t want you guys in there for longer than necessary.”

“Copy.”

Stabilising the shrapnel with rolls of gauze and wrapping Carlos’s hand should be a matter of course—it’s an easy process that TK could probably do in his sleep. But this is Carlos, so his damn hands won’t stop shaking and he almost fumbles and drops his supplies.

He manages though, and soon he’s helping Carlos up, instructing him to hold his injured hand above his heart. Carlos sends him a wobbly smile, which ends up turning out to be more of a grimace, but it’s a comfort nonetheless. Things could have gone so much worse today; TK could have even lost him, and he would have never been able to—

But that’s not important. Carlos is okay, or he will be, and they still have plenty of time to figure out whatever this is between them.

Everything will be okay.

TK’s back and side twinge again as they make their way out, but he brushes it off, too focused on getting Carlos to the hospital as fast as possible. Tommy shakes her head as they make their way over, her eyebrows raised despite the concern clearly in her expression.

“Never a peaceful moment with you, Strand, is it?” she asks dryly, hissing as she inspects Carlos’s wound.

“In my defence, Cap,” he says, more at ease now that they’re safe, “it’s not me who’s injured this time.”

Tommy hums, then directs Carlos into the back of the rig, jumping in after him. “Get back here, TK. Nancy’s driving.”

She has a teasing look in her eyes that instantly makes TK suspicious, but he moves to comply, shrugging off his turnout coat as he does. The movement hurts, which is weird, but he thinks nothing of it.

At least, until Tommy’s eyes go wide and she stands from her seat, holding her hands out towards him. “TK, do not move,” she instructs, her eyes firmly fixed on his right side.

TK frowns, then follows her gaze down, and— Oh.

His grey undershirt is stained with blood, and it’s difficult to miss the large piece of metal sticking out of his side. He has no idea how he missed it, but now that he knows, the pain slams into him full force, causing him to stagger.

“Oh,” he gasps, eloquently.

Then, his legs buckle and the world goes black.

*

TK wakes up to a steady beeping sound, which only exacerbates his pounding headache. He groans, scrunching his face up, before slowly peeling his eyes open, almost slamming them shut again after getting an eyeful of obnoxiously bright fluorescents.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, sounding surprised, then the lights suddenly dim, the room lit by the gentle glow of a lamp. TK sighs in relief and shifts to look at his saviour.

It’s Carlos.

“You… You’re here,” TK states, confused. His gaze drifts down Carlos’s body and lands on the white bandages around his hand, the memories of the warehouse suddenly hitting him all at once. “Shit, you— How are you?”

Carlos shakes his head and comes to sit in the chair by TK’s bed. “I can’t believe you’re the one asking me that.”

“I’m a paramedic, it’s my job.”

“Not when you’re the one in the hospital bed,” Carlos counters, sighing. “If you must know, I’m fine. They gave me some pretty good drugs, so…” He shrugs, and TK can’t help but laugh, which proves to be a very bad idea.

His side lights up, an unnecessary reminder that TK is very much not on the good drugs, and he moans softly, slowly settling back in the bed. “I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

“You love me,” Carlos says, and TK’s heart seizes in his chest.

The silence after his words is deafening, so TK forces himself to crack his eyes open enough to look at him. Carlos is frozen in his chair, biting his lip hard, and he looks like he either wants to bolt or be swallowed by the earth.

TK thinks he should probably be feeling the same. They’ve been dancing around this issue for weeks now, and he’d thought he had it under control. That he could last that little bit longer until his one year was up; that he could ignore these feelings that have been steadily growing since he first laid eyes on Carlos.

It was a hopeless endeavour; he recognises that now. TK remembers the fear he felt when Carlos was injured back at the warehouse, the desperation for him to be better, and now with his own injury…

He could have lost this chance before he ever got it, and TK isn’t about to let it slip through his fingers now. He reaches out and takes Carlos’s good hand, startling him into meeting TK’s eyes.

“Yeah,” TK whispers, just loud enough for Carlos to hear him. “I think I do.”

The smile Carlos gives him lights up the room, and he doesn’t waste any time in leaning down to kiss TK. And it’s… It’s everything TK had hoped and imagined it would be and more. It’s soft and sweet and gentle and perfect, and he never wants it to end.

But end it does, though Carlos doesn’t go far. TK smiles at him, squeezing his hand with all the strength he can muster.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” he says.

Carlos frowns. “What?”

TK’s smile widens and he flicks his eyebrows at Carlos. “To dinner. Or were you not asking me out after all?”

Carlos huffs a laugh, and the look in his eyes when they lock back onto TK’s melts his heart and makes his entire chest ache. “Does Friday work for you?”

He nods, tugging Carlos down for another kiss. “It’s a date.”

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Teaser]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language (possibly more?)

Collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“this criminal is stealing my fires, what the fuck?!“

Life is a rollercoaster, it always has been. One moment he feels at the top of the world and the very next he’s upside down at the bottom, wishing the ride would come to a stop as soon as possible. Things that shouldn’t be difficult, things average people would consider the norm to him were the equivalent of walking on glass, each step sending shocks of pain throughout his body, anxiety pumping his blood with adrenaline that provoked his fight or flight response. And after choosing ‘fight’ so many times, he’s more than prepared to choose ‘flight’.

But as he sits in the Walmart parking lot, he’s talking himself out of that habit of running from discomfort. He doesn’t want to battle it either, he just wants to face it and prove he’s strong enough to defeat it if he tried. Well, anxiety is laughing in his face right now, mocking him by the shaking of his hands and the tight sensation in his gut and throat. He’s here for what’s supposed to be just a quick shopping trip. Just to buy a few things! That’s all he has to do. However, he can’t bring himself to get out of his beige Subaru and walk into the store. 

I’m just hungry, right? Or maybe tired, he thought to himself.

That’s what everyone told him - that anxiety was caused by something simple to solve but hard to realize when your mind is in a frenzy. He’s planning on getting something to eat to calm his nerves. If that doesn’t work, to hell with it. He has been improvising plan B’s all his life, this wouldn’t be anything new. 

With a shaky sigh Corpse looks at his radio, switching stations until his luck smiles at him when he comes across a BONES song and turns it up just enough to not overwhelm his senses. He has been needing some kind of a distraction all day, why not gravitate to the one thing that felt real, as if sent to save him from the mess within his head. Putting the car into drive, he pulls out of the parking lot and into the nearest fast food drive thru. A plain burger with cheese so his stomach doesn’t act up, fries and an unsweetened tea. 

This will have to do.  He isn’t even hungry, and the thought of the greasy food only made his stomach churn worse but he knew he needed to eat something in hopes of it having the effects he was told it would have - magically cure his overwhelmingly hard to handle anxiety.

Once he got his food, he returned to the department store lot and parked in a far back spot. He has opened the paper bag to dig his food out, grimacing at all the grease and the smell of the cheap meal that wasted no time invading his car. He really isn’t hungry, but he hasn’t eaten all day and he’s aware of the toll the lack of food is taking on his system. He knows better than to work against himself in a moment like this when his mind is already working against him.

Chomping down on a fry, Corpse savors the salt as it hits his tongue and takes a moment to let his shoulders loosen and hang low. Something about the salt and fat seemed to make his body feel better. He tosses his head back slightly as he flicks a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes, reaching into the bag and grabbing another fry.

He’s been content with sitting in his car, eating and trying to quell the anxiety bubbling up under his ribs and in his throat. There’s a sense of peace to it and to the loneliness of it. He doesn’t mind being alone, though. That’s how he prefers to be actually. Dwelling on that thought too long has had the tendency to kill even the smallest spec of a positive energy he possessed in the past so he avoids it for his own peace of mind. The feeling of his heart thundering in his chest to nothing more than his own unconscious is being muffled by the soft rap music coming from the car speakers, him having chosen to pay attention to that instead.

Corpse is so engrossed in his attempts of maintaining this peace that he fails to notice the person approaching his car at a rapid pace. He’s left completely unbothered until one of the backseat doors is yanked open and someone is diving inside, shaking the vehicle. 

“What th-..” He shouts, startled out of the peaceful bubble he had created around himself. 

“Hey, how's it going? Sorry to interrupt your dinner. I'm just avoiding somebody, so don’t mind me!” A slightly out of breath female voice answers from the backseat. But before he could bring himself to turn around and demand this girl get out of his car, fear takes hold of him, closing his throat and drowning his words in the sea of questions and anxiety rising from deep within his chest. 

Ok, breathe. This is weird. There’s a stranger in my car, but she doesn’t appear harmful. Just breathe, stay calm. Fuck, is that a fucking cop car?! 

His shaky hand is barely capable of holding the burger as his wide eyes follow the movements of the vehicle. The patrol car in question slowly drives through each aisle of the parking lot, seemingly searching for something. Or someone. He feels himself unable to blink nor breath as the car creeps closer and closer. He has already broken into a nervous sweat, head spinning with all the possible outcomes - none of which bode well for him.

How am I gonna explain this shit?! There’s no way they’ll believe that she just dove into my car. They’ll think I’m an accomplice. I’ll go to jail. God knows if I’ll get out. I’ll die in there. Oh fuck, I’ll die in there.

He inhales sharply, trying not to hyperventilate, all his muscles tensing before a slap to his arm shook him out of it, “Could you look any more suspicious?! Fuckin’ act cool!”

He nods automatically and looks down at his lap, like he’s trying to find a napkin before taking a quick sip of his tea in attempts to look natural. The liquid promptly went down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke and go in a fit of coughs which he suppressed with his baggy hoodie sleeve. 

The cop passed by, eyeing the man in the car before making a turn to go down another row of parking spots, allowing Corpse to finally peek his gaze upwards to check if the guy was finally gone when the voice in the back seat spoke up again. “Thanks dude, you saved my ass.” 

He hadn’t noticed at first but as he turned to look behind him he saw a bare arm reaching from the back seat, dipping into the paper bag and taking one of his fries. Before he could comprehend it, the girl had climbed up over the center console as the police car pulled out of the parking lot and left. 

Only now is he able to get a real look at the woman who is a potential criminal and went into his car. She isn’t tall but not short either. She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are ripped around her knees and upper thighs and have little occult symbols drawn on them, peace signs and even an occasional tiny dinosaur - the majority, if not all, probably a DIY project of hers by the looks of it. She’s also sporting a sleeveless top with the sides cut open to show most of her waist. Under that, a black sports bra and a tattoo are visible - the tattoo extending from her back to her ribs just slightly. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a loose and rather messy hairdo, every strand going in its own direction as if she couldn’t be bothered by it. Looking down he sees the pair of black combat boots she has on. They look to be well taken care of and loved. A glint of a septum piercing attracts his attention when he notices it reflecting the ugly yellow light of the parking lot street lamps. 

She’s pretty. 

His cheeks flush a little in the darkness as he dumps the remainder of his food back into the bag, noting she was taking another one of his fries before he looked away, swallowing nervously when he feels her gaze on him. 

Before he could speak, however, she had already taken another one of his fries, leaning back in the passenger seat.

“W-why...are you in my car?” His voice showed off his confusion as well as the rising levels of his anxiety, his brow furrowed as he tries to remain cool and calm. 

“Hiding from the police...obviously.” She responds in a ‘duh’ tone as if she were pointing out something very simple and ordinary.

“Bu-...Alright...I guess. You should stop stealing my food though.” He finally mumbles, putting the paper bag into the back seat and catching a brief whiff of the perfume she has on as he turns to do so. 

He’s been alone so long, people have grown to terrify him. Public places terrify him, so it’s no surprise he stays inside for as long as he can. He hasn’t been this close to someone in months. Not since his ex left. She was just...another human being. Another one to leave. Nothing new to him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise nor a disappointment to him but he couldn’t not feel distraught over it for a while after it happened. He couldn’t help but hope she would….nevermind.

She grins - her smile a little spark of light in this lonely little world that is his life. Everyone around him always looked so damn happy. How come he never felt the happiness for himself?

He shifts back into his seat, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his black hoodie, avoiding her gaze as much as possible while still trying to take subtle glances at her. He feels uncomfortably like a teenager at that moment, stumbling his way through a conversation with a girl way too pretty to be talking to him.

“I bet you hear this all the time, but you should do like, audio books or voice acting or somethin’. You’ve got a rad voice to narrate some Steven King or Dean Koontz. Bram Stoker's Dracula would be sick, or some kind of devil or demon character.” She offers, grinning again as she steals another fry despite the bag now being in the back and shifts to reach into her back pocket, the sound of her wallet chain hitting the side of his car door echoes throughout the enclosed space of the car. She pulls out a couple dollars and slaps them onto his dashboard, “anyway, for the fries. Annnd for letting me hide in your car. Don’t go spending it all in one place.” She pushes the door of the Subaru open, winking at him and sliding one leg out. “Thanks for keepin’ the fuzz off of me, see ya Hades!” She jokes teasingly, slapping the roof of his car before closing the door and practically skipping off in the opposite direction of the one the cop went in. 

Corpse parts his lips, blinking slowly before looking at the department store and back towards the slowly shrinking figure of the girl. His head is spinning again, for different reasons now.

“What the hell just happened....?” He pauses for a lingering second before his voice turns sharp and a distressed look crosses his face, “Fuck, what did I need from the store?!”

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

just full on bodies you with a semi NEW FIC JUST DROPPED BABES

we are leaving cute high school world and entering pain town. this story will have mentions of self harm and suicidal ideation. Please take care of yourselves and don't engage if that sort of content is triggering to you. (be nice to yourselves, i love you)

The worst year of his life starts out the same as so many good days, it almost makes him dizzy to think back on. He feels, later, that a start to this much torment, this painful, should have begun completely fucking miserable, but it had been just any other day. It starts the same way so many days before it starts. His eyes open. He’s in his bedroom, in his bed, like normal. He’s staring up at his black ceiling, wrapped up in his bedspread. His phone buzzes, and he groans, reaches for it, scans messages. A good morning from Barbara, an unread goodnight from Adam, a text from that talent agency that there was something they could use his voice for. He throws back his blankets, rubs sleep from his eyes, and dresses.

In high school his uniform had been an oversized striped hoodie, but for his birthday a few years ago, Charles had bought him several nice dress pants, suit jackets, and collared shirts, and he’d sort of settled into that as his new everyday. He likes how he looks, because this shit is expensive, custom, made to fit his more generous frame, and both his partners always say he looks handsome in a jacket and tie. (Sometimes Barbara yanks him around by the tie. Sometimes Adam snaps his suspenders.) And besides, his dad had taken his preferences into consideration, because all the pieces he’d been gifted had that pattern he was drawn to, thick black and white stripes that absolutely stand out in a crowd. He dresses quickly, throws on his suit jacket over his pinstriped shirt. He adjusts his tie, and gives a grin. Too many teeth, too sharp, and he waves a hand in front of his mouth, and tries again. Human teeth. There we go, B-Man. He lifts his legs, not especially in the mood to walk, and begins to make his way downstairs, for breakfast. He passes by Lydia’s room, and considers harassing his sister, but he remembers how bad he needed his Saturday sleep-ins at fifteen, and takes pity on her, floating past her door silently.

His father, always an early riser, is already in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee, and Betelgeuse lets his feet hit the floor, so that his heeled boots clack against the kitchen tile.

Charles knows the sound, doesn’t even turn around. “Morning, BJ. Any plans for today?”

His relaxed, not exactly actively working lifestyle is not his dad’s favorite, but he’s got a long time, a lot longer than any other person, to work a job. He's just enjoying the time he gets with all his favorite breathers, before he doesn’t have it anymore. At least, that’s always been his excuse. It's not that he can't find work, or that he’s unhirable to a normal job, it’s that he’s trying to enjoy life. Obviously.

But there's good news this morning.

“Got a text from th’ agency. Some voice work,” he grunts. His insanely gravely voice is not always in high demand, but it's been getting some attention lately, mostly because the last commercial he did voice over for, he had to sing, and the request for more of that has been promising. The big goal is some acting gig, on stage, preferably, but he’d take TV, too. He loves the attention, he loves the rush, he loves entertaining. Unfortunately he’s got a demonic aura that makes breathers nervous on principle. He knows if he could just get a break, he’d have a lot to give… but he’s maybe not working on getting that break as hard as he could be.

“Very nice,” Charles finally turns, and smiles, clearly approving. He sets a cup of coffee in front of his son, and BJ glances at it. “Be a pal and wake your mother up?” “This early? On a Saturday?” He squints. “You tryna take me out via Emily attack?” “We’ve got that check up to go to,” Charles says. “I don’t want to be late.”

He shrugs, takes the cup, and vanishes from sight, appearing upstairs, next to his mother. Emily is still wrapped in the bedsheets, snoring lightly, but he knows the trick to rousing her. The coffee cup is waved around her nose, allowing the aroma to hit her senses, and, eyes still closed, she reaches for it. He pulls the cup back.

“Come on, ma,” he scratches gently at her scalp. “Time to get up.” “Coffeeeee,” she groans, reaching at it blindly again, and he grins, and walks backwards, setting the coffee on the dresser, across the room. “Coffee’s over here, Deetzy,” he tells her, and she finally cracks an eye open, and groans. “Evil. Evil son.” “Yup,” he agrees, easily. “Come on. Chuck says you got some appointments to keep.” His mother groans, and kicks back the sheets, before standing.

He’d been twelve, and herself only about thirty when she’d found him, and now, ten years later, at 40, her age is showing, a little. She’s been growing in gray hair for the past few years, and it hasn’t taken over her natural sunshine yellow, but it’s becoming a bit more noticeable, and the slight lines forming around her mouth and eyes are a new addition to her features. Chuck’s aging in much the same way, but with fewer laugh lines. The hair at his father’s temples is going gray, and if he really looks, he can see the beginnings of salt and pepper in his father’s beard. He doesn’t like looking for it, though, and doesn't like the feeling gnawing in his guts at seeing his parents age. If he had his way, they’d stay frozen in time, the way he probably will. Demons don’t age, past a certain point, and he’s pretty sure he’ll be hitting it, soon enough.

He watches his mother shuffle across the floor, and claim her prize of coffee. She takes a long sip, and then groans. “I don’t want to go to the doctor,” she complains to him, and he pats her shoulder. “I know, ma,” he gives her a very sympathetic smile. “But you gotta. Or Chuckles will throw a fit. It’s just a check up, right? No biggie.” She rubs at her temple, and winces. “Getting old sucks,” she tells him. “I’ve been having the worst headaches, recently.”

When they make it back downstairs, Chuck's got breakfast going, and Lydia is sipping her own coffee. Black, like her heart, she always says. He passes her by and ruffles that mop of long blonde hair. “Beetle breath,” she greets him, as he takes a plate from Charles, and sits to eat.

The voice over work isn't as big a deal as he was hoping. He adjusts his tie, fiddles with the collar of his pinstripe dress shirt, and steps out of the booth. “Fuckin’ peanuts,” he complains, and his agent just shrugs. “Gotta start small, BJ. We need someone to do some crooning for this other comercial, some car sale, or something. You feel like playing Sinatra for a bit?”

Not especially, but he does it anyway, and then meets Adam and Barbara for lunch. Adam’s taking classes for business management, and he’s just about done. He wants to take over his grandpa’s hardware store, outside of the city. Way outside, actually, in some little town in Connecticut. They’ve got shared plans, shared dreams, and all of it hinges on this little store in this little town. BJ isn’t too worried. His boyfriend’s hobbies come and go, but Adam really, really enjoys woodworking, and getting to own a place like that sounds like getting to own his own playground.

Barbara, meanwhile, is stuck in clerical work, which she finds mind numbingly dull, but it's a steady paycheck, and it’s afforded her a ticket out of her dad’s place, so that’s something. She and Adam share a tiny studio apartment in Queens, and for all the time Betelgeuse spends there, he might as well live there, too. But three people in a studio isn’t any of their idea of a good time. Speaking of…

“I was on zillow, today,” Adam starts, and he and Barbara lean over with varying degrees of interest, as Adam shows them his phone. It’s a house, predictably, but a nice one. Old fashioned, and a little creeping looking. He likes it.

“She’s a bit of a fixer upper,” he says, admiring the house. “But the price is right, and look at all this character. Classic Queen Anne, with the original crown molding! Tons of space, lots of room for the three of us.” “Maybe a forth,” Barbara smiles brightly, and he matches her enthusiasm. She’s wanted to be a mom since he’s known her, six pretty amazing years, and while a lot has changed in that time, her maternal desire is as strong as ever.

“Maybe a fifth,” BJ grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her, and she flushes. “One from each of my boys.” She agrees, and she reaches across the table, for his hand, which he gives her. Adam takes her other hand, and they’re lost in that fantasy for a moment. He’s not actually sure he can give her what she wants, since he’s not exactly human, but Adam can, at least. And he gets to be part of it. Goddamn, he’s lucky.

“So? Tell us about this commercial you just did!” Adam smiles at him.

“S’not a big deal, just some radio ad,” He tells them, but he’s flattered that they’re always overly enthusiastic about his bit parts. “I heard you on the radio in the office, a few days ago!” Barbara remembers. “My coworkers couldn’t believe that was your real voice! You make such a good villain.” Of course he does. He keeps the smile on, because he knows Babs, knows that she means it in the sweetest, most lovey dovey way possible, but he’s never going to play the hero, because no hero sounds like a demon. He can’t get in his head about this, not right now. Not when the weather’s so nice, and he’s sitting across from the people he loves the most.

“I am the villain, babes,” he grins at her, and stands, leaning over to kiss and rub his stubble into her neck, until laughing, she pushes him away.

“Maybe you should come to the office with me, tomorrow,” Chuck says, over dinner. BJ resists the urge to stab himself through the eye with his fork. “M’not that into real estate, pop,” he tells him, and Emily smiles. “You know BJ’s an artist.” “I just think if he gave it a try,” Charles says, looking to his wife. “That he’d excel at it. I mean, good lord, all real estate is, is making deals and fast talking. He’s built for that sort of thing.” Betelgeuse grimaces. “But then I’d have to spend any amount of time around your coworkers, an’ those other big money creeps.” “Those big money creeps write the checks that paid for this house, BJ,” Chuck reminds him.

“I’ll be sure to send Maxie Dean a fruit basket.”

“Skip the fruit, just send that freak ass a basket of snakes,” Lydia says, and he grins. “Do not do that.” “Psh. Whatever, dad,” he pitches his voice into a teenage whine, and his father gives a dry smile in return. “So, that doctor appointment?” Lydia looks to Emily, and their mother smiles. “Got some scans done, no biggie. Checkups just suck. I’ve been having those migraines, recently, but the doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.”

He’s staring down at his mother, in hospice, and those words echo around his mind. No big deal. The doctor didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. Just a couple migraines. Just some dizziness. Just some nausea. Just a tumor. Just another breather’s life, coming to an end.

Her bedroom is dark. The curtains are drawn. He’s sitting to her left, Lydia dozing to her right, and Emily is sleeping, dozing lightly. Chuck’s talking to the nurse in the hall. The last twelve months are a blur. He can’t remember individual days, can only remember when those test results came back. He remembers, vaguely, holding her hand during treatments. But there’s nothing any breather alive can do about the tumor, about the placement of it. At least she’s at home, at least she’s laying in her own bed. At least she’s not stuck in the hospital. Her sun colored hair is gone. Her smile is gone. That mischievous glint in her eyes is gone. All Emily does is sleep. All they can do is wait. read the rest of this chapter, plus the second one i couldn't help but post, over here, on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/32243065/chapters/79911316

[shewillreadyou]

Me before you: Chapter 3: Excuse me miss

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo. 

Word Count: 3468

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet  For Real

Prompts: None 

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Luther Vandross Take you out & Wait for Love

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

The hot water cascaded down his sculpted body. He groaned as he ran his hands through his luscious chocolate locks. He lathered his shoulders as thoughts of her ran through his mind. He was captivated by her. She seemed to consume his every waking moment. Liam had crossed the line yet again. Every time it seemed his transgressions got more and more out of hand. He refused to allow his friend’s actions to ruin his final couple of days in the states. 

Bastien had taken over the King’s detail while they were in Waxahachie for Savannah’s wedding. For the next 48 hours, Liam was not his charge, he was his friend. His thoughts went back to her. She represented hope, possibility, promise. He had no idea what was to come, but he knew that it would be an exciting adventure if she was at his side.  

As he pulled his white henley tee shirt over his head, his mind went back to the conversation he had at the reception with his cousin Tyler, who was a cyber-security analyst with the Department of Homeland security. Drake explained to Tyler that he would no longer be sitting with him and the rest of the bridal party because the girl who he had been telling Tyler about who works in advertising, who he met in New York was there, and he intended to spend as much time with her as he could. She was something special. She could be the one. “So you invited her to Sav’s wedding?” he inquired. 

“No, actually she is the friend of Sav’s college roommate, Mackenzie, and came as her plus one. I had no idea she would be here.”

 “Sounds like fate.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that of all the places in the world this one person could be, she is here at your sister’s wedding... in Waxahachie, TX. If this girl is the one, you’re screwed. You might as well spruce up your resume. She’s a career woman. She is not going to move to Cordonia for you, and you suck at long-distance relationships. I can probably get you in at my job. My guy Rob in HR owes me a favor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get the courage to ask her out,” he told Tyler.

The truth was, he could easily see a future with Riley. She’s beautiful, honest, smart, quick-witted, and kind. His cousin’s words bounced around in his head as he pulled on his favorite distressed jeans giving himself a quick once over in the full-length mirror in the room his Mom had decorated for him at the ranch after she returned to the states when his dad passed.

He opened his laptop and took a look around the room. The Walker Ranch had been in his father’s family for several generations being passed down to the eldest male child, like each generation before. Drake stayed in Cordonia after his father died and was handsomely compensated by the crown. His college education was covered, and he and his sister received a stipend each month. Drake was always taught to do a lot with little and to save the rest. For years he lived at the palace and saved every penny. Being friends with Liam, he learned how to invest wisely and he did pretty well in the stock market. His newest pastime had been real estate investment. He had been buying foreclosed homes in and around Dallas and having his Mom’s brothers and his cousins fix them up before selling them for a generous profit. 

He was curious, he was now the rightful owner of the Walker Ranch. It had struggled in the past, but because of his business plans and wise investment, the family business was as strong as it had ever been and his mom was nearing retirement age. What if he and Riley did end up together? He knew the plan was for his cousin Miranda to replace his mom when she was ready, while he retained ownership, but where would that leave him? He pulled up the DHS website and clicked on the careers tab. He was reading a description of a position that he believed he would qualify for, Intelligence Analyst.  

Just then Liam plowed through his door without warning. 

“Li! What the fuck man?” he shouted as he closed his laptop abruptly. 

“My apologies, I hope I'm not interrupting.  I just wanted to apologize if I offended you. You were right, any woman can be a lot. Carsyn is not speaking to me, she thinks I'm interested in Riley.”

“You are interested in Riley. She's just not interested in you and it's killing you. Let me ask you something, why is it so hard for you to grasp that a smart beautiful woman would be interested in me over you?”

“It’s just.. It’s not that. I'm not accustomed to rejection. It intensifies my want for her.”

“ I hate to cut our conversation short but I have to head out. I’ve got a few stops to make before I pick up Riley.”

“Then I shall take my leave. Enjoy! Smart man, planning a date when it’s going to storm. I’m sure you won’t have a problem closing tonight,” he said as he left the room.

The evening came and Drake drove along the winding Country Road towards the city. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Stapleton’s, “Starting Over.”

Then he switched from Prime country to the Heart and Soul station on his XM Radio. If he was going to have her in his life it meant embracing all aspects of it. He knew that music was a big thing for her and although she would listen to a little bit of everything she loved R&B and Jazz.  A song by Luther Vandross came on and to his surprise, it was not very different from the country music he listened to all the time. The chorus was catchy and very fitting. 

“Excuse me Miss, what's your name? Where are you from, and can I come? And possibly, can I take you out tonight?”

He found himself humming the tune as he stepped into the local Nursery to pick up a houseplant to go along with the Pinot Grigio he bought as a gift for Riley.  He decided on a Prayer Plant. 

It was relatively low maintenance and he thought it would be entertaining to watch it curl up in darkness. He didn't want to do the same flowers and candy that everyone does. He wanted to take her something that she would keep for a while, and possibly would make her think of him when she saw it.  As much as he didn't want to admit it the thought of her dating someone else while he was back in Cordonia was driving him insane. 

He was nervous and he couldn't figure out why. They were just going to hear some live music.  But he wanted to impress her so badly. He knew that it was more likely that he would end up putting his foot in his mouth but with her, for some reason, it did not matter. When he pulled up in front of her place he put on ChapStick, and reached into his glove box, sprayed on some Chrome, and checked his breath before quickly gathering the gifts for her and heading toward the door. He tucked the house plant under his arm as he smoothed over his clothes as the elevator took him to her floor.  A small lump formed in his throat as he approached her door. 

She opened the door and his breath caught in his throat as he took in her appearance. She was dressed in a denim outfit with matching stiletto boots and oddly enough, the denim matched his jeans. It would almost appear planned. He was secretly thrilled. She smiled at him and he was sure he forgot his own name for a few seconds. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

“Hey Drake, you smell delicious.”

 “Hey. Thanks. These are for you.”

“Aww, you brought me a houseplant and wine? I’m not worthy, but I love it. Thank you. Come in! I promise I’m almost ready.”

She sat the plant on the counter and placed the wine in her wine fridge. 

“You look greeeeat,” she squealed. 

“Thanks. So do you.”

“So how’d you know what kind of wine I like?” she asked as she finished her eye makeup in the mirror. 

“Observant, I guess. I saw a bottle in the trash when I was here yesterday.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you ready?”

He stood moving to open the door for her. “After you.” They made it downstairs as a couple of her neighbors made it home from what he only assumed was church. He couldn’t figure out if the staring was due to her outfit or if it was because she was with him. He looked at her in awe as she strutted with confidence to his car. 

He opened the door for her and she smiled before thanking him. 

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was rattling on and on about the artist performing in the festival and he was secretly praying she wouldn’t ask him a question that required an intelligent answer. She kept touching his biceps and his hand. Her hands were so soft and he was sooo turned on. He hoped that she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants and think that he was a creep. He wondered if she kept touching him because she was nervous too?

“Um, Ri? You good?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You are extremely chatty and you keep touching me.”

“I’m excited. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself, but the way this henley hugs your arms,” she wiggled her eyebrows. 

He let out a low chuckle as he quickly glanced at her for the seventh time.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, never better. Why?” 

“You keep looking at me.”

He grinned keeping his eyes on the road. They were nearing the venue when she glanced at his pants. He immediately assumed that she spotted his retreating erection. 

“What?”

“We’re matching you know. People are going to think we did this purposely.”

“Do you care what others think?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good because we’re here.”

They parked and he asked her to stay put for a moment. He got out of the truck and grabbed a blanket and wicker picnic basket. He walked around the truck and opened the door for her and she blushed furiously as she stepped out.

They made their way to a free spot among the crowd. Riley noticed a few glares from both men and women, who obviously had an issue with she and Drake being there together. Then she smiled as one woman gave her a smile, wink and thumbs up as she stood to the side watching while Drake spread the blanket and invited Riley to sit. She knew that some people would have opinions of them being an interracial couple, but Drake didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she thought it showed how courageous he was. When another woman mouthed, “That’s a good look!”

She bit the inside of her cheek trying not to smile. The truth was she didn’t need any validation. She knew Drake was a catch. The fact that he was easy on the eyes was a bonus.  

“What’s in the basket?”

“Uh, a little something my mom helped me with.”

He opened the basket and pulled out wine glasses, a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio, cheese, cashews, summer sausage, deli turkey, sliced cucumbers, grapes, strawberries, whipped cream and 2 brownies. The opening act took the stage and Drake pulled Riley close. 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am,” she said coyly as she settled between his legs.

They cuddled for a bit before eating, until one of the performers played a rendition of The Gap Band’s, “Outstanding.” She jumped up and pulled Drake with her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and swayed back and forth with Riley. She felt so comfortable in his arms, he actually had rhythm. There went another stereotype out the window, it just felt right. 

After several acts had gone on and several glasses of wine later Riley settled in his lap as a performer started to play a slower song. “I love Luther,” Riley squealed as she began to sing along.

Knowing love the way I do

I can say for certain that it's true

There's a chance for me and you.

I surely feel like the time is near

The picture in my mind is very clear

I think love has brought us here

I remember not too long ago

I was just a lonely person

With a lonely heart, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be,

Be a chance

For me to get the love

That I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love

And you're gonna get the chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love oh, my

When you take the chance on love you'll see

It's not a waste of time if you truly believe

The impossible can be..

So hold on tight if you think you're right

Cause nothing hurts as bad as when you see

You gave up too easily

Now I remember spending all my time

On a dream that kept me wishing that you could be mine, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be, be a chance, whoa

I never stopped believing there could one day be, be a chance

For me to get the love that I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love, and you're going to get your

Chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love

And you'll get the love that you've been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

But wait for love

And you're going to get your chance to love.

Drake couldn’t help but hang on to her every word. He wondered if she was trying to send him a message through the lyrics. She had a voice like an angel and when the song ended he was breathless. 

“Ms. Riley sings too?”

She giggled as she rested her head on Drake's shoulder, her back to his strong chest. He fed her  grapes then strawberries with whipped cream soliciting jealous glances from some nearby onlookers. She made sure to let her lips and tongue graze his fingers.  For a few blissful moments, they both silently enjoyed the closeness.

“You know, this is pretty cool,” he whispered in her ear.

She smiled as his breath tickled her ear. Feeling the effects of the wine, she paused for a few moments before she responded.

“What’s that?”

“This. Us. The festival. It all just feels right.”

She wordlessly looked up at him. She wondered if she could will him to kiss her with her “come get it eyes.”  Suddenly, a torrential downpour covered the venue, leaving Drake and Riley scrambling to gather the blanket and basket before sprinting to his Jeep. Before they could get there he stopped snaking his arm around her pulling her close. 

This was it, he was going to do it, it was now or never. If she was the onehe wanted to look back at their first date and tell a romantic tale of their first kiss in the rain. Now was the time. He leaned in and when she opened her eyes her lips found his instantly. It was everything she expected and more. It was hungry and passionate and lustful and it made her lady parts twitch. When he pulled away he watched her for signs of regret, but her eyes said she wanted more. 

“Hurry, get in,” Drake urged her as he took the time to throw the basket and blanket in the back.

They were both soaked. She laughed hysterically when he finally got inside. 

“This entertains you, does it?”

She nodded as she continued laughing, her eyes were clenched tightly. 

He went back in taking her lips again as it continued to storm all around them. Her hands roamed his body and her eyes went wide when she made contact with the bulge in his pants. Another stereotype out the window…Drake cupped the back of her dripping head with his left hand deepening the kiss while his right hand explored the soft skin of her thigh as a soft moan escaped her. Suddenly his phone rang, “Mama’s Song” by Carrie Underwood blasted from his pocket startling Riley. Drake huffed and looked at her with apologetic eyes before answering.

“Mom? What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your date Drizzy.”

Riley smiled.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“The power is out and the generator didn’t kick in. I gave Larry the weekend off..”

“I’ll be there as soon as I get Riley home safely. Sit tight.”

“Thanks Driz. How’d it go? Did you kiss her?”

“Mom! She can hear you.”

“Hi, Mrs.Walker.” Riley chimed in.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did he kiss you?”

Riley laughed again. 

“Bye Mom!”

Drake ended the call and turned to Riley, cheeks flushed red.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“For the way, tonight is ending. For my Mom.” 

“Nothing could ruin today. Not even your Mom Drizzy,” she laughed again.

‘Geez, Ri that was below the belt.”

His comment made her think about his bulge and she began to blush.

“Are you blushing?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s too embarrassing to share.”

“Now you know I won’t stop until you tell me.”

When they pull into her neighborhood the entire area is pitch black. Her building was also dark. 

“Good thing I have candles.”

“Or you could go back to the ranch with me,” he said shyly.

“Really? I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“It’s just Mom and I. Liam and Carsyn should be out for the evening. Besides, I promised you dinner and it’s Sunday, I bet my mom cooked.”

“I can’t meet your Mom looking like this. I’ll be ok.”

“Riley, I’m not leaving you alone in the dark.”

“If you want to spend more time with me just say that.”

“Fine, I want to spend more time with you and I’m not leaving you alone in the dark. My Mom would kill me. Pleaaase! I can get you one of Sav’s outfits. I promise it will be an adventure.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But only because you’re so cute when you beg.”

He bit his lip. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Drake Arrington Walker!” she warned.

“Too much?” He smiled.

When they arrived at the ranch, Drake showed Riley to his room and gave her towels and a change of clothes while he went to help with the generator. She quickly showered, pulled her hair up into a messy bun and moisturized with his Nivea lotion that she found on the counter she walked back into his bedroom pulling on the leggings she borrowed. She was still bare from the waist up when the door opened. Her back was turned when she looked over her shoulder to reprimand him.

“Drake!” 

“Riley, it’s me, Liam.”

Riley screamed as she scrambled to cover herself.

“Get out!”

“My mistake. I thought Drake was in here. But this, you are much better.”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, what’s a little fun between friends?” he asked as he closed the door.

Before she could answer Drake barreled into the room, his fist connected with Liam’s jaw before he tackled him. 

“Have fun with me you bastard, I told you to leave her the fuck alone,” he yelled as Bastien pulled Drake off of Liam. Riley watched the entire scene in horror from the corner.

“Get the fuck out Li!” 

After Bastien escorted Liam back to the guest house, Drake checked on Riley.

“Are you hurt? He didn’t touch you did he?” 

“No, I’m more embarrassed than anything. He walked in without knocking while I was changing.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him.”

“What in tarnation is all that racket back here?” Bianca asked as she turned the corner.   

“Just Li being a creep. Everything is fine Mom.”

Riley stood when Bianca entered the room. 

“Riley, this is my Mom, Bianca. Mom, this is my Riley.” 

His eyes went wide as soon as the words left his mouth. He grimaced as Riley extended her hand to his Mom. Bianca pulled Riley into her embrace instead. 

“It’s nice to meet the girl who makes Driz nervous.”

“Mom!”

Riley laughed.

Come on darling, I know y’all were supposed to get dinner. It’s Sunday so I cooked some pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and green beans and for dessert, banana pudding funnel cakes.

“Oh my God, Mrs. Walker, that sounds amazing. Drake, you were holding out on me.”

“Not, really. Maybe I wanted to cook for you first.”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @chemist-ana @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @no-one-u-know @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @thefrenchiemama​ @somersetmummy​

TRR: @twinkleallnight  @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 6: “Who Brings a Gun to a Cemetery?”

For Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Rating: General Audiences; Ship: Pre-Destiel; WC: 3,219

POV Outsider (Original Male Character); full tags on AO3 or below the cut.

Summary: Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A lot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper. It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

In which: Jerry Wallace encounters Dean Winchester, supposed Satanist.

On AO3 Here (or read under the cut!)

Full Tags: POV Outsider, This poor cemetery guard doesn't know what to do about Dean Winchester, Dean seems insane, BAMF Castiel, Early Seasons Dean and Cas, Pre-Relationship Dean and Cas, Pre-Friendship Dean and Cas, somehow they still manage to flirt though, POV Character is briefly threatened by Dean Winchester but it all ends OK,Humor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jerry Wallace has seen a lot of satanic rituals. A Iot. Candles and daggers, pentagrams, hoods and chanting; you name it, he’s seen it. As the head of security — and only guard — of Sullivan Cemetery, he’s bound to have run into the occasional devil worshipper (and worse. People dig up graves for really unsavory reasons). It doesn’t even faze him anymore. There’s not much Jerry Wallace hasn’t seen.

But tonight, as he sweeps his flashlight back and forth across the dewy grass, making his rounds and sipping on his steaming coffee, something stops him short. He narrows his eyes and cocks his head to listen. There’s a scuffling sound up ahead, from just outside the Bennett mausoleum. It sounds too big to be any of the usual animals. Humans, then. Jerry sighs. He was hoping for a quiet night, so he could make himself comfortable under the lamp at the cemetery entrance and read the book his teenage son, Andrew, had lent him. Cemetery Boys, it’s called. Jerry finds it fitting.

A man’s rough voice rings out from around the corner of the mausoleum. “Dammit, Sam, you can’t give me any hints?”

Jerry blinks at the audacity. Who sneaks into a cemetery at night and doesn’t even try to be quiet about it? He decides to give these particular satanists a little scare, just to teach them a lesson. He switches off his flashlight and gently sets his precious cup of coffee on top of the nearest headstone. Time to have some fun.

He sneaks on silent feet across the grass, clutching his flashlight tight in hand and deciding which tactic he wants to use. The reliable old jump scare? Flashlight beam to the face and an earsplitting yell — it’s worked well on thrill-seeking teenagers in the past. Or the more tricky option, creeping around and making ghostly sounds to unnerve the trespassers so thoroughly that they leave? More time investment, but also more amusing in the long run — Jerry decides on Option Two.

The wall of the mausoleum gives him excellent cover to start his performance. He sidles up along it, to the very edge. The intruders are just around the corner, and it sounds like one of them’s rummaging around in a bag of some sort. Jerry rolls his eyes. Probably some weirdos with spray paint, here to deface the walls of the mausoleum with symbols that take ages to wash off. Jerry opens his mouth and is about to emit his first long, ghostly moan, when the same voice as before pipes up again.

“Picking the lock didn’t work, Sam, I’m telling you, it’s gonna take longer. You gotta hold her off.”

The other person — Sam — doesn’t reply, though. Jerry furrows his brow. Who’s being held off? He decides to get a better picture of the scene before initiating his plan. Very slowly, he pokes just the right side of his face around the corner. The front of the small white building is washed in moonlight, the nearest lamp a ways down the path.

There’s a man crouched outside the mausoleum, maybe in his late twenties, from what Jerry can tell in the low light. He’s wearing an oversized leather jacket over a patterned shirt, with jeans and sturdy-looking boots. His short hair is spiked a bit in the front.

He doesn’t look like a satanist. Jerry stays very still, breathing shallowly and watching.

The man has both hands in a medium-sized duffel bag, rooting around. The contents of the bag are clanging and thudding. With a triumphant exhale, the man stands up, crowbar in hand. Jerry balks. This is already a step beyond chanting and spray paint. Again, nothing he hasn’t seen before, though.

What Jerry couldn’t see while the man was crouched, that now makes itself clear, is that he has a mobile phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. As the man advances on the door with the crowbar, he barks into the phone, “Update, Sammy. You still kicking?”

Jerry can’t make out Sam’s muffled response, but it obviously displeases the man, because he whacks the crowbar against the mausoleum door with a frustrated growl. “Watch your back. Figure out what the hell I’m supposed to burn!” He flips the phone shut and stuffs it into his jacket pocket.

This is getting stranger and stranger. Jerry watches as the man goes to town on the mausoleum door, an offense that Jerry would usually be more inclined to stop from happening. Something about this man, though, about the way he carries himself and the way he talks, is holding Jerry back.

He’s very glad about his decision to stay put about ten seconds later, when the man drops the crowbar to the ground with a clang and pulls a gun out of his jacket. Jerry doesn’t even carry a gun. His heart starts beating and his palms prickle with sweat. He didn’t sign up for this. Who brings a gun to a cemetery?

The man steps back a couple feet, points the handgun at the lock, hunches his shoulders, and fires. Jerry barely has the wherewithal to throw himself back around the corner and press his hands over his ears before the shot goes off. He feels it reverberate through the wall, twice, as the man fires again. Fully out of sight now, Jerry gingerly lowers the zipper on his jacket and reaches into his chest pocket for his radio. He needs to call this in. This is way above his pay grade.

“Dammit!” the man yells. The gun must’ve been ineffective. Jerry mentally pats himself on the shoulder. He requested upgrades to all mausoleum locks after a series of break ins last year, and it looks like the security company came through.

Jerry hears the keypad of the mobile phone beeping as the man punches in a number, then there’s muffled ringing. Jerry uses the sound as cover to pull his radio out and to inch his face around the corner again so he has a visual of the scene.

The man’s phone rings and rings. With another frustrated yell, the man slaps it shut and paces back and forth in front of the door, one hand running through his hair, the other still holding his gun. After a few moments, he stops in his tracks. He’s facing Jerry’s direction, silvery moonlight throwing his cheekbones in sharp relief. He looks like a respectable young man, really. Jerry wonders where he lost his way.

There’s a set of complicated emotions working their way across the man’s face. His eyebrows are pinched in concentration, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving as if he’s talking to himself. This lasts about ten seconds before he throws up his hands and glares at the sky.

“Oh, come on!” he shouts. “Get your harp-toting ass down here! Castiel!”

Jerry, who prides himself on never swearing, thinks: What the fuck.

The man is obviously disturbed. He needs a doctor. Jerry glances down at the radio in his hand, and presses the emergency button. He can’t afford a conversation with dispatch; the man will overhear. This will at least get someone out here.

When Jerry looks back up, he twitches. There are now two men in front of the mausoleum. The newcomer is wearing a long trenchcoat and standing stiffly. He’s facing away from Jerry, looking at the gunman, sensible shoes planted hip-width apart. His messy dark hair blends into the shadows.

Where on earth did he come from? Jerry darts his eyes around. The mausoleum is on a slightly raised part of the cemetery, visibility clear in all directions. Even if the trenchcoat man had approached from the opposite side of the building, Jerry would have seen him.

“Cas,” the gunman says, voice heavy with something like — relief, perhaps? His tense posture relaxes slightly and he claps the trenchcoat man on the shoulder. “You took your time,” he accuses. “Can you open those doors?”

The trenchcoat man, Cas — is this Castiel? Jerry cannot keep up — turns slightly to regard the doors.

“This is why you prayed to me?” Cas’ voice is deeper than the gunman’s, rougher. He speaks like a robot. “Heaven is at war, Dean. You call me to help you break down a door?”

Jerry’s brain is spinning. Are these… actors? Cosplayers? He learned about cosplayers from Andrew. Some of them do have very elaborate costumes. Jerry squints at Cas’ back. This doesn’t look like a costume, though. Cas looks like a tax accountant. Like he should be at home with his family at this time of night.

“Sam’s in trouble,” Dean’s saying, an ever-so-slight pleading edge to the words. “I gotta get in here, Cas, or he’s gonna meet a real bad end. I know you’ve got the mojo, come on!”

“I do not exist to do your bidding,” Cas replies. He strides over to the doors, though, trenchcoat flapping around his calves. “I do not serve you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a warrior.” Dean’s hovering at Cas’ shoulder. “Can you blast ‘em?”

Cas lays a hand on the doors, long fingers splayed against the metal. Jerry glances down at his radio again. The red button is flashing, indicating that he’d called for help, but he can’t hear any sirens yet. He hopes they send enough officers for two grave-desecrating weirdos.

“Stand back,” Cas says. “And tell the man behind the wall to stand back, too.”

“What?” Dean’s head whips around.

Jerry hastily pulls his head out of sight, heart racing. Oh, no. He’s seen enough. He can ID these two for the cops later. He doesn’t need to be on the scene.

He turns heel to run, but makes it only two steps before a hand grabs his collar and yanks him back. The air is knocked out of him and he yelps, feet scrabbling on the pavement as a strong arm drags him around the corner. He lands on his butt in front of the doors, palms scraping on the ground. He quickly raises one over his head in surrender.

“Please— please, I have a family!” He keeps his eyes averted. Dean’s boots are inches away from his legs. “Don’t hurt me, I won’t say a word, I promise!”

“You the guard?” Dean crouches down in front of him. Oh, lord, the gun is trained on Jerry’s face. He whimpers and nods.

“Great. Give me the keys to the doors. Stat.” A palm appears in front of Jerry’s chest, held out in expectation. He hesitates. Isn’t that aiding and abetting?

No way. He’s at gunpoint. He nods again, fervently, and fumbles in his pocket for his ring of keys. His hand shakes violently as he drops them onto Dean’s outstretched palm. He sneaks a peek up at the men.

“Cas,” Dean says, tossing the keys to the trenchcoat man. “Figure out which one it is. I’ll deal with him.”

Cas catches the keys. “So, you do not want me to break the doors?”

“No— just—” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, lips pressed together. “Just unlock them.” Cas scowls, but begins slotting the various keys into the mausoleum lock.

Dean turns back to Jerry and waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey,” he snaps. Jerry meets his eyes, conscious that he must look utterly terrified. He hopes it’ll appeal to any sense of humanity in this gun-toting lunatic.

“Whatever you think I am, I’m not,” Dean says, quickly and gruffly. “I’m not some pervert tryin’ to get my rocks off with Sleeping Beauty in there. I haven’t got time to ease you in slow, so here it is: ghosts are real. There’s one after my brother. I can gank it, but I gotta burn some hair or somethin’, something keepin’ it here. That’s all. Once Cas opens the doors, I’ll be in and out. We don’t have to get nasty. I’m even saving your doors from gettin’ blasted, as a favor. ”

Jerry picks and chooses what to process of that. “You have a gun pointed at me.”

Dean glances at the gun, like he’s just now realizing he still has it trained on Jerry. He lowers it. “Sorry. Had to let you know I’m serious. You gonna let me do my thing, or we gonna have a problem?”

The police will be here soon, Jerry thinks. It’s not my responsibility to stop this maniac.

“No problem,” he says. Dean nods once, satisfied, and in that moment, the lock clicks. The doors swing open heavily. Dean springs to his feet and races toward the mausoleum.

“Awesome, Cas!” he shouts, slapping a palm against Cas’ chest as he passes. Cas looks after him, a bemused expression on his face.

“I don’t know what to burn!” Dean hollers from inside.

Jerry is so far past trying to understand any of this. He nurses his scraped palms, huddling on the cold pavement and thinking of the book Andrew gave him. He wanted to finish a few chapters tonight so they could talk about them over breakfast tomorrow. He hopes he gets the chance.

Jerry is tough, but his eyes sting a little as he thinks about it.

“Dean is a good man,” Cas suddenly says, in that mechanical way of his. “Righteous. He won’t harm a human.”

Jerry stares at him in disbelief. There’s nothing he can say to that, beyond “Okay.” Cas just nods, and turns to gaze into the darkness of the mausoleum. There’s a lot of scraping and clattering echoing from the room inside, as if Dean is dismantling the place. He probably is, Jerry thinks miserably as the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

Dean comes storming back out of the room, assorted items piled in his arms. Jerry recognizes the doll that’s usually propped up behind the glass of the Bennett daughter’s crypt, and a locket that hangs behind the mother’s. A whole array of other personal effects that Jerry spends his nights guarding also end up on the pavement at Dean’s feet. Dean dives into his duffel bag, pulling out a can of gasoline. He douses the whole pile in the acrid-smelling stuff — Jerry’s nostrils sting and he coughs, scrabbling a little farther away. Dean pulls a lighter out of pocket and flicks it several times, cursing when it doesn’t ignite.

“Allow me,” Cas says, stepping forward. He pauses. “Close your eyes.”

Jerry throws an arm over his eyes without a second thought, just catching sight of Dean doing the same. His jacket sleeve does very little, though, to shield his eyes from the brilliant blue-white light that rips through the darkness. It feels like a bonfire, there one moment and gone the next, leaving the tips of Jerry’s hair singed. He cowers, eyes pressed shut, heaving huge breaths.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean says, voice tinged with awe. “Thanks for the assist.”

Jerry lowers his (slightly smoking) arm and peers at where the pile of belongings once lay. It’s completely gone, reduced to ash, just smoldering dust on the pavement. How on Earth—

In that moment, Dean’s mobile phone rings. He frantically plunges a hand into his jacket and rips it out, flipping it open.

“Sammy?” he asks sharply, pressing the phone to his ear. The voice on the other end mumbles something and Dean sags in relief, dragging a hand over his face. “Close call, huh? Yeah, glad it worked.”

Jerry tunes out the rest of Dean and Sam’s conversation. His eyes travel from the smoking pile of dust, to Cas (who’s standing motionless, staring at Dean), to the open mausoleum door, to his own hands, trembling in his lap. A light catches his eye off to the side and he follows it, realizing it’s his radio, abandoned on the pavement, red emergency light still blinking steadily. He gazes at it like a lifeline.

“Is that— Did you—” Dean’s voice is suddenly closer, right next to Jerry, and he quickly looks up. Dean’s looking at the radio, too. His phone is closed in his hand; he must be done talking to his brother.

“The cops coming?” Dean demands, gesturing at the radio. Jerry doesn’t want to let on, he doesn’t, but faced with this strange, complicated, definitely violent person, he can’t hold out. He nods.

“Dammit,” Dean mutters. Just then, the first siren wails in the distance, growing louder by the second.

Finally.

Dean groans and rushes over to his duffel bag, throwing the can of gasoline back in and grabbing the crowbar off the ground to toss that in, too. “Leave the keys, Cas,” he snaps at the trenchcoat man, who still has Jerry’s key ring dangling from his fingers. Cas drops the keys on the ground.

“Can you zap me to my car?” Dean hoists the duffel over his shoulder and faces Cas. “I won’t make it if I run.”

Cas steps closer to Dean, until he’s right in front of him. Their noses are just a few inches apart. Jerry, with nothing else to do but wait for his rescuers, watches them. Dean takes what looks like a shaky breath. His eyes flick down to Cas’ mouth. “You gonna stare, or you gonna help?” he asks, but it comes out small, a weak attempt at bravado.

Cas reaches out and places his hand over Dean’s left shoulder. “I’ll go with you,” he says, deep and measured, and in the next second, they’re gone. Just gone.

Jerry could swear he heard the flapping of wings. He sits there, numb, staring at the spot where they vanished.

Eventually, the yellow beams of flashlights dart across the front of the mausoleum and voices break through the fog in Jerry’s brain. A hand lands on his shoulder. “Sir, are you all right?”

He’s saved.

There’s a lot of questions from the responding officers, a lot of Jerry having to recount what he saw, picking and choosing details — which of course renders his story utterly implausible — and a lot of nobody believing him; there’s a breathalizer test — humiliating — that of course comes back clean (whether that’s better or worse for him, Jerry’s not so sure), and a round of paperwork, and finally, finally, Jerry is allowed to go.

He stumbles down the cemetery path in a daze, passing his long-cold cup of coffee, still perched on its headstone. He snags it and throws it away in the trash can at the cemetery gates. The officers said they would lock the mausoleum and the security station; Jerry was supposed to go home. He stops briefly at his station, though, to grab Andrew’s book.

He’s not quite ready to go home yet. He’s not sure what to say.

Jerry makes himself comfortable in the front seat of his car, overhead light on, and cracks open his book. He starts to read.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

May Be Home, Chapter 4 Word count this chapter: 1300 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

When the phone rang that evening, Sasha was ready.

"I missed you, Dean," she cooed.

Dean chuckled. "Well, sweetheart, I missed you too. You wanna come back down?"

She took her time getting ready and down to his room. When she got there, he was waiting by the door.

"What took you so long?" He demanded.

Sasha threw one arm around his neck and leaned into him. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him.

"Just getting ready for you, Dean."

He kissed her hungrily, impatiently, until she pulled away. She walked over to the bar in the room.

"Damn. I could sure use a drink.

Dean followed her and slipped his arms around her from behind. 

"Remember, you're talking to a bartender here. What do you want? Cosmopolitan? Red Headed Slut?"

Sasha turned to face him."I was thinking - bourbon."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"Bourbon? Ok. We have Jim Beam, Woodford, Angel's Envy, Four Roses..."

"Angel's Envy sounds good."

"You like the good stuff, huh?"

"Hey, remember, you're talking to a waitress here." 

Sasha pulled out of his embrace and sat down on the couch to wait for him. She settled against the pillows in a way that was comfy but showed off her curves.

Dean walked over and handed her a drink, a double in his own hand, before sitting down next to her.

As they sipped, they began to talk, sharing stories from their years of working in the restaurant world. It was the first time they had actually had a conversation, the first time Sasha had gotten a peek at who Dean was underneath the performer. 

Restaurant stories quickly turned ridiculous. One story in particular really tickled Dean, and he threw back his head and laughed. It was the most magical laugh Sasha had ever seen; his whole body got into it, shoulders shaking, mouth open, eyes crinkling. It was an infectious laugh, so open and sexy. 

When they had both calmed down, their eyes met, and Sasha nearly jumped into Dean's arms. He tipped up her face and kissed her. She kissed him back, and their tongues slipped into one another's mouths, exploring and tasting.

"Oh, Dean," she murmured between kisses. "Your mouth is magical, just like I always dreamed it would be." Magical seemed like a silly word, but in the moment, it fit.

“You dreamed about my mouth?” Dean looked oddly abashed, a pink blush creeping across his high cheekbones. For a moment he basked in her affirmation. Then he lifted his chin, bold again.

"Dean, every girl that listens to your music dreams about your mouth."

Dean’s posture was self-assured but his eyes were longing. "Tell me more," he begged. In his face, Sasha saw the vulnerability that had drawn her to him in the first place. 

"The way you sing, it's not just your voice, it's the way your lips move."

Dean showed her, then, the way his lips could move. Sasha gasped for breath and continued.

"It's the way you grin, the way you smirk, the way your jaw is so firm and your lips are so plush."

Dean's lips were plush, indeed, pressed against her own.

Soon, Sasha had Dean pushed back against the couch pillows, straddling his lap as she pressed into him. Her hands were grasping his collar and sliding down the front of his shirt, undoing his buttons. When his shirt was open, she ran her hands over his tattooed chest.

Finally, Dean wrenched his mouth away from hers.

"What do you want, pretty girl?”

She cupped his angled jaw in one hand. "What do you want... Sasha?" she said.

A look of confusion spread across Dean's face. "Sasha?"

"Yeah, that's my name, Sasha."

"I know that," Dean mumbled, although he had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. 

Sasha nodded, so Dean asked again.

"What do you want, Sasha?"

She leaned in and gave him a kiss, and then trailed little wet kisses along his jawline and right up to his ear.

"I want you to fuck me, Dean," she whispered, her breath hot against the side of his face. "Fuck me and make me call you Daddy." Dean's tongue rolled over his lips and then he bit his bottom lip. "I think I can do that, Sasha."

He stood up quickly and half-led, half-dragged her out of the living room and into the bedroom. He let go of her just long enough to shrug out of his clothes. She tossed aside her clothing and lay back comfortably on the bed, clad in nothing but matching lacy black bra and panties.

 Dean's eager gaze raked over her body. "Fuck, baby girl, you're beautiful." Sasha smiled smugly. She had never known a man who could resist black lingerie. 

Dean crawled up over her, his knees on either side of her hips, and covered her mouth with hot kisses. He pushed her chin up and kissed down her neck, over her collarbone and straight between her breasts. With practiced fingers, he undid her bra and tossed it aside. He cupped her breasts in both hands and gave them his full attention. 

He squeezed and stroked them as he licked and sucked her nipples. Sasha was breathing hard. He pulled one nipple lightly between his teeth and his bottom lip, and she yelped. He did it to the other nipple, and she moaned. 

Dean brought his hips down, grinding against her panties. She could feel that he was hard and so ready. She was soaking wet and breathing fast. She grabbed for his ass to pull him in close. "Please," she moaned. "Daddy. Fuck me."

She didn't have to ask twice. He wrenched off her panties and spread her knees. She tilted her hips up towards him, willing and needy. 

 "Look at me,” she begged. “Look at me when you fuck me."

Dean lifted his gaze to her face as he buried himself between her legs. She rocked her hips underneath him, drawing him in, encouraging him. Raw desire twisted her face. Sasha had intended to put on a show for Dean, but she didn't have to. He pushed her and filled her in a way that made her forget herself. She wanted him - needed him - so much. He felt so good, she couldn’t help but give in to him. 

Sasha felt her orgasm building as Dean pressed into her over and over, but she wanted to make him wait, wanted to make him work for it. She drew in deep gasping breaths, trying to slow down, to maintain control. She couldn't help the sounds that came from her mouth, small moans and cries. 

Dean reached down and lifted one of Sasha's legs, pushing her knee against her chest. At that angle, every thrust hit her g-spot. 

"Oh," she cried, her voice rising to a scream. "Fuck, Daddy, yes!"

Her whole body pressed up against Dean as she came, wave after wave of pleasure burning through her like fire. Her hips slammed down as she tightened around him. With a deep wild moan, Dean let himself come right after her.

He rolled over when he had finished, pulling Sasha on top of him. She rested her head on his shoulder, still breathing hard. Dean ran his broad hand through her tangled dark hair. He brushed her face with his fingers and tipped her chin up.

"Wow, Sasha," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "Such a good girl. You're really something, you know that?"

Dean's kiss was tender and deep. Sasha basked in his attention. For the first time all weekend, she felt like he was actually seeing her. She felt like she had gotten to be with the real Dean. 

And he was better than she had ever dreamed.

,,, Up next: Chapter 5 ... MJ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ as always I can’t thank you enough for everything! The banner, the beta read, and so much more!

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988, @divadinag, @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs, @idreamofplaid , @onethirstyunicorn , @the-chocolate-moose , @there-must-be-a-lock , @tloveswriting Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets, @deangirl7695 , @wayward-gypsy

[themockingcrows]

Tapping With Blue Eyes Ch. 6: Tainted

This chapter is SFW This chapter is available on my AO3

Werewolves, despite their general rarity, are not to be trifled with.

     “You going to tell him?” Dirk asked with an amused smirk. “Or do I just get to see you every day.”

     “Depends. How long are you planning on hanging around botherin’ me?”

     “I’m not bothering you. I’m coming in when you’re not even busy and having a nice conversation instead of fighting and causing a scene,” Dirk said, gesturing to the nearly empty shop and to his cup. “And I’m a paying customer no less. Common courtesy says that some casual conversation is warranted.”

     Dave made a face at him, and went back to sweeping.

     “I should tell him about you creeping around here.”

     “He’d have a fit, and Jake would be amused.”

     “...What, does he not know you come here?”

     “Jake’s.. How do I put this,” mused Dirk, swirling the contents of his cup before taking a sip. “He’s enthusiastic, but he doesn’t plot things like this. It’s too public. Swatting at you here wouldn’t do much good.”

     “Does he know or not.”

     “He knew I came here before,” Dirk admitted. “But he doesn’t know I’m still coming by to say hello like today.”

     “Right. Say hello,” Dave muttered sourly. 

     “That’s what I’m doing, yes. It’s not often I get to speak with other taps. Especially ones that are just normal humans.. I keep expecting you to be something else.”

     Dave glance dup from his sweeping with a frown. “Why’s that? Do I give off a non-human vibe or something?”

     “More like most people would assume James’ son would wind up with a powerful tap. He’s quite special in his own right, if he taps into his potential he’d be quite a threat. ..Except for you.”

     “What do you mean except for me?” Dave asked, frowning deeper. “I’m not a liability.”

     “You’re not. You’re a limiter AND a liability,” Dirk said, sipping his drink again. “I’ll explain more another time, Jake’s going to get antsy if I’m out of range too long. Here’s my number, for if you’re curious and want to know more,” he added, taking the receipt from the coffee out and jotting a phone number down on it. “I can help you learn more about why you’re holding him back.”

     Dave took the number by crumpling it up into a ball with his fist.

     “Right. Yeah. Sure. How considerate of you,” he said, stuffing it into his apron without a second thought.

     “Hey now, I didn’t say it’d not be worth your time. There’s ways you can help him more,” Dirk said with a smirk, this time showing the pointed tips of his teeth. He looked just as angular as before, but somehow far more wild like that. It was somewhat unnerving to look at, the same instinctive fear that John’s fangs sometimes brought out in him still. The inhuman edge of it all.

     Stuffing the number deeper into his work apron, Dave sighed a breath out when Dirk finally left, rubbing the bridge of his nose and wishing he had his shades on during work hours. What a fucking mess.. Hopefully that douchebag wouldn’t be coming back every day or something stupid like that. He finished his shift up before texting John for his pickup, waiting in the back room till he got a return text to come outside. So had become their habit for security’s sake. There was a snack waiting for him, along with a bottle of apple juice, and John’s worried eyes looking him over from head to toe. He was still weak, especially with work bearing down on top of everything, but nowhere near as gray faced as he’d been in the last few days and was only getting better.

     “Have a good shift?”

     “Eh. It was a shift,” Dave said as he buckled in and cracked open the juice for a few thirsty gulps. Phew, that sure hit the spot. “Same old same old.”

     “No interesting characters come through? Must’ve been a slow day if there wasn’t at least one old person complaining that a plain cup of coffee wasn’t listed anywhere despite it being on the list,” John snickered, pulling out of the space he’d parked in, checking behind him by bracing an arm on Dave’s seat and twisting around for certainty before pulling forwards to the street. 

     The number felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket already, burning a hole through the back of Dave’s head, but he held his tongue. This wouldn’t end well.. But then again, neither would keeping secrets at a time like this. He fiddled with the window, the radio, his seat, trying to psyche himself up.

     “What’s wrong? You’re squirming like you’ve got the worst wedgie of your life,” John snorted.

     “Uh. ...Dirk. Came into the store earlier,” Dave said.

     The car screeched to a halt so quickly that Dave’s body pressed hard into the seatbelt, hard enough he’d be surprised if there wasn’t an indention in his skin of some kind even through his work clothes. John frowned and turned on him, concerned, trying to check him over.

     “Fuck, really? Jesus. Why didn’t you mention it first thing?” he asked. “He didn’t try anything, right? Jesus, if he knows where you work that’s not safe, I don’t know what to do if Ja-”

     “It’s fine. He didn’t try anything, just talked and left. Apparently Jake doesn’t know he came there, if he’s to be believed,” Dave said, sitting patiently through the literal pat down before reaching up to grasp John’s hand so he could nuzzle it. “Chill. It’s alright.”

     “It’s not alright,” John insisted, finally putting his hands back on the wheel and leaving for the main road back to Dave’s apartment, looking twice as suspiciously at passerby now that he was on high alert.

     “Okay, okay, it’s not alright. But it’s not as bad as your brain’s makin’ you think, I can guarantee that,” Dave said, watching out the window. The number. The phone number. He had to mention the phone num-

     “What did he say?”

     “...That I was holdin’ you back.”

     John looked over and lifted a brow before snorting and shaking his head. “Holding me back? As if, hah. If anything, I’m going twice as hard in everything because of you being around. Learning wards and all that.. I didn’t really have a reason to worry before.”

     “Maybe because you’re worryin’. Because I’m not able to offer much in return.”

     “If you wanna be crass, you offer tasty as hell blood in return. But you offer plenty of things in return, Dave. Don’t let him get in your head, things are fine how they are between us,” John insisted.

     “You sure I’m not like. Some weak-ass that’s just a statistic waitin’ to happen?” Dave asked, frowning. “I mean, dude’s a werewolf and that asshole feeds off him, doesn’t that give him a boost?”

     “Well.. yes. But I don’t care. Who wants to drink dog blood anyway, yuck. And you’re not a weak ass! I already know what happened when we were at Dad’s and he tested you.”

     Dave frowned at him, not quite believing, but more than happy to let things sink down and dissolve naturally rather than be propped up for another round of No, You. He sighed out through his nose and watched the scenery till they stopped at his apartment, walking into the building with clasped hands that only dropped when it came time to unlock the door.

     John strode past to go check everything out, ensuring the wards were in place still. Dave went to the bathroom and then went to go change, all the while thinking about the number and how he’d manage to talk to Dirk while under guard. Try as he might, the curiosity was really eating at him.

     What if it was true? No matter what John said, he was inexperienced in these matters, he was a hindrance no matter what he wanted to think. No amount of movie knowledge was going to help against the real deal in the heat of the moment, and even the things he’d been taught weren’t going to save him in a two on one fight. He raked his hair out of his face as he dropped his apron and shirt, pulling on a comfortable tee and some baggy sweatpants to slouch around in, wanting to get off of his feet after the long shift.

     Before he could leave the room John came in behind him and laced his fingers together over Dave’s stomach, cuddling up close to his back as he fondly nipped the side of his neck.

     “Hey. Really though, are you okay?”

     “Yeah, yeah I’m just tired man.”

     Tired and fibbing. Tired and lying. Tired and hiding potentially important information. The reaction in the car had been strong enough that the curiosity only got more intense. He knew he was going to poke the hornets nest, all for the sake of some outside information and perspective in this. Dirk, enemy or not, seemed to be the calmest person in this entire bullshit situation. Maybe vampires were just naturally dramatic and this was all more of a fucking game than it felt like.

     ...Or maybe it was more serious, and Dirk just didn’t have any allegiance to Jake beyond being his tap.

     Dave felt the pressure behind his knees before registering he was being lifted up, carried into the living room like a princess and being sat down on the sofa. “Here,” John said. “Go ahead and chill out, I’ll make something for you. Want spicy?”

     “Mm. Not in a spicy mood,” he admitted. “You’re gonna spoil me rotten at this rate though.. Wanting another meal?”

     “Not so soon, duh. Gotta build back up before even thinking of it,” John chuckled. 

     Dinner was stir fry with shrimp and plenty of veggies, heavy on the ginger and soy sauce. Movies carried Dave and John through the evening, till finally there was nothing left but bed. ..mostly. Dave turned his volume down on his phone while John was in the bathroom, added the number from his apron to his new message screen, and sent the first text before he could stop himself at a cool 11pm.

              - hey

     The first reply came when John came back and climbed into bed, left unlooked at for a while in favor of scrolling instagram for a time. They showed each other things back and forth on their screens, different memes or interesting posts, things on tumblr being reblogged one way or the other in a conga line to make sure their friends saw them. Comfortable night routines that ended with John snoring with his head against Dave’s chest, his long body curled up on his side to keep his feet from dangling over the far bottom, safely out of grasp of whatever demons decided to take up residence rent free under his bed this week Dave noted.

     Hey. After finding out vampires were real, as well as werewolves, the boogeyman and shit hiding under his bed would just be another square on the bingo sheet his life had recently become. Can you blame a guy for believing?

     The text was still waiting for him when Dave slid the screen over quietly to peek.

             - Hey. Finally get curious?

             - i don’t know you tell me

             - Are you wanting information, or to be antagonized?

             - oh wow i get a choice

             - The gist of it will be the same either way: you’re a liability. If you were anything but human, you’d be more useful than you are to your fangy boytoy.

     Dave didn’t know what he expected. The bluntness was something he could appreciate at least, instead of being babied or sweet talked. It was quick, to the point, and fairly brutal.

             - ive heard as much already 

             - you got any new info for me or can i delete your number now

             - I’ve got new information in the form of an offer, if that piques your interest.

             - offer

             - like what

             - Like the offer to help you be something more than human.

             - You seem like a nice guy, Dave. I’ve got nothing against you. This beef is Jake and John’s business, not mine particularly. 

             - All it’d take is a good infection bite, and you’d be able to be like me. Consider how useful that’d be for your partner in the scheme of things.

             - Wouldn’t you like him to be as prepared as possible, stand as good a chance as he can in this pissing contest?

     Dave frowned at his phone and glanced briefly towards John’s sleeping face before typing quickly.

             - bullshit i already know thats a lie

             - im on the up and up man

             - a bite from you would just make me a feral piece of shit not whatever you are

             - Ah, damn. Should have acted sooner than I did.

             - werent you literally just saying you had nothing against me and then you pull this shit???

             - Having you trust me would have made a lot of things easier. Namely it could have also gone a long way in making sure Jake kept you alive instead of disposing of you when the time came to get John’s food source away from him.

              - bad dog go to the yard and think about what you did

     Dave muttered to himself as he blocked Dirk’s number, hurriedly switching back over to Instagram when he felt John shifting against his shoulder. Sleepily, he cracked his blue eyes open and looked Dave over a few times, squinting against the brightness from the screen.

     “Mmn… Why’re you still up…?”

     “It hasn’t been that long since you went to sleep,” Dave said, kissing John’s forehead automatically before even thinking the action through. Felt natural, felt right, fuck it. “Go back to sleep, I’ll pass out when I can.”

     That was apt. There was a lot to digest now. He’d need to put his foot down on any future visits from Dirk, maybe alert his manager that the new regular customer was actually stalking him, avoid his presence. It’s not like he knew his entire schedule, right? He just… kept turning up on the days he was working, at the right times, like clockwork. Somehow.

     Fuck, maybe this was bad. Maybe he should tell John after all.

     Yet the idea of waking him up now seemed entirely out of the question, not now that he was cuddling up again and closing his eyes, warm and pliant and relaxed. This was the kind of bomb someone dropped when they were dealing with a fully conscious person, not late night “Oh, by the way” conversation.

     Sighing, Dave scrolled a while longer before setting his phone aside and rubbing the bridge of his nose, fending off a late night headache. Too much thinking… One more glance to John, already unconscious again and drooling on his shoulder, and he finally settled down to sleep as well.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

      When he woke up the next morning it was to John leaving his entire arm tingling like the static on a television set and an ache in his head from thinking too long into the night. Even his dreams had been stressful, and looking at a bright screen so late at night in the dark certainly hadn’t helped things settle down at all in his mind. Really, he just wanted to forget it ever happened, chalk it up as a shit experience, and deal with it later.

     First, he needed to rescue his arm.

     “John. John. John. Earth to sack of potatoes currently cuttin’ off all the blood to my fingers to the point I can’t flip you off properly, can you maybe roll your fangy ass over and gimme some breathin’ room.”

     Nothing but soft snoring.

     Grunting, Dave struggled and finally yanked his arm out from underneath John’s weight, and sat up to rub his arm from fingertip to shoulder till the stinging went away and the blood flow returned to normal. He unplugged his phone from the charger and took it with him to the bathroom, scrolling out of habit and checking his emails, continuing to do so once he’d finished and washed up. Breakfast would be his treat today, and that meant something simple but tasty. He got out eggs and had just started to fry them and some breakfast hash up when John finally made his way out of the bedroom with bleary eyes behind his glasses. The vampire sniffed, stretched, and went to take a seat at the table before splaying out over the top like a sunning seal.

     “Good mornin’ to you too,” Dave said.

     “Mmmmorning,” John yawned. “Man I slept deep last night… did you finally get to bed at a good time?”

     “Eh. Tried but it was kinda hit or miss,” he said, flipping the eggs over so the tops would cook just a little bit. Sealed and perfectly over medium, nary a runny white to be seen, Dave slid the first two eggs and some of the breakfast hash onto a plate for John with some toast. He cracked two more eggs onto the skillet before delivering the dish, rubbing John’s upper back idly. “Woke up to you deadarmin’ me though. That was fun.”

     “Ah, fuck, my bad. Thanks,” John said, realizing silverware was needed. He stood up to go get two sets, leaving one opposite of where he sat for when Dave’s food was done. “So what’s the plan for the day? You’ve got work?”

     “A few hours, yeah, but not a long shift. And it’s not till later,” Dave said.

     Things were calm, peaceful. John was awake and calm. Maybe he could just-

     “...So. Dirk came to where I was workin’.”

     John choked on a piece of hash before swallowing and dropping his fork on the plate, planting his hands on the tabletop as if he were about to stand up and… what. Fight? “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

     “A few times,” Dave said, pointedly ignoring the incredulous look John was flashing his direction in favor of trying to distinguish every last flavor in the hash. Hm. Bit too salty but it worked fine with the eggs. “Nothin’ happened though.”

     “STILL! Why didn’t you let me know, this is dangerous shit Dave! Did he say anything? Do anything weird?” John fret, mind racing a mile a minute, already trying to come up with what the fuck to do next if any number of things had happened. Dave LOOKED okay but-

     “He gave me his phone number,” Dave said.

     “...What?”

     “He gave me his phone number, and we talked briefly. Don’t worry. It was bullshit. He was tryin’ to tell me I was holdin’ you back, offerin’ to “help” me. It was a crock of shit and he dropped the act when I pointed out I knew better already.”

     John relaxed a bit, but still seemed on edge as he lowered his hands back to his lap, trying not to sulk. Something that big and he hadn’t been told about it? What else was there that wasn’t being mentioned?

     “Before you ask: I already blocked him. There wasn’t anything to gain, so… cut’em loose.”

     “Nothing to gain?” John asked, confused.

     “The way he talked before, he was actin’ like nothin’ was personal. That he didn’t have any beef with me, that this was between you and Jake mostly,” Dave said, crunching toast after mopping up more egg yolk. “I thought it might be interestin’ if he was kind of doin’ his own thing aside from Jake and your issue.”

     “I’ve got no idea if that’s true or not,” John admitted. “It might be for all I know, I don’t know how close they keep their business to their relationship or how he acts as his tap aside from being one. But it’s not just a Jake and Me thing: you’re at risk too now, remember?”

     “How could I forget. When’s the asshole gonna leave town already.”

     “When he gets bored of antagonizing us and being a dick,” John grumbled, slowly going back to eating.

     “Maybe Christmas’ll come early. I’m gonna go take a shower so I can be a lazy piece of shit around the living room without smellin’ myself till work,” Dave said as he finished up his meal and rose to deposit the plate into the sink. 

     “You mind if I get your laptop out and play a game?”

     “Knock yourself out, you know the password,” he said, gesturing a wave of his hand without looking back as he left the room to get a change of clothes before closing the bathroom door.

     The pressure in here felt different somehow, though Dave was pretty sure he was just going crazy at this point. He’d noticed it briefly earlier, and every time he’d come into the bathroom since getting back home, how different it felt… but there was surely nothing to it. John had warded everything thoroughly, right? Maybe this was just a side effect of it being in a smaller space. Still, he looked to the window as if it would betray him before cracking it open to let the eventual steam out and turning to pull his shirt off.

     The window opened wider, and Dave froze in place, arms up over his head tangled in his shirt, face covered. He heard a step, then a second one as the window creaked under someone’s weight and then eased.

     “Dave?” John called. “Is everything okay?”

     Of course he felt it too. He’d have to be crazy to not feel the presence that now filled the bathroom. Dave had already put two and two together: John had been warding in here when he’d gotten interrupted to go open the window in the bedroom. The job hadn’t been finished. He’d interrupted and bitched and now look at what the fuck had happened.

     “You know, for a human you’ve got a pretty nice figure,” Dirk murmured from behind him. “Might want to tell him everything’s okay or things’ll get messy in here.”

     “Yeah,” Dave called. “Yeah, it’s. Yeah.”

     “Points off, not convincing,” Dirk hissed softly, but John didn’t call again so perhaps things were fine after all now.

     “What do you want,” Dave said, slowly lowering his arms but not turning around, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he slowly looked to the side without moving his head, trying to catch a glimpse in the mirror of what was happening. He could just barely make out Dirk’s face, the dark shades he wore, the angular nose, the front of his lips. When he smirked, he could see hints of sharp teeth.

     “To give you a fair chance to get out of this,” Dirk said. “Jake’s outside right now waiting for me to take care of business… but I don’t like taking advantage of people in the bathroom of all places.”

     “Kind of you. What’s the catch,” Dave muttered.

     “You only get a head start. If I catch you… well. Let’s just say our conversation from last night won’t matter much anymore.”

     “And if you don’t catch me with your freakish speed shit?”

     “Then this round is a draw and I’ll accept my losses.”

     “And John?”

     “You assume I believe he’d let me chase you for fun with no rebuff? Please. I know what I’m doing, Dave.”

     “...How long do I have.”

     “You had thirty seconds, you’re down to about twenty five now.”

     Cussing under his breath, Dave jerked out of his frozen state and reached for the bathroom door, launching out and past a startled looking John.

     “Dave! I was jus- Where are you going!” he called out, turning to watch him run to the livingroom and fling open the door, rushing out to the hall. A shape rushed past him then, a blur to most watching, but to John he could see clearly enough to make out the stupid shades and blonde hair of someone who had no right being in this apartment. Snarling, he took off after him. “DIRK.”

     The elevator door closed before Dave could reach it, and he didn’t trust waiting for any length of time. Instead he grasped the railing and started to rush downstairs that way, jumping the last two steps with bare feet before turning the U bend and continuing to repeat the pattern floor by floor. He could hear John’s bellow from above, and could hear something uncomfortably close behind him. Daring to look up as he ran, Dave saw what could only be the blurry form of Dirk rushing down after him, two flights up.

     John dove for Dirk when he rounded a corner, dropping several stairs at once to tackle him with his full weight against the landing wall, succeeding in latching on around his neck and shoulder hard enough to gain purchase on before starting to punch towards his face with everything he had. The impact had been jarring enough that neither of them had their full wind, but something Dirk had that John didn’t was a muzzle full of sharp teeth as he started to shift in the other’s arms. His shirt fell away as his chest expanded and fur grew, arms bulking up, hands gaining claws, feet leaving his sneakers behind as they changed. A pair of ears lifted up into view, sensitive and laid back aggressively. John got a solid punch in before reeling back and releasing his hold, startled, not wanting his hand mauled by the beast who was rapidly bending its bones into a new position with soft pops and creaks.

     Dirk snarled at him and bared his large teeth once before perking an ear up and jerking away from the vampire to look down the stairwell. Several flights down, Dave was looking up, checking for where the enemy was. He could see the color drain from his face as he jumped the barrier and leapt down with lifted arms, catching onto the rung of a nearer floor before hefting himself over. John, unwilling or unable to risk doing the same, was stuck scrambling down the stairs anew in as many flashes as he dared, shouting for Dave to keep running as fast as he could.

     Didn’t need to tell him twice. The blonde was nearing the ground floor on shaking legs and veered for the front exit, not even knowing where he’d go next. Go in circles around the building until John got done zipping downstairs? He knew he could go fast, but that had been on fairly even ground before, not on stairs. Dave knew he himself could go ridiculously fast when pressed, that had to account for something, right? Maybe he had regrets about not joining track in some other life, but this would surely make up for any lingering thoughts. He raced for the front door and threw it open, almost running face first into someone.

     “Fuck, I’m sorry, I jus-”

     “No worries, chap. I take it John’s in there still, hm?”

     Dave could feel his stomach drop when he heard John’s name. The man in front of him looked… well. He looked a great deal like John, actually. Messy black hair and tan skin, broad shoulders and long arms ending in sturdy looking fingers. His eyes were wicked green and he wore an amused expression on his youthful face, one that brought unease to Dave all anew. He took a step back, then another, peering over his shoulder to see what his options were.

     Shit was what they were. Dirk, or the pale beast he assumed Dirk was, was coming towards him with John hot on his heels. It was obvious the vampire hadn’t seen who was in front of Dirk, the beast larger than its human counterpart and hurriedly barreling along, as nobody was slowing down. Thinking fast, Dave turned and ran towards Dirk as fast as he could before dropping to his knees and ducking down when he lunged.

     The wad of werewolf and vampire hit the opening of the door at an angle, Dirk rebounding to hurry along after Dave again on all fours, while John was stuck flat on his ass in front of Jake.

     No. No time. No time, had to get Dave away from the infectious one. Could he fend off two people at the same time? Had to get back into the apartment. No, the apartment wasn’t safe anymore, how had they gotten in!

     “DAVE! DAVE GET THE KEYS! THE KEYS!” he yelled, giving Jake another look before getting up to follo-

     “Ah ah ah, where do you think you’re going cousin! We finally meet up and you don’t even say hello, how rude! I’ll have to get on your father about teaching you some MANNERS,” Jake said, having caught John by the back of the shirt before yanking him back as hard as he could. Choked into obedience, John turned, preparing to fi-

     Preparing to get hit in the nose with enough pressure he was pretty sure he heard a cracking noise. Another hit, this one to the chest, forced him back into the building at an unsteady pace. A third punch, aimed for the side of his face, was finally blocked, giving John enough time to zip back away from Jake with a hiss. He could only pray Dave was getting the keys, that he was safe, that he was faster than Dirk. Going downstairs was one thing, but going up could be exhausting.

     Dave was halfway back to the apartment and his chest and legs felt like they were full of fire, yet he didn’t dare stop. Stopping now felt like a death sentence, especially with Jake around and James’ convincing play acting before. Would getting the keys even help at this point? He knew where they were, hung on the table beside the door where John always dropped them, ready to go and ready to not get lost. It was just a matter of avoiding every single thing downstairs. He heard vicious breathing below him, barely there visible cues of where Dirk was, and Dave pushed himself faster than he’d gone before.

     The door was just ahead.

     Lunging, he grabbed the keys, and slammed the door behind himself, hearing something heavy slam into the wood, nearly buckling it. The ward held, but for how long? How long would it take him to just go to the bathroom window again? Would he leave at all? Would he just be trapped inside, waiting for John to hopefully be able to get back upstairs?

     Hyped up on adrenaline and smelling a nosebleed coming on, Dave stared at the door like he was staring down destiny. The dive had worked before, maybe it could work again. Another battering ram lunge at the door and he dared to peek out the peephole, watching Dirk size up his target for another try.

     Just needed to time it.

     Needed to time it.

     Dave picked a song out of thin air and let it play in the back of his head, a quick tempo and heavy beat to match his thundering heart. 3. 2. 1.

     When Dirk lunged, Dave threw open the door and dove face first for the were’s feet, trading places with him before trying to catch the top of the stairs. He fell, ass over teakettle, till he hit the bottom before getting up and running. He heard scratching and thudding catching up with him, but there was only so much he could do. He had the keys. He had to get to the bottom of the stairs.

     He was so tired.

     He was only human.

     Good and fast as he was, he was still only human.

     With a bark like a demon, Dirk caught up with Dave around a corner, snapping near his shoulder and startling him. A misplaced step of a tired leg, a hard shift in balance, a fall, and Dave rolled down the stairs once more. Less prepared this time, the landing was hard on his side and arms at the bottom of the current staircase, making him grunt as he tried to get up, death grip still on the keys.

     Dirk was on him in an instant, huge hands shoving Dave down and pinning him by the upper arms so he could loom over him. His lips curled back to expose sharp fangs, long and dangerous.

     “It’s nothing personal,” Dirk rumbled. 

     Despite his struggling and kicking, the teeth sinking into the section of his shoulder where it connected to his neck hurt unlike anything Dave had experienced before. It was close to the sensitive space John fed from, a place that Dave had found himself starting to be tender towards even during cuddling, and now it felt like it was being ripped apart. He could smell blood, and down below a few floors he could hear yelling. When Dirk lifted his red tipped teeth away from him, Dave felt cold in the center of his chest, chilled despite the warmth at his neck.

     “You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

      John, waylaid by Jake, was having a hell of a time trying to keep up with him. It was like a boxing match, something he wasn’t prepared for, and when it wasn’t up close punches being thrown, it was bites being exchanged or intimidating circling.

     Jake moved faster. He hit harder. Every time John threw a punch Jake knew how to dodge and return volley or cross punch him, undoing any bit of progress John felt he’d made. They both bore bite marks, tears in the flesh, but John was the one far worse for wear. He could feel it in his face and the swell of his eye, the way his glasses sat skewed on his face, the way his ears rang when he breathed and his nose whistled.

     It all changed when he smelled Dave’s blood, however.

     “DAVE?” he shouted, opening himself up for one more punch to the face.

     It had to be Dave’s blood, he knew it too keenly now. And the only way to smell blood was if he was hurt, or worse-

     “DAVE!” John shouted again, focusing on Jake and squinting, darting back to avoid a hit to the stomach before throwing a right hook with all he had, connecting square into Jake’s face hard enough to send his glasses flying and stagger him a few paces back.

     “Dave, hold on! I’m coming!” he shouted. Fucking daytime, of course most of the neighbors were at work, and the ones who weren’t probably were just waiting for the crazy shit to stop happening outside in the echoing stairwell. As if they had any idea of just how much crazy shit was happening in reality.

     Dirk was already off of Dave by the time he made it to the correct flight, having fled further upstairs to collect his shoes and make his way out the window the way he’d come. The apartment door clunked shut ominously out of range, but John couldn’t think about that, couldn’t remember Jake down below who might be following him at this very moment. All he could focus on was the smell of blood, the ripped shirt, the bruises. The fact he looked terrified, curled up in the corner of the stairwell with his hands around his own neck, just made his blood boil all the more.

     He’d pay for this. They both would, both of them would pay for what they’d done today and John was going to make goddamn sure of it.

     “John,” Dave finally croaked. “...John, he bit me.”

     It took a second to register what Dave said, what he meant, but when it caught up in John’s mind it made his legs go slack and sent him down to his knees.

     “It. ….No. no, no, no he didn’t,” he insisted, “let me see. He didn’t bite you, he couldn’t have, it-”

     “He bit me,” Dave groaned again, slowly lowering his hands to reveal where the blood smell was coming from. It was on his hands, on the edges of his ripped shirt, all stemming from a terrible looking bite wound.

     John’s baser instincts were warring with themselves, half fascinated by the scent and the sight, wanting to sample it, wanting to drink him dry. The other half was enraged that someone had harmed his tap, and wanted to get revenge right that second.

     “Shh…. Shhh it’s gonna be okay,” was all he could think to say. As for what to do… he spotted the keys by Dave’s feet and scooped them up before carefully picking Dave up as well. “We’re going to my Dad’s house.”

     Maybe he’d have some kind of answers, some kind of hope that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. He walked upstairs and opened the apartment, finding it empty. A quick trip to the bathroom and John sat Dave down on the toilet seat, wetting a washcloth and handing it to him while he focused on closing and warding the window thoroughly. He pointedly avoided looking in the mirror till he absolutely had to, and even then it was only to wash up and straighten things as well as he could. They bandaged Dave’s neck and got him in a clean shirt, grabbing a few things in a bag for the trip.

     The tension was gone when they locked up and left the apartment again, Dave on John’s back with one arm holding the bag over John’s front and the other holding on around his neck. Jake was nowhere to be seen, Dirk was gone, everything was peace and quiet again as if their entire life hadn’t just been upended. They made it downstairs safely, ignoring the specks of blood from the fight with Jake at the entryway that he hoped someone would be able to take care of soon, and out to the car before John pulled his phone out and dialed the familiar number of his childhood.

     “Dad?” John said when the warm voice answered. “...We’re coming home.”

[mst3kproject]

Uninvited

Uninvited was directed by Greydon Clark of Angels Revenge and stars Clu Gulager, who was in San Francisco International but definitely not in The Touch of Satan.  Oh, and it’s a movie about a mutant bloodthirsty kitty-cat.

Yes, you did just read that sentence.  See, while our feline antagonist may look like an adorable fluffy orange baby, he has a deadly secret.  When angry or in pain, he coughs up a horrible hairball that becomes Hulk Kitty.  Hulk Kitty grows to the size of a mountain lion, kills everybody that annoyed it, and then shrinks down again to crawl back inside Normal Kitty, whom I shall call Creamsicle.

We begin with Creamsicle and Hulk Kitty escaping from a Secret Lab, hidden in plain sight in a building in the middle of Fort Lauderdale.  A day or so later, a couple of bathing-suited bimbos on Spring Break are pounced upon by some rich creep named Walter, who invites them along on a cruise on his yacht in the hopes of getting laid.  The girl in turn invite along a couple of douchebags they met at a marina, and pick up Creamsicle when they find him in a garbage can and fall in love with him.  Walter, meanwhile, brings along his buddy Mike, as the two of them are using their ‘cruise’ as cover for escaping to a tax haven in the Cayman Islands.

Does this sound like a bunch of annoying assholes stuck on a boat with a murdering monster?  Sure does. Would you be surprised if I told you there’s a storm coming and the guy steering the boat is drunk?  Of course you wouldn’t.  How about if I told you Hulk Kitty is venomous?  That seems like a little much, doesn’t it?  Well, that’s what this whole movie is like.  It takes everything you can imagine sucking in a film and turns it up to eleven.

Take the characters… please.  None of them have any personality or subtlety. Mike is nothing but an Evil Businessman and Walter is a horny Evil Businessman.  The girls are empty-headed blow-up dolls, equally willing to doff their bikinis for Walter or for these assholes they met on the beach.  The guys are boring jerks who would definitely be wearing crocs and Oakley sunglasses if those had been commonly available in 1988.  The two who are destined to survive are Hedgeworth, the douches’ nerd friend, and Rachel, the yacht captain, neither of whom we even meet until at least twenty minutes into the movie.  Maybe this is to preserve the surprise of who lives and who dies but it just comes across as bad writing.  Honestly the character I come closest to identifying with is Mike, who’s trapped on the boat with all these fucking idiots and it’s making him want to shoot somebody.

Take the situation.  Walter actually wants to leave the kids behind while he leaves the country because they’ll be in the way, but the yacht’s entire crew quits because he over-works and insults them, and the bimbos volunteer themselves and the boys as replacements.  Only slightly less forced is the bit where he wants the cat sent back to shore but keeps it because he figures if he gives in, the bimbos are more likely to sleep with him later. And oh, yes, people do go to investigate What That Strange Noise in The Dark was.  They do stop to lick each other’s tonsils while there’s a monster running around.  They do destroy the radio so nobody can call for help.  It’s like a checklist of ways to get killed in a monster movie.

Take the acting.  George Kennedy mostly looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep and nobody else much bothers.  They go through the motions with all the enthusiasm of people who know they’re in a dirt-cheap movie about a killer kitty cat… except for Shari Shattuck as the blonder of the two bimbos (her name is Suzanne and her friend is Bobbie, if you care – I didn’t) who really goes all out during her supposed nervous breakdown in the final half-hour.  Boy, she sucks.  It’s like she can act with her facial expressions or her voice, but not both at the same time.

Take the editing.  We cut from a scene in the dark on Walter’s yacht, anticipating the party that’s going to happen later, to a scene in broad daylight where a gas station attendant is giving Creamsicle a saucer of milk.  Is this the next day?  Is it the same evening?  Have we gone back in time?  It can’t be Australia because nobody has an accent.  What happened to the yacht party?  Only a few minutes later do we learn that we actually skipped the party even though the events so far seemed to be building to it.  Later, we cut from everybody just hanging out on the boat by day feeling like it’s the end of the world, to the middle of the storm at night, with no build-up at all.  The plot moves in such fits and starts it almost gives you whiplash.

How about the special effects?  When Creamsicle disgorges Hulk Kitty, he does so in the form of a hand puppet that barfs up an even sillier hand puppet.  There’s a scene in which the driver of a truck is attacked by this from the back seat, and you can clearly see the arm sticking out of the back of the puppet.  The puppeteer is wearing a blue shirt.  When Rachel and Hedgeworth are in the lifeboat in the storm, they’re obviously on a dark soundstage while somebody sprays them with water from a single nozzle. The boat is being shaken and the camera is rocking, but it’s clear they’re nowhere near the ocean.  The nearest thing to an effect that works is when people swell up and explode as a result of the Hulk Kitty venom.  This is fake blood being pumped into latex appliances, but at least it’s nice and gross.

Then there are, of course, the million little details that add amusement value to a movie like this.  Like the guy’s wet socks drooping off his feet when he dives into the ocean to try to save a friend.  Like the fact that Walter turns on the bubbles before having a co-conspirator drowned in his hot tub.  The fact that a truck crashing is represented by stock footage of a totally different truck. The fact that Creamsicle’s meowing is a recording of the same single meow played over and over.  This would have to be a Jonah episode because I don’t think earlier incarnations of the show could riff fast enough to keep up with this movie’s bullshit.

This all means that Uninvited is plenty of fun to watch, even when it’s stupid people doing stupid things.  There are long-ish scenes of bimbos kissing jerkwads but they don’t go to the point where it gets frustrating.  When stuff starts happening, it’s usually silly enough to make us giggle.  Characters die largely of their own stupidity, but we didn’t like them anyway so we’re not turned off by that.

The camera does leer at the women, but it does so mostly through the eyes of male characters we’re not supposed to like. Walter and the two douches from the Marina (their names are Corey and Lance, because of course they are) are a bunch of sexist assholes, and the long shots that pan over the women’s swimsuited bodies happen when they enter the room.  This almost allows Greydon Clark to get away with it – by using the shots to suggest that the men are jerks, he can objectify his cheesecake and claim to respect it, too.  I’m not at all fooled, but I’m kind of impressed by the thought he put into it.

When I reviewed The Corpse Grinders I spent some time discussing the question of why cats.  In that movie I figured it was because cats seem more likely to turn on us than dogs and because they were cheaper to work with.  In Uninvited there seems to be something similar going on.  We all suspect that inside our cats is a wild animal just waiting to get out – just watch your house pet stalk the squirrels on the other side of the kitchen window if you don’t believe me.  Creamsicle’s inner monster is a very literal one, and it takes the form of something much like the big, predatory jungle beasts that are so closely related to our pet kitties.  The fact that Creamsicle himself is a really, really adorable cat helps drive the point home.

If you squint, you can also find a pro-environmental message in Uninvited.  The scientists at the beginning of the movie weren’t even sure what it was they’d done to Creamsicle – they thought maybe he just had a tumor.  They had to discover Hulk Kitty the hard way.  Pumping crap into the environment and then being surprised when it comes back and poisons us is basically how we spent the entire twentieth century.  You can see Hulk Kitty as a metaphor for mercury-laden tuna, for refrigerants destroying the ozone layer, for killer bees, for pretty much whatever looming environmental disaster from the 80’s that you want.

Uninvited is ninety minutes long and in that entire time there is absolutely nothing good in it.  The opening credits music sucks and the whole movie just coasts downhill from there, but the journey, from Creamsicle’s supposedly exciting escape from the lab to the inevitable ‘it’s not over!’ denouement, is amusing enough as terrible movies go.  You can rent this one for three bucks on YouTube and unlike paying a dollar fifty for Hamlet, it’s totally worth it.

[dancingwithdylan21]

The Truth Comes Out

Summary: The reader’s quiet night at home is interrupted when Dylan shows up looking bruised and bloody.

Pairing: Dylan x Reader

Word Count: 2,307

~

“Thank god I live alone.” You grumble to yourself, thankful no one’s around to witness your behavior. You’re lazily sitting on your kitchen counter in a ridiculous onesie stuffing your face.

You twist open an Oreo, put a scoop of chocolate ice cream then add whipped cream and chocolate syrup. While singing along to the radio, you smoosh the Oreo back together and shove it into your mouth.

You’re really baffled as to why you’re not married yet. Your boyfriend would be crazy to not lock down all of this sexiness. Realizing it’s almost time for a new episode of Scandal, you make your way towards the couch.

You freeze when you hear someone fumbling with the lock on your front door. This is just fucking perfect. A creep is breaking into your apartment and on top of it, you’re gonna die wearing a onesie.

You run back into the kitchen, grab a large knife then move towards the door. This is such a bad idea. Most people would call 911 right about now but not you. You decide to check it out for yourself.

The sound is now suspiciously gone, making you feel annoyed at this whole ordeal. You stupidly swing open the door and you’re shocked by what you see.

“Holy shit! What happened?!” Your best friend is barely standing looking bruised and bloody in front of you.

“Ice.” Dylan groans ignoring your question as he stumbles into your apartment.

“Ok. Go sit down.”

“What’s with the knife?”

“It sounded like someone was breaking in!” You huff stalking into the kitchen.

“I tried unlocking it with my key but no luck.” He mumbles falling on to your couch.

“Here.” You hand him an ice pack and place a cold glass of water in front of him.

“Can’t I have a beer?” He whines glaring at the glass of water.

“No.”

“Stupid.” He mutters under his breath.

“Damn, Dyl.” You sigh studying his split lip.

“I look sexy, huh.” He jokes before dragging his hand down his face.

“You must have a concussion.” You tease making him chuckle.

“Well?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Y/N.” He replies stubbornly.

“Dylan O’Brien! Don’t make me kick your ass. We both know I could win right now.” You scowl at the stubborn man.

“But Y/N…”

“Dylan.”

“I’ll explain but can I just rest first?” He begs giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

“How did you get here?”

“Tyler. He wanted to come up but I told him to go home.” You nod your head, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Ughhh.” Dylan moans as he tries to take off his jacket.

“You look like shit.” You frown staring at the fresh blood on his face, knuckles and clothes.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He boasts before coughing and clutching his stomach.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital, buddy. Looks like you bruised some ribs. They could be broken.” You add wearily.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N. I’m fine. Plus you’re a nurse so there’s no point.”

“I’m sure you need X-rays or something. Maybe I should call Tyler.” You mumble nervously, you’re not strong enough to lug the dumb ass there yourself.

“If I’m not better by tomorrow then I’ll go, ok?”

You’re about to push the issue but get distracted by your Justin Timberlake ringtone. You glance at your phone and see your boyfriend’s name flashing.

“It’s Mike. He’s home sick. I better get this.”

“No! Don’t answer it!” Dylan shouts sending him into a coughing fit.

“What the hell was that?” You demand feeling completely out of the loop.

“Do you trust me?” Your best friend asks already knowing the answer.

“Obviously. Why?” He’s about to reply but grumbles when your phone starts ringing again.

“Don’t pick it up, Y/N. Please.” Dylan pleads, the seriousness in his voice is freaking you out.

“Why can’t I talk to my fucking boyfriend?!” You exclaim jumping up off of the couch in a panic.

“Calm down, Winnie.” He chuckles eyeing your Winnie the Pooh onesie.

Shit. You forgot you had it on.

“You better spill, O’Brien!” You growl, pretending you’re not dressed as a Disney character.

“Mike’s the other guy.” Dylan reveals quietly refusing to make eye contact with you.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s the one I fought with.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because he’s a piece of shit. I already knew but it was confirmed tonight.” Dylan snarls tightening his fists.

“Mike’s at home with a bad chest cold.”

“No. He was at Marty’s Bar tonight. I don’t think you’ve ever been there. It’s a few towns over.”

“But…”

“Ask Tyler! He’s the one who broke up the fight. He actually clocked Mike really good in the process.” Dylan says with a crooked smile.

This can’t be happening. Is your boyfriend secretly a douchebag? If this came from anyone else, you’d tell them to fuck off. But it’s Dylan, he never lies to you. Ever. You trust him completely.

“What happened?” You sigh, feeling nauseous.

“He…well…I…” Dylan stumbles on.

“Anytime, O’Brien.”

“Mike was making out with a redhead. Some skank. No clue who she was but he was all over her.” He replies, concern etched all over his face.

“What the hell.” You whisper, tears now filling your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. He’s not fucking worth it.“ Dylan stands up to comfort you but you’re not having it.

“Dyl! Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself more. I’m fine.” You scold making him nod in response.

“Hold on.” You mutter, trying to catch your breath as you leave the room.

Your friend watches you try to hold it together and it breaks his heart. You of all people do not deserve this. Mike fooled everyone, making them think that he’s a great guy. But Dylan always knew he was a waste of life.

“Can you eat?” You ask walking back into the living room.

“Yeah. I think so.” Dylan shrugs looking confused.

“Take these.” You direct placing two pain pills in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“Tramadol. For the pain. I’m making you some toast. You should eat with those.”

“Y/N. Hold on. Come sit down so we can talk about this.” Dylan sighs knowing you’re in denial.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What do you want on your toast? Butter or jam?”

“Toast?” Dylan whines looking pathetic. “Don’t you have anything better?”

“You were just punched in the stomach, dude. More than once. Eat something bland first. Unless you want to take the chance of getting sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “I bet throwing up with bruised ribs is fucking fun.”

“Ok. Ok. I’ll eat the god damn toast. Butter, please.” He groans letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Good boy.” You pat his head, snickering at the annoyed look on his face.

“I thought having a hot nurse would be a lot different. This isn’t enjoyable at all.” Dylan glares making you roll your eyes.

“Sorry to disappoint, kiddo.” You chuckle pulling your hood on.

“And the outfit is all wrong. You’re supposed to be in a sexy nurse outfit, instead you look like friggin Winnie the Pooh.” He huffs gesturing to your onesie.

“Silly me. Next time I’ll be more prepared.” You respond sarcastically making him smile.

“That’s all I ask, Y/N. Put in some effort.”

“I would take the onesie off but I’m not wearing anything underneath.” You shrug innocently before strolling into the kitchen.

“Tease!” Dylan shouts from the other room making you giggle as you butter the toast.

Thankfully Dylan eats without complaining, he just sticks to a puss on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The pills are kicking in.” He replies looking relieved.

“I’ll call Tyler soon.”

“For what?”

“To pick me up.”

“It’s almost 1am. Just stay here. If you won’t go to the hospital then at least let me take care of you.”

“Whatever you say, nurse L/N. You’re the boss.” Dylan wiggles his eyebrows.

“You need to change. You’re too bloody. I have some clothes you can put on.”

“Let me guess…Mike’s.” Dylan responds looking aggravated.

“Yup. Can you handle taking a shower? Now that the pain meds are working?”

“I can handle it.” He scoffs with a frown.

“Right.” You chuckle.

“Aren’t nurses supposed to help with that? You don’t want me to slip and fall do you?” Your best friend smirks with a gleam in his eye.

“You’re shameless.” You shake your head.

“I’ll help you…but you stay in your boxers.”

“Ok. But you need to be in your underwear too. Only fair.”

“Dyl…”

“Do you want me to feel self conscious?!” He answers dramatically.

“This coming from the guy who streaked at the pep rally in high school.” You can’t help but laugh at the memory.

“It was one of the best moments of your life, sweetheart.” Dylan cracks up, it quickly turns into a moan because of the pain.

“Take it easy, O’Brien. Don’t strain yourself.” You sigh grabbing his arm to help him stand up.

“Y/N! I can walk on my own. I’m not eighty.” He mumbles looking grumpy.

“Ok.” You cross your arms over your chest and watch him try to be a tough guy.

“Can I have real food now? I ate the toast.” He mutters moving slowly.

“After you get cleaned up, O’Brien. I have…” You get cut off by a loud pounding on your front door.

“Oh jeez.” You groan knowing it’s your boyfriend.

“Ignore him.”

“He has a key.” You snap annoyed with this whole night.

“Y/N?” Mike calls out, you hear his heavy work boots getting closer.

“Behave yourself.” You whisper to Dylan.

“Seriously?” He scoffs ignoring your glare.

“Y/N. Hey.” Mike walks into the room but stops short when he sees Dylan

“Leave Mike. We’re done.” You say coldly making him flinch.

“Baby, come on. Whatever this moron told you…it’s a lie.”

“Really. So you weren’t at a bar tonight? Making out with another girl?”

“Of course not! I was walking to the store to get cough medicine. This drunk jackass ran into me and he started throwing punches.”

“You son of a bitch.” Dylan snarls staring your boyfriend down.

“Look what he did to my face! My nose is broken. And he fucking killed my wrist. I won’t be surprised if it’s broken too. He’s a fucking animal.” Mike spits moving closer to Dylan.

“Jesus, Mike. You couldn’t have come up with a better lie than that? That doesn’t make sense. Dylan wouldn’t start a fight for no reason.” You huff, feeling anxious.

“Oh, he has a fucking reason. The bastard has been jealous of me since day one. He’s in love with you and hates that you’re with me instead of him.” Mike growls making both you and Dylan’s eyes widen.

“Oh Mike…” Dylan starts chuckling with a cocky as fuck smile.

“I guess this isn’t you then right?” He looks through his iPhone and then holds it out.

Your mouth drops when you see Mike and some slut making out. The bastard is wearing the same exact clothes he has on now.

“That could be anyone.” He lies looking guilty.

Dylan scrolls through, showing another picture where it’s crystal clear that it’s your boyfriend.

“Out.” You spit shoving Mike so hard he stumbles back.

“But baby…”

“I’m not your baby. Get the fuck out of my apartment and stay the fuck out of my life. I mean it!” You shout before slamming the door in his face.

You’re now frozen in place, a shit ton of emotions hitting you all at once. Without warning, tears start rolling down your face and you start sobbing loudly.

“Hey. Hey.” Your friend says softly wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” You sniffle trying to stop him.

“I’m ok.” He chuckles kissing your forehead.

“I really didn’t want to show you those pictures. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.” Dylan sighs wiping away a tear falling down your cheek.

“It’s ok.” You mutter, grabbing his hand leading him down the hall.

“What are you doing?”

“You still need to get cleaned up, dear. It’s late. We’re both tired. So let’s get it done so we can sleep, ok?”

Dylan reluctantly agrees, not wanting to make things any harder for you. He holds in a groan when you hand him Mike’s t-shirt and sweatpants. That bastard, he’s gonna regret hurting you. Dylan will make sure of it.

“Do I have to sleep on the couch?” He asks giving you a sad face.

“No.” You chuckle. “Get into bed. I’ll be right back.”

Dylan gives you a wink and slowly moves under the covers. It’s obvious he’s pretending the pain is gone. Silly fucker.

“Here. Take this.” You hand him another Tramadol and a bag of his favorite chips.

“You’re trying to drug me aren’t you. So you can seduce me.” Dylan raises an eyebrow.

“Damn it. You found out my plan.” You giggle climbing in next to him.

“I knew it.” He mumbles before throwing chips into his mouth.

Dylan knows you have on a brave face, but he can always see right through it. He hates this.

“Come here.” He says softly holding his arm out so you can crawl underneath.

“You don’t need me leaning on your ribs. Just get some sleep.” You answer quietly shutting the light off.

“Y/N L/N! Get over here now.” Dylan commands, you roll your eyes but decide to listen anyway.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m feeling better now.” He pulls you closer, ignoring the pain and the pressure he feels on his ribs.

“The asshole was right ya know.” Dylan breathes out, his heart now beating faster in your ear.

“Huh?”

“Mike…what he said…I am in love with you. Everything else was bullshit but that part is the truth.”

~

Masterlist

[datauthorress]

Ashes of Night [Chapter 2: Cowboy in Public]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Summary: A young college student stumbles upon a man from the past, right in her very apartment. The man doesn't know why he's suddenly 119 years in the future, but maybe this is a second chance at a better life.

Warnings: None, really.

“Ya got any whiskey?”

“No, I don't have any whiskey. That shit is gross.”

Shelby lifted the top cover of the tank and lifted Ghost off from around her neck, putting the ball python back into his tank. The snake yawned, before slithering under his log for the night. She rubbed her eyes, smoothing her hair away from her face before she glanced at the clock. It was only midnight, but she was exhausted.

“Okay, cowboy, bedtime.” she replied, shutting the television off. “We've got a busy day tomorrow, and I need a good night's sleep.”

“I get t' sleep in a real bed?” Arthur questioned, surprised.

“What else are you gonna sleep on? The couch?” Shelby shook her head and motioned for him to follow her down the hallway. She opened the door to the guest bedroom, which she had set up after dinner was over and she took her shower. “This will be your room.”

“Very nice.” he complimented as he walked inside, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Your clothes are on the dresser. I found a pair of socks from when my brother left them, so they should fit.” Shelby said, leaning down to pick up Kirby, scratching the back of her ears. “If you need anything, you can knock on my door. My bedroom is right next to yours.”

When no questions were asked, Shelby shut the door behind her and went to her own room, shutting the door after her. She set Kirby down on the bed and crawled underneath the covers, setting an alarm for 9 AM before plugging her phone in to charge. Kirby meowed and made her way towards her owner, circling a few times before kneading the covers with her paws and laying down, curling up into a ball. As soon as Shelby's head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

The next morning, Shelby woke up to her alarm and got up, dismissing the alarm. She yawned and stretched her limbs, hearing them pop before she left the bedroom. She fed Kirby and knocked on Arthur's door. “Arthur, you awake?”

When she didn't hear an answer, she opened the door and peered inside, finding the man sprawled out on the bed, the blanket only covering up to his hips. Shelby felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't help but to look for a moment. The man was toned, and she could see that he had multiple scars adorning his torso. Despite his age, he seemed to be rather fit and had small, wry hairs covering his torso, though not too much. She shook her head and walked inside, grabbing the other pillow and smashing it onto Arthur's chest.

Said man let out a yell of surprise, and bolted up on the bed, looking around frantically. He then calmed down once his gaze landed on Shelby, and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. “Did ya really haveta do that, kid?”

“No, but I had a hunch you wouldn't wake up easily, so it was the best choice.” Shelby replied, tossing the pillow at him. “Once you wake up, get dressed please. I have to measure you.”

“Measure meh, eh?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Shelby grumbled, leaving the room. She went to her bedroom and got dressed, dressing in a pair of dark blue jeans that hugged her legs, a black tank top and a black and red plaid shirt. She fixed her hair and put black ankle high socks on, then left her bedroom. Arthur wasn't far after her, walking into the living room after she did. Shelby grabbed the measuring tape from the junk drawer and approached Arthur. “Stand still, and raise your arms, please.”

He did as requested. She measured the length of his legs, his arms and the wideness of his waist and torso. After writing down the information in her notebook, she slipped that into her bag and shoved her boots on, zipping them up.

“Alright guys, we'll be back later.” she said to her animals, grabbing her bag and her keys.

Once Arthur had slid his boots on, she let him walk outside first and she closed the door behind them, locking it. She pulled on the doorknob just to make sure it was locked, and guided Arthur to her vehicle, which was a 2013 black truck.

“This is.....way different than a wagon.” he commented, hearing a click as the vehicle unlocked and Shelby opened the driver's side door.

“Yeah,” Shelby agreed.

Arthur pulled open the passenger's side door, holding his hat onto his head and slipped inside, sitting down. He squirmed a bit, getting use to the feel of the seat on his backside. It was certainly way softer than a hard bench on a wagon.

“Okay, so when riding in a vehicle like this, you always wear your seat belt. It's to prevent you from getting killed.” Shelby spoke, reaching over him to the seat belt and guiding it over his chest and waist, clicking it into place.

“And how, per say, does a vehicle get ya killed?” he questioned.

“When a vehicle crashes into another.” Shelby replied, getting comfortable in her own seat and clicking her seat belt into place. She started up the vehicle, the radio blaring to life, still set on the country station. She had grown up on the outskirts of the town, in the country, so her life was revolved a lot around horses and the country.

“We'll stop for breakfast, then we'll head up to the mall.” she said, backing out of her parking spot and heading onto the road.

“What's a mall?” Arthur asked.

“Just a large space with a variety of stores.” she replied. “I know it's all very confusing, Arthur. Honestly, I still don't know whether to believe you're from the past or not...but....I don't know what else to do, really.”

“Trust me, kid. I'm confused too.” Arthur sighed quietly.

“Glad I'm not the only one.” she nodded in agreement.

About ten minutes went by, and Shelby pulled into the drive-thru of McDonald's. She didn't eat their food very often, but she did like their fish and chicken sandwiches. She grabbed four total of the McChicken sandwiches, two for each of them and a drink for each of them. She ate one of her sandwiches quickly, before they were on the highway, heading towards South Bend.

“What is 'his?” Arthur questioned in confusion, looking at the sandwich.

“Just eat it. You might like it.” Shelby said.

The cowboy took a bite out of the sandwich, and was immediately greeted with the seasons, and taste of well-cooked chicken. Even the lettuce and the white sauce on it made a good taste for it. He decided, hey it's not so bad, and ate the sandwich.

“Welcome to the 21st century, Arthur, where fast food is dominant in everything.” Shelby joked, turning the radio up slightly and rolling the window down. It was quite nice today, with it being about 70 degrees right now. The radio said it was going to be around 80 today, which wasn't bad at all for June. After about a half hour, she switched hands, using her right hand to drive and leaned her left arm on the windowsill.

Arthur was mostly quiet, observing the scenery as they drove past it. He enjoyed the open fields, the smell of dirt and grass, the sounds of cattle and horses. It reminded him too much of home....wherever home was right now. It wasn't long before the fields began to disappear and buildings began to take over.

“Fucking-! Nice turn signal, prick!”

Arthur glanced over to the young woman, as she grumbled to herself about 'stupid drivers'. She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back. “We're almost there.”

“Wha' happened?” he asked.

“Some dumbass cut me off at the last minute.” she shook her head, looking behind her before switching lanes. “If I ever teach you to drive, be patient. I have some road rage.”

“I'm sure if I can steer a horse, I can steer this thing.” he said.

“You'd be surprised.” Shelby said, coming up to the stoplight.

After another fifteen minutes, they pulled into a large parking lot, with several vehicles of all different kinds parked, driving around and people walking down sidewalks to get into the building. Shelby found a decent parking spot, and parked, before turning the car off. “Okay, now, this place is big, so stay close to me, okay?” Shelby said.

“How big can it be?” Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“You'll see. Just stay close to my side, and we'll be golden.” She said, grabbing her bag and her keys. Once they were both out, she locked the car and guided him across the road and onto the sidewalk. Small crowds of people walked by them, some of them giving sideway glances to Arthur.

“Also, don't be surprised if people stare at you.” Shelby said as they walked into the building.

“I'm used t' it.” he drawled.

A few times he stopped by to glance at the windows of stores, and Shelby had to actually drag him away so they could move on. They went to Men's Warehouse first and Shelby went to a store associate, asking if she could help them with helping Arthur pick out clothes to suit his style. She was ecstatic to help, and with the sizes, she was able to find clothing that would fit Arthur nicely. However, when he had trouble putting on jeans for the first time, Shelby had to help him, telling him that 'this is a one time thing'. Of course, he stuck to the 'no overalls' rule and Shelby waited outside while he dressed.

“Is he your boyfriend?” the store associate asked.

“Nah, roommate. He's a little far from home and needed somewhere to go, so I took him in.” Shelby replied.

“Aw, you're so nice.” the associate smiled.

The door to the fitting room opened and Arthur came out, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that showed off his butt nicely, and a button up with the first few buttons undone.

Shelby felt heat creep onto her face, and the associate whistled. “Very nice.”

“Fits mighty nicely. Thank ya, ma'am.” Arthur nodded.

“No problem!” she said.

After about another half hour of being in the store, the clothes were all dragged to the counter and Shelby sighed, knowing it was going to be utter hell dragging all this shit out to the truck. Good thing she grabbed a cart at the entrance.

“Ya sure ya can afford all that?” Arthur asked the young woman.

“I'm a professional author, I can afford pretty much anything.” Shelby replied.

“Oh? You write?! What's your name?” the same associate asked as she rung up the clothes.

“Shelby Hartford.”

Two minutes later, Shelby was getting a picture taken with the associate, who had squealed and said that she loved Shelby's writing. Shelby smiled for the picture, and was appreciative that her writing was well-liked. The associate had given her a hug and told them to have a wonderful day before the two left the store.

“That was....interestin'.” Arthur commented.

“Hm.” Shelby said.

“Oh, what's that place?”

Shelby looked over to see what he was looking at, and her ears went red. Of course, he was looking at the Victoria's Secret sign. She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him away from the store, telling him it was a 'super, secret fancy store for women'.

It was another three hours before Shelby decided they were done. She had stopped at a few stores for herself, picking up some books and some clothing. They dragged the bags out of the building and shoved them into the back of the truck, which thankfully had a cover on it. Shelby leaned against the side of her vehicle, leaning her head down on her arm. She was exhausted.

“Where we goin' now?” Arthur's voice met her ears.

“We'll go for lunch.” she replied, unlocking the vehicle and getting in. “Golden Coral isn't too far from here. You'll like it. They have a large variety of different foods.”

Lunch was good. They went home afterwards and the two dragged the bags up into the apartment, and into Arthur's bedroom. Shelby had made sure her own bags were separate. They had stopped at Wal-Mart for shampoo and those kinds of things. “Alright....so just...focus on getting your stuff put away while I make a phone call.”

Shelby went into the living room, sitting down on the couch as she called her mom. It rung two times before it was picked up on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Hi, baby. How was the interview? You sounded great on TV.”

“Thanks. It went good, better than expected. I'm tired though.”

“I bet. Were you still planning on coming over for dinner this Sunday? Your father's off for the week, vacation.”

“Yeah, are you guys making beef and noodles?”

“When do we not make beef and noodles when you come over?” her mom laughed.

“True, listen mom.....is it okay if I bring my roommate over? He's-”

“Your roommate's a guy? Is he hot?”

“Mom!”

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Yes, he can come for dinner as well. Your sister is coming too.” The older woman said, and Shelby groaned. “I know, I know....but, please no fighting, okay?”

“Alright, though I can't say the same for her, though. You know how she is.” Shelby said. “Alright....I'll see you guys this weekend.”

Shelby hung up once her mother said goodbye and she tossed her phone onto the other side of the couch, just as Arthur came into sight. “Who was that?” he questioned.

“You're meeting my parents, and siblings this weekend.” Shelby replied. “We're going to make up a story. We're going to tell them that you're from Texas, and you lost your home and came here hoping for something better. I found you, and am letting you stay here. That's the story. Nothing else.”

“And they aren't gonna believe ya when ya say I'm from 1899?”

“No one is gonna believe you're from 1899, besides me.” she retorted. “My sister already thinks I'm a fucking lunatic. I don't need her thinking that about you too.”

“Jeez, protective ain't ya?”

“Fuck off.”

[briteboy]

(circumstantial name by @earnoodle)

IT’S FINALLY TIME FOR THE POST YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (or maybe just that one anon)

there’s a LOT in here, newer questions are generally first so if you asked something a while ago and you’re only interested in that, scroll towards the bottom. also doing wcifs separately (errr i’m gonna try my hardest to ok don’t crucify me)

this mass anons post includes topics ranging from Very Sweet Things Said To Me That I Don’t Deserve, nitpicking stranger things, crying over ramona, lou theories, Cillian Is A Fucking Creep theories (true), and completely unhelpful reshade advice

let’s f0cking do this

You're right, apart from carrying his stupid brain, Santi's head didn't do anything to any of us. I apologize for anon.

I'm pretty sure I said that already but I love Rooney and Santi's relationship so much I literally have no words for it

ME TOO LIKE IT’S JUST SO PURE TWO NOT-KIDS SCARED OF THE ADULT WORLD TRYING TO FIGURE THINGS OUT WITH THEIR WEIRD BRAINS TOGETHER ;__; i love them

YO i didnt know u were a demigirl!! im a demiboy nb Buddies

hell fuckin yeah dude!! we are starting a demi club

Ok but like I really want werewolves. Like I know it sounds stupid but we have vampire and while yes I love my bat babes, I want a giant pupper friend. I have story written out and plans for a cabin to build. Now I’m waiting for EA to give me my big hairy babes.

DUDE i want more supernatural stuff too, mostly witches like I NEED MY WITCHES AGAIN!!! ts3 witches were so good. i didn’t like ts3 werewolves much but i feel like they’d be super cool in ts4, knowing how the vampires came out. i NEED it

hihi! i've been very quietly (??) following your blog for some time now and i just fawn over your characters way too much ?? anywho, i've been wanting to start my own little simblr story but ,, i'm not entirely sure where to even start? i have so many stories that i'd love to get out there, and i have the means.. butt, how did you go about starting out?? so sorry this is so long but i look up to you a whole ton!!! ty ily! :-)

i’m the (??) lmao that’s me always but ahdhghdfkshg thank you so much!!!!! i’m so glad you love them, it means the world to me ;-; and listen, that was me, i had no idea how i was going to do it because i’d only seen ts3 stories up to that point and i thought there was like a set Way to tell stories but i had no idea what i was doing so i was like y’know what...i’m just gonna do it how i feel comfortable doing it and i’m gonna figure it out as i go along. so honestly try to roughly plan out what your stor(ies) will entail and if you get stuck on planning and can’t figure it out, just jump right into it, try to make a few scenes or get the ball rolling somehow, even if it’s just random posts (i mean that’s all my blog was until i decided to commit to santi’s story.) it’s always gonna feel weird and awkward at first, but you’ll get comfortable the more you do it and it’ll figure itself out, trust me!

I read through most of your story posts the other day and now I’m rereading it again just to torture myself some more (and maybe catch up on some posts I may have missed). I honestly don’t think I’ve come across a sims story that’s so beautifully written & includes such evocative pictures as yours. I’m really at a loss for words, it’s all so stunning. & after a nearly two-month long creative block, it’s planted the smallest seed of inspiration in the back of my mind, so thank you for your art.

AHHHH AHSDHKGKDSJG WHAT!!!!! it’s always crazy hearing that 1) people actually care about my stuff, and 2) that it inspires them. like i really cannot believe that, stilL!! thank you so so much, i’m so happy you enjoyed it (as torturous as it was, lmao) it seriously warms my heart that you’re getting your groove back in the creative world, that means more to me than ANYTHING!! good luck with your art or whatever you decide to do with that inspiration!

 can i pls have your editing skill please and thank you

i owe most my editing at this point to reshade so honestly get reshade and u will probably become better than me

o added u on animal crossing and when you added me back i was so happy,, your little person is sooo adorable ((:

OMG!! thank you!! everyone’s person on there is adorable i cry i love them all so much i’m so mad tho it won’t let me add any more friends!!! it probably cuts off at like 100 friends or something STUPID

First of all, I love you. Secondly, I love your photos so much. I'm legit about to just ditch sims 3 for 4 now because of your amazing posts. 😖

LMFAO no but really THANK YOU I LOVE YOU!!! if you can manage playing both i admire u, i’ve invested too much time and effort into ts4 to ever fully go back to any other sims games tbh

The new patch made my game unplayable! I'm crying, I miss my doggos...

NOOOOO!!! hopefully by now you’ve found a fix, i’m prayin for u

long time listener, first time caller yoooo. i like everyone love your stories and your sim aesthetic so so so much and just tbh i was offended on your behalf about that ask from that person wanting to novelize your stories. like you were way too nice. this is your intellectual property and it's fucked up that someone would think it'd be okay to duplicate it as long as they used a different medium. this is prob a bad one to repost just wanted to you to know you're an awesome, singular voice

omfg lmao this is a radio show now *z100 voice* tellem why ya mad euhhh first of all i can’t believe someone even ASKED that, i’m in shock because like what this is so foreign to me. people want to write about MY characters WHAT! like that alone...takes a long time to process. and like i know i should say no but then i feel mean but they’re also my creations so like idk. it warms my heart that you feel so strongly and would stand up for me like that i’m cryin thank u for calling in i love u

I JUST FINISHED YOUR ENTIRE STORY AND I'M NOT OK WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PUTTING ME THROUGH THAT SHIT IT'S AN EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER AND I FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE ABUSED MY (NON EXISTENT) INNOCENCE WOW

I’M SO SORRY U HAD TO GO THROUGH THAT ALSO I APOLOGIZE FOR STEALING YOUR INNOCENCE I NEVER MEANT FOR THIS TO HAPPEN OSDAFKJDSK BUT THANK YOU FOR READING I’M GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT EVEN IF IT HURT YOU!!!

I've been up all night and it's now 11am. I'm completely binging on your stories bc I am in LOVE and need a Molly in my game asap. Do you think you'll ever upload her?

omG my freaking story inciting insomnia i’m so sorry for ur sleep schedule first of all, but at least that makes you identify with santi even more omg tho ;___; (how many times will i say ‘omg’ i wonder) i don’t think so because she is so dear to me and makes my heart ache, she is just so special, i dunno if i could ever release her into the wild like that lmao. i haven’t even shared her with my friends (not that i really ever had a reason to) but like yeah. maybe in the future that’ll change but right now, no, i’m sorry <3

To change the topic: Idk if you watch stranger things but I only managed to get to episode 3 of season 2 before I stopped watching lmao it was so bad and Billy (a certified Cunt) ruined the whole show for me

YEAH I DID! omg. i have a LOT of issues with this season (mostly in how badly they tried to retcon nancy and everyone else not caring about barb’s death, how bad the writing was in the realm of nancy and steve breaking up and then her and jonathan getting together...holy fuck it was so uncomfortable with that 40 yr old conspiracy theorist guy i couldn’t even enjoy my ship getting together lmao) also ur right, max and billy honestly did not offer anything to the story...like i loved max too but what was the point...billy acted like their presence and the reason they had to move was so dramatic when it was really nothing...unless they’re saving that for season 3 but like. the whole situation with billy was so anticlimactic. he was like a walmart version of henry from IT. like boohoo ur dad’s an asshole and then he beat up steve. good character arc. i liked max standing up for herself but really...that whole thing was so lackluster, i didn’t care about it at all. ALSO I HATED THAT THEY DIDN’T LET MAX AND ELEVEN BE FRIENDS!! i’m sure it’ll happen in season 3 but like c’mon...that would’ve made the max character feel a little more important to the story. anyway yeah fuck billy and i don’t get why everyone is lusting after him or his actor they’re both ugly! thanks for listening

I just got the sims 4 + city living and I’m so excited! I was really inspired by your stories and style in general... I was wondering what packs do you have and also what are your favourite sims 4 hairs? I’m having trouble finding ones and I love your style!

YAY I’M EXCITED FOR YOU!!! omg aww it warms my heart so much when people say i inspire them because i never anticipated that kind of response, thank you so much <3 hmmm i think i have all of them except glamour stuff and fitness stuff. and pretty much all the hairs i download are here or here. (or the subsequent ‘tf’, ‘cf’, ‘tm’ and ‘cm’ tags as well, according to age)

UHM a 19 year old and a 13 year old? Poor baby Lou... Also youre a brilliant writer i cant

😬😬😬  stay tuned ajasdhjhjsahd thank you so much!!!

My stan levels for you have increased so much? like thanks for being a good ally, clAps for femmesim!

lmao thank you, i don’t really deserve praise tho i’m just passing on the knowledge of those patient enough to teach me. just trying to do what i can with my privilege u know. ily

How do you have teeth showing in so many of your pictures of Lou and Molly, do you PS them in?

i’ve gotten this question before and it’s usually just the poses used! i do have some lipsticks that have teeth on them but i mostly use them for just rooney.

Honestly, a fight between Santi and that new guy (srry, forgot his name while typing this) would be so hot. Like, I hope Santi would win but like just watching Santi fight him for Lou would make me happy!! Also, I live for your stories💞

omG i’m about to call up vince mcmahon they both need to fight on smackdown it’s gonna happen. they’ll both be shirtless too ok and THANK YOU ILY

boi poc can be PREJUDICED against white people but there is no such thing as reverse racIIIIIIiiiiIIIIIiiiIIIIsm

Lemme just say that you must be feeling so stressed rn. I love you and your simblr!!! Your posts light up my day!! <3333

OMg kind of. this week has taken A Lot out of me and i really just want to chill at home and play my freaking GAME but obligations. u know. here’s hoping i get a day off this week. i’m mad i’m probably gonna miss gianni’s birthday too (it’s on tuesday) and i wanted to do something for it!! i’ll probably do it late like i did last year too lmao i’m so sorry baby g ANYWAY u didn’t ask to hear about any of this...thank you for this sweet message i love you <3

why,,,, are people... coming to your blog to discuss race you are a fucking simblr WHAT

the real question is why do people go to you like its your job to educate them lmao like theres so many resources out there

SHAWDY u aint wrong reverse racism is literally a joke i am so sorry you have to go through all of this keep stepping on white feelings we deserve it

I was wondering would u consider Asians to be POC?

yes

I just finished Strange the Dreamer and it was fucking amazing. I cried so much and I laughed and I sat in absolute amazement at the world Laini Taylor has created. 100/10 would recommend

ahhhh i really need to read it apparently!! i’m like 10% away from being done with a dance with dragons (and then i have to wait for the next book like a peasant HURRY UP KING GEORGE) anyway this one is definitely on my list!

omgomg!! I just met this girl in my class who has eyes just like ramona's!!! But like instead of being brown w/ a little bit of blue, they were blue w/ a little bit of brown!!! Dude I was so shook I rlly didn't think ppl had eyes like that!

OMG!!!! that’s amazing! and yes heterochromia is a real thing haha. i’ve only met one person with it and he had the same color combo as ramona too, only his was full heterochromia, not sectoral.

*me in the background screaming* nO yOU LEAVE HER ALoNE baD-DAD-MaN!

ME TF TOO

every time i read some of your stories i get an ache in my heart that doesn't go away until i either cry or sleep so interpret that as you like

OMG ;_____; ok me too tho my heart literally hurts thinking about my characters sometimes...mostly santi...i hate him (no i don’t :{ )

hey uhh idk if you've answered something like this before but do you have a spotify or something bc your music taste is GOLD

THANK YOU!! you were the first person to ask about this haha and hopefully you saw my answer to the other question about it! i just made one and it’s here!

hi hi ! i’m seeing all the drama on da blog and i really want to read the whole story but i can’t get to it on mobile so i was wondering if you could link the beginning and tell me what the best order to read it in is ( i’m so confused because i’ve seen sm people y’all about a parallel story so idk if i’m being dumb !! ) i hope this isn’t any inconvenience also your sims are so beautiful sjajsjajs

hey on mobile the link is just: http://femmesim.tumblr.com/tagged/story/chrono i would honestly just recommend that order haha, it makes things simpler and it encompasses ALL story posts, or posts that give context. there are parallels in my story, lou’s is kind of a parallel of santi’s, only different...well...you’ll see. but yeah sorry this is so late! and thank you!!!

TU HISTORIA ES TAAAAAN BUENA POR DIOOOOS (YOURE STORY IS SOOOOO GOOD OMG) <3 <3 *OO* *cries in spanish*

MUCHAS GRACIAS ENCANTADORA PERSONAAAA <333

lou is wendy right? i mean, a wendy complex is someone who is overly mothering to partners, and lou is already a mother and ik that doesn't really count as foreshadowing but it seems like it could be a link to me. it'd make sense too, considering guys that go after younger girls (ew) are usually immature ie peter pan complex. it'd make the most sense that those two go together then.

heheheheh that is a VERY good observation...that’s all i’m gonna say!!

This has nothing to do with what's happening in the story rn, but whatever. I was wondering if you were going to mention lou's struggles with being a single mom and the stigma surrounding single motherhood? As a single mother myself I'd really enjoy seeing you take on the issue. Personally, my biggest problem was overcoming the generalizations people put on you when you're a single mom. People always assumed that I that I was stupid and uneducated because I had my son when I was 17.

yes! that will definitely come up. i will focus a lot on her struggles as a single mom. so far i’ve mostly just peppered in some stuff about money troubles, and that will come up again, and the issues you mention will be pretty central to her character as well. i’m sorry you have to endure that, it’s not fair. people don’t even realize how strong and dedicated single mothers are.

when you say Peter Pan, do you mean the Disney stuff or the og creepy stuff?

i mean the general themes of the story and how that translates into a peter pan complex: boy who never grows up, feels like he fits in more with younger people (haha...yikes), read the message above because that anon described the other half of the equation better than i could

Wait, hold up. That dude is cute but I feel like he’s coming onto Lou way too strong. I have a bad feeling.. Lou is like 13 there and he is 19 I mean I’ve seen bigger gaps between people, but she is not legal yet.. Where are you going with this? 🤨😅

yyyyyyep that feeling is warranted! i am going a way i don’t think you guys expect me to go...i think you’ll be very confused at the end of this part lmao. that being said, i’m not putting any of this in for shock value or to romanticize inappropriate relationships like this. (i’m probably going to be repeating that a LOT for this story but please just keep that in mind)

Hey mom wanna hear a fun as hell story? I just got back from the ER bc I fell on my razor after showering, and practically cut my nipple in half. (I am in so much pain hELP)

OMFG NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR POOR NIPPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M SO SORRY I HOPE IT FEELS BETTER PLEASE UPDATE ME ON THE NIPPLE STATUS

U gotta watch sense8!!! Apart from the v awkward sex scenes it's v good, has a lot of representation and shit Just watch that shit show, u won't regret it (And if you do I cut your throat oops)

i’ve heard it’s good! i remember when it first came out and everyone was like Wow The Representation so honestly anything with diversity has already got me hooked pls don’t murder me.

I'm calling it now. He's Fi's dad. and he's a FUCKING CREEP!! Bitch you are 19!! LOU IS 13!! BACK THE FUCK OFF YOU PERV!!

no spoilers or anything but honestly i’m with you @ cillian die

Are they gonna fucc, o no

right now? no. that would be Very Bad

bABY ITS COLD OUTSIDE

oh same

Hi ! Your lastest edit (graveyard girl) is truly amazing, how did you make that bokeh behind her ? 😱😍

thank you so much!!! it’s reshade (with matso DOF)!

You've probably got this question a lot of times but i can't find the answer for it. What reshade do you use?

i gotta add this to my faq, it’s one i created myself but i started out with this one (it totally doesn’t resemble that one anymore but i think it’s a good starting point)

how do you make good looking male sims? mine always look the same and kinda girly..

hmmm longer faces, prominent chins and jaws, smaller eyes, bigger noses...generally yeah

What do you mean 9 + alt?

you gotta turn bb.moveobjects on and then press alt + 9 when an object is selected to move it upward. so what i did with those poses i made was, i selected a teleporter and pressed alt + 9 until it was at a spot i liked on the roof. that’s why releasing those poses would be tricky, ‘cause every build is different so there’s no set way to place them, you just kinda have to play around with them

You mentioned GoT so naturally, I have to chime in and express my love for Jon. Honestly, he won me over ever since the first season? I'm at season 5 now and people have already warned me so now i'm silently weeping, waiting for something to happen to my precious bby help

JONNY BOY!!!!!!!!!!! i loved his emo ass since the beginning but his arc with qorin halfhand (was he in the show??) was probably the best arc in book 2 and then his book 3 arc was just...SO GOOD, SO MUCH happens to him and i just felt like i was watching my son go through it all...i love that boy so much ;-; i’m almost at the end of the last book and i’m scared for him because of the one spoiler i know lmao and you’re at that point too so GET READY we’ll go through it together ok

So there's this game I'm playing where someone talking about another character says 'maybe you can break him from his ouroboros of self-fladulation' (I know I probably butchered those spellings but I'm not a bright egg and autocorrect isn't helping rip) and tbh it made me think of Santi. (Also I'mma scream of you get this reference jsyk)

OMG THE FACT THAT YOU THOUGHT OF HIM ;-; and it’s okay u are the brightest egg in the bunch to me. I’M SORRY I DON’T GET THIS REFERENCE BECAUSE I’M NOT A VIDEO GAME PERSON BUT I’LL PRETEND I DO KNOW WHAT UR TALKING ABOUT anyway yes santi is currently in the process of breaking his self-flagellation and embracing the oneness of the ouroboros (as opposed to letting the cycle repeat itself until he’s worn down to nothing)

do you have any favorite pose creators?

answered

do you have any tips for taking good screenshots in game? like how to get the good angles and good quality? i play on ultra but i think when i zoom in and then use the arrows on my keyboard to move around, the pictures gets less clear and looks kinda blurry. how should i do this?

well if you’re already using ultra, there’s not much you can do lmao. sims 4 is just bad with textures in general. it also depends on the objects as well, some are better quality than others. if i zoom in far on a sim’s face, i generally know there will be some pixelation and i can clean that up in photoshop with topaz clean and the smudge tool. i am very reliant on photoshop sometimes lmao. it sounds like you already have the basics of taking good screenshots, it’s just sometimes you have to fight and work with sims 4′s less-than-hd quality.

burn it down by daughter reminds me of santi & i'm in pain

ouroboros!!! death! birth! death again! birth again rinse repeat! also santi breaking the cycle because third time's the charm

The tattoo is an Ouroboros. It originated in Egyptian iconography, and it symbolizes recreation. My boy's recreating himself, I'm so proud.

ouroboros, the dragon eating its own tail. it's a sign of eternal renewal

i saw the post of child molly and just started BAWLING i miss her what the fuck she's my fave character i'M CRYING

ME TOO BICH!! ME FUCKIN TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i just read all of A Serious Case Of The Novembers so far and theres still tears on my face. some of the best stuff ive read in a while, great job on everything

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! ALSO I’M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU CRY

every time you write about molly and her in heaven it makes my heart swell, like the characters were answering asks and someone asked her what heaven was like and even though it was so small short lil answer it still pulls at the heart strings, basically what im trying to say is that your writing is so good! <3

omg ;_______; me too, i feel like she has such a simple way with words and although her descriptions of heaven are brief, they are also complex and beautiful, and even just writing it chokes me up ;-; thank you so much tho i’m so glad you like it!!

Molly: out Molly tatto: also out

why did this remind me of this post:

How did you edit in the fire in the last post? Looks cool

i searched things like “bonfire” and pasted parts of it that i wanted on the pic to make it look more realistic, then put a layer mask on the pasted pic and erased the edges and stuff to make it blend in better. the sparks and stuff i added by pasting it onto a new layer and changing the blending mode to screen! 

idk if you have every watched grey anatomy but Lou's backstory is starting to remind me of Jo (Jo is a character from the show) like Jo was in a abusive relationship and she is married to the guy but she cant get divorced or he will come and find her. So like if Lou didn't tell Fiona's dad he was a dad and Lou was married to him and cant escape the marriage (cause abuse), plus it would explain Lou's kink with being choked ;) full circle *god-like heaven music with tiniest violin is playing now*

ooh no i don’t but that’s interesting and i’m excited you even made a connection like that! i will say that it’s not lou who likes to be choked (the very opposite actually lmao) but otherwise the situation does kinda fit. i’m the violin

I have a freakin bio pre ap test tomorrow on photosynthesis and i have no idea what it is im going to fail save me

I’M ANSWERING THIS VERY LATE BUT I HOPE YOUR TEST WENT WELL!!!!!! *spongebob voice* photosynthesis

last time I installed reshade I couldn't get it to open the controls or shaders or anything in game :///// any tips?? I love they way reshade looks too!!

hmmmmm well i know the control panel opens when you press shift + f2, and then you check the boxes of the effects you want on them. i haven’t heard of this problem so i dunno what other advice to give i’m sorry :{ if it’s your first time installing it, you might have to wait a little to get it to load up.

Da puppy is so cute!!!

That dog and Romona are so adorable, I might cry

Ramona's cheeks are so big im in love

NAJKSDJGKJSD THANK YOU i love her and her chubby cheeks ;-;

OMG TOTORO IS SO BEAUTIFUL I LOVE GHIBLI UGH FKSJFJANFB

SAME!!!!!!! if i could only watch ghibli movies for the rest of my life i’d be totally fine with that

THE DOGGIE HAS EYES JUST LIKE RAMONAS IM GONNA FUCKIGN CRY

ME FUCKGN TOO!!!!!!!!!! it was fate (aka me creating the wolf pup to look just like her shh i am fate)

Hope I'm not bothering you but i wondered if you knew how to make Tamo sims eyebags work on a toddler? Do I just click in s4s to work for toddler on the "age and gender flags" when looking in My CC or do I have to do something a little more than that please? Thank you.

for any skin detail or makeup, you have to go into s4s and open the package up, go to one of the tabs (honestly i don’t remember which one because i don’t have it open rn lmao) and you’ll see the different age groups and you check the box for toddler. and then save it of course. (there’s probably a better guide on how to do this somewhere lmao)

Hey :) Sorry to take up your time, I was wondering if you use win7, win8 or win10? I'm trying to decide on one and people seem to have very strong feelings about it. Also what web browser do you use? I've used Firefox, but I had some problems on CC websites. Thanks<3

i use windows 10 because it came with my laptop lmao i honestly don’t know much about windows systems at all!! and i use google chrome because it’s never failed me (even though windows keeps pressuring me to use the new internet explorer called “edge”)

i just finished all of novembers in a sitting and 1. i'm Sobbing, 2. your music taste is bomb

THANK YOU!!! my music taste is like one part indie shit, one part rap and hip-hop, twelve parts emo middle school bands

what is the size of the original unedited screenshot?

1920x1080

For reshade when your first install and select the reshade you want to use do you have to edit the settings? Cause last time I tried to (I didn’t know what most of the things meant lmao) but it kept saying error or something so I couldn’t play the game so I ended up taking out reshade

do you mean the preset you want to use? i mean no you can just play with that preset, you don’t have to change anything about it. i’m not sure what you mean but i followed this guide for setting it up

Will you ever share your preset?? Or maybe a preset made be you??

i’ve answered this before but the answer is Maybe

Hi!!!! How do you make the rays of light you have in your photos?? THANK U BBY <3333

that’s actually in my editing tutorial but here you go <3

is reshade only available on windows + do we need to pay for it

yes and no

Hello love! I was wondering (and maybe it's a dumb question, idk) but what life span setting do you use? I would assume you turned off aging for your story but maybe I'm wrong ;w; Thank you!!

i do actually have aging off ‘cause i’m a coward lmao even in the ts3 days when i wasn’t doing story stuff and literally just playing i had it off for the most part and just aged sims up when i wanted because i like to be in control of Everything (aries)

I really just wanted to say that I’m new I your tumblr but your stories are amazing and I love them so much!!! Keep doing what you’re doing💞👏🏼

hey thank you!!! you are so kind and i’m glad you’re enjoying everything!!

In your reshade settings where have you set it to save your SS's to and which key please? I can't find mine after setting it to desktop/screenshots :(

i just set mine to ts4′s screenshots folder because it’s what i was used to and it works for me haha. hmmmmmm did you copy the exact address or whatever it’s called of your folder’s location and then paste it into the reshade box? try doing that with another location and see if it works. if anything you can do what i did ‘cause it worked for me 

ok SO i came across this music video for this like spanish/english speaking indie band called The Marías and the song was déjate llevar and literally everything about the music video reminded me of rooney and gianni

OMMMGGG i love this so much, i cry @ music suggestions and this is so them ;-; i think i’ve heard of this band before actually!!

a little life is going to fucking ruin you,,, just a warning

great! i look forward to it

can a steal ur talent

have it i don’t need it

What app are you using to make them cool edit things??

i tagged it but it was doodle face

omg Strange the Dreamer is so freaking amazing! It’s literally one of my favorite books of all time; You’ll love it. The writing is absolutely delightful

you guys are really singin the praises for this book!! i have so many dang books to read i swear

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt 5

Sincerest apologies for my scatterbrain. Whenever I sit down to write this my brain goes BUT WHAT IF DAUNTLESS WERE WEREWOLVES! WRITE THAT! Or I get ideas for the second story which is actually my first that I never continued past the basic outlines. 

SMUT warning, language warning and also violence warning because this character has a lot of violent thoughts.

tagging, as per request: @beautifulramblingbrains @beltz2016

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR Fuck Eric and his stupid face. Fuck Max. Fuck the fucking infirmary and all the wretched staff. They conspired against me and that is so not appreciated. I fell asleep on the ride back and when I woke up I was in the infirmary. Handcuffed to a cot and sedated. For my own good. The second I get out of these cuffs I will be leaving a trail of limbs behind all the way to the leadership offices.

Lucy, my nurse who is most definitely strung out on Amity serum, comes in with that chipper smile and bounce in her step that instantly sets my teeth on edge. She is the one that informed me that they had to run some tests before giving me a healing serum or anything other than small doses of the harmless painkillers half of our faction eats like candy. Because, you see, I had unprotected intercourse and could be pregnant.

For that alone I will cut off his balls with a rusty butter knife.

“Doing good I see. We will get you some good food in a bit, you need more nutritious meals in your diet after what you've been through, especially given the circumstances.”

She smiles at me as if we were best friends talking about our crushes during a sleepover. If she tries to braid my hair or paint my nails I will put her head through the nearest wall.

“But first, you have a visitor. Quite a few, actually, but you're supposed to rest. Can't send Max away though so he'll be in shortly.”

“I think we should take that rest thing very seriously, don't you think. Just have someone shoot everyone that tries to disturb me. Even better, just give me my gun.”

That giggle is the most terrifying thing I have ever heard and I have heard my own bones break.

Unfortunately my suggestion fell on deaf ears, because Max strolls in minutes later, looking like the pompous ass that he is. They have some strange birds out in Amity that are strutting around as if they owned the place and I named the fattest of them Max. They roasted him during my last ambassador visit and he was rather tasty.

“Mina, it is good to see you are up….” Max has one of those faces that seem completely blank at times, making it a bitch to read for me. But he looks at my cuffed wrist and chuckles, that isn't hard to decipher. Dauntless men are a bunch of sexist pigs. “Eric enjoyed that a little too much.”

“Yeah, wait until I get out of here, he will find that even more enjoyable.”

Our grand leader raises an eyebrow at me and instantly makes me feel like a child throwing a tantrum, which I can ignore like a pro. I was raised by the most intimidating bitch this faction has seen before I came along, he has nothing on that. Max strolls over to the tiny window with his hands clasped behind his back, something I feel he would have picked up from an old book if I thought he was truly capable of reading. We are not the brainy faction and reading is somewhat of a shameful little vice people do behind closed doors - funny, because I can’t count all the semi-public blowjobs I’ve walked past in my years here.

“I realize that I shouldn't have sent you out so soon, so part of this mess is on me. You were absolutely reckless and ill prepared to deal with surprises. Never, ever go out on a mission without your phone, Mina, that's one of the first things we teach our fledgling soldiers. You need a way to contact us at all times in case the radio fails. How you didn't think about having one of your team get back to us… it shows me that you aren't fully ready to lead our groups out there.”

I open my mouth, ready to start the angry retorts, but he holds up his hand.  Without even fucking looking at me, how creepy is that?

“However… you handled yourself well, given the circumstances. All of yours came back relatively unharmed. Which, of course, is a testament to their training as much as your leadership. I realize that you have been through a lot lately, which is why you will continue to focus on our initiates for now. It will take two days for the test results to come back, you will rest until then. We will decide how to proceed after we have news on your… status. Although, to be honest, it's about damn time. The new ruling was passed just around the time you disappeared so we cut Eric some slack, but since you are back, well.  That saves us some time.”

I'm not often speechless but I'm positively dumbstruck. What the actual fuck? He is the one who sent me on this supposedly easy trip. Just days after I got back from being tortured and all that fun shit. Now he's telling me I'm not fit to do my job? That is rich. And not one word about the patron saint of sanctimonious assclowns who decided that I was some fucking damsel in distress? That Nose has read way too many old books about knights and secretly virtuous bandits saving helpless womenfolk in need. And then… hold on.

“What new ruling?”

It is nearly impossible to look any more condescending than Max right now, but he seems to remember that I've only been back for a few days and can't possibly be up to speed on everything that has been going on.

“There's been talk about how to improve birth rates, they are low all across the board. It's now a prerequisite for leaders and higher ranking members of all factions to be married and have children. Ideally before they are chosen, which doesn't apply to those already holding a position when the ruling came to effect, of course. They have a certain time frame to find a suitable partner, which was suspended in Eric’s case due to his age and circumstances back then. And we made an exception for you for now since it's only a matter of time that you two make it official, especially if you really are pregnant already. Two birds, one stone.”

And with the most aggravating smug expression he drops some papers onto my bed and saunters away.

Yep, going to kill them. All of them. Slowly.

In what has to be one of the most amateur moves of the century Max actually left stacks of paperwork held together by paperclips. I was born Dauntless, we handcuffed each other for fun in daycare to see who could get out the fastest.

So I am currently on my way to my alleged betrothed, head held high as I limp around the compound barefoot and bruised in nothing but sweatpants and a tank top. People move out of the way in spite of my pathetic appearance because hell hath no fury like a Dauntless woman on her way to smite patriarchy.

The raven haired chick that's supposed to be Eric’s assistant doesn't even bother to try and stop me so I make a point of remembering her name.  Raven, oh dear. But Raven shall receive a generous gift basket soon. Maybe we'll share it sitting on a pile of heads. She inclines her head towards the closed door and smirks at me, I can hear him snarl at someone. This should be good.

There is a certain beauty in the sound a door makes when it is opened so forcefully it ricochets off the wall, even more beautiful when it's accompanied by the various sounds of shock a group of five already intimidated grown men is capable of producing. I look them over and growl.

“Out. NOW!”

They scurry away like spooked little kittens before Eric can say anything to the contrary and I silently dare the little bastard to say something. To give me one more reason to fucking maim him. But he doesn’t, merely looks at me with that cold, slightly disgusted look of his he bestows on mortals. Asshole.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“What did you say? You want me to crush your skull? That can definitely be arranged.”

As an afterthought I kick the door shut, I can at least pretend that we are trying to keep this quiet. At this point I don’t care if we do this in the middle of the Pit on a Saturday night, since everyone is up in my business already anyway.

“You’re acting like a fucking child.”

He is still sitting behind his desk, arms folded in front of him, looking strangely tense. Eric is always so nonchalant, even when he gets angry, but this is different. Not that he would like it if I let on to seeing the difference, he likes to be the unreadable one. The aloof leader. My ass.

Even though moving hurts, a lot, I manage to hobble to his desk and shove it towards him. It’s relatively solid, but I know that one of the legs on his side has been wobbly since I spent some time bent over the thing, it was shaking considerably. Luck is on my side and the leg breaks, sending his computer and neat stacks of paperwork flying.

Finally, a reaction.

Grinding his teeth hard enough for me to hear Eric slowly rises out of his chair and fixates me with his patented stare that is supposed to make me submit on the spot. All it does is annoy me, and make me a little wet. His nostrils flare, too.

Maybe a little more than a little wet.

“So when were you going to tell me about your little schemes, there, leaderboy? Do you honestly think you could trick ME into this shit? I don’t want to get fucking married and I don’t want to breed, for fuck’s sake. They can take their leadership position and shove it up their collective asses for all I care, I’d rather go back to listening to Amity’s crop problems.”

The computer screen crunches under his boot because he is too busy staring at me having my outburst. This is usually more fun when the other party actually responds though, and he’s beginning to creep me out. Without a word he grabs me and slams me against the door, I think we’ve been here before, not too long ago. My brain isn’t working properly right now. Might be the lack of oxygen because he’s got a hand over my throat, pressing down just far enough to make my vision a little blurry around the edges. Might also be because the blood flow to my brain has been slowed down in favor of sending more blood rushing through my nether regions.

“I'm not tricking you into anything. You neglected to take care of birth control so I informed them of that. And you might not give a shit about your position but if I want to keep mine I have to get married and at least pretend to adhere to the new rules. Matter of fact, Jeanine has suggested a few suitable  candidates I didn't bother to look at yet.”

Of course she did. Something inside me tries to protest at the idea of Eric marrying some dumb Dauntless bimbo for appearances. Truly a dumb move because at this point nobody would believe that he actually wants her, not after… this. Maybe he has a point. I will not admit that even if it would save my life. It is a fact that he can’t stand about 99.9% of the population of this city and that is a very generous number, all things considered. The thought of having to share a place with someone, even just for appearances, makes my skin crawl. Married people don’t live in separate apartments, do they?

“So you didn’t try to knock me up on purpose?”

My words sound squeaky since he is still trying to strangle me. Eric still looks angry but he raises an eyebrow at me and something about his face is completely off. It’s not anger, there are several shades of that everyone here is very familiar with. It’s not lust, either, although somewhere deep inside he would probably not object to fucking me right now. Not quite sad, either. Disappointed? Why would he be disappointed.

“So you really think I would trick you like that.”

Eric has a talent for making it sound like he is not asking questions and that he wouldn’t be interested in the answer if people still took it as one. But I am beginning to realize that he wants me to trust him. After all, I sleep when he is around, more or less. I’m naked. Granted, I have developed a habit of waking up with my gun in my hand, but that is a recent development. So me assuming the worst, just like everyone else would, is pretty much the opposite of what he expects of me.

“Excuse me for not being able to read your fucking mind, I will get right to practicing that.”

I do notice that the pressure around my throat eases just that little bit that makes all the difference between life and death and I gasp, desperate to take advantage of the once again relatively unrestricted airflow. But Eric still has that strange look and it bothers me more than it probably should, being a friend with undeniable benefits and all. I sigh and try to gather my wits.

“Look. I’ve been kidnapped and tortured. I come back to this clusterfuck, am made a leader and almost killed once more, excuse me for being in a mindset where expecting the worst is kind of the thing to do. It has nothing to do with you, Eric.” There it is, his face looks a little less miserable, but that glimmer of hope hiding behind the frown is almost worse. Definitely worse is the urge to protect that little spark at all cost. “And I guess you are the best choice for this marriage bullshit, out of everyone I hate you the least and your chances of surviving the first three months are pretty good. I’ll think about it, alright. I just… need to sort through shit.”

If I didn’t knew any better I’d think he looks relieved, but it is quickly replaced with his trademark smirk. “I can work with that…” His hand yanks down my sweatpants and much to both our surprise I am not wearing anything underneath. Who the hell undressed me in the infirmary? They sure got an eye full. The new underwear I bought is uncomfortable and I’ve always preferred going commando, as they say.

Coming back to my senses I push off the wall and shove Eric backwards until he is in his chair again, before I can straddle him he has his pants unzipped and is ready for me to slip onto him. Not a single sound can be heard from inside this room as I lower myself slowly, torturing both of us inch by inch until I am fully seated and Eric grabs my hips, trying to urge me to move. It’s always like this, fast and hard and relentless but maybe I’m in the mood for something new. If the guy can fucking spoon me all night he can let me have this moment.

And he does, even though I can see he doesn’t like it much, at least not until I dip my head to catch his bottom lip between my teeth and lightly tug on it. It gives him something to focus on and the bruising grip on my hips loosens a little when I suck on his tongue, Eric even groans, a strangled little sound but it’s there. Another follows when I begin to slowly roll my hips, not lifting myself up at all but grinding against him instead.He wraps both arms around me and I half expect him to try and take charge, which he could easily do given his clear physical advantage. Instead he just leaves them around me, holding on to me and steadying me at the same time. It’s kind of nice.

Somewhere outside people are talking in hushed voices but I only hear them as if I’m under water somewhere, distorted and distant. All my focus is solidly tethered to where we are joined, my tightening muscles and the feeling of my skin sliding against his in a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. The friction of coarse hair against my sensitive flesh is soon gone, soothed by sweat and the wetness pooling at the apex of my thighs whenever he just so much as raises an eyebrow at me.

Then his phone rings and he holds up his hand. Is he fucking serious?

“It’s Jeanine.”

Of course he is fucking serious. I watch, undoubtedly with my mouth wide open, as he picks the damn thing up and greets that witch, at least he has the decency to sound annoyed. Good, he is currently balls deep in his probably, maybe future wife.

“Eric. You still have not answered my message so i decided to be a little more proactive, after checking your schedule I saw that you have an opening right now. The most suitable candidate i personally picked should arrive at your office any moment…”

My eyes widen but before I can snatch the phone away eric blocks me with his free arm and scowls at me. In response I tighten my muscles and he hisses.

“No need for that Jeanine, you know that.”

Good boy. I begin to slightly rock my hips back and forth, thoroughly enjoying his grimace. And I am very much looking forward to his retaliation as soon as he gets off the phone.

“Please don’t tell me you are still hanging on to the foolish notion that that savage woman is a good match for you. If you think that you have to, given the circumstances, I can evaluate the test personally, I’ll have someone bring her samples up to me this instant. Even if she should be pregnant, we could…”

Within seconds Eric’s face switches from mildly annoyed to murderous.

“Don’t even say that. My answer has been, is, and will be no, no matter how often you bring this up. I am very happy to accommodate you on a professional level, but this concerns my private life and I decide who I marry, if I do and when.”

This man is a god and I don’t think I have ever liked him more than in this very second when he is telling my least favorite person in existence to shove her ideas up her ass. Which, considering how stuck up she is, should be ready to burst already with all the sticks up there. I grind my hips harder and Eric growls, but he is grinning at me.

The Matthews woman is going on about how, as a leader, he has a duty to his faction 24/7 and how the perfect match for him should reflect him in the best way possible but I can tell he lost all interest in the conversation a while ago.

“I’ll have to let you go, I am currently in a meeting with a very savage woman that is demanding my attention. Have your assistant contact my assistant about our next official meeting. I’m done with this bullshit.”

And he hangs up, drops his phone to the floor and gets up, all within seconds. I’m firmly wrapped around him and not sure if he’s grinning or snarling, but I don’t think even he is very sure about that.

“You fucking bitch”, he hisses and sends shivers down my spine, that man has a way with words that makes at least this savage woman swoon.

There is some rustling and crashing as he flings away things that have fallen off his toppled desk to make room on the floor, I may or may not be laughing about his urgency, but once he has me on the floor and the admittedly pretty loud sound of flesh slapping against flesh can be heard that laughing turns into barely muffled moans and it doesn’t take long before we both cry out in unison, muffled by each other’s necks, jaws locked and tender flesh caught between our teeth like two dogs fighting over a bone. We will be walking around with teeth marks, both of us, but that is nothing new. Maybe we can make that our form of engagement thing, most here get a tattoo when married and do a little trinket exchange before that to signal that they are off the market. I like this better, the skin on my neck an angry red, teeth indentations clearly visible, a little bit of blood trickling down.

When we stumble out of his office, both in a suspiciously good mood, me pulling up my pants, he just zipping up his, Raven sits behind her desk and bites into her fist, barely hiding her amusement. There is a girl, and she is really barely more than that, sitting on a chair waiting, wearing her best little dress and too much makeup. Eric looks her over and mutters a ”Hell, no.” that, embarrassingly enough, makes me giggle. Which, in turn, makes him smirk at me and slap my ass. I guess we’re doing that thing with touching in front of others now?

Raven leans forward and clears her throat. “Sir, I will call maintenance to have someone check your intercom since it doesn’t turn off anymore.”

I look at Eric, he looks at me. So… they could hear everything. Every muttered curse, every slap, every hiss. I shrug, he grins. I was born without the part of the brain that lets you feel embarrassment.

“Thank you, Raven. Take the afternoon off, clear my schedule.”

And with that he throws me over his shoulder and walks towards his apartment. Our apartment. For once I’m not inclined to protest, instead I practice my regal wave when he passes a group of gawking initiates.

PART SIX

[slapshotsandoneshots]

Chapter Seven 

Player: Tyler Seguin – Dallas Stars

Prompt: The next chapter in Give Us a Chance.

Mentions: Jamie & Jordie Benn, Michael Del Zotto

Warnings: Angst & Fighting, Maybe a cuss word.

Preview: But with Jamie and Jordie off talking to some friends and quite a few more shots later, you had changed your story. You were dancing when you felt someone behind you. You knew it wasn’t Jamie or Jordie based on how close they were getting. You giggled. You turned your head and saw the familiar face.

Characters:. 1322 words.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | 

The Masterlist is here. 

Ever since that day after the boat, you might have been avoiding Tyler. You were trying to sort through all the feelings you had for him and what your next play would be. You knew you obviously still had feelings for him, but Tyler was always going to be a star hockey player. You weren’t sure where you fit in that lifestyle anymore.

You saw Tyler here and there, held simple conversations but you tried to keep your distance

You were sitting out by the docks reading a book when you heard footsteps approaching. You glanced behind you to see the younger Benn brother walking onto the deck, beaming.

“Well hello Y/N.,” he said enthusiastically.

“I already know you are up to something Benn. You are being way too extra.” You giggled.

“You are one smart cookie.” He chuckled rubbing the top of your head.

“So, what’s up Benn?”

“Well, Tyler is hosting this party downtown…” he began sheepishly.

“Let me stop you right there. That is a bad idea waiting to happen.” You interrupted.

“Come on, Y/N. Jordie and I will be with you the entire time. You will have a fun time. Don’t you want to get out a little?” he pushed.

You rolled your eyes as you thought about every possible situation that could play out.

“Jamie, I don’t know.” You responded still unsure.

“Please?” he pouted trying to pull off his best puppy dog look. It was a pretty decent try.

“Fine, but only if you stop looking at me like that, it's creeping me out.”

 He laughed pushing his creepy puppy dog face closer to you.

 “Stop it!” you giggled.

“Your dates will pick you up at 8 sharp!” He smiled as he ran off the deck

You chuckled as you stood to your own feet and walked your way back up to the house. You had no idea what you were going to wear and you knew it would take you quite a while to figure it out.

After what seemed like hours and raiding your entire closet, twice, you found it. You decided on a simple black bodycon dress with a slit showing a bit of skin on your thigh. You hadn’t dressed this sexy for a while and you had to say it felt remarkable. You blew out and curled your hair, giving yourself a smoky eye and bright red lip. You were slipping into your nude Louboutin heels, buckling the bows on your ankles as the doorbell rang.

You grabbed your clutch and headed down the stairs, opening the door for the suit-clad Benn brothers. Their jaws dropped.

“Damn Y/N knows how to clean up!” Jordie whooped.

You blushed and followed them to the running car.

You didn’t notice Tyler sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hi Tyler,” you said softly.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

The red once again rushed to your cheeks, this time more intensely.

The car ride fell into a comfortable silence, only the soft hum of the radio.

You reached the club where the party was being hosted and you all headed inside.

Tyler was off to do what you assumed was his “party-hosting duties.”

You followed the Benns to the VIP area and sat down. You were talking casually about Katie with Jamie when Jordie walked up with a handful of shots of some kind of colorful liquor.

“Let’s get this party started” he quipped as you handed you a shot.

You looked at the colorful shot you held in front of you and thought why not. You threw the shot back with a smile.

Jamie and Jordie led you to dance. You three danced and were having a good time. You hadn’t even seen Tyler. You noticed that there were some other hockey players as well as some more athletes in the VIP as well but paid them no attention.

But with Jamie and Jordie off talking to some friends and quite a few more shots later, you had changed your story. You were dancing when you felt someone behind you. You knew it wasn’t Jamie or Jordie based on how close they were getting. You giggled. You turned your head and saw the familiar face. 

You recognized him from Tyler’s Biocamp, as well as quite a few Instagram posts. Michael Del Zotto was grinding behind you and you weren’t complaining, but then again you were feeling quite tipsy.

You continued for a few more songs, until suddenly you were being whisked away quite fast. You were having trouble keeping up, you looked down, watching as you fumbled in your heels. When you finally looked up, you saw a very angry Tyler pulling you outside.

You finally found your courage to speak up.

“What the hell!” you exclaimed when you got outside.

“I should be asking you the same damn question Y/N!” he responded fuming.

“It was just dancing, Tyler,” you said rolling your eyes.

“With Del Zotto? And it looked like a lot more than dancing!” he almost yelled.

“Why does it matter to you?” you questioned as the blood racing through your veins boiled. Who was he to judge you?

“What is that supposed to mean?” He questioned his anger becoming more and more apparent.

“Exactly what I said! Its none of your business anymore! You have no room to judge! Not after what you did, and we were actually together then!” you scoffed.

You knew you were pushing a lot of his buttons. Drunk you was enjoying it, you weren’t so sure how Sober you was going to like it.

“Really, Y/N. That’s where you are going to go?” he sneered.

“Yup” you responded popping the P.

“God, why did I even bother.” He said running his hand over his face.

“I have no idea Tyler”

“Dammit Y/N, Stop being such a bitch!” he yelled.

You were taken aback, sobering up immediately. Not once, in your entire time knowing him, had Tyler ever called you anything even close, not even in jest.

“Fuck You Tyler.” You turned on your heels, not allowing him to see the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

You continued walking down the sidewalk, ignoring his protests. You heard a large thump and a door slam.

You weren’t sure where you were going. It was after midnight and you were alone walking the streets of downtown Toronto. You went to pull out your phone to call an uber when you realized in the midst of things you had left your clutch with Jamie. All you had was your credit card and ID, stuffed in your bra from the last time you bought a round of drinks. You kept walking trying to think of a plan. All you knew is you couldn’t go back.

 Tyler’s POV

 I woke up from the night before and immediately iced my knuckles. Punching a steel door, might not have been my greatest idea. Jamie was still fuming that I allowed Y/N to run off by herself but after looking for a bit we figured she used the nearby payphone to call a cab.

 I wanted to apologize for last night and Jamie needed to return her things. It was very late when we got home and we didn’t want to wake her entire house. Jamie and I ate breakfast, in silence. He was very good at this whole silent treatment thing. We made the walk across the lawn and knocked on the door to the Y/L/N’s house.

Her brother answered the door. “Hey guys…” He suddenly looked confused.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked with sudden concern.

“She’s not here?” Jamie piped up.

“We thought she was still with you guys, she never came home last night.”

My heart fell into my stomach.