#when alcoholic and cigarette addict collide

[duckflush]

So, I thought about some silly little au. 🤠

Here goes our classy chef Sanji as we already know him. He works at one of the most prestige kitchen in the country - Baratie. But not really because this restaurant is just aspiring to get it's Michelin star.

He's pretty stressed from his work already, even that he love his work under his foster parent Zeff, right. Well what will he do with him when the sink breaks at his little apartment. And the repairman that come to fix his silly little problem would piss him even more then all the critics of the universe.

I would call this one Sinking au 🤓

So like... should I do more of that?? 👀

Also let me just say, commission are open for art enjoyers 🌼 You can see more pinned on my page or just text me and I will be happy to explain anything!!

[alexfromjersey]

ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕋𝕨𝕠 | 𝕁𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕆𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕒

Jenna Ortega x Black!Reader

summary: you and jenna have been in a relationship for the past eight years when suddenly everything starts to get rocky.

warnings: mature language, angst, alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking

a/n: by popular demand I give the second part of Cheated. appreciate all the support this got 🫶🏾

“I love you, Luis”

You couldn’t get those words out of your head no matter how hard you tried. It kept echoing in your head like an annoying song stuck on repeat. You’ve tried every method of forgetting by either drowning in alcohol or overtime at work. It only suppressed it for a little while before it clawed back into your brain.

You didn’t know where you went wrong in the relationship. You kept wondering if you did something wrong. What could have you done better? You were stuck with questions with no answers.

You took another sip of whiskey from the glass as you scrolled through the thousands of death threats and hate tweets you got on Instagram and Twitter.

You're used to it though, when you and Jenna first started dating a small portion of fans didn't think you deserved her. You never paid them any mind knowing that they were only upset that they didn't get a chance with her.

jennaortegafanduel: you don’t deserve another peaceful day in your life

mxortega: you attack a man unprovoked how much of a coward are you

guiterriezortega: I told y’all from the beginning that I never liked Y/n. Luis and Jenna were always better looking together

No one knew the truth. The truth as to why you attacked Luis in the first place. No one seemed to care to ask why you did it. They only focused on the fact that their dream man was hurt. Jenna nor Luis's team bothers to put a stop to the narrative being spun.

You had half the mind to leak all the pictures you had to the world. To show them the real Jenna Ortega. But the sensible side of you advised against it.

Eight years down the drain…eight years. Those years didn’t just represent you and Jenna being together. It represented you finally taking back your life after your mother snatched any happiness you felt. It represented a start over and finally experiencing a life and a love you never experienced before.

EIGHT YEARS AGO

“Come on Don put your back into it” You struggled as you and Donny tried to carry a dresser to his apartment.

“I’m trying. This shit is like 200 pounds” Donny grunted as he tried to get a good grip on the furniture.

He was definitely exaggerating about the pounds. But it was heavy as hell. You were helping Donny move into his new apartment downtown. You wanted to be a good friend but you were starting to regret helping out.

“Is it stuck on something?” You grunted.

“No I just can’t get a good grip-wait I got it!” Donny shouted excitedly. He finally got a good grip on the dresser and the two of you finished bringing the dresser inside the apartment.

“Never…again” You stated out of breath.

It was about 7:45 and you and Donny were nowhere near done. You just wanted to return to your comfy bed and finish watching that new Wednesday, Netflix show. It was an addictive show, with the lead actress selling Wednesday Addams really well and in a creative modern way. You grab a box and go to walk back into the apartment when a body collides with you.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry" You apologized to the woman.

"No, I should be the one saying I'm sorry, I collided with you," The woman said. You look down at her and you recognize the woman as the actress of the show you're currently watching.

"Oh...you the new Wednesday Addams," You said nonchalantly.

"Guilty" Jenna smiled sheepishly.

"Aye your show is fire except for the love triangle...no offense but it wasn't really needed." You told her.

Jenna chuckled, "Thank you and duly noted. We're scrapping the whole love triangle in the next season anyway."

"Good choice" You stated with a smile and adjusted the box in your hand.

“Moving in?” Jenna asked you, pointing to the box in your hand.

“Nah I’m helping my best friend move his stuff in. I live like 10 minutes away from here” You answered.

Jenna nodded at your answer.

The two of you just stood in front of one another in an awkward silence. You didn't know what else to say to the woman. You were kind of too busy checking her out subtly. She wore something simple: Samba Adidas, an oversized jacket, and some loose-fit jeans. She had her headphones around her neck and a purse around her shoulders.

"Uh...I don't want to take up any more of your time. You have a nice day" You politely smiled and turned to walk away.

"Wait" Jenna called.

You stopped and turned back towards the girl.

"If you're not doing anything tomorrow. There's a new coffee shop that just opened not far from here. You don’t have to say yes or anything I was just wondering if you would like t-”

You smirked at her rambling and placed the box down. You ripped a piece of paper from the box and wrote your number down. “Text me and I’ll meet you there.”

"Okay," Jenna smiled.

PRESENT TIME

Abruptly, you were brought out of your thoughts by a familiar ringtone.

My love ❤️ is calling…

Perfect timing. You had to change that contact name and photo immediately.

It was your first picture together ever, you took Jenna on a date to the fair. You called ahead to at least get two hours of park time before the general public came. It took some money but it was worth it. You weren't a picture person barely having any photos of yourself anywhere but that day the two of you took so many pictures.

You declined the call for the hundredth time in the past week. Ever since you left Jenna at the police station she’s been calling and texting you nonstop.

You place your phone on silent and screen down on the motel bar counter. You’ve been at this motel for the past couple of days. You were staying at Donny’s but you didn’t want to be a burden on him and his family. So you got a motel after much protest from them.

You finished your drink and left the bar. You stepped outside the building for some fresh air and a smoke break.

SIX YEARS AGO

“Smoking kills you know that right?” Jenna commented when she saw you leaning against the building with a cigarette hanging from your lips.

You shrugged, “We all die someday.”

“True but why speed up the process by smoking these cancer sticks,” Jenna said.

“I’m sorry…didn’t you get caught in the media smoking a cigarette with Gideon” You smirked at the girl.

“One time. It was one time. I haven’t done it again especially not after the way my mother embarrassed me on her Instagram stories” Jenna grumbled.

You let out a laugh, you remembered that day. When you saw her mother’s stories you teased Jenna about it for a good week. It was funny but also sweet that her mother was thinking about her health.

“It’s not funny” Jenna mumbled. Her being mad still made you continue to snicker before you gradually stopped.

PRESENT TIME

You finish your cigarette and flick the bud to the ground. You stomp it out and turn to go back inside when you hear a car door shut.

“I’ve been calling you,” A familiar voice said from behind you.

You freeze in your tracks at the sound of her voice that used to make you swoon. You turned around and faced the neutral-faced woman.

“Yeah, I know but what are you calling me for? We ain’t got shit to talk about” You said and placed your hands in your jacket pockets.

“We have a lot to talk about…I want to explain myself” Jenna revealed.

“Whatever you got to say, keep it to yourself” You stated. You turn around and go towards your room when her voice stops you again.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry for everything” Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking at the end.

You stopped again in your tracks.

“I fucked up severely. I should’ve never cheated on you” Jenna said. Tears were pooling in her eyes.

“Why did you? Why did you cheat?” You asked the millionaire dollar question.

Jenna sighed and shifted on her feet, “Because he was there. I wanted to feel something different. I was tired of being stuck in the same cycle. Going away for months and then coming back home to you working 12-hour shifts, barely getting any attention from you.”

“So to sum it all up, it’s my fault that you cheated” You spoke.

“No, I just-” You interrupted Jenna.

“You just wanted someone that wasn’t me. You wanted someone who could give you all the time and attention that you wanted. Someone who didn’t have to work a regular job to sustain themselves. Someone who could afford to take you to these expensive places. Someone that you wanted to be seen in public with. Someone that was enough for you” Jenna interrupted you.

“That’s not true Y/n” Jenna exclaimed.

“But it is true Jenna. If it wasn’t you wouldn’t have cheated. If you were happy in our relationship, the idea of sleeping with someone else would have disgusted you” You spoke.

Jenna stood in front of you, lost in her own thoughts.

You sniffled, “I told you from the start that I don’t tolerate cheating. There’s no second chance with me if you cheat. My trust in you has dissipated and I don’t know if you’ll ever get it back.”

“Y/n please I’m sorry. We can fix this” Jenna sobbed and grabbed onto you.

You gently tried to push her off you but she had an iron grip on your clothes. She then pulled you down by your jacket and connected your lips together. Salty tears were all you tasted on her lips. For a moment, you felt yourself get lost in her lips.

“I love you” Jenna mumbled on your lips.

Back then she brought you back to reality, you pulled away from her. You managed to get yourself out of her grip.

“I’m gonna come tomorrow to get my clothes and stuff,” You told her and walked into the motel. For the second time, you left her standing there sobbing away.

THREE YEARS AGO

“What’s like your ideal wedding?” Jenna asked you as she cuddled up to your naked side.

“Hmm…I always said that I would like a beach wedding. Have the wedding during the sunset and the reception at a place that has a pool and just vibe for the rest of the night” You answered and rubbed her back.

“Oh, I love a beach wedding. The only problem I got with it is the sand in your shoes” Jenna said.

“No shoes. Easy fix” You shrugged.

“What if they don’t want to have no shoes?” Jenna questioned amused.

“Well, tough tits don’t come” You chuckled. Jenna let out a giggle. The two of you just lay there, cuddled up next to each other in a comfortable silence. Cherishing the warmth of each other you rarely get to feel.

“I love you Y/n” Jenna gushed.

You sat up on your elbows and looked at her with nothing but love and happiness in your eyes. You love this girl like you never loved any other girl before. She was the love of your life and you would do anything for her.

“Baby?” Jenna’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Hmm?” You hummed while still staring at her.

“You okay?” Jenna questioned softly.

You smiled at her and connected your lips to hers, “I’m perfect.” You deepened the kiss by putting all your love into it. You slowly move on top of her, holding your weight up by your palms. Jenna wrapped her legs around your waist pulling you closer.

PRESENT TIME

“Hey Apollo, how you doing boy” You gushed as your dog Apollo jumped on you excited. You brought Jenna a dog for her birthday a couple of years ago. He was a Golden Cocker Retriever (Golden Retriever + Cocker Spaniel).

Apollo nudged you with his nose and licked your face. You chuckled at the excited dog. You stood up and saw Jenna and Gideon at the kitchen counter watching you with Apollo. Gideon had a sympathetic look on her face when she saw you.

“Hey, Gideon” You politely said to the woman.

“Hey Y/n and Donny” Gideon replied to you and Donny.

You ignore Jenna and make your way to your former bedroom. You and Donny start to pack up your clothes in the boxes you brought. You packed up your game, anything you wanted you packed.

Thankfully, Donny had a truck to put everything in even though you didn’t really have a lot of stuff.

As you were loading the last box in the truck, you felt someone watching you. You turn around and see Jenna behind you.

You sighed, “I’m not doing this again Jenna.”

“Can you please just listen to what I have to say?” Jenna pleaded with you.

You sighed and leaned against the truck with your arms crossed.

Jenna nervously played with her fingers, “I know that saying I’m sorry isn’t going to undo what I did or ease the hurt that you’re feeling. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to feel how I felt when we first got together before my career and your job started getting in the way. And instead of me coming to you and talking to you about how I felt, I went to the first person that gave me what I wanted and I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have accused you of cheating. I shouldn’t have distanced myself. I shouldn’t have done any of it. I wish I could take it all back. I regret everything.”

“Let me ask you if you didn’t get caught, would you still feel guilty?” You asked.

Jenna opened and closed her mouth trying to find the right words to say. You grabbed a small box from your pocket.

“I wanted to marry you. I wanted to have kids with you. I wanted to grow old with you. I never felt love like I did with you. As much as I would like to fix this and move past it…I can’t. I can’t do it because every time I look at you…I just see you and him together” You said and grabbed her hand. You then placed the box in her hand.

“Despite what happened I’ll always love you but we can’t be together anymore” You kissed her on the forehead and gave her hand a tight squeeze. You then hopped into the truck with Donny in the passenger seat.

Jenna looked down at the small box in her hand. With shaky hands, she opened it to reveal a diamond engagement ring. She covered her mouth as sobs escaped. She felt Gideon hold onto her as they watched the truck you were in disappear around the corner.

It confirmed to Jenna that she’s lost you forever.

a/n: sooooooooo i went through like seventeen different versions of this lmao but i hope you guys enjoyed it. I'm gonna go rage on call of duty now :)

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

The Man That I Could Be

by ohstars

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Nancy Wheeler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Stranger Things 3, Post-Battle of Starcourt (Stranger Things), Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Angst, Sexuality Crisis, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington-centric, Fix-It, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Grief/Mourning, Non-Canonical Character Death, but it's not a main character, Everyone Has Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, but not, Break Up, Shotgunning, Recreational Drug Use, Getting Back Together, still figuring out the story so pay attention to the tags, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cigarettes, Alcohol, lots of smoking, light mentions of alcohol, they drink but passively, steve has a nicotine addiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Period-Typical Homophobia, Vecna's Curse (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson Lives, Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2 Rewrite, Stranger Things 4 Fix-It, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Eventual Smut, but that could change, Panic Attacks, Disabled Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Sibling Relationship, Secrets, steve has an issue with making everything a secret, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Misunderstandings based on reputations, gets heavier than anticipated, Past Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Rape/Non-con, referenced once in chapter nineteen, not a major theme Words: 325,968 Chapters: 26/26

Summary

"Steve Harrington isn't straight. It's been a few weeks since he sat on that bathroom floor at Starcourt with Robin, where she shared her biggest secret with him and unintentionally unlocked an entirely new side of Steve. Since he’s had to come to terms with being open to exploring that side of him, but he's finally acknowledged that he's most likely, definitely, without a doubt into guys." -- After coming to terms that he may be queer, Steve Harrington does a little exploration on his own and meets the one and only Eddie Munson. Just as things are going well and accepted the fact he's falling for Eddie in their own little bubble, Steve's world is shaken by a tragedy he can't quite talk about. And when the dust settles and he's nearly ready to put the pieces back together, his worlds collide when he realizes his Eddie is the same Eddie playing D&D with the kids. The same Eddie who's now wanted for murder thanks to another upside down monster. How will he save the day when he can barely focus watching his ex mingle with his monster fighting team?

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

Ford pines for headcanons?

YES FUCKCING YES GIRL!!!!!!!! LETS A GO !

A (Realisitic): lovessssss doodling on paper. has an affinity for eyes (;]), swirlies, scribbles, and creatures. whatever he can get his damned hands on he will doodle on it and he will do it happily. my boy's an artist ❤️❤️

B (Not Realistic But Funny): honestly in canon ford's probably into music too much but i can see him being an period music fan. abba, queen (teehee), freetwood mac, david bowie, etc. that's just his VIBE to me, not in the crowley way but in his own strong inks and cigarette smoke way. i associate thoss things with him as well as anythinf existing before 1982 with him alot if u didnt know. i still see something and go "ford missed this 😔" or "ford didn't miss this! 😁" in a sad or happy tone at least once a day /srs. oh i love this guy

C (Heart-Crushing): this kinda collides with D but im keeping it in that category. soul crushing? ford never knowing what to hope for in regards to stan on the other side. whenever he has time to think about it, he isnt sure whether to imagine him in his house or dead in a ditch, and the mystyer honestly scares him more than he'd like to admit. ford kinda treats it like schrodinger's cat in a way--as long as he never confirms, it could really be anything, and that absolves him of any potential guilt. so. (also: that he celebrates holidays out in the multiverse too, when possible. makeshift menoras, pastries in substitute of bday cakes, lighting sticks during new years. just for the sense of grounding. ALSO alsohe's spent at least 3 birthdays in a prison cell or very hurt. so. yeah)

D (Unrealistic but FUCK CANON): has always stuggled with addiction, especially with antidepressants or alcohol. thus sort of snowballs into a whole "if this makes me feel good i cannot have for more than needed" but still ends upgrappling with it anyway. he suffered MAJORRRR withdrawlel when portal stranded and since then swore off it bc he drank the most under bill's influence. it's very important to me and i need more fics about it sooooooo bad, bc while i HAVE written my own, i think someone else is needed to do it justice. now that im remembering this i HAVE read some with this hc and they were beautiful and i need to reread them again and i need to REWATCH THIS DAMN SHOW SO I CAN READ AND WRITE SOME FIC AGAI .... also there IS some evidence as extracted by @/callipraxia (need to find that meta again) but i DOUBT that would ever be canon bc of the kid show rating. (watch the book of bill canonize this seven fucking months from now. i swear to god..../j)

TY FOR THE ASK!!!!!! 💖💖

[karadanverss]

Fic: The Man That I Could Be by @oh-stars

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

"Steve Harrington isn't straight. It's been a few weeks since he sat on that bathroom floor at Starcourt with Robin, where she shared her biggest secret with him and unintentionally unlocked an entirely new side of Steve. Since he’s had to come to terms with being open to exploring that side of him, but he's finally acknowledged that he's most likely, definitely, without a doubt into guys."

After coming to terms that he may be queer, Steve Harrington does a little exploration on his own and meets the one and only Eddie Munson. Just as things are going well and accepted the fact he's falling for Eddie in their own little bubble, Steve's world is shaken by a tragedy he can't quite talk about. And when the dust settles and he's nearly ready to put the pieces back together, his worlds collide when he realizes his Eddie is the same Eddie playing D&D with the kids. The same Eddie who's now wanted for murder thanks to another upside down monster. How will he save the day when he can barely focus watching his ex mingle with his monster fighting team?

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Nancy Wheeler

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Stranger Things 3, Post-Battle of Starcourt (Stranger Things), Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Angst, Sexuality Crisis, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington-centric, Fix-It, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Grief/Mourning, Non-Canonical Character Death, but it's not a main character, Everyone Has Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, but not, Break Up, Shotgunning, Recreational Drug Use, Getting Back Together, still figuring out the story so pay attention to the tags, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cigarettes, Alcohol, lots of smoking, light mentions of alcohol, they drink but passively, steve has a nicotine addiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Period-Typical Homophobia, Vecna's Curse (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson Lives, Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2 Rewrite, Stranger Things 4 Fix-It, Eventual Happy Ending, implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Eventual Smut, but that could change, Panic Attacks, Disabled Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Steve Harrington & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Sibling Relationship, Secrets, steve has an issue with making everything a secret, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Misunderstandings based on reputations, gets heavier than anticipated, Past Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Rape/Non-con, referenced once in chapter nineteen, not a major theme

[ljstlr]

Unspoken Words.

vernon (hansol) x reader

genre: angst

! tw: cigarettes, alcohol, bullying.

words: 2119

——————————————————————————

You can’t exactly explain how this set-up happened. It was 3 in the morning and you were smoking cigarettes with the guy who lived next door at the back of a convenience store. The vibe that the night gave was spectacular and you both sat there in silence.

There was only 4 hours left until school starts so you and your ‘friend’ smoked your last cigarette and called it a day. You walked back to your houses and he nodded at you when you reach your front porch.

He gave you a faint smile and you gave him one back. You quietly tip-toed to your room and immediately fell asleep with the contact of your bed.

By the afternoon, you were trying hard to keep up with the conversations in your lunch table. Everyone was talking at once and it was hard to focus on just one. When you were about to speak to make everyone shut up, you saw something that caught your attention.

Vernon was being dragged by the collar once again by the same group of boys. You watch as they push him around and have evil laughs come out their mouths. The pain in Vernon’s face was evident but he never fought back.

And you wondered why.

The chaos eventually stopped when a teacher stepped in and assisted Vernon away from the scene. You always felt bad for him, but you never felt like it was your place to speak up about it.

The faint sounds of rocks tapping your window was a signal from your neighbor that he was ready to go to the usual spot. You blinked your lights twice to tell him that you were coming.

You unlocked the house door as quite as possible and you saw him sitting in the sidewalk as he waited for you. He gave you a smile as he stood up and dusted off the dirt on his pants. You offered one back.

As usual, the walk to the store was quiet. You watched as he pulled out his fake ID to purchase a pack of cigarettes and a few beers. The two of you then hid behind the store and sat at the usual spot to consume the products that he recently bought.

The smoke from the cigarettes surrounded your vision. The two of you weren’t that addicted to smoking and a pack would usually last you both a week. The silence was relaxing as you felt the alcohol pass through your throat for the first time that night.

Hours passed and the usual four hours before school starts mark came so you signaled him that it was time to go but he gestured you to stop and sit down for a second.

“(y/n), I need to tell you something.” You were taken aback when the boy spoke to you. These were the first words that he ever told you after months of hanging out at midnight.

“Hit me.” You told him which put a smile in his face. You were yet to know that he was glad to finally hear your voice after the longest time.

“I’m moving out of the state.” He spoke and you were … in disbelief. Your heart felt as if like it sank and you can’t exactly explain why.

Maybe because he became your safe zone where you could be yourself for a moment. Although words were never exchanged, you considered him as someone who’s close to you because he never once judged you for enjoying things like smoking or drinking – he even joined you to it.

“Can I ask why?” You replied and he nodded.

“My guardians found out about the bullying in school. They want to take me away to another state for a clean start.” Vernon explained and you frowned.

Vernon obviously was considered an outcast at school. He was silent and that made stupid bullies push him around because he never talked back. They would even bring up the boy’s dark past, but he still remained quiet. You honestly hated it, but who were you to judge him when you barely knew anything about him?

“How long until you leave?” You ask and you were scared for the answer.

“A week.” And you can’t deny that you wished that a week would never come.

In the morning, you woke up ahead of your alarm to get ready for school. Your parents were in shock seeing you leave for school so early when you were always a late comer – they’d have to drag you to the bathroom in the usual mornings for you to leave your bed.

But you couldn’t afford to be late. You had to spend time with him before he left. A smile was painted on your face as you ran towards Vernon who was a few steps ahead from you. He was shocked to see you.

“(y/n)?” He spoke with a clear indication that he was confused on why you were interacting with him. It wasn’t midnight, and it was clear day.

No one knew that you were friends with him. That would ruin you.

“Let’s walk to school, don’t want to be late.” You simply responded and he stood in his spot still confused. But nevertheless, he couldn’t contain his smile as he walked fast to catch up with you.

And there it was, the stares. He felt nervous as people started to chatter, laugh, whisper, and look at the two of you. But you didn’t care, and Vernon saw that. He was left in awe as you ignored everyone and kept walking with him.

Suddenly, your path was blocked by a very familiar set of men.

“Are you fucking serious, (y/n)?” Minghao spoke in a harsh tone.

You hated the term, but you were part of the students who were considered popular. And your group of friends valued their reputation like a saint on a pedestal, so other students seeing you with someone like Vernon would cause them problems.

“Yes, I am, Minghao. And if you don’t leave him alone, God knows what little secret of yours I’d tattle that’ll ruin the shit out of you.” You responded bravely and quickly took a hold of Vernon’s arm to walk away.

Vernon could feel his heartbeat racing in his chest; he even felt like it would jump out and just collide with yours but that’s anatomically impossible, right?

You spent the entire day at school with Vernon. And you loved every second of it. Every time he spoke, he made you laugh and smile. And every single word you would say, he’d listen carefully. You wished you spent more time with him like this.

The smile you showed to everyone that day was more genuine than ever and even the people around you noticed that. Vernon, he really just made you feel like you’re over the moon.

Vernon felt the same way as he watched you talk about your favorite band while munching on your yogurt. He was pretty sure that the ice cream shop’s employees were bothered by you being really talkative, but he showed no care.

He loved seeing you like this.

The days flew by fast, and you grew so much closer to Vernon in that short span of days. When you were together, it’s like the people around you don’t exist, and the world was made only for the two of you.

You were in the park today. You sat down on the swing as Vernon insisted to push the swing for you as you both waited for the sunset. The calming silence coming back once again after days and days of just talking.

“Vernon, can I ask you something?” You asked; eyes focused on the sun that’s about to set.

“Hit me.” He chuckled as he mimicked your first words to him.

“How come you never spoke up to the bullies...?” He let out a sigh when you finished your sentence.

You felt the swaying of your swing put to a halt as he sat down on the swing seat next to yours.

“My parents were everything to me back then, (y/n).” He spoke and you could see the tears that were waiting to break free from his eyes.

“Before my mom died, her last words to me were ‘don’t you ever be a prey, son.’” He let out a faint laugh.

“And so, even if I was being pushed down, dragged around, whatever shit they gave me. I never talk back cause if I do, it’s an indication to them that they’re getting to me.” He paused for a while to appreciate the beauty of the sunset.

“That’s why they won’t leave me alone, (y/n). They hated that I never once fought back or told them to stop, because they want the inferiority complex to know that they have a prey, but I didn’t give them that.” He took a deep breath.

His parents were preys of the rich people when he was younger. They were wrongfully pinpointed with being drug addicts that was causing the chaos in the neighborhood and everyone believed that because they talked back.

They tried to fight for themselves and the rich knew that they had their prey. Which lead to their unjustified execution and left Vernon parentless. He loved his parents with his whole heart, but he refused to go down the same road as them.

“(y/n), with words being left unspoken, you’re much safer that way.” He finally turned to look at you and gave you a smile.

You smiled back and took a hold of his hand. His heart started racing once again.

“As the sun sets tonight, I want you to set away everything that has happened here, Vernon. Every single thing.” You whispered to him.

In the back of your mind, you never wanted him to forget you. But he’s already been through enough and he deserves that.

You could see the same reaction in his eyes. He didn’t want to forget about you, hell, he even wants to stay back for you.

But he knows you wouldn’t like that.

“And as the sun rises tomorrow, I want you to rise up and kick ass in the new life you’re about to have.” He laughed as you finished with your words.

You squeezed his hands and it caused him to hold tighter onto yours. And you were glad he couldn’t hear the loud beating that your heart was going through right now.

“You deserve a clean start, Vernon. You have a heart of gold and the best things in life belongs to you.” You reassured him.

You felt him move closer to you and you don’t know how your heart is still alive at this point. But you moved closer as well until the gap between the two of you eventually closed.

As the sun sets in the background, you shared a passionate kiss.

The next day, you watched people lift heavy boxes onto a moving truck next door. You couldn’t bring yourself to come down and say goodbye to Vernon because you’re scared that you might get down on your knees and beg him not to go.

And for the past days, that’s what Vernon has been waiting for you to do. Especially since the kiss last night, he hated to leave you all alone in this town. But he knows you well and you don’t want to hold him back. He sighed as he closed the door of his house next to you one last time.

Before getting into the car, he looked up to your window and saw you watching him. He waved you goodbye and so did you.

“Until the next time that we meet.” You mouthed to each other which caused the both of you to share a laugh one last time.

He smiled through the pain and finally got inside their car. You watched as the cars and trucks leave their driveway and he was officially gone. You laid down on your bed to look up in the ceiling, but you felt something uncomfortable under your pillow.

You sat up and removed the pillow near the bedframe and you saw an almost crushed cigarette box resting under.

You picked up the box and saw that there were three remaining cigarette sticks inside. You shook the box and the sticks fell directly in your palm.

You noticed a blank ink residue, so you used your finger to rotate the sticks and you saw that each stick had written words in them.

To my dearest (y/n), the first stick wrote.

The sun of my life, the second stick wrote.

I love you. the last stick wrote.

You let go of the first two sticks for a while and hold on to the last stick. You felt a tear come out of your eye as you read the words over and over.

“I love you too, Vernon.” And just like how your story with Vernon started, it ended the same way,

With words being left unspoken.

[wipbigbang]

2021 Round - Artists Claims (Round 2)

Round 2 of claims for artists are open! The second round will go this week and then I'll post a new round on Thursday, opening it up for thirds. Everybody spread the word! We have 70 story summaries below for you to choose from, and this round, you may choose 2 stories to do art for! Just use a different check in ID with each sign-up.

This year, art claims are working a little differently than in years past. We are using a google form to streamline things, which should make things easier both for you as participants and us mods. To claim a story, the form requires email, check in ID, and the identifying number of your first choice of story. Putting your top three choices is best in case your first or second has already been chosen. Please be sure you've read the FAQ before claiming.

Click here to claim a story!

Shadowhunters (TV) #51 Title: An Omega Transaction Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood / Jace Wayland Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: Omegaverse AU SummaryWhen Alec presented as an omega his whole life changed for the worse. He was sent away to be taught how to become a 'proper' omega, his parabatai bond to Jace muted. After suffering years of abuse, Alec finally sees Jace again. Jace explains that as part of a truce with the Downworld Alec is meant to become mate to the Downworld leader; the Alpha Magnus Bane. Alec agrees to the mating bond to escape his hellish existence and on the condition his friend and follow omega, Andrew Underhill, is saved as well. What starts out as a practical and useful transaction for everyone involved becomes complicated when Magnus falls in love with his omega mate and Jace’s buried feelings for Alec reawaken. The question is….will Alec return the two Alphas’ affections, or has he been hurt too much by Alphas in the past to dare open his heart again? And what about Valentine? What is he planning and how does Alec fit into it? A romantic Malace story of love, change and building a family of your own choice. #53 Title: Runaway Love Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: No Warnings Apply Summary A story of surviving hardship, the love for family and finding someone to love in the most unusual places. Maryse and Robert were de-runed as punishment for supporting Valentine. Despite Robert’s protests Maryse steals away two baby boys left in Valentine’s care at the time; Jocelyn’s abandoned son and Jace. The family go to the Mundane world with a two-year-old Alec while Maryse is pregnant with Izzy. Without proper papers the family struggle financially and Robert sinks into a spiral of self-hatred and depression while Maryse fight to get money for the family. Robert’s mounting debts due to his drinking and gambling ends up being collectively owned by Magnus Bane. As they can’t pay back the loans, Alec decides to go bargain with Magnus to see if there’s something other than money the Warlock might want…. #54 Title: Sobriety and Cigarettes Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/Jace Herondale/Alec Lightwood Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Smoking; references to alcoholism, addiction and rehab; recollections of past road trauma; sexual references; angst; moderate language Summary Jace and Magnus just walked out of an AA meeting. Neither of them have licences anymore so they’re both waiting for a bus to take them home. They’ve been waiting a while. #55 Title: The Crumple Zone Is My Heart Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood Rating: Teen Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence Summary Alec Lightwood has been hiding from the Clave since he became a werewolf. Now his two worlds are colliding, and threatening to crush him between them. AU of the first few episodes of the show, with ensemble cast #56 Title: When An Angel Kneels Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: BDSM AU Summary Alec is a sub but given how Idris treats subs, excluding them from all leadership positions and considering them too ‘weak’ to be warriors, Alec has kept it a secret for years, thanks to his sister and his parabatai bond with Jace. However, one fateful encounter with the powerful Dom and Warlock leader Magnus Bane changes everything not only for Alec but for the Shadow World in general. A worldbuilding BDSM AU with a focus on self-acceptance, equality, trust and learning to love. #57 Title: Wings Pairing/Characters Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Isabelle Lightwood/Simon Lewis Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence, Temporary Character Death Summary A Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles AU. Izzy is Sakura, Simon is Syaoran, Alec is Kurogane, Magnus is Fai. "Simon and Izzy are childhood friends in a desert country known as Clow. Izzy is the princess, and Simon is a simple architect excavating ancient ruins. Alec is a warrior in Idris, directly serving under Empress Helen and her warrior wife, Aline. Magnus is a mage from Edom, desperate to escape his past and the King. Across the dimensions, all four are facing adversity and must leave their worlds to request a wish from the Red Witch. There is no such thing as coincidence: everything is connected."

[roses-ruby]

Diary of a Nyctophiliac (Rewritten)

Nyctophiliac from Nyctophilia (n). An attraction to darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.

Hoseok x Female Reader

Genre: Druglord AU!, angst, smut

Warnings: Sex, Oral ( F and M receiving), Fingering, Mentions of Drug Usage, Orgasms, Sir kink, Infidelity, Death

Word Count: 3,673

A/N: Rewritten bitches. I used the ‘short descriptive’ writing style cause I’m experimenting 🤔 Tell me how my smut is, completely uncensored. I need pointers, tip, critics, HELP. This is originally supposed to be a small drabble I wrote after reading Sciascia’s The Day of the Owl which is such a masterpiece. Also let me know what you think and enjoy!

An endless cycle.

Skin against skin. The afterhours of the night and lust conveying the trust words wouldn’t dare. Your hair matted with sweat, licking away at your exhaustion. Gut tucked under his arm, his muscles holding you still and obedient to his chest. The symphony of moans disturbing the quiet euphoria of the darkness.

“S-Sir-”

The young man pounding harder from the call of his sweet siren.

“Please.” you cry

Your death hung from your inner core, your rebirth every time he kissed your crevice. In every thrust was a hidden message. You had told him once that he was like the sun. But you were a woman who preferred the night.

And in that endless night, the bed’s creak, the pouring rain, the pleads were all your liberation from the crawling guilt. The hand you crave to always caress you – forces your chin up and eyes awake. Eyes that constantly avoid him.

Face your sins.

It’s a scolding. The one filled with the most love.

And god you love him.

You considered yourself a simple woman. Danger, secrecy, guns, drugs, money, lust and pain are all part of your life. Married off as a naive maiden, being spoken for by Asia’s most powerful man – hand in hand, joined by force of business, together by word of law.

Separated by younger hands, softer hair, and gentle eyes.

Together every night.

At times after the calloused ones have taken you. Selfishly. Uncaring. Tainted.

But are his not?

His taint you’d wear like a diamond ring. A stone to show off to every patronizing voice, even your own. Yet if only he’d keep his breath after he’s taken over yours.

He carries the dark like a shield and he’ll bend the rules as he wishes.

“I love you.” he says one night

Naked, unabashed, and quenched; laying in each other’s arms. You blink.

“I know.” You whisper and bring your small hand to gently cup his face. His jaw twitches above your palm, but you know – and he knows, this has to be the limit of your words.

If only he’d keep his head after he’s taken over yours.

_

The lights are so bright, one could spot demons in the shadowy corners of the vast room, yet you can see nothing.

Another unknown arrogant guest from another wealthy family comes to meet you, or more so him, and another fake smile you must sell, another tear unshed.

“So, the Kami Clan is finally retreating I see.”

“Nothing a few underlings couldn’t handle, of course.”

Poor thing was so young, had no parents or family-

Heard he was exceedingly handsome? Missed my chance dammit!

Thankfully his sacrifice made a difference.

“I’m going to grab something to drink, please excuse me.” You smile with your spotless teeth at the already forgotten couple in front of you.

“She looks a bit tired.” The woman feigns worry as you walk away

“Ah, yes. She must be. We’ve been trying for a baby 2 weeks no- “

Keeping your pace faster than the beat of your chest, you were soon too far away for the rest. Wincing at your irritated legs covered with blemishes from another eventful ‘try’ your antagonist had planned, you were thankful your gown was lingering the floor to cover your pain. For what it’s worth, you hope the jewel adorning your neck was covering your heart.

You ask the bartender for a Bacardi 151, “I want to die tonight.”

He snickers but gets to work when you don’t. As he fixes your drink, you look around you. How many of these have you attended by now? Before and after you were sold off…

The huge halls of his mansion, the chandeliers and priceless outfits. How bright was the room, how polished was the floor. Your reflection glares back at you from the tiles. Money wasn’t just green paper, but broken backs, gold mirrors, diamond rings, and bleeding heads.

Haughty looks, competing status, judgmental gossip. And behind it all, they stood as the silent protectors…expendable humans. The hidden protection. A smirk graces your lips, quite a fitting title they wear, as dark as the night.

“Here you are, Mistress.” He places your drink before you.

The glass was wide, the alcohol dim and heavy. It didn’t fit the lit-up area, it didn’t fit you.

The room is spinning. You’re nauseous.

_

“He left again tonight.” You tell your guard, “I don’t want anyone disturbing my room.”

He nods. And he’s gone.

You don’t have to wait long, just until the darkness is so suffocating it feels as if it’ll swallow you whole. Or until he will.

“Baby doll.” A hushed whisper.

Hoseok slides up to your laying figure. You let go of the breath you were holding.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

A warmth spreads as he touches you, slightly at first as if to make sure it was still okay. Impatient with his placidness, you jump up from the bed. Throwing your arms around his shoulders, face buried into his neck; embracing firmly.

He smells of roses, addiction and smoke. You were needier than usual.

“What’s wrong.” He giggles, and you grasp harder. Forbidden words die at your throat.

“Jonah didn’t make it back today.”

He frowns, his arms coming up behind you. Every movement displayed exhaustion.

“Don’t worry about that stuff. It’s normal in our line of wo- “

“Shut the fuck up.” You pound his chest with your small fist, empty rage from his words dressing you.

He doesn’t even budge.

“It’s not supposed to be, it shouldn’t be. Not for Jonah, not for Kim, and NOT for you.”

He watches down at you with stoic eyes, like a parent watching a child throw a tantrum.

“Please don’t die.” You cry to him. Your pounding getting weaker. Emotions you’ve kept concealed since the disclosure pouring out like a fountain.

Please don’t leave me.

He grabs your fist, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of your room, the darkness your eyes have become used to observing.

Bringing your hand up to his mouth, he kisses. One, twice, until he’s trailing his mouth up your fragile arm, into your neck.

“I won’t.”

You know he didn’t say it, but you swear you heard it.

He strips you of your thin night dress and lays you down. Your nipples hardening at the cool air. You become this barren, body and soul, just for him and he knows that. Takes pride in it. Which is why he hates taking his time, because there’s not a second to waste when he’s with you.

His rough hands, calloused from his every sin, are all over your breasts in a second. Taking turns at squeezing your soft mounds and pinching the hardened bud. There was something about his touch that always shot right through your core, especially when it was this desperate.

Your eyes were closed, the skin of your fondled chest erupting into goosebumps. Light pecks travel up your jaw and just underneath your lips.

You whine

He giggles again, the tease, and you feel it inside your skin.

Forcing open your eyes, you reach up, grabbing his face and forcing him down onto your mouth. He stumbles on top of you, and you could sense his shock at your assertiveness. The room was filled with your slither as you sucked and fucked his tongue. Teeth clashing giving you a flimsy rush, tongues pressing against his as he bites your lips raw.

Your chest collided against him, his warmth embracing you like the shadows. While your arms slid up his biceps pulling him closer to you and wrapping your left leg around his torso, so he can touch your needy, wet cunt. His hands find their places on your ass, tugging at the plump skin till it bruised.

You couldn’t feel his gun today.

As he shifts down your jaw, the man’s knee becomes pressed into your side, and it hurts. Even with the lack of comfort, you only let moans escape your mouth as he bites at your purpled skin, to retrace, to rename. Because you know, if you say something, if you make it known, he’ll move off, he’ll ask what’s wrong. And you’ve waited a million minutes to not part for this one. With him, you’ve come to understand there was pleasure in the pain anyway.

“Hoseok.” You breathe, mouths still on each other, slipping with the way you slurred. Pulling at his coat, you signal him.

He takes it off in a flash, followed by his shirt, and he is on you again. Hoseok was built like a Greek god, which is why you couldn’t stop staring at him in those fitted button ups and black harnesses. Craving him to destroy you, even with your husband nearby. It is also why anytime he was this close, anytime you could smell the cigarettes off his torso like the smoke was inside your own lungs, you clung onto him like a koala. And lastly, while he’s putting all his weight on you, you can feel his hard dick pulse on you through his slacks.

You feel so suffocated, becoming one with the bed; surrounded by his scent, tongues intertwined, so much warmth. Even the mussed-up sheets on your back, every stitch out of place, every lump and wrinkle. It felt like bliss.

Serendipity.

His kisses become rougher as he grasps your hand.

“That bastard, mm, joked abou-ahh about you today.”

He gets up off you, and you stare at him dazed, confused, and out of breath. Your lips were burning, fingers tightly intertwined.

“Said you were a walking cum bag in front of all his men.”

And even in the dark, you could see the fire ignited in his eyes,

“One day, I swear to god, one day, I’m going to kill the old man. Gut him and hang him off a tree, I’m going t- “

“Well,” You intercept, pushing yourself up by the elbows until you sat. He towered over you on his knees, like a shield keeping you safe. With a smirk, you place you free palm on his bicep, and he freezes under you. Dragging your hand through his rocky chest, you land onto his hard crotch. It jerks under your palm and you watch his tough man act drop. “He’s not wrong you know.”

He tilts his head disorderly, probably about to reprimand you by how his brow twitched.

So, humorously scoffing, you gently nudge to flip him over. It almost made you cackle the way he fell over like a domino. Only for you. Now, it was you who hovered over him, still softly rubbing him.

Holding himself up by the elbows slightly, he bites back a moan.

You make your way south, admiring his abs, cultivated by a malevolent angel you’re sure. As you’re directly over his clothed member, you sigh, kissing his dick over his pants a few times.

“I am a walking cum bag…just not his, sir.”

Hoseok’s whole body tightens; his abs clench. You tug at his slacks and he lifts his butt, so you can pull them off. His erection springs up in front of you, the tip glistening in the moonlight who was spying at you both through your large window.

“Mmmm~ want this-” You sigh right above it, giving it a lick and feeling him shiver. “Inside me.”

Your hand glides up and down his length, while Hoseok throws his head back.

You kiss the tip and spread the precum, before gathering the spit in your mouth. With a grunt, you spit it onto him, and hear him shiver. There was a silver string of saliva that still connected your mouth with his length. Pursing your lips, you begin to stroke him softly, letting your wet hand glide through the skin in ease.

“Fuck.” He grunts under his breath

Opening then your mouth as wide as you could, you take his dick all the way down his length before you suck with blunt force.

With him, you never cared about looking attractive or innocent like you do with everyone else. Instead you wanted him to see all your bad sides, you wanted to be his mindless whore. Sometimes you wish you could forget everything and everyone but him. That no one else survived but you both.

He’s always thought you were so innocent. A fragile flower ruined by the harsh winds of this cold word. But you were more corrupted than he could even imagine.

You eat up his shaking and hisses as praise, feeling like an open spring around your heat. Lips are glossy, filled with spit and cum as you bob up and down his length, your fingers playing with his balls. Letting your teeth lightly graze him, you grin with a dickfull as he throws his head back. Hoseok was salty, but it was salt spun from gold. And you always had expensive taste.

Popping off of him, you delicately hold the shaft back, before licking his balls with your skilled tongue. His right thigh is being rubbed by with your digits, because you know how sensitive he is there. Nails gliding and slicing through the soft top layer of the skin. Every time he groans you feel so accomplished.

As you take him inside you again, you make sure he hits your throat, trying to take him deeper and deeper into you. Your expression is so whorish in pure delight – like you’ve never tasted anything better, and he’s never seen anything more virgin. He grabs your head once you are at the tip, before pushing you down on his dick till the hilt. You immediately gag, throat closing in on reflex.

“Just how long did you think you could play with me?”

It’s your turn to shiver, he holds your head down his length with gentle force, but it feels like he’ll take apart your skull. Your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he slowly pries your mouth away from his cock by pulling up. The strand he tugs loosely burn through your head, feeling like it’s on fire. Your pussy throbs with desire.

It hurts, and you love it.

The sexiest thing about him was his anger. Such as when you wouldn’t even spare him a glance at those parties, ‘you hated,’ glued to the side of that man. When you’d teased him with dirty gestures throughout the day with everyone nearby, the purest minx he’s ever seen. Even the spaced out look you’d have after every session with that bastard –

He fucking hated it

With a growl, he throws your face into the pillow and positions himself behind your elevated ass. Being exposed like this, in the bleak light was what you loved the most about the night. The air around you was heavy, and without even looking at him, you could just imagine him gaping at your exposed, puckering hole. Your glistening core. Knowing he could do whatever he wanted with you and you’d never protest.

“My walking cum bag should do its job better hmm?”

His deepening voice almost makes you cry.

“Y-yes sir.”

He slaps your pussy hard and you scream out, muffled by your cashmere pillow, while your walls clench around nothing. Unaffected by your pain, he plunges his long digits into you. Moving them apart like they weren’t being restricted by your tight walls. That action has you has you clawing at your pillow.

“Speak clearly”

“Y-Y-…Yes sir.” You state, lifting your mouth off the pillow; holding in the leaky tears.

This taint you’d wear like a crown. Show off to every doubting voice, even your own.

“Good doll.” He takes out his fingers, placing them into his mouth. You hear him sigh at your taste, licking himself clean and your whole-body aches. To praise you, he pats your pussy, mesmerized by your submission.

You scream again when you suddenly feel his tongue inside you, his long fingers spreading your cheeks apart.

His extended muscle stretches inside of you. You were squirming but he held you in place, slapping your ass to tell you to hold still. He contracts his wet tongue toward your folds, licking ellipticals. Hoseok moans at your glaze, you matching the rhythm of his tone. Everything was so wet, you felt so dirty, so heavenly.

Diving back into your walls, he pinches your clit and you cry out. Digits still pulling your ass apart like dough. The man was famished. So much aggression from suppressing his desires every single day the damned sun dared to shine. It was exactly what you wanted, a taste only the luckiest girls get. And it’s all yours.

He brings his mouth forward to toy with your clit, sucking harshly. Your jaw hangs open, thighs shaking so bad you’re sure they’ll collapse, till he smacks your inner thigh, jolting you sturdy.

“Shir, s-s-shlir, ple-I’m gonna-ah-cum, oh god, p-pleash-” You slur around your saliva. Part of you wishes your naïve parents could see you right now, their perfect little angel, a complete whore for a man who wasn’t her husband. No, he was far from it. It gave you pleasure to imagine the horror on your father’s face. The man who sold you without blinking.

How would he feel when he sees you were the actual ruler of this transaction all along? Your body belongs to you, and whoever you choose to give it to.

He removes himself from your insides, breathing out warm air before sitting up. You whine while he watches your pathetic writhing state, licking around his mouth for any juices left over.

“You taste so fucking good, doll.” He squeezes your inner thigh

“Tha-Thank you sir.” The praise was making you light headed, your breath was still as heavy. Your fast heartbeat rung throughout your ears and you felt like you were floating on clouds. It was like that time you took a line with him, although he only let you take it once, you adored that painful feeling of pure pleasure.

He rubs your ass, stroking his cock a few times. The area was red and sore making him wince. For your sake he hoped you could make excuses for any bruising in the future, but on the inside, he was elated. Everyone should know who you belong to. Everyone.

Biting his bottom lip, he slowly he plunges into your heat, observing the way his dick disappears inside you in the darkness. A truly breathtaking sight. You let out a long-drawn whimper as he inches in. The stretch and burn was addictive, transcendental. Making you grip the sheets around you tightly, fingers filled with ache. For a moment there was nothing but both of you and the overcast night.

Once he has filled you to the brim, he waits for you to adjust while you shed a tear onto your pillow, firmly clenching your eyes shut. Although he said nothing, only took exhales, although it was quiet, and dim and you couldn’t see anything. His love was as obvious as your beating dead heart.

He takes his thick, veiny length out slowly before ramming into you again. Over and over and over and over again. His palms gripping your hips. A steady pace, for fallen grace.

And you’re here once more. In the dark, nothing but the music of two sinners and the creaks of your bed. The two most beautiful sounds in the world for the guilty.

“Hoseok, I-I’m gonna cum-”

“Mmm, go on.” he fastens his pace – harder thrusts, louder notes

Your toes curl in and your whole-body stutters, falling in on itself, mouth agape, going through epiphany. Hoseok holds you up by the forearm as you clench around him.

“Fucking shit doll.” He mutters. His hard pace faltering. Soon after, he cums inside you. Milking every last, endless drop. Painting your walls and your heart.

You both drop down onto the mattress, panting hot and hard. Sweat sticking you like soulmates, even the stars couldn’t separate you.

He tugs you closer to his body, giving you a passionate kiss. You kiss him back with the same energy.

Skin on skin. In the afterhours of the night.

He pulls back and stares into your eyes. The darkness is the only place to see things clearly; without any blockage the lights bring. Trapped in his arms, the dark is as clear as the day.

He’d die for you, but you’d never give him the chance.

“I love you.”

“…I know”

An endless cycle.

_

They say it was painful

It was 2 weeks ago, anything new please?

I heard the circumstances around his death were suspicious? An inside-

Such a waste I wanted to try him out once~

“I’m not feeling well.” You tell him. It’s true this time, it feels like your head will split apart.

“Go inside then.” He says, not even looking in your direction

Huh, no ‘you don’t do shit, the least you could do is smile’ this time, you think as you slip away from the bright lights and hungry, condescending looks, up the stairs.

You step into your room, slipping off your Ralph Lauren and Louboutin’s, turning off all the lights in your chamber. It fills you with an immediate sense of relief. Placing your untouched drink on the dresser, you face the large window. The moonlight peeks in through the broken clouds.

You snort. Broken.

And suddenly the moon is blurry. The only goddamn thing you can see in the darkness is faded. Blinking hazily, you sigh feeling the tears down your cheeks for the hundredth time. It’ll mess up your makeup.

You heave a bit. Nausea crawls up your throat, but you fight it. Close your eyes tight and blur out the classical orchestra blaring downstairs. It won’t happen, it can’t. Because it’s not his, you can tell.

Stained, tragic passion.

“Fucking liar.” You whisper at nothing

“I love you, too.”

You fall into the darkness.

A broken cycle.

Singularity.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part one) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±4350 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part one: Y/N arrives at the airport, but getting to her new internship is easier said than done, when no one shows to pick her up. Meanwhile, at the ranch, Dean learns that his uncle Bobby hired a new intern and assigned her to the head wrangler, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Along The Way’ - Sunday Kids (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me take this story to a higher level. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “This is just great…”

     After a long, turbulent flight next to a rather large and sweaty nervous flyer - who had way too much garlic for lunch, by the way - Y/N thought she was done. But now that she’s waiting outside Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with no one in sight to pick her up, it seems that the universe isn’t going to stop toying with her just yet.

     To top it off, the weather decided to throw a curveball as well. What happened to the lovely sun rays and dry heat from the brochure? Right now it’s so humid that the fabric of her clothing clings to her skin as if it’s trying to hold on for dear life, and to make matters worse, rain begins to fall from the clouded sky. Right; monsoon season. Oh, well. At least the entrance of the arrival hall offers the traveler some shelter.

     With a sigh she sits down on her oversized suitcase, scanning her surroundings for a driver. She should have picked up something to eat in the arrival hall; she could eat a horse, as a figure of speech that is. Obviously, Y/N would never eat a horse, since she loves them more than anything. They are the reason why she touched down in Phoenix in the first place.      From the age of four, she’s been riding the majestic animals. Being on the back of a horse is one of the first memories she can recall, now that she thinks of it. When she was a little girl and was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, the answer was always the same: she wanted to be a professional rider with her own ranch. 

     That’s the dream. No, that’s the goal.

     Despite her unconditional love for these noble creatures and an overload of motivation to execute this plan, her parents encouraged their daughter to go to college. She even got her master's degree, but truth be told, all she ever wants to do is ride. So when she graduated a few weeks ago, Y/N thought that was exactly what she was going to do from that point on. Her father wasn’t impressed with her business plan, though, and decided that he was only going to lend her the money to start up her own company if she would complete half a year of ranch work. ‘No quitting, no complaints’, is what he said.

     Clearly, he’s underestimating her, because how hard could ranch life possibly be? Sure, in the past she spent most of her time riding and not so much mucking out stables. After all, employees at the boarding facility did that for the clients. But she had insight, management skills, and other great characteristics that will help run a business. What are six months of hard labor going to contribute, besides a good waistline?

     Although she believes her father’s plan is completely unnecessary, she is going with it. Those twenty-six weeks will pass by in the blink of an eye. It’s gonna be a walk in the park. Smooth sailing, right? Except for the fact that she’s already stranded, alone, and with no clue where to go. Hopefully, the rocky flight to the desert wasn’t an omen for what is yet to come. 

    After fifteen minutes of waiting, she takes out her phone again. For a second her thumb lingers on the speed dial that would put a call through to her father, but then she looks up the number of the ranch owner in her email and calls him instead. Running back to Mom and Dad is not going to deliver the message of an independent woman who is ready for the big world. Looks like she will have to dig herself out of this mess. Arizona might not have been her Dad’s best idea, but she’s here now. Pride forbids her to give him, or all the others who are skeptical, the satisfaction of being right. 

     “Bobby, are ya gonna pick up the damn phone or what?”

     Dean sets his bottle down on the bar next to the buzzing phone. He glances at the screen, unable to identify the number, and looks up again, searching the saloon for his uncle. At the long table in the center of the lounge, the man in his mid-sixties is enjoying a game of cards and a glass of whiskey, accompanied by a few members of the crew. Bobby hasn’t heard Dean, too busy laughing over the dirty joke Ash just told. Right when his nephew is about to call out his name again, the phone on the wooden counter stops ringing. Oh well, if it’s important they will call again, right?      Even though he feels drained from last days' events, he will not let anything take away this carefree feeling. Together with Jo, Benny and a couple of regular guests, they moved the young cattle from the summer pasture up in the Superstition Mountains back to the ranch. It took two days to locate the herd, but eventually, they found them at Weaver’s Needle.      After hours spent in the saddle and camping out for several nights, they all needed a shower, a good meal and a cold beer. Bringing the cattle in is one of the highlights of the season and worth a celebration. It didn't take long before wranglers, workers and tourists gathered in the saloon to celebrate. The place hasn’t been this crowded in years and smile appears on Dean’s face as he takes it all in. An upbeat country song - that he recognizes as ‘Along The Way’ by the Sunday Kids - fills the air together with growling laughter and cigarette smoke. Cheers rise when the beer bottles are heaved into the air, overruling the sound of billiard balls colliding on the pool table. 

     He lets a sigh slip from his lips when he glances aside at Ellen, who just brought back a full tray of empty glasses. As she sets the load down on the counter to give her arms a rest, his aunt smiles, witnessing Dean’s pleased expression.

     “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” she asks.      Dean nods, circling the bar to grab two new bottles of Corona from the cooler. “It’s a good night.”      Ellen grants her eyes another look at her saloon as she takes the beer that is handed over; she can only agree. “It sure is.”

     They toast to that and take a swig, but before Dean can swallow his drink, the phone on the counter starts ringing again. He guesses it apparently is important and calls out Bobby’s name, a little louder this time.

     “I’m in the middle of a poker game, son,” he replies, not looking up from his cards.      “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy,” Dean notifies as he approaches the old man, noticing the pair of queens in his hand.      “Is it ringing, really? How come I can’t hear the damn thing?”      Ellen scoffs from behind the counter. “Maybe because you need to start using your God-forsaken hearing aids.”      “Woman, my ears work just fine,” he returns, continuing to mutter much softer to prevent his wife from hearing him. “I can hear you jappin’, can’t I?”

     Dean - who did pick up on his words - smirks in amusement and checks on his aunt if she really didn’t hear her husband, but when she looks from one to the other confused, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Bobby grumpily turns his cards upside down on the table surface and takes the phone. The ranch owner adjusts his worn baseball cap a little as he looks down at the screen, puzzled, obviously not sure how to work the piece of modern technology.      “How the hell do I pick up?” he wonders out loud.      “You swipe it, Dad.”

     Jo walks over, interrupting her game of pool momentarily, and leans over her father’s shoulder, still holding her cue stick. With a simple movement, she lets her finger slide across the touchscreen. Somewhat clumsily, Bobby presses the phone against his ear, letting out a hesitant ‘hello?’ as if he’s not completely sure if the little magic trick actually worked.

     “You really had to give him your old iPhone, huh?” Dean sniggers when Jo walks past him, back to the pool table to finish the game.      “Anything’s better than that old Nokia,” his cousin returns, throwing him a look as she whips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “That thing was prehistoric.”

   Dean grins at the remark and observes the game that is in motion on the green quarried slate. Jo is acing it, it’s her turn to shoot the eight-ball in already, while her opponent still has several balls on the play field. The petite blonde positions herself behind the black number eight, throwing a seducing glance at the slick-looking young man on the other side of the table. With a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, she allows her low-cut tank top to show a little more cleavage as she bends over. It doesn’t go unnoticed with the men in her company, but unlike the guest that she’s reeling in, Dean has the urge to cover up his little cousin. It’s not just a game of pool that these youngsters are going to be playing tonight.

     “Sure you want to aim it like that?” Dean asks, amusedly waiting for her to pick up on the double meaning.      A deadly glare comes his way and his smirk reaches even wider. Not granting him another second of her time, Jo focuses on the final ball again and pockets it, winning the game. Victoriously, she holds up her hand in front of tonight’s loser, who reluctantly hands her a twenty-dollar bill. A chuckle escapes Dean’s throat and he takes another swig of the sparkling yellow brew called Corona. As he lowers the bottle, the cowboy’s attention shifts to his uncle, who is still on the phone.

     “- I’m very sorry, It’s been really hectic today with the cattle comin’ in and it slipped my mind completely.”      The apologetic tone in Bobby’s voice piques Dean’s interest. Jo joins him, leaning against the table while resting her elbows on the rails.      “Any idea what that’s about?” Dean wonders, but she shakes her head.      “- that’s no problem. I’ll send someone to pick you up right away.”

     After having made that promise, Bobby eyes his employees, then his wife and daughter, hoping that someone is sober enough to keep his obligation. It triggers Dean to check with his friend, Benny. The brawny wrangler answers the unspoken question by shaking his head, however; he’s not volunteering, and neither is Garth. The skinny stable boy now turns to Ash, catching the ranch hand peeking into Bobby’s cards while his boss is occupied, and he elbows him. Shrugging his shoulders the guy who is rocking a mullet lets out an innocent ‘what?’ under his breath. It’s obvious, though, that Ash is in no shape to drive, since he already drank half a crate of his favorite Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It’s heading towards eleven PM and after an exhausting couple of days, no one is thrilled to drive out to Phoenix. Not to mention that the amount of liquor they’ve consumed might actually jeopardize getting the person Bobby is talking to from A to B.

     “Balls!” the boss curses after he hangs up.      “Forgot somethin’?” Ellen assumes from what she picked up, as she continues to polish a glass behind the bar.      “Yeah, that new intern from Maine,” he mutters as he gets up.      Ellen’s jaw drops, staring at her husband in shock. “You didn’t! That poor gal is at the airport right now?”      “Landed forty-five minutes ago,” Bobby admits, embarrassed.

     “Whoa, wait! New intern?” Dean’s eyes slide from Bobby to Ellen and back, unable to follow.      “Did I forget to mention that? She’ll be under your supervision,” Bobby breaks to him.      “What? I wasn’t even notified?!” he exclaims, his voice pitching a little higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Jo scoffs, placing her hand on her hip as she looks at him sideways. “Like you would mind a chick working under you.”

     Stunned by her bold comment, Dean cocks his head back as he stares at her wide-eyed; she’s got some nerve! He is about to counter when Jo’s mother already intervenes.      “Joanna Beth!” she warns.      “Oh, come on. It’s the truth, ain’t it?” her daughter mumbles, stubborn as ever.      Ellen doesn’t answer. Instead, her attention shifts to the man who is moving towards the double doors. “And where do you think you’re going?”      Bobby turns around, a confused furrow on his forehead. “Well, to pick up the gal, of course,” he returns, stating the obvious.      “Like hell you are! You had three glasses of whiskey, Robert Singer. You ain’t getting behind the wheel and that’s that,” Ellen decides with her shoulders back, arms crossed and eyes stern.

     Annoyed, but smart enough not to fight the strong-minded woman he married thirty years ago, he addresses Dean with a hopeful look.      “Don’t look at me, this is my fourth beer,” he returns, holding his hand up innocently.      “Same here, boss,” Benny copies, his southern accent thick on his voice.

      “I’ll go.” Jo straightens her back and takes her cowboy hat from the corner of the pool table.      “You sure, honey?” her mother checks with her.      “I had one drink, Mom. You’re not gonna find a more sober person on the ranch at this hour,” she claims bored. “Keys?”      That last demand was meant for Dean.      “Keys to what?” he questions, furrowing his brow.      An eye roll, a sigh. Jo’s typical routine when she’s done with her cousin. “Your car, asshat.”      “What’s wrong with yours?”      “I have a flat. Now, are you gonna hand me the keys, or what?” she says smartly.

    Jo holds up her hand and with a reluctant grunt, Dean tosses the keys of his precious ‘67 Chevrolet El Camino pickup. Skillfully she catches it, beams at him in triumph, and makes her way to the double doors.      “If I find a scratch on her, I’ll make you regret it!” he shouts, loud enough for her to hear.      “I’d like to see you try!” she scoffs.

     A few moments later, the V8 big block under the hood of his beloved car starts up. Jo doesn’t even bother to warm up his baby before she races down the dirt road towards the big city down in the valley, skitting gravel from under the tires. Dean cringes when he hears her take off; someone’s gonna pay for that.

      He will deal with her when she gets back. Until that time Dean settles down at the long table, watching the poker game. Obviously, Ash folds the moment Bobby raises the stakes, leaving the ranch owner with fewer chips than he hoped to win.      “Can I talk to you for a second?” Dean requests before Garth starts dealing the cards.

     Bobby looks at his nephew from under his cap, observing him for a moment. He knows that kid. He spent a few years of his childhood on the ranch and the young man has been working here since the age of fourteen. The boy is like a son to him, so no wonder he can read Dean like a book. Something is bothering the wrangler, and so he gets off his chair and moves away from the crowded table. Shadowed by the cowboy, Bobby heads towards the corner of the bar, seeking a little privacy. They sit down on the bar stools, facing Ellen on the other side of the counter. Her husband doesn’t bother asking her to pour him a drink, because she is on it before he barely has the chance to settle in his seat.

     “Here you go, boys.” She puts down the filled whiskey tumblers on the varnished wood.      Dean thanks her and takes the glass in his hand, clanking it into Bobby’s, who mutters ‘cheers’ as he does so. After watching Ellen enter the kitchen, the older man shifts his gaze to the man accompanying him.      “What’s on your mind, son?” he asks.

     Dean adjusts himself a little, preparing for the upcoming conversation. He doesn’t like to question his uncle, who also happens to be his boss. This is the part where it gets tricky to keep work and family separated. He has to speak up, though, because lately, he has the oppressive feeling that Bobby might not trust him entirely when it regards the management of the ranch. Obviously, the owner calls the shots, but he used to involve Dean whenever decisions needed to be made. It’s bothering him and he needs to get it off his chest.      “Why didn’t you tell me you hired an intern?” he wonders.

     Bobby grunts softly, averting his eyes to his drink as he circles the tumbler  on its edge. He knew this talk was coming and instantly regrets keeping Dean in the dark about recent developments. His nephew is an exceptional horseman, loyal to his family, a trustworthy worker. A little relentless when it comes to risks and danger, and yes, an impulsive womanizer, but there’s one thing he isn’t and that’s stupid. He’s Bobby’s right hand for a reason, he should have known he would pick up on something.

     “Because I knew you wouldn’t approve,” he admits, taking a sip.      Dean scoffs at that. “If you knew I wouldn’t be okay with it, why did you hire her?”      “Because she’s free help, Dean.”      “Is she any good? Did you look into her?” His head wrangler eyes him, trying to make out how thorough he has been in his research.      It doesn’t take long before his uncle’s guilty expression gives it away.     “You didn’t even interview her, did ya? You just said ‘yes’? Look, I know things have been a little difficult since Gabriel left, but we’re managing fine now,” he assures him. “Educating a wannabe cowgirl is actually gonna cost me valuable time and there’s a lot of shit that needs sortin’. We have to bring in the two-year-old stallions, the calves need branding, the young stock has to be moved to the winter pastures--”      Bobby interrupts Dean’s ramble by holding up his hand to shush him, intervening the moment he has an opening. “You don’t have to worry about the young stock, I’m selling it.”      Stunned, Dean stares at him. And when was Bobby planning to tell him this?      “Why the hell would you do that?” he questions, unpleasantly surprised.        Before his boss can answer, Dean can make an estimated guess already. The concerned look in Bobby’s eyes when they meet his green ones confirms it; money is tight, very tight. The crisis has laid the ranch in a thick suffocating smog of debt and so far it doesn’t look like the air is going to clear anytime soon. Hay prices are sky high while their stock sells for half the price they used to go for. It has been hard to keep their heads above water, but so far they’ve been able to ride out the economic recession, so Dean thought. But now that Bobby’s telling him that the one-year-old cattle has to go, it dawns on him how serious the situation is. 

      His jaw clenches as he observes the ice in his glass for a moment, pondering in silence. And just like that, the careless happiness he was experiencing a moment ago, is gone.      “You wanna sell all of them? Or just the steers?” he checks.      “All of them,” Bobby sighs, downing his drink.       “How you wanna handle that next year? Buy in again? It’s gonna cost you a lot,” Dean responds, trying to think of another way.      “Right now, all we need to worry about is surviving this year, son.” Bobby pauses, now comes the bit that he wanted to avoid. Drastic measures are necessary for the survival of their home. Maybe the term ‘sacrifice’ is a better way to describe what he’s about to announce. “That’s why I need you to let one of the wranglers go.”      Shocked, Dean stares at the man in his company. Not looking him in the eye, Bobby forks his fingers together, resting his elbows on the counter.      “You want me to fire one of my men?” Dean recaps in disbelief. “No, let me correct that, you want me to fire one of my friends?”      “What you do with your colleagues in your spare time should not influence a layoff,” the ranch owner counters.      But his nephew disagrees strongly. “That’s bullshit and you know it. These guys are practically family, Bobby.”      “You think I don’t know that, boy? I ain’t happy about it either, damn it! You think I’m proud of having to send one of those guys home?”

     He nods at the workers, who are laughing loudly as Ash folds his tattooed arms around the mountain of chips that are stacked on the table, reeling in the win. Neither he, Benny, or Garth have a clue what is hanging over their heads, but it’s probably better that way. Only now does the head wrangler understand why Bobby didn’t tell him before. The poor man simply didn’t want to burden him.

     “I have to. For the future of this place, Dean. And I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, but you know your crew best. You know who’s most needed and who we can miss,” Bobby explains with empathy.      Dean wants to fight this, he wants to object and argue in every way possible. Who he can miss? He can’t miss any of his men. Shit, after they let Gabe go, they were barely able to round up the daily routine before dinner. But he knows how this works and he knows Bobby would do anything to make sure that the boys can keep their jobs. There is no right or wrong answer here, every option behind any door is a bad one. There’s nothing the boss can do about it and Dean understands that.      “I know. I’ll handle it. Just give me a couple of days and I’ll let you know,” he assures, patting his uncle on the shoulder.    Bobby nods, but is unable to break a smile. He’s carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, go figure when you have to play God like that. It’s exactly the reason why Dean took on the task to fire one of the workers, hoping that it would relieve his surrogate father a bit.

     “I need another drink,” Bobby mutters, reaching for the Jack Daniels behind the counter.      Dean checks on his uncle from the corner of his eye, but then puts his glass down next to his. “You and me both. That intern better be good. Do you know anything about her?”      “I know she’s a reining rider, pretty damn talented too. Not much experience in ranch work, though,” the ranch owner tells him.       “Blonde? Brunette? Cute?” Dean smirks as he fishes for more information, but Bobby doesn’t reply with a straight answer.      “Oh, hell no. Not under my roof,” his father figure decides, having seen this play out numerous times already. “She’s staying for six months so tie a knot in it and keep it in your pants for once.”

     “If she sticks around that long.” The young man scoffs, triggering Bobby to glare at him. “What? We had plenty who went home crying within a week. This work ain’t for everyone.”      “I know you’re not happy with the situation, but do me a favor and just give her a chance, will ya?” Bobby pressures. “She seemed like a go-getter. She might surprise you.”      “Maybe. We’ll see,” Dean downs his glass and slides off his stool.

     Bobby watches his nephew walk away from him. It takes only a second before the charismatic cowboy put on his poker face, just in time, because Garth signals him to come over. So he does, but his next step shows a hint of hesitation. He turns on the heels of his boots, the thumb of his left hand casually hooked behind his belt buckle.      “What’s her name?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes a little.      Bobby huffs and casts his gaze at him. “Her name is Y/N,” he states. “Y/N L/N.”

     Dean raises his brow, nodding satisfied. Y/N. Sounds good, has a nice ring to it. Curious he imagines what kind of person would fit a name like that and as a perky smile starts to form on his lips, he joins the guys.

     Bobby can spot the up-to-no-good sparkle in his nephew’s green eyes and he can’t help but smile into his refilled glass of Jack. He can point a parenting finger at Dean all he wants, but if this intern is his type, he’s going to charm her right into his bed like he has done with so many women already. Oh, well. We’ve all been young, he thinks to himself. Dean being a wrangler only stacks up the number of girls dwelling at the pretty boy’s feet and he never failed to take full advantage of that. Who can blame him, really? He hasn’t committed to anyone yet, why not make the best of it? It has cost the ranch owner some money, though, since a client or two never returned after getting their hearts broken. The boy better listen this time.

     For a moment he takes in what’s playing before his eyes. His wife having a good conversation with a group of guests, the crew gathered around the long table where Ash just revealed a full house, causing the men to go out of their minds. It’s a nice moment that will make a great memory. Bobby can only hope that those moments keep coming, because no matter how precious, no man can live on memories alone.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part two here

[etherealhood]

No One Compares To You

author: @etherealhood

word count: 3,572

warnings: all the angst and little hint of fluff

a/n: so this is inspired by jack & jack’s song ‘no one compares to you’, so i hope it hurts real good. also let me know your thoughts?

pairing: calum hood x reader

How was it that even after all the time she had to heal, that thoughts of that hardly-existent relationship could still go through her head? How was it that even after all this time, she was still stuck on how they never collided? Even in the early morning before the sun had even began to break light, when everyone was still asleep and dreading waking up to go to work, she still had those torturous thoughts of what might have been if they weren’t like ships in the night that merely passed each other, so close to crashing into one another.

With the dark blue sheet pulled up to cover her bare breasts, she was staring up at the ceilings, thinking of how much she’d like to see the stars while she laid in the middle of an empty field instead of the bed of a stranger looking at the weird lines on the ceiling above her. A sudden surge of exhaustion rolled over, making her eyelids heavy. She turned over as she closed her eyes, facing the warm body that laid next to her. For just a moment, for the smallest moment, she forgot. She forgot that she wasn’t in that familiar bed, that she wasn’t lying beside the that familiar person. And as she opened her eyes, expecting to see that him, she felt that burn of disappointment in her chest as she looked at the man who was fast asleep on the other side of the warm–but somehow still cold–bed.

Instead of the man she was used to seeing; the tan, tattooed, dark-haired man that she always hoped she’d open her eyes to see, she saw someone that was basically the complete opposite. That familiar heartstring-snapping feeling had her clenching her eyes shut as she tried to push out every memory of the bassist she fell oh so heartbreakingly in love with. The way that lump felt like a burning piece of coal in her throat was the thing that made her think of the one that ruined her. The one that ruined any hope she might ever have to fall in love again.

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she quietly and slowly sat up as to not wake the one night stand who was soundfully asleep next to her. She pushed the thin fabric off of her body, getting out of bed, tip-toeing to the pile of her clothes that laid in the middle of the room. That lacy black bra that had been taken off only hours ago was held between her fingers before she put it back on, quickly slipping the matching panties up her legs to cover her in an effort to cover herself up.

She walked on her toes as she left the room to go and find her clutch that she briefly remembered throwing on the counter of the kitchen. The minute she sees the black leather object, she sighs thankfully and opens it up, grabbing the pack of cigarettes she’d recently started buying.

As she placed the cigarette in between her swollen lips, she walked over to the balcony and pulled open one of the doors before stepping out and lighting the tip of that cancer stick. She leaned against the railing of the balcony that looked out over only some of the City of Angels while it slept. She inhaled that first breath of smoke, relishing in the satisfying burn that it gave her. Flicking off the ashes she’d burnt, she watched as they fell to the ground, swaying along with the breeze of wind in the night.

The sun was warm, as it usually is during the early-Californian summers. The water was cool; perfectly contrasting with the heat in the air. The sky was full of clouds, white and fluffy clouds. They looked soft and somehow the idea of lying on one of them gave her a weird sense of comfort that allowed her to close her eyes as she floated on her back in the pool, letting the sun hit her wet skin, her hair floating around her.

A sudden swear from the man sitting on a lounge chair brought her out of her peaceful state, but replaced it with the reminder of his comforting presence. She pulled her body from the surface of the water as she stood back on the concrete underwater. She looked over at the shirtless man, noticing the drying water droplets on his dark skin, a cigarette hanging loosely between his plump lips as he constantly flicked the lighter to try and start a flame. His multiple attempts proved useless.

As she watched, a small, adoring smile resting on her lips as she saw the distressed furrow in his eyebrows. She walked towards the edge of the pool, watching him while he threw the cigarette and the broken lighter on the outdoor table beside him, huffing out a curse of frustration. He instead grabbed the bottle of beer and wrapped his lips around the rim, throwing his head back to take a large gulp of the ice-cold alcoholic beverage.

The sweet sound of one of her small giggles made him look over at her. Her hair was floating in the water around her, that beautiful look on her face he knew she reserved for him present. He smirked and raised a dark and bushy eyebrow. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

She shrugged before setting her arms on the edge of the pool, resting her chin on top of her folded hands. “Was just watching you struggle with your lighter is all.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?” The bassist asked hopefully.

“Why would I, a non-smoker, have a lighter?”

He nodded and sighed in agreement as he looked at the abandoned, unsmoked cigarette he’d thrown just minutes ago. “Yeah, you’re right.” He took another drink of his beer, licking his lips afterwards.

“You ever thought about quittin’, love?” The woman asked as she pushed back from the wall and let her hands run through the water. The endearing nickname made his heart swell happily.

“Well, yeah. It’s hard, though, you know? I mean, when I’m not really stressed, I don’t smoke as much. But being out on the road and away from home, or busy with work makes the need for some kind of relief a little more necessary. Smoking just happens to do that for me.” He explained as he picked at the label-sticker on the beer, pulling it off piece by piece.

“I get it. Just think you should quit. Addictions are dangerous, Cal.”

Calum grinned brightly at her, setting his beer on the table once again. He walked towards where she was in the pool, towering over her as she looked up at him with squinted eyes due to the sunlight being in her eyes. He bent down and got in, his stomach immediately and visibly clenching at the sudden coolness of the water.

“Should I quit all my addictions?” He questioned, his voice quiet and deep as he moved through the water to get to her, lacing his fingers with her own once she was within reaching distance. He pulled her to him, the water moving between them as he put her hands around the back of his neck and hoisted her up so her legs would wrap around his middle. “Cause that’d mean I’d have to give you up, ya know.”

She shook her head. “Maybe not all of them.” She mumbled, her words hitting Calum’s chin as she leaned in to softly press her lips to his. His eyes fluttered shut just as hers did, his eyelashes brushing at the space beneath her eyes as he moaned into the kiss, giving her his all in the form of slow movements.

Her arms wrapped tighter around his shoulders as he walked back into the wall of the pool, his back leaning against the wall with her above him. The kiss, which felt fierce and earth-shattering while also feeling like a breath of fresh air. He smiled against her sweet lips as he felt her gasp against him when his teeth grazed her bottom lip.

One of his hands came up to brush some of her wet hair back behind her ear, cupping her face afterwards. She was left breathless as he pulled away, his forehead leaning against hers. He opened his eyes to look at her, to make sure that he had every inch of her face imprinted into his memory as he trailed his thumb to stroke over her cupid’s bow, tracing the shape of her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open to look deeply into his warm gaze. She leaned into his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of his thumb. He smiled brightly at her, the corners of his eye crinkling happily. “I don’t think I ever could quit you, darlin’.”

With her swollen lips wrapped around the brim of the bottle, she tilted her head back and let the strong alcohol run down her throat. She set the clear glass bottle back down on the marble countertop, her fingers tapping at the surface of the island counter in her apartment. Her home was quiet, an occasional noise from outside breaking through the windows to sound faintly throughout the apartment.

Her slip-on Vans were on the floor beside the stool she sat on, her keys and her purse set only a few inches away from her empty beer bottle and the one she was currently nursing. The moment she got home from the date she went on, she made her way to the counter and broke into the six-pack of beer she’d bought on her way back from the disastrous date.

She held her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the clean surface as she silently asked herself what was wrong with her. She reflected on the night she spent out with the guy she met when she was at the bookstore last weekend, trying to get back into what her life was before her heartbreak. He approached her while she was browsing for something that would peak her interest and suddenly she was agreeing to go on a date with the handsome stranger.

In all honesty, the date went great. The guy was a complete gentleman, so sweet and so perfect. However, as she sat across from him at that damn restaurant she frequently visited with Calum, she couldn’t stop seeing his face. She’d look up from the usual plate of food she would order and she’d see him sitting across from her, his crinkled eyes shining as he laughed at whatever dumb thing she might’ve said, his smile bright and contagious, his laugh happy and pure.

She was trying to get over the bassist. It was all she could think about; getting over him. She wanted, more than anything to get rid of the ache in her chest that seemed to be a constant nuisance after him. But she didn’t know how. How do you get over the one person in the world that made you feel every possible feeling all at once? How do you get over the man you love? How do you fall out of love with someone?

Deep down, she knew that she’d never get over him. She’d never get over the way her stomach would bubble when he cupped her face, squishing her cheeks as he planted his lips sweetly on hers. She’d never get over how he’d stand behind her and trail his fingertips gently down her arms, gently making their way into her warm palms so he could wrap both of their arms around her body. She’d never find something that felt as great as him tiredly looking down at her in the early mornings as they laid sleepily in bed together, their legs tangled, his loving hands in her hair while his thumb stroked her temple.

She’d never find someone who made her feel the same way Calum did, and that was probably the hardest thing to accept.

Lifting her head from her palms, she looked at the empty space in between her tv and her couch. She remembered one of the many nights her ex-lover stayed over. She remembered the night he was begging her to dance along to the music playing on the record player with him. Finally, she gave in to his pleading.

“Come on, you love this song!” He pouted, referring to the Fleetwood Mac song playing softly throughout her small apartment. He gestured her to come forward with his fingers before he held his hand out for her, his eyebrows wiggling as he tried to get her to dance with him.

She rolled her eyes and took his hand. “I hate that you know me so well sometimes.” She said to him as he pulled her off the couch. His fingers laced with hers, his free hand moving to rest on the small of her back as he brought his body closer to hers. She set her own hand on his left bicep as they began swaying to the slow beat of ‘Songbird’.

“No, you love it.” He teased her with a smirk as he looked down at her.

She tried to restrain her smile, but with Calum, it was always impossible to be unhappy. She finally chuckled and nodded in agreement, rolling her lips as she gazed up at the love of her life. “Yeah, you’re right.” She huffed playfully. He beamed and craned his neck to meet her halfway for a kiss.

The two slowly moved with each other, their bare feet on the shaggy carpet that was in her living room. He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist and lifted her up, spinning them, making her laugh. He set her back down and kissed the side of her head, relishing in the simplicity of the moments he could he share with her.

“And the songbirds keep singing like they know the score.” He sang quietly into her ear, his eyes closed as he sang the song he knew to be one of her favorites. He hummed the rest of the tune as she laid her head against his shoulder. Everything was so perfect. Everything was exactly how it should be.

The burn of tears in her eyes brought her back from the sweet memory of Calum she would forever hold so close to her heart. She closed her eyes, allowing a single tear to slide down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away with the heel of her palm. Nearly all of her fond memories from the past year and a half were with him by her side. For the time they knew each other and were together, they spent every moment together. He became such a big and important part of her that him being gone left her wondering where she started and when he would end.

When she glanced over at the clock to check the time, the bright numbers read only a quarter after eleven. She could feel the destructive and obsessive thoughts creeping into her head like a plague and she knew that she should turn in before they consumed her. Grabbing the bottle of beer, she took the last gulp and set it back on the counter with a clink. Her tongue ran over her lips and she collected the remnants of alcohol.

She pushed herself off the stool and padded down the hall to her bedroom, stripping down to her bra and panties. Collapsing in the bed, she pressed the side of her face into the pillow after pulling the blanket over her body. Her back was turned toward the empty side of the bed, not daring to even look at the untouched spot. Slowly, she fell asleep, trying to ignore the fact that Calum’s body wasn’t beside her.

Much to her dismay, she’d be woken up by a knocking at the door. She looked at the numbers on the alarm clock told her it was half past four in the morning.  With a groan, she reluctantly got out of bed and pulled on the silk robe that was thrown over a chair in the corner of her room. Tiredly, she walked out into the hall, tying the strings of the robe before she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Her eyes were squinted as she covered her mouth to stifle a sleepy yawn. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” She asked before she saw who was standing only two feet away from her. Her vision finally adjusted and she saw who was standing opposite of her, the threshold of the door being the only thing that separated her and the person on the other side. He looked up from his shoes to her and a wave of relief seemed to glaze over his dark eyes.

As she stood there, surprised, she let his name fall from her lips in a breathless whisper. “Calum.”

With a shake of the head, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to register what was happening. Her eyes felt puffy and bloodshot, a disgusting combination that she never thought she’d have to feel with him around. A feeling she never thought he’d give her. She let out a shaky exhale of breath and allowed herself to look at Calum, still processing what he’d just said to her. Clearing her throat, she frowned. “It’s over? What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’m breaking up with you, we’re done.” He said, his voice and his choice of words making an uncomfortable shiver rack through her body. It was just so cold.

She looked into his eyes and she couldn’t see anything. There was no emotion in those brown orbs she’d loved more than all the stars in the sky. No hint of hurt, no hint of sadness, no hint of guilt for breaking her heart like he was in that very moment. He’d always been hard to read. He always kept him and his emotions guarded, but the more she got to know him and the more comfortable he got around her, he became easier to read. He let himself open up with her. But the man standing before her was a stranger.

“So you’re just all of a sudden done with me?” She asked bitterly, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the back of her couch, looking at him. She didn’t fail to notice the way his jaw clenched and the way his eyebrows furrowed as if her comment had hurt him. “Calum, what did I do?” Her strong voice fell into one of wavering despair.

He didn’t answer, he glanced up at her before letting his head fall again so he could look back at the ground. She walked over to him and let her fingers graze his jaw, her hands moving up to cup his face. Lifting his head, she made him look her in the eyes. Now she could see everything he was trying to hide. She tilted her head to the side, tears falling over the curve of her cheekbones.

“What did I do, Calum? Just tell me what I did so we can get past this!” She said, her chest rising and falling rapidly along with the cries of hurt that would occasionally fall from her lips.

“Y/N.” He shook his head, warning her to not do this. Warning her to not beg for an answer that he either couldn’t or didn’t want to give her. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“What did I do?” She whispered to him.

Calum looked away from her and closed his eyes almost as if his heart was hurting just as much as hers was. “I just can’t do this anymore.” He mumbled.

A defeated sigh fell from her lips. “Please, Cal. Please, don’t go.” She shook her head as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her touch away from his face. The anguish swimming in his eyes simultaneously infuriated and broke her. How could he do this to her? It wasn’t fair.

He stepped away from her and she felt everything fall apart as the sound of his shoes hitting the hardwood floored echoed the way a gunshot would. She watched him walk away from her and everything they had, and she swore that nothing hurt as much as him walking away.

What hurt the most though, was that he didn’t even look over his shoulder. He didn’t even hesitate as he pulled open the door and stepped out of her home, closing the door behind him. She covered her mouth as she let out a sob of complete and utter heartbreak, her knees giving out beneath her as she fell to the floor, left wondering what went wrong.

Looking at him now, she remembered the way her whole being hurt when she last saw him. His hair was different now, a platinum color, but his face was the exact same. The warmth she more often than not saw in his eyes was there, but he also looked like he’d been through hell and back. He looked at her and he was breathless, almost as if the mere sight of her took his breath away.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

leave me some feedback!

[klauscotic]

klaus hargreeves x reader • part 2

🌟authors note: this plot line is a little bit of my own creation, besides what happens in the t.v show. this one is also based on a fem. reader! i am going to start a gender neutral mini series very soon!

👻summary: klaus and y/n never saw each other as siblings, even though they grew up together. they saw each other as friends, lovers. but when the hargreeve children left the umbrella academy, klaus and y/n never saw each other again. but when reginald hargreeve’s death pops up unexpected, the children, now adults, meet again. and klaus and y/n meet again…

🔅word count: 2005

we sat on his bed. i sat against the wall, with my feet hanging off the edge of the bed. whilst klaus laid down with his head resting on a pillow, legs over mine. we didn’t say anything to each other. i looked at the interesting pictures on the wall. one that caught my eye, was a small eyeball. klaus always did have a thing for art. whether that be drawing, painting, tattoos or music. he loved it all. 

“so... how are you?” i questioned, playing with the hem of the skirt that klaus still wore. 

“well, lets see,” he said flicking the built up ash that had lingered on the end of his cigarette, off it. “i have been in and out of rehab, and have been addicted to drugs and alcohol for the past 7 years or so.”

i sat there, on the bed, playing with my small fingers. i felt awful. all this time i was wallowing at home. klaus needed help. he needed someone. and i was to caught up in my emotions, that i didn’t even bother checking up on him to see if he wanted to talk. or the least, see if he was okay. 

“oh, and i haven’t seen you in the past - what? 16 years?” he added.

that made me feel worse. i really was stupid. i convinced myself since i was a child that i loved this man with all my heart and strength. and yet i can’t even seem to push myself to make a proper sentence of an apology. i continued to sit on his bed, playing with my hands. that’s when i decided that i needed to say at least one sentence. even if it wasn’t a lot.

“i’m sorry klaus. i should have messaged you. at least called you. and i was so caught up in myself, that i forgot. and now, we are sat here reminiscing about the past.” i spoke, voice trembled. 

klaus pushed his body up off from the bed. he then turned away and put out the cigarette on the oak bedside cabinet, that was near him. if reginald was alive, he would have scolded klaus. saying that the piece of grotesque furniture cost over $100. but now that he was dead, klaus did what he wanted. not that he didn’t do that before. after he put the cigarette out, he brought himself closer to me, legs still hung over mine. he put his hand on either side of my face, bringing me closer to him. 

“listen - we all made mistakes. dear old dad would say the biggest mistake of our lives, would be the fact that we were so into each other, we fell in love.” his green eyes delved deep into my e/c eyes. it almost felt as if he was trying to search for something within me.

i wanted to ask klaus something in that moment. but i couldn’t bring myself to ask him. but i did anyway. what’s the harm in asking?

“klaus?” 

“yes lovely?” he replied, still staring at me, his eyes fixated on mine.

“do you still love me?”

his thick dark eyebrows furrowed. his face twisted in dismal way. 

“y/n, it’s been 16 years-” he started.

“no - it’s fine. i understand. it was a stupid question anyway.” i said in a forlorn way. i fell back against the wall, his hands no longer on my face, but on my knees. 

“wait - you didn’t let me finish y/n dear.”

i studied for something to read. all i could see was him. klaus. so my head naturally dropped.

“what i was gonna say was, it’s been 16 years. in those 16 years, i have abused too many illegal shit and alcohol. but i wasn’t just taking them to suppress the ghosts and the voices which i see and hear. it was because the person that i loved and cherished so much, had been rid of me. and now, i can’t seem to stop taking this menacing things, because after you left, i couldn’t seem to control my powers and it all became a little too much for me.”

i sat on the bed in silence, talking in every little detail that came from his lips. 

“but now that i can see you,” he lifted up my chin and made me look into his handsome eyes once more. “now that i can touch you,” klaus put both his hands on either side of my face again. “now that i can hear you, i feel a bit better than i did before.” he broke out a small frail smile. 

this was the first real time that klaus had really shown any of his emotions towards me. and it broke my heart to know that he felt that way. i was so in the moment, that i hadn’t realised that small trails of salt had since wavered their wa down my cheeks. klaus’ thumbs surpassed them and wiped them away.

“i’m so sorry klaus. i wish i hadn’t left you all alone. i wish i could take back time all those years ago, and i wish i would have left with you.” i sobbed in his hands.

“shh, shh, shh. don’t cry. christ on a cracker, we shouldn’t be upset about this. we should be happy that we’re seeing each other!” he chuckled sorrowfully. 

i giggled at his charisma.

“see! now that-" he then pointed at my smile. “that is the y/n i love!” he exclaimed. 

i giggled more. when i had stopped giggling at his silly attempts to make laugh. i looked at him further. he had stopped goofing around and became aware of my staring. he edged his body nearer to mine and was practically sitting on my lap. his hands stroked my cheeks and held them firmly. as if i was going to disappear again. 

“i love you y/n.” he said. gazing lovingly into my eyes.

“i love you too klaus.” i said in a hushed tone. 

his lips then collided with mine. the texture of his lips was so soft. but the scruff that had since grown around his chin and top lip, scratched at my chin. but i wasn’t fazed. because i loved him. i wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my hands in his dark curly hair. as i slightly tugged at klaus’ hair, he let out a small groan. klaus pulled away momentarily. he pushed himself off of my lap and dug me into the mattress. he then climbed his way back on top. his lips found mine again, and we were soon in each others’ embrace once more. his hands found their way down to my hips and stayed there. holding on tightly, not letting me go. as we kissed, the faint smell and taste of the past cigarettes he had smoked, loitered on his breathe and tongue. klaus’ lips left mine and wavered over my neck. he then planted small kisses below my ear. it tickled a bit. but i left it at that. klaus continued peppering small amounts of affection on my collarbone. 

“klaus - the others are gonna see that.” i laughed, as he continued without a care.

“and? let them see. you’re mine, i can show my love in many ways sweetheart.” he said in a deep voice. 

oh lord. 

when he had had enough, he scrambled his way to my lips. and gaveme one last kiss, before he fell on top of me and sunk his head into my belly, his hands still wrapped securely around my waist. 

“i missed you.” klaus said.

“i missed you too, you nutter.” i chuckled. 

klaus lifted his head from my stomach and gazed at me. 

“how rude, you dare call me a nutter.” he gasped in mock offense. 

“shut up you.” i flicked his forehead. 

“ow.” klaus whined before he rested his head back on my stomach.

he began to play with them hem of my black t-shirt. i looked down at his legs to see they were on show.

“oh wow, you still have that damn skirt on.” i laughed. 

klaus looked at his bare legs.

“what? tu n’aime pas ça?” he said, looking hurt, which he wasn’t. 

“i never said that did i, i just never thought i would see the day you flaunt a skirt better than me.” i replied, smiling widely. 

“y/n, sweetheart, i flaunt everything.” klaus smirked.

“well - that’s one thing that hasn’t changed about you.” i said, playing with his curls.

“that being?” he replied.

“your sass and humour, it never seems to not make me laugh.” i said. 

“well, you haven’t changed either love.” klaus kissed my stomach through my t-shirt. 

“how?” i asked.

“you’re loving side is still as strong as it was 16 years ago. you make me feel more sober than i have in 7 years. and most of all, you still love me as much as you did 16 years ago. and for that, i love you even more than i once did.” klaus smiled up at me. 

i smiled back at him. 

“klaus?” 

“hm?” he hummed.

“promise me something.”

“what lovely?”

“promise me, that you will try to sober up. promise me you won’t waste your money on drugs and alcohol anymore. i don’t care how long it takes, just try for me.” i pleaded.

if klaus wanted to stay with me, then he would have to co-operate with me and at least try and achieve sobriety. 

“i will try y/n, it isn’t easy, i’ve tried. i keep seeing ghosts and hearing voices. and it’s most of the time,gets a little too much. and i want to feel numb. that’s how i got into them in the first place. after you left, the feeling of feeling numb when i was with you was gone, so i had to take the matter into my own hands. and waste what little money i have on drugs to keep the ghosts and voices at bay.” he said. 

“of course it will be hard klaus, you have been dependant on these things for just over 7 years. but like i said, i don’t care how long it takes. as long as you try for me. try for us.” i said, stroking his hair, easing his nerves. like i used to do when we were younger. 

“i will try, i promise.” i said, nuzzling his face more into my stomach. 

“anyways. that’s what i’m here for. i can make you feel better. my powers can help. however, that doesn’t mean you get to abuse that privilege as well.” i grunted.

“yeah, i know. and i wouldn’t do that to you.” klaus lifted his head and arm. he stroked my cheek with his fingers. 

“boop.” he said as he flicked my nose. 

i flinched and scrunched my face together. i then poked my tongue out. klaus laughed. i felt the vibrations of his laugh pour through his chest and through me. it made me feel safe. 

“i missed this.” i stated.

“i missed this too. but now we’re together, i feel a whole lot better.”

“me too.”

he shifted his body and made himself comfortable, before going limp in my arms. 

“i’m gonna catch up on some well needed sleep.” klaus closed his eyes. he looked so at peace. so i didn’t make a fuss. 

“okay, you fall asleep klausy.” i called him by the nickname he had adopted from me when we were younger. “and if you have a nightmare, know that i’m here to keep you safe.”

“okay - i love you y/n.” he hummed, as he fell asleep on me.

“i love you too klaus.”

and with that he fell asleep in my embrace. and i kept him safe from the dark world he called night terrors. in that moment, he had promised me that would try and keep away from drugs and alcohol and achieve sobriety. and i believed he could do it. i knew he could do it...

tags:

@bilesxbilinskixlahey

@my-life-is-a-cringe-attack

@loneranger-blog

[primal-screamer-blog1]

Mutually Assured Destruction 

Rating: Mature Pairing: Nikki Sixx/F. OC Playlist Here Description: Growing restless in his discontent, Nikki Sixx is plagued with past anxieties that he never could find the courage to confront. He’d seen and done it all but when it came to Ruby Moon, he’d always felt he had unfinished business. Now, years after their tumultuous relationship had seemingly come to an end, Nikki finds himself compulsively recounting memories and asking questions only she would have the answers to.  ***Warnings: mature themes, sexual themes, descriptions of sexual encounters, alcohol, drug use, violence, cursing 

1981

Clad in all black and asleep in a patch of sun on the floor, Nikki resembled a big black cat snoring the afternoon away.  It was warm in California but even warmer in the apartment where they refused to clean or open a window.  Smoke hung thick in the air, thick as the smell, creating an unfortunate atmosphere completely unique to the apartment’s toxic ecosystem.  In the corner of the barren living room, Tommy’s stereo clicked a constant metronome since last night when Nikki fell asleep with it on, eating up his favorite X tape in the process  He couldn’t be bothered.  Nikki is not home right now.  Summer demanded more from him than his usual rough-n-tumble; more kids in town meant more shows meant more girls, more sweat, more parties. His spot on the floor, not four feet from the couch, was a testament to that.

However, none of that mattered.  Not when addicts were concerned, least of all.  Ruby had her own problems and her own pressures.  Right now, her main concern was the growing tension in her jaw and how she hadn’t been able to pull her tongue off the roof of her mouth since she woke up that morning. She was hungover, she was fiending and she had to go to work - with a smile on her face- in just a few hours.  None of this would have been a problem if she had been able to find her drugs to get her head straight.  When she couldn’t, however, she knew she wouldn’t have to look much farther than the Crue house after spending last night there.

There was no need to kick in the lock, though.  The door was always unlocked.  

“Wake the fuck up, Sixx!” A heeled red leather boot stuck him in the thigh.  Awareness flooded in.

“God! Damn it!”  Nikki’s eyes shot open, curling in on himself before he was able to understand what was going on.  Ruby stood over him, her long legs wrapped in black denim, shaggy black hair falling in her face; her long leopard print duster flapped wildly around.  “Give me my fucking drugs, Nikki!” She shouted in her thick New York accent.  He shielded his tired eyes from the sun streaming in around her silhouette.  He propped himself up on one elbow and felt around in his motorcycle vest pockets for sunglasses and cigarettes.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Ruby?” He croaked, his throat coated with phlegm from a night of chain smoking and snorting pills. He slowly pulled his sunglasses on and was able to see the pissed off look on her face.

“ Me   fuck off?!”  She stared at him in disbelief as he lit up a Parliament.  

“Yeah you!  Fuck off!  What the fuck are you even doing here anyway?” He groaned.

“My fucking drugs, Nikki!  I know you took them!” She snatched his cigarette out of his hand and pushed him in the chest.  

“I don’t have your drugs!” He swatted her hand away and backed up from under her. “Get one of those assholes at the strip club to buy you some if you snorted em all up.”

“Bullshit!” She whipped off her coat and threw it at him.  “Where’s my speed, Sixx?”

“I don’t even  do   speed, you fucking psycho!” Nikki stood up, rising a foot taller than her, still in his platform boots from last night.  

“Oh, I’m the psycho?!” She challenged him as he approached her, towering over her and taking his cigarette back.  Nikki bit his lip and held back a spiteful grin, taking a deep drag.  “You might wanna reconsider your angle, Moon.” He looked down at her, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

“Ruby!” Vince swung around the front door frame, hanging into the living room.  He was panting from having to follow her for four city blocks while she mumbled to herself about kicking Nikki’s ass.  “Ruby, knock it off!”  He took two quick, long strides across the room and got in between them as Nikki stepped to her.  “Both of you, stop being fucking crazy.” He put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder and attempted to push her away from Nikki. “C’mon, come smoke a cigarette with me, let’s go calm down.”  

“Oh, fuck off, Vinnie! He fucking stole from me!” She threw her arms out.  

“Yeah, fuck off Vinnie.” Nikki laughed from behind him.

“Hey, fuck you, man! I don’t gotta be part of this!”

“Then don’t be! You should both fuck off!” Nikki threw his arms out and turned to the kitchen for a morning beer.

“Ruby,” Vince ignored him and turned back to her. “Ruby, c’mon, let’s go smoke and relax, he’s not gonna give you your drugs back.”

“Because I don’t have them!”  Nikki shouted from the fridge.

Ruby gritted her teeth while she locked eyes with Vince.  He knew Nikki was lying.  She knew he knew Nikki was lying  “Please.” He pleaded with her quietly, watching her try not to explode.  He knew he’d be the one dealing with Nikki’s side of the argument long after it was over.  He just wanted it to stop.  He felt like they’d been having the same fights for as long as he’d known the both of them.

“Fuck you, Nikki!” She stomped towards the kitchen, almost colliding with him as he rounded back into the living room.  She shoved him in the chest, hard, and he actually stumbled back a bit.  She finally took her voice down.  “Just admit it!  You were being all nice and sweet to me last night, getting me all fucked up and stupid so that you could fucking steal from me! Just say it!” She shoved him again, almost begging at this point.  

Nikki chugged his beer and looked away from her.  He offered her a lazy shrug.

“To be fair, that does sound like something I’d do.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “God damn it.” He said under his breath.

Ruby barked a sarcastic laugh.  Her face flushed hot and she had to turn away from him, feeling like tears might start falling.  She shook her head and held her hands up, still laughing spitefully.  “You are so fucking awful, Nikki Sixx.”

“Oh, like you’re not!” Nikki shouted and held his middle finger up at her as she stormed out the front door, finally slamming it shut.  

“Dude!” Vince shouted, feeling eternally frustrated.

“What, am I supposed to feel bad?” Nikki was still heated, still pacing and nearly shouting. He finished off his beer and tossed it onto the kitchen pile.  “She’s fucking nuts, dude! I’ve been telling you that!”  

“You’re both nuts!”

“Yo! Shut the fuck up!” Tommy’s muffled shouting and pounding came from the other side of the living room wall, still attempting to achieve his full 12 hours of beauty rest.  A knowing grin cracked across Nikki’s face when a high pitched squeal started making its way out of the bedroom.  Vince had to fight not to laugh with him.  A messy blonde came teetering out on tiger print heels, pulling down her lime green banded dress and wiping her nose.  She paused, looking from Nikki to Vince and feeling exposed as she interrupted their conversation.

“Um…sorry.” She squeaked, hanging her head and squaring her shoulders in as she stalked past them, well aware of them both checking her out.

“Later.” Vince smiled at her flirtatiously and watched her ass wiggle as she left.  Once she was out of sight, she was out of mind and Vince turned back to Nikki.  

“Listen, Ruby doesn’t need speed anyway, dude.” Nikki waved him off and threw himself down on the couch, groaning and stretching out.

“She clearly fucking needs speed, dude.  Fucking find some. You owe me, man.”  Vince pointed a finger at him before ducking back outside.  “Not a good favor to cash in on, Vin!” Nikki shouted out at him.

Outside, Ruby stood against the brick wall of the boys apartment building, slapping a bic lighter against her palm and failing to light the cigarette hanging from her red painted lips.  

“Shit.” Her hand cupped around her cigarette tip, the black nail polish on her thumb chipping away.  

“Here.”  Vince showed up with his silver zippo and lit the tip. He watched her as she took three short nervous puffs, anxiously averting her gaze to the cracks in the pavement, the spiders crawling across the outside awning, trying to look anywhere but into his searching expression.  

“What?” She spat at him, sounding harsher than she had meant.  Vince didn’t pay it any mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, knowing no one had in quite some time.  She still couldn’t help but let out a short derisive laugh in spite of herself. “Yeah, Vin.” She gave him a cheeky smile that came across more like scowl.  “I’m just great.” She hung her head and looked away again.  He cocked his head at her and moved into her field of vision.

“I’m serious, Ruby.” He stroked her sad face with his thumb.  “What’s wrong?”

Ruby finally pulled her green eyes up to his and almost smiled.  Vince was sweet and Vince was hot.  It’s what made him so easy to deal with; Vince was simple and he wasn’t insightful enough to understand why she wasn’t interested in doing anything other than momentarily distracting herself with him.  He came with little complication and close to no baggage.  He wasn’t concerned when she lied to him about sleeping with other men, because he was sleeping with other women and he didn’t feel bad endough about it to tell her.  That’s the way she wanted it with him.  But over time, as he got to know her and as he got used to her, he had started caring about her. And it was beginning to become obvious that, despite being extremely unattentive, he was becoming infatuated with her.  

“I uh…” She began, shakily.  “I dunno, Vince.” She gently pushed his hand away.  Whatever hopefulness his expression may have held dropped. Somehow, he understood what it was she hadn’t been saying this whole time.  She wasn’t thinking about losing her drugs; she was thinking about Nikki.  Despite the nature of their relationship, Vince and Ruby had gotten close and had a lot of fun together.  But he wasn’t so clueless that he didn’t see her walls were up.  For awhile he couldn’t figure out why, but eventually he started catching on to how Ruby and Nikki reacted to each other. Vince never minded it; it made sense to him.  Besides, her distance allowed him more freedom to do what he wanted, which was perfect for a guy like him.  But after awhile, it was becoming hard on his ego the closer he tried to get to her.

A tear finally fell down her cheek.

“He just used to be my best friend.” She admitted, offering a sad shrug.  She didn’t know why that wasn’t the whole truth, but it was true enough that Vince could understand with a bit more sympathy.

“Yeah.” He leaned up on the wall next to her and frowned.  “Yeah, I know.  You two used to be a lot closer, actually.”

“I just don’t get it.” She exhaled smoke.  “He’s so mean to me now.”

“Yeah, but I mean….” Vince hadn’t known either of them long, but he was immediately reminded of cheap shots, screaming matches, pushing and shoving and endless taunting between them.  “You two have always fought. Y’know, you’re both pretty volatile and headstrong in that way.  And Nikki’s never really been the nicest guy.”

“Yeah, but not like this, Vinnie.  He never would’ve stole from me before.  He knows what it’s like.” She sighed and put her cigarette out on the bottom of her boot.

“That is really…..fucked up, actually.” Vince agreed, considering the breach of trust for the first time since this whole thing began in the morning when she kicked the sheets off him in bed.

“Yeah.” She shook her head and tried to brush it off.  “I gotta head to the Veil.  I gotta score something before my shift so I can at least try to get through it. Thanks for….I dunno, trying to talk to me I guess.” She offered him a weak smile.

Vince saw the sadness in her smile and despite everything, he didn’t want to send her off feeling this low.  She was, after all, still his friend too, and he didn’t intend for that to change.  He shoved her in the shoulder. “Want me to ride with you?”

“I dunno, Vince…” She felt like she was leading him on whenever he got so eager.  “They don’t really like us bringing guys around.”

“No way, I can’t stick around anyway. We got a gig later!  But we don’t gotta talk and I’ll totally eat you out in the parking lot.” He flashed a gorgeous crooked smile at her and winked.   She rolled her eyes at his frankness but couldn’t help smiling too.

“That does actually sound really nice.”

“There’s a smile.” He laughed.

“Don’t over do it, Neil.”

From inside, on the couch, Nikki watched out the window as Ruby and Vince sped off in her white Trans Am.  He shook his head and sneered, pretending to pick at the bass in his lap while he listened for her loud exhaust to fade out of ear shot.  He picked up his head again and peaked out the window to be sure they were gone before pulling a small plastic wrap of white amphetamine powder out of his back pocket.

Tommy stumbled out of his bedroom, all arms and legs in nothing but a pair of Reeboks.  He held onto his big swinging dick to assume the illusion of modesty in front of his friend.  “Hey man.” He mumbled sleepily at Nikki on his way to get a beer out of the fridge.  Nikki gave the bag a hard snort and thumped his foot on the floor. “Woo!” He threw his head back and swallowed the drip hard, feeling warmth spread behind his face.  He was finally awake.  

“Whatchu got, homie?” Tommy laughed and fell down on the couch next to Nikki, spreading his legs out and covering his junk with the one dirty pillow they had.

“What’d you think I got, man?” Nikki laughed, plucking away on his bass, his head cleared of tension.

“Dude! Is that Ruby’s? I thought you were yellin’ all morning about how you didn’t have that!” He slapped Nikki on the shoulder.  Nikki grimaced and smacked him back harder.

“Of course it’s Ruby’s.  She’s the one with a job, man.  Besides, it’s not like she pays for this shit anyway.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Fuck no!” Nikki exclaimed, dipping his finger in the bag. “She gets it from this rich foreign dude she fucks in the Valley.  That’s why it’s so goddamn good!”  He shouted before shoving a finger up into Tommy’s gums without warning.  Tommy laughed.  “Fuck yeah!” He lapped at his gums as Nikki buried his nose in the last of it.  “You mean she’s not fucking Vinnie anymore?” He asked. “I kinda liked them together, dude, I thought that was nice.” Tommy smiled, ever the romantic.  Nikki pulled back before screwing up his face and frowning.  “Are you fucking demented?”

“What?!”

“Nothing.” Nikki shook his head and pulled his notebook out from under the couch cushion.  “She’s still fucking Vinnie.  She’s fucking everyone.”

“Dude, that’s not true at all!  You gotta like...not talk about her like that.”

“The fuck are you a feminist for all of a sudden?” Nikki kicked Tommy’s foot, getting agitated with the direction this was going.   

“Yeah. Right.” Tommy laughed again, kicking the heel of Nikki’s boot in return.  “I dunno, man, I just think it’s kind of fucked up.  Ruby’s our friend and shit.  It makes me real sad to see you two fighting so much. She like….gave you a place to stay when you first showed up here.  She’s always at our shows.  Her band rules.  Why are you stealing shit from her, man?”

Nikki wasn’t expecting to have this conversation, not with Tommy least of all people and not this early in the day.  He shot Tommy a suspicious look.

“You know, I really thought you’d have my back on this.”

“Have your back on what?! I just don’t get it.” Tommy slapped Nikki playfully in the chest.  “C’mon, dude! I really wanna know what’s going on.”

Nikki shrugged, nodding his head to a bassline he was scribbling out in his notebook.  He honestly didn’t know what to say.  His disdain for Ruby had arrived seemingly out of nowhere.  Where she once made him feel seen and heard and understood, warm and familiar, she now made him feel isolated and awkward; uncomfortable in his own skin and less than.  He liked it even less than he understood it.  He shook his head, deciding that thinking about it made him feel worse. In his anxious and urgent mind, he decided that Ruby was causing him more harm than good. All he cared about right now, all he wanted to care about, was finishing this bass line.  He didn’t need an interrogation from his only other friend.  “She’s just some girl Vince is fucking now, man.” He shot.

“Damn.” Tommy stared at him.  He didn’t laugh this time.  In fact, he looked pretty upset.  “You are one cold mother fucker, bro.”

Nikki didn’t look at him.  Instead, he stopped writing and stood up, throwing his bass down to the floor and shoving his rolled up notebook in his back pocket.  He made his way to his bedroom. He wasn’t going to listen to this.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

***fan fiction writers are creators too! we work really hard and put a lot of time into our stories. if you enjoy someone’s content, please consider leaving them a comment. it’s really helpful! thank you.

[yootaesowlwrites]

Give Me Strength Chapter 9;

Alex could feel her head pounding as she slow regains consciousness, her throat felt dry and her neck stiff and sore, she opens her eyes and blinks a few times to adjust to the light before looking around the room, she pushes herself into a sitting position on the unfamiliar bed and the memories from the previous night hits her like a train, her hand moves to her neck and feels a band-aid on her neck.

She slowly stood up from the comfortable bed and makes her way towards the bedroom door, she slowly pulls it open and sticks her head out of the room and looks around, once she was sure nobody was around she took a step out of the bedroom and begins searching for the stairs, she needed to leave, she couldn't stay in this house after what had happened last night, as she neared the staircase she heard voices in the distance.

"Someone has gone missing and I have reason to believe you know where they are," Elijah says, Alex recognized his voice but wasn't sure if she should find comfort in it.

"A bunch of people go missing every day, you'll need to be a bit more specific," Damon says, Now Alex was sure that she needed to stay at the top of the stairs, she couldn't take that chance and be attacked by Damon again. "Do you have a name or even a description of this person?"

"I doubt that you are in any position to use that tone with me," Elijah says. "If it were not for Elena, you would be dead by now."

"What do you want with little Ms Zastrod anyway?" Damon asks, defeated, The Original Vampire did save his life, why gamble with his life now?

"I want her to be human, she has absolutely nothing to do with any of this, so why include her?" Elijah states. "But I simply wish to help her."

"And why? You realize that human is a lost cause and you should just let her die." Damon states, Alex visibly shakes as she eavesdrops in on their conversation, she knew she shouldn't.

"You might not give a damn about her, but I wish to help her," Elijah says. "In all of my years as a vampire, I have yet to discover why human's put so much effort into saving one..." Alex tunes him out as she hears footsteps approaching the steps. "Consider it an experiment."

"You're a vampire for damn's sake, can't you smell how much she reeks of drugs and booze?" Damon questions. "She's upstairs, Stefan the hero vampire saved her before I could do the world a favour and kill her," Damon says, Alex takes a step back planning on running back to the room she was in, her back collides with something or someone stopping her in her tracks, she lets out a gasp and turns around to see Elijah standing behind her.

"I am not here to hurt you." Elijah softly says. "I give you my word."

"Ho—how do I—I know yo—you're telling the tr—uth?" Alex stutters out, she was scared and Elijah could hear her heart beating in fear.

"If I wished to have hurt you, I would have done so when we first met," Elijah states, his eyes land on the bandaid on her neck and takes a step towards her, Alex lets out a shaky breath knowing if she takes a step back she would fall down the stairs, Elijah carefully moves her hair out of the way so he could inspect her neck. "You're hurt." Alex slowly nods her head.

"Yeah, well, your friend downstairs did that," Alex whispers.

"I can assure you that he is no friend," Elijah says. "Allow me to take you home," Elijah says, she couldn't quite figure out why she felt more save with Elijah, he was the same creature Damon and Stefan are, so why did she feel like she could trust him.

"Okay," Alex whispers.

"I guess I should properly thank you for rescuing me," Alex says, walking down the stairs in clean clothes, Elijah stood by the bottom of the stairs waiting for her.

"I did not mind playing the hero for once," Elijah says, Alex smiles faintly at him. "I think perhaps it is time that we should get to know each other a bit more, no?"

"I mean... I guess." Alex says. "Uh, sorry about the mess, I haven't had much time to clean." She says, making her way towards the living room with Elijah behind her, he examines the number of bottles lying on the floor and ashtrays filled with cigarette buds.

"It is quite all right, I understand," Elijah says. "You were occupied," Elijah states, He sits down on the couch while Alex picks up a few bottles. "Ms Jenna called you Alex, is it short for Alexandria, Alexa or Alexandra?" Elijah asks.

"It's Alexandra but I prefer Alex," Alex says going into the kitchen with the empty bottles, she couldn't believe how much she and Jayden drank yesterday. "Alexandra is too formal for a person like me."

"As yourself?" Elijah questions, Alex exits the kitchen after tossing the bottles.

"Yeah... drug addict and an alcoholic," Alex states, she picks up the ash tray's and takes them to the kitchen as well.

"What is your last name?" Elijah asks, Alex stands in the kitchen door.

"Zastrod, Alexandra Zastrod," Alex says. "And yours?"

"Elijah Mikaelson at your service," Elijah says, Alex nods her head.

"That sounds like a family with a lot of money," Alex says. "Centuries worth." She had no idea.

"We are quite wealthy," Elijah states, his eyes fall to her neck and saw a bloodstain growing on the band-aid. "Would you allow me to help you with that?" Elijah says, Alex looks at him confused not knowing what he was talking about. "Your neck, it is bleeding again."

"Again? Do I have to go to the hospital?" Alex asks, becoming worried, if she were to go to a hospital they would surely send her to rehab.

"No, goodness, no," Elijah says. "It might sound mad but my blood will heal you."

"That does sound insane," Alex says, Elijah stood up from the couch and makes his way towards her.

"Do you trust me?" Elijah asks, Alex slowly nods her head looking up at him. "Good," Elijah says, he walks past her and goes into her kitchen, Alex turns around to watch what he was doing. "Where do you keep your knives? and your glasses?"

"I uh, in that cabinet, whiskey glass and in that drawer are the knives and forks," Alex says, she watches as he takes out a whiskey glass and makes his way towards the drawer. "You're not going to murder me, right?" Elijah chuckles.

"I am not," Elijah says, he opens the drawer and takes out a knife. "I'm just going to give you some of my blood." Alex slowly nods her head.

"Yeah, uh that really just sounds insane, dude," Alex says, Elijah places the whiskey glass on the countertop and slices his palm open, Alex gasps not thinking her was serious. "Shit, I don't own band-aids, Elijah." Alex quickly walks towards him.

"You should consider stocking them up," Elijah says, his blood falls into the whiskey glass but soon stops as the wound on his hand heals, Alex watches at the wound heals itself and looks up at him in shock.

"Are you... what?" Alex mumbles, Elijah walks towards the kitchen sink and opens the water to rinse his hand. "I get you're a vampire and all, but is that part of the package deal? Quick healing?"

"Quick healing, enhanced strength, hearing," Elijah says. "My blood can heal humans."

"Are you telling me that this." Alex picks up the whiskey glass with his blood in it. "Will heal me, just like your hand just did?"

"Indeed," Elijah says, drying his hands.

"Do I drink it or pour it out on my neck?" Alex asks, not sure how this thing worked.

"Drink," Elijah says.

"Oh, Of course, it's never something simple like just putting on the wound," Alex says, Elijah chuckles as he watches her look at the glass in disgust. "Okay, well, bottoms up, I guess." Alex brings the glass closer to her mouth and tilts her head backwards, drinking the blood as she would normally drink a shot, she almost slams the glass down on the countertop as she pulls a face. "Oh, that was disgusting, ah ew." Causing Elijah to chuckle, he walks towards her and peels the band-aid off from her neck.

"There, no scar or wound," Elijah says, Alex places her hand on her neck feeling the skin and smearing some of her own blood on her neck.

"Okay, wow, I am amazed," Alex says. "You're my new doctor."

[1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9 you are here] - [10] - [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20] - [21] - [22] - [23] - [24] - [25]

[ask-rogertaylor]

((Here’s another fic. This time the story of when Roger first realised he had feelings for Brian and also had his first gay crisis—and then that one time they kissed and roger freaked the fuck out. This started as a ficlet but I’m sappy and can’t write my thoughts in a concise way .. so have pining sad roger ,, the ending is kinda sad ,, but just keep in mind that Rog and Bri end up together eventually!! Featuring @ask-brian-may and @ask-rogerina! It also has John, Jo, Freddie, Jamie and Melina very briefly!!))

Roger feels light.

It’s the buzz of the alcohol. It’s why he likes the stuff so much. Roger feels heavy most of the time. He doesn’t talk about it, and nobody really knows about it, so he relieves himself of that burden as often as he can. Because feeling light is a relief.

His head is also pretty light. Nothing really seems to be in focus right now. He doesn’t even think he’s moving himself, it’s mostly Brian dragging and guiding him along up the pathway leading into his and Rogerina’s place. The hand Brian has supporting Roger’s waist is very warm, but also cooling in a weird sense Roger can’t explain.

“M’sorry,” Roger slurs, he’s embarrassed, a little. Brian shouldn’t have to be dealing with the consequences of his shitty coping mechanism.

Brian smiles softly, “For what, Rog?

“This. I reek, I’m a mess, and you should be at home right now,” Roger explains, taking in the sweet scent of Brian’s cologne. He really is a stark contrast in comparison to Brian in this moment.

“Rog. I like being with you. Besides, you were right, I did need an excuse to show off my new clogs tonight,” Brian chuckles lightheartedly, but the smile he gives him is genuine and true. Roger can’t help but smile back. He probably looks goofy in his woozy state, but he can’t help himself.

“I had a fun night, Rog. Don’t worry about it. It’s actually kinda funny to see you like this. More blackmail material for me. I would ask you if you had one too, but I can tell you did,” Brian jokes.

Roger let’s out a hybrid of a giggle and a chortle, far too pleased for his own good. Brian makes him feel like he’s on a constant high. He likes being around Brian. He just knows with Brian. He knows this is a companion he’s made for life. And he’s happy to have him in his life.

He looks up at Brian, in this astounding stolen moment. He can see his profile, beautifully framed and lit by the soft moonlight above them. His eyes are warm. His skin is soft. Then he looks over at Roger with the kindest smile and his eyes twinkle with this softness and watchfulness. Roger thanks the universe, and he knows he’s on borrowed time, and yet the universe gave him this one spectacular moment, and he praises it.

And everything else seems to fade and all Roger can see is Brian.

His vision hazes into this rose colour. Flowers are blooming. His heart starts to race. He feels chilled but also very warm. There’s a ringing in his ears. He feels increasingly light. He feels like he’s falling.

Brian knocks gently on the door, and Rogerina opens up within a minute.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Rogi, but your idiot brother here forgot his keys and uh..is slightly..very intoxicated,” Brian explains sheepishly.

She smiles amusedly at her own brother, “That’s alright, darling. I wasn’t asleep anyway. C’mon in, I would help you, but he’s gross.”

Roger flips her off—at least tries to, he’s far too drowsy to actually recognise if he has or not.

Brian dumps him onto the seat by the window, a chuckle escaping him as Roger flopped down like some rag doll. He shook his head and tutted fondly.

“..Well..I mustn’t stay too long. It is late. ..so uh..just—“

“—aspirin and a glass of water by his bed. Make sure he falls asleep on his side. A bucket too. Which is super gross to think about,” Rogerina grimaces.

“You’re a dear, Rogi. You really are. Well..goodbye, see you soon,” Brian announces, but looks over at Roger and comes closer to him, so they are at eye level. He rests a hand on his shoulder, and it’s warm. It also tingles. Roger smiles sloppily at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rog. Sleep well,” Brian says sweetly, his eyes warm and inviting. It makes Roger feel at home.

Roger watches him as he leaves, and he shifts over to watch the window, his eyes following him as he fades away into the night. When he walks it’s like he leaves a trail of stardust behind him. He’s absolutely magical and Roger can’t keep his eyes off of him. He takes his breath away.

He doesn’t even notice the stupid smile on his face.

“Jesus, you’re like in love with him,” Rogerina jokes casually, as she picks up the coat he’s dropped on the ground and hangs it up on the rack.

Roger’s heart drops and his chest is cold. He feels so heavy and his ears are ringing. The pulsating in his heart gets louder and louder and his hands are clammy and he feels absolutely empty. He doesn’t even remember where he is anymore.

Fuck, he’s in love with Brian.

It’s a sinking feeling that pulls him down to the ground. It takes him over almost completely.

Roger’s scarily light. He pushes himself to his feet, and he stumbles, the world is collapsing in on him and he can’t breathe.

As he ravages up the stairs like he struggling through some sort of rainforest, he feels his heart rate begin to pick up as his head pounds and the lights start to flicker and the ringing of his ears gets too much, he’s so light, so light, until he’s so heavy and he’s falling against his bed and he’s sobbing. He’s crying so hard and he can’t even contain himself, he’s completely lost control, the image of himself he has carefully created for the world to see crumbles into dust. Just like that.

He cries and he cries because he is not meant to feel like this. This wasn’t allowed. His father would be so angry if he found out he had fallen in love with a man. He cries because he knows he cannot possibly have Brian. It hurts so much and it feels like he’s on fire and he doesn’t know how to put it out.

He tries to quiet himself down, stifle the sounds into the fabric of his pillow, for the sake of his sister. Even now he doesn’t want to bother her, not when this is a struggle he should be going through alone.

But his sister would follow him anywhere, and he hears his door creak open. He tries his absolute hardest to silence him.

“..Rog..” Rogerina coos at him gently.

He makes a folly attempt to appear asleep, but a pathetic sniffle ruins his endeavor.

She sighs and hops onto his bed, and lays next to him, and pulls him close for a hug, and it’s just that push for the dam to break.

“I.. love him,” Roger sobs violently into her chest, shrinking into her hold on him to try and make himself as small as he feels. He grabs on to her like a lifeline, shaking ferociously, in fear that if he lets go he’ll never stop falling.

Rogerina offers him a sad smile, “I know. And it’s okay. It’s okay, Rog, it’s okay to feel like this.”

“But it’s not,” He whimpers.

“It is, it absolutely is, Rog — it’s just love. It’s just love.”

Roger doesn’t say anything at that, and merely moves in closer, “I’m scared.”

“I know. And I’m here. I understand,” She whispers quietly.

She doesn’t leave him for a second that night.

Months later, maybe, and Roger is still falling.

It still feels sickeningly light to the stomach at times, and sometimes it makes his heart throb, but he’s learned to numb it and push it to the back of his mind where everything else is. He’s learned to control himself, and he’s painstakingly build up these walls around himself to keep himself from hurting too bad.

But there are still these moments where Brian makes it so difficult. Where he unknowingly swings a hammer and chips down at the walls he’s built for himself.

Moments like today.

Brian looks at the skies above and watches the stars shine.

Roger looks at his own star. But he’s on the ground with him.

They’re both buzzing. They’ve both had one too many. They’re piss drunk. It’s cold outside but they’re both still too warm.

He takes a long drag of the cigarette he’s smoking, and he’s surprisingly silent. He’s not like this. He’s loud and talkative but with Brian he just wants to soak everything in. When it’s all he can get.

“Look, I can see the corvus constellation..” Brian says softly, and when he speaks his eyes are so full of light and there’s that dumb smile of his and Roger can’t help his own smile.

He looks at him longingly. God how he wants him. Roger shifts uncomfortably, knowing full well that he’s just torturing himself, but how addictive the pain was.

But theres something that draws him to Brian. The whole universe is telling him to do this, like his destiny calls for it. And he knows it’s impossible. It’s not possible, they are too different on a molecular level. This is not how the story goes.

But when Brian turns over to look at him his eyes are so warm and those lips look so inviting, Roger collides with him and suddenly a star is born.

A whole new plane of existence opens up, and Roger feels like he’s exploring a whole new galaxy, everything is so exciting and so beautiful and he watches as planets collide and leave spacedust in its wake. Brian’s lips against his feel like they were always meant to be there, and he feels limitless.

But when he pulls away he is crushed by the gravity of what has happened, and it breaks his soul once he’s realises what he’s done. He has made a horrible landing back to reality and once he’s experienced the magic he just has everything is so much worse now.

Roger can’t breathe, “Bri.. I’m sorry, I—“

He can’t read Brian at all.

“I.. I need to go,” Roger says hurriedly, pushing himself off of his feet.

“Wait, Rog—“ Brian tries, only now returning to reality.

But Roger’s too far gone; and he runs like he’s never ran before. He doesn’t know where he’s going but at this stage he doesn’t care, he just can’t face him anymore, and in his drunken stupor he’s completely aimless.

All he can feel is the adrenaline pumping through his system and then suddenly he’s stuck.

And he just cries.

Until he hears a familiar voice.

“..Roger..?”

Jamie examines him, “..What are you.. doing.. in my rose bush?”

“I kissed Brian,” Roger slurs, still sobbing incoherently.

“Oh, sweetheart..” She coos softly.

“Who the hell is that in our rose bush?” Melina asks.

“A dumbass,” Roger sobs.

The two women help him release himself from the tangles of the bush, and once that’s done they drag him into their house, where they promptly drop him onto their couch.

“I’m sorry,” He cries pathetically.

Jamie smiles sympathetically, taking a seat next to him, “It’s okay.. darling.. just.. try and rest, okay?”

And the two of them talk to him for hours until he passes out.

Roger can’t face reality anymore. Everything’s too broken. Everything’s in ruins.

He tells Freddie over text that he’s caught the flu, and that he would just be complaining about Roger’s constant display of symptoms, and that he really doesn’t want to hear Freddie’s yapping. He tells John over the phone to not come visit him, because he doesn’t want his favourite bass player catching this too. And when Johanna tries and visits, he puts on a smile and tells her that he’s fine, that he just needs to get some sleep and he’ll be better soon.

But he doesn’t talk to Brian at all.

He doesn’t talk to him for three days.

He ignores all of his texts. There are hundreds of them at this stage and he doesn’t open one. And all of his calls. He ignores every single one. He ignores his worried knocking at the door, and the stones being thrown at his window. He locks the door when Rogerina lets Brian into the house. He just can’t face him. It’s too hard. It hurts too much.

He can’t even get out of bed.

And eventually he does attempt conversation with Brian again. But it’s empty and almost robotic. It’s rehearsed and emotionless. It’s like they’re complete strangers. Everything is worse now and Roger wishes it could return to how it used to be but he’s ruined it all. It’s just not the same.

He can’t face the music.

*** “God, Roggie — you’re in that jumper,” Rogerina sighs deeply.

Roger raises and eyebrow unamusedly, he’s wearing his glasses for once, gesturing towards a clearly well worn grey The Who jumper, which is also miles too large for him, “This? And? Your problem?”

Rogerina looks exasperated, “You always wear that when you’re sad and recluse. Last time you had that thing on you didn’t leave the house for a week! And last time you didn’t have friends.”

Roger is clearly unamused at that.

“Oh, come on, I’m being honest! Take it off and put on some jeans, get out of the house! And eat something, please! Talk to Brian! Fuck, talk to anyone! Just.. get out of here, okay?”

Roger is clearly unaffected by her pleads and merely sits himself on the kitchen table, looking completely null and void.

She softens, sighing and sitting herself next to him. He looks completely miserable. There’s no light in his usually sparkling eyes, he’s a ghostly pale, and he’s clearly been crying, and his hair is a mess. He’s such a stark contrast to the bubbly and energetic Roger that she’s grown to know.

She takes his hands in hers, wrapping her fingers around his, firmly, but in a way that shows that she isn’t letting him go. She strokes his hands gently. Her gaze is just as firm, and watchful, her focus is all on him. He struggles to look at her.

“..Roger..  please, love.. I know you’re hurting. And it breaks my heart, and if you really can’t have Brian.. would you really rather not have him in your life at all..? Is this worth completely losing him, dear? Because I don’t think it is. Do you remember who you were before you met him?”

Roger blinks, and slowly removes his glasses as he feels tears well up in his eyes. He bites harshly on his lips to prevent the cascading of them, and thinks about it. He doesn’t like the man he was before Brian. In fact, he’s a distant memory, a memory he doesn’t quite want to return to.

Roger thinks about it. And when he tries to place himself in his own head from those years ago, he only remembers loneliness. And fear. And so much rage. So much hatred. He tries to pinpoint the moment those feelings had begun to fade away, and all he can hear in his fucking head is Brian talking about constellations.

He doesn’t even understand them. But the emptiness is replaced by a sense of wholesomeness. He spent his teenage nights with a fucking radio as his best friend, longing and wishing to all the deities out there to give him a best friend, someone who he knew he could tell anything to, someone he could just feel safe with. And he has it now. And Roger feels so dumb for not appreciating that enough. He’s come so far he’s forgotten where he’s come from.

God, he can’t lose Brian because a life without him is so empty. It’s so dark. And it’s cold. And Roger hates the winter.

He feels so selfish and so ashamed of himself in this moment, because how did he let himself become so greedy? Why was he wanting more, when Brian was more than he ever deserved to begin with, how did he let himself get so entitled? He’s forgotten his place, but  fuck does it still hurt so, so much.

God, he wants him so bad. And he knows he can’t. But he can’t lose all of this over his own selfishness. He has to be better than that.

That’s enough, Roger. That’s enough now.

And is face crumples and he bursts into tears, unable to contain the pathetic noises he’s making, he tries to angle his face away from his sister, crying into his hands because dammit he’s still got his pride.

But she’s his darling sister and she sees past his bullshit and pulls him into her own touch, and holds him close, kissing him on the temples as he sobs his heart out.

“It’s alright, Rog.. it’s alright,” she tries to assure him as he cries into her chest.

“Fuck.. then why does it feel like nothing will be alright ever again?” He whimpers weakly. It feels like every star in the sky has been put out. It feels like someone has dismantled the sun and packed it away. He desperately wishes to return to a few days ago before he’s royally fucked up, but nothing is the same now. The walls have already caved in and he’s surrounded by its ruins. He can attempt and build over it but the damage has been done. History cannot be erased.

He wishes he could have tamed his heart. Told it to not yearn for what it can’t have. He doesn’t remember where he lost his way and thought that he could even have something this good. What was he expecting? He was not one of these people who got good things like this. He was born in filth. And he was to live in it. That good life was not made for him, and having had a taste of it has made the void hurt so much more because now he knows what he could have but cannot.

God dammit, Brian May, did you have to be an angel?

He exhales shakily. He’s terrified. But he’s not giving up on his band. They will not fail because he was too reckless with his own heart. The band will not suffer because Roger was too stupid to control himself. He couldn’t live with that. His hand lingers over the door knob, and he kicks himself once and lets himself through the door.

Roger can feel the air in the room shift once he   enters through the door, all eyes are on him. He inhales shakily, a chilling, buzzing sensation spreading across his chest. He turns over to see his band mates, and in particular, Brian, who’s mouth is agape.

Roger pushes aside all thoughts in his head, and tries to relax, and he puts on a show, he puts on a mischievous grin, “..Jesus, Bri, shut your fucking piehole before a fly comes and chokes you.”

And while he still feels like every wall has caved in, trying to replicate his old self brings him a sense of familiarity that does put him at ease. He knows he’s performing, but it’s all he’s ever known, and it feels like home.

Roger watches the wave of relief wash over Brian’s eyes, and he likes to think the walls are rebuilding themselves.

And Brian smiles that beautiful smile of his where it’s like the sun has decided to shine just for him, and Brian’s glowing and Roger can’t help but bask in that warmth.

Yes, Roger’s heart is aching but Brian is too good to loose.

It was but a silly fantasy to ever believe that Brian could ever be his, god, no way, not him, Roger is not meant to live in a pretty palace amongst royalty. He belongs to the stables and he is grateful he is even able to serve such royalty. His story just isn’t written that way.

Having Brian in his life at all is enough. It has to be enough.

Roger is still plagued by the sickly bittersweet fairytale of love and the idea of having Brian’s hand to hold, and the thought crushes him, and fuck Roger is hurting.

But he’d rather hurt every day of his life than not have him at all. A life without him is so empty and that life would absolutely shatter him. There is a magnetic connection, a molecular bond that draws and pulls him to Brian May, and he knows it’s going to hurt him, but he’s okay with it. He needs him in his life or the balance of the universe will tip against him. He needs him.

He’ll have to settle. And he thinks he’s okay with that.

He’ll make do. He always does.

[jostenminyard]

Sleeping Lions - Andrew/Neil

Summary: Andrew isn't jealous, he isn't angry, but being apart for one month causes some self-destructive tendencies, shaped into three words he's never said before.

Warnings: explicit sexual content and angst.

Read on AO3

Five days.

It’s been five days since the last time he heard Neil’s voice. It’s been even longer since he’s seen his face, been close enough to reach out and touch. But that is something he’s grown accustomed to.

Playing on different teams means being apart for weeks at a time. It’s commonplace. Difficult at first, with Neil still in school and Andrew hundreds of miles away. More difficult now, with Neil on a professional team that rivals Andrew’s.

Andrew stares at the call history on his phone, Neil’s name and the date stamped side by side. Five days.

He blows out a stream of smoke and locks his phone before pocketing it and going back inside for practice. Five days isn’t that long. The only reason he keeps track of the date at all is because of the stupid Exy schedule he has to keep to. Five days shouldn’t feel like five months.

It does though, because they’ve never gone more than one day without speaking to each other.

They’re busy. He knows that. Neil’s team lost last week, in a game they should have been guaranteed to win. Any sane captain or coach would have their team on the court practicing non-stop. Then there’s Andrew’s team, who played an away game last night, only to be stuck in the airport as their flight was delayed, then back on the court once the sun had risen. They’re busy.

Despite knowing that, there’s something trapped inside of Andrew’s chest. It doesn’t move or beg to be let out, but rather sleeps; a resting lion, maybe. Five days shouldn’t be as - it shouldn’t be so difficult. It shouldn't bother him. It doesn’t bother him. It -

He’s simply growing tired of the public eye knowing more about Neil’s life than him. Sick of reporters being able to talk to Neil more than he ever gets to.

As he holds his racquet, standing in his goal, swatting away every shot with more force than necessary, he suddenly has the urge to break something. It hits him out of nowhere, taking over his mind in the seconds between having the ball in his net and not having it. His grip around his racquet tightens, as if to snap it, and the next time he smacks the ball, he smacks it hard, not seeing where it goes but hearing an indignant shout from one of his teammates.

It comes flying towards his goal again. It goes flying back.

One second he sees the ball in Kevin’s racquet, then the next second it’s in Freeman’s, then Myer’s, then it’s gone, and then -

It’s too late of a motion, swinging his racquet with such force, because the goal is already lighting up red. Andrew can’t stop it, doesn’t even want to stop it, he wants to break something and if it can’t be himself, then it’ll be this game, this prison.

The racquet slips from his hands and goes flying, with enough speed from the swing to send it colliding into Kevin. The striker shouts as he narrowly dodges it, then turns an aggravated look on Andrew.

“Andrew, snap out of it!” Kevin yells, flipping up his face guard to better see Andrew.

His glare hasn’t ever and will never bother Andrew. He stares at a point past Kevin’s shoulder until someone finally fetches his racquet for him.

The rest of practice isn’t much more exciting, but rather easy, considering he no longer feels the need to put effort into it. He merely bides his time. He doesn’t try. The goal lights up red too many times to keep track of.

Kevin, as always, has plenty to say once they’re in the locker rooms. “This attitude barely carried you through college,” he says, angrily stripping himself of his gear as he stares Andrew down. “You need to try. This is your career now.”

Andrew fixes Kevin with one of his lazy gazes and starts to bite on the tip of his glove. “Through no fault of my own,” he says, pulling the glove off with his teeth.

“Andrew, I need you to take this seriously.”

“How do you know this isn’t my level of seriousness?”

Funny, how years have passed, but Kevin still looks like the bratty twenty year old that Andrew had took in all those years ago when he makes that face and groans that groan. “Andrew.”

“I’m not the one who needs practice,” Andrew says and points in the direction of their other teammates. “If you get off on harping on the lives of the innocent, I suggest finding another victim.”

Kevin rubs at his eyes, either a sign that his fight is over or merely just beginning. Andrew sits down on the bench to wait for his tirade to pass. It was a mistake, oh yes it was, signing to Kevin’s team after graduation.

But then again, Andrew has always been self-destructive.

“Even with their loss last week, the Raiders are three points ahead of us. Neil said he’s on the court every moment that he isn’t sleeping, and that you -”

Not even aware of it, of making himself do it, Andrew is on his feet in seconds. He cocks his head and holds his breath, as to not feed oxygen to the lion in his chest.

“You’ve talked to Neil?” he asks, words quiet and icy, easy to slip on.

Kevin frowns, an expression that Andrew wants to tear off with his bare hands, before saying, “Yes I’ve talked to Neil. He’s -” And then his mouth shuts so fast that his teeth must crack.

“Oh, oh no, Kevin Day,” Andrew says in the same slow tone of voice, but lions don’t sleep forever; he lunges forward to grab Kevin by his jersey, shoving him against the row of lockers behind him. “Don’t be quiet on me now. When did you and Neil speak?”

Kevin swallows roughly and doesn’t meet Andrew’s eyes. Someone is smarter than they look - or dumber.

“Last night,” Kevin answers through gritted teeth. “I called him and we -”

“Hm.” Andrew promptly lets go of Kevin, then starts to disassemble the rest of his gear while Kevin looks on in fearful silence. Once all of his gear is on the bench, Andrew coughs into his hand while looking Kevin dead in the eyes. “This cough sounds contagious. How about I sit out tomorrow’s practice?”

“Andrew -”

“Think of the good of your team, Kevin,” Andrew says before ‘coughing’ again, then pulls on his sweater, not bothering to shower and heads out of the locker rooms, out of the stadium, into his car, and sits there before deciding.

He doesn’t want to go home.

-

It’s just past midnight when he arrives, pulling into the guest parking lot of Neil’s apartment complex. Not once had this seemed like a good idea, but Andrew rarely does anything based on whether it’s good or bad. Now though, staring up at the building, he sees it as more of a fortress that he doesn’t have access to. As if he’s the enemy and Neil is keeping himself guarded inside.

Except there’s a silver key on Andrew’s keyring; permission to come and go as he wishes, his home just as much as it is Neil’s . . .

Andrew gets out of the car and perches himself on the hood, working his way through two cigarettes before the cold bites at his fingertips, rendering them too numb to move. The next logical step would be to go inside, as that’s why he came here, but . . .

But five days, when they haven’t gone one.

When Neil has time for Kevin, but not for -

Stupid, this entire thing is stupid, and Andrew isn’t too fond to be losing sleep over it. He is not a jealous man. What’s his is his and he has never had doubt over that, even now. With that, he stubs his last cigarette butt into the concrete below him before taking out his keys, and allowing himself into the building.

It’s a quiet ride up to the seventh floor. Quiet as Andrew walks down the hall. Quiet up until Andrew knocks on Neil’s door, and then it’s quiet again; no footsteps, no movements coming from inside. Andrew knocks once more before using his key to get in.

Neil’s studio is dark and empty; he isn’t the world’s tidiest person, his clean apartment only being a clear sign of how absent he is from it. It’s too late for Neil to still be at practice, but of course the fucking addict is.

There’s no alcohol in the fridge or cupboards, so Andrew settles for a sports drink. He kicks off his shoes and sits on the edge of Neil’s bed to wait. Right against the wall, Andrew’s spot is still in tact. The pillow hasn’t shifted and the blanket is tucked in, while Neil’s side is rumpled from use.

Andrew wishes the drink had at least the smallest amount of vodka before he knocks it back.

He could leave, but it’s past one now. He wouldn’t get back until morning.

So he slumps backwards, head on Neil’s pillow, hating how the scent arrests him, how it fucking soothes this angry lion, lulls it back into sleep.

The sound of a door locking wakes him up some time later. Andrew’s eyes snap open, but he remains laying on the bed as he senses Neil’s approach. Neil walks slowly along the floorboards until he’s near enough to the bed that Andrew can read his expression.

Except he might as well be looking at a stranger.

“Hey,” Neil says, setting his duffel bag down. His hair is damp, a large hoodie cloaking his body. “Andrew?”

Andrew finally sits up and rubs at his eyes. “Why are you practicing until one in the morning?”

“Yeah, after our last game . .” Neil lets out a shameful-sounding laugh, then looks up with curious eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Well, as you said, it’s one in the morning.”

Vision accustomed to the dark now, Andrew can see all of Neil’s features, how tired he looks, how worn down he sounds. The urge to make it better pulls through Andrew’s veins, but there’s something roaring inside of his chest, awake, and it wants to destroy - not fix things.

With Neil right in front of him, his voice in Andrew’s mind and his face in Andrew’s eyes, that caged lion feels feral. A cigarette would help tame it, his fingers twitching for one, but maybe he doesn’t want to tame it.

“Kevin said you spoke last night,” Andrew says, voice steady and gaze hard on Neil.

“We . . . yeah, we did.” Neil folds up his arms and glances down at his feet, a little mouse caught.

“Hm.” Andrew looks at the wall and thinks. Five hour drive and he spent zero of it planning what to say. “Interesting then, that we haven’t spoken in five days.”

He can see Neil nod from the corner of his eye, and the lion wants to strike - not at Neil, no, never. But at the situation, at himself, at the fact that this is happening at all, that he is - affected by it, when he shouldn’t be.

“Kevin called me,” Neil says, leaning only slightly closer into Andrew’s space. “Do you want me to recite all of the statistics he spewed about the Houston Tigers? Because it put me to sleep.”

Andrew taps at the edge of his armbands and doesn’t look back at Neil. “Doesn’t answer my question.”

Neil’s eyes widen before he shouts, “You didn’t ask any!”

Andrew twists around to face Neil then, with the urge to hurt still thriving through his hands.

“Why haven’t we spoken in five days?” he asks with precision, with the sharpness of claws, of teeth.

“Because -” Neil’s breath escapes him when Andrew tugs on the front of his sweater, until he’s between Andrew’s knees. The look he casts on Andrew feels weighted with guilt. “Because . . . I hate it. I hate that something I love so much keeps me apart from you. Sometimes I just know that . . .” He breaks off and places his hands over Andrew’s, curled into the sweater. “Sometimes I want to quit, even though I know I can’t. Talking to you - talking to you only makes it worse, because I can’t, Andrew, but I want to.”

If Andrew cared for regret, he would regret having asked at all.

He stares firmly at Neil’s chest now, not strong enough to look a few inches up and meet Neil’s eyes. That being said, when Neil taps at Andrew’s chin and guides his gaze up, Andrew isn’t strong enough to resist that, either.

“I miss you, and . . . I don’t know. I just knew that calling you would only make me miss you more.”

Andrew scoffs, but moves his hands down to Neil’s hips to hold him still and closer. “Kevin will be heartbroken when I inform him that you don’t miss him in the slightest.”

Neil gives him a weak smile, one which cages up this beast living amongst Andrew’s arteries and organs.

“Somehow I’ll live.”

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he doesn’t care for regret, because rather than beat himself up for being improbable and impatient, he moves onto a new round of emotions; calm and certainty. He pulls Neil into a kiss that he won’t admit he’s missed, moving his hands from Neil’s hips to cradle his face and slip his fingers into his hair.

A possessive and low noise rattles through his chest, only intensifying when Neil leans further into the kiss.

Andrew breaks it to say, “I hate you.”

Neil smiles and says, “Prove it.”

-

One month.

Andrew has a memory like a camera; it capture, saves, dates and never forgets. He can recall the last time he had his hands on Neil’s body as if it happened moments ago, but even so, he can calculate the distance between then and now.

One month ago has nothing on now.

He didn’t forget how well his hands fit around Neil’s waist, but seeing it below him again, feeling the dip of Neil’s body, makes him think he’s been starved of it. Lions get hungry, lions have to hunt, and human beings once parted have to touch.

Neil gives into Andrew’s hands as if he’s been waiting for this since the last moment their skin brushed. They’re shaking more than they should be, Andrew’s hands, but Neil doesn’t comment on it and Andrew doesn’t acknowledge it.

Fingering Neil takes time. For one, Neil is tight, his body unaccustomed to the breach of fingers. For another, Neil likes it too much for Andrew to want to stop. His whines are sweet, loud in the air and cried so desperately that it settles this wild and unnerving fear he has that Neil doesn’t miss this. It’s addicting, because Andrew has always been a fan of sweet things.

Neil’s hips jerk as if to climax, and that’s when Andrew pulls out. Neil whines again, this time with more heat to it, but Andrew shushes him, kisses those lips that belong to him, then lays on his back on his side of the bed.

Before he can fully form the thought, he’s grabbing Neil by the hips and pulling Neil on top of him.

Neil’s weight across his lap feels different. Different to Neil too, as he gazes down at Andrew in confusion.

Andrew pulls him down by the back of his neck and kisses him, before working his boxers down enough to free his cock. Neil catches on and begins to roll his hips backwards, the head off Andrew’s cock brushing against his ass cheeks. It prompts a moan, a startled one, enough to settle Andrew’s unease at the world being altered like this.

“Tell me if -” Neil gasps and throws his head back when Andrew guides himself to Neil’s hole, nudging wetly against the rim. “If you want me - on my back.”

Andrew nods, but he knows what he wants, and he wants to remember the precise weight of Neil over his body for the following days, weeks, months that they’ll be apart.

From this angle, all of Andrew’s senses are Neil. He looks up to see him. He runs his hands down his back to touch him. He pushes into his ass and feels him, all of him, clench and tremble and accept.

All the power is up to Neil; how fast he wants to go, how hard he wants Andrew inside of him, the decision to pull off and away if he wants to.

And yet, after a round of chaotic thrusting, the fast slide of his slick heat up and down the length of Andrew’s cock, Neil lowers himself to Andrew’s chest. He braces himself just above Andrew, not enough to smother, but enough that Andrew can feel his temperate, his racing heart.

All the power goes to Andrew; his hands grasp at Neil’s hips to control the pace, pushing and pulling Neil onto and off of him. Weeks spent apart, by forces above their heads, but nothing else can touch them here.

Nothing else can pry them apart, not when it’s Andrew’s decision to hold onto Neil, and Neil’s decision to let him.

Andrew feels the swollen bump of Neil’s prostate and slows the thrust of their bodies, then guides Neil by the hips so he can grind himself against Andrew’s cock. Neil’s body jerks and stutters before he drops his forehead to Andrew’s chest, heaving out a breathless curse.

To stop from making a similar noise of his own, Andrew bites at Neil’s shoulder. The pressure around him is suffocating in ways that make him never want to breathe again.

He gets what Neil meant now. His skin and his voice and the way that he fits into Andrew’s hands is a balm to a burn, but once Andrew leaves, and goes back to his own team, his own city, his own home, he’ll begin to burn again.

He’ll begin to burn more.

Andrew wraps one arm around Neil’s waist, hand splayed out on his lower back to keep the pace and to steady him as his muscles begin to strain and break. Neil’s own muscles shift and tense and respond to Andrew’s as if they’re connected, as if their bodies simply know how to react when touched by the other.

He hates it. He hates many things. He hates Neil. He hates Neil for allowing him in. He hates the distance for keeping them apart. He hates that it affects him. He hates that he -

“I love you,” Andrew gasps out, the words pressed against the curve of Neil’s neck. He bites down on the nearest patch of skin, but it’s too late, the words are out there, and for a man who doesn’t care for regret, he feels it then, in those seconds of silence, when Neil goes perfectly still above him.

Neil looks down at him for a long, dreaded moment before closing his eyes and touching his nose to Andrew’s. There’s a smile on his lips, small but secure. It never fades. Not even when Andrew flips them over, shoves Neil’s knees to his chest, and fucks him with enough speed and strength to make the bed frame shake.

He doesn’t want to take it back. Andrew is no coward. The scariest part about being in love is falling in love, and Andrew is far past the point of that.

Andrew comes when Neil kisses him and he can still feel that ridiculous smile of his. He bends Neil’s body with his own, pushes and pulses into him, and finally lays his lion to rest.

Still inside of Neil, Andrew reaches between them to finish Neil off. Andrew closes his eyes at the sound of Neil’s high-pitched cry, no longer needing to see. He has a perfect memory; to forget this would require surgery, the removal of his mind.

Once Neil’s stopped trembling so bad, Andrew sits up, tugging his boxers back on before reaching for Neil’s discarded hoodie, using it to wipe at the mess on his hand and Neil’s stomach.

Neil lays there with that stupid smile of his fixed across his lips. Andrew throws the hoodie at him.

“I thought you hated me,” Neil says, too soft and quite for a boy with such a sharp tongue. He fiddles with the hoodie now dumped in his lap, wrapping the string around his finger while avoiding Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew looks over his shoulder after pulling his shirt on and contemplates his next words, then grabs at Neil’s jaw to bring those blue eyes to his. “I do,” he says, with the same strength he uses to make promises. “There isn’t a difference.”

Neil leans into Andrew’s hand and closes his eyes. “Terrible job at proving it then,” he murmurs, before pressing in for one more kiss.

Andrew pushes the idiot away, only to be rewarded with a laugh. As soon as he hears it, he knows he’ll be replaying it every moment that they’re apart.

And even when they’re not.

[oathkeptroxas]

From a fellow Roy Harper fan who has his own Roy related fanfic and pitches in his head (currently working on an Arrow related pitch in which Roy does have his awesome moments), how about Roy Harper solo adventures? It could be Arrow, comic, or even YJ related. Your choice.

Hey!! I don’t currently have any Roy based stuff in the works (the dean/laurel fic is kicking my ass), I’ve abandoned my Roy roleplay blog and I feel so bad, but i’ll get back to it once I can afford a better laptop. BUT I did recently tweak and repost a character study I wrote when I first started to roleplay Roy in 2014. I edited and posted it to AO3 2-3 weeks ago, so I’ll paste that here:

It wasn’t a big deal. It was a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. At most it would become an exercise in character building. At least it was a rush.

 He was placated with the knowledge that he was far from alone in this. It was normal for people his age to act out, pushed on by impulse and a quenchless urge to test their limits. He’d convinced himself that there would be no repercussions.He’d been so devastatingly wrong. 

The rain fell down, sheeting and relentless, as he sat on the curb with his head hanging heavy in his shaking hands. His split lip throbbed with its own beat and the dried blood upon his flesh began to itch. Looking back now, he should’ve seen it coming…

  It had started small. It began with the weight of his drumsticks in his hands, his head tilted back, his neck sweat-glistening and stretched bare. With his eyes squeezed shut and the music drowning out the distant noise of traffic, he was transported away from the drab garage, set aside from his classmate’s house. He imagined the roar of a crowd, the thunder of applause. For the first time he allowed himself to dream of star-studded career that he’d never have, even if he wasn’t the resident sidekick.It started that way; he lost himself in the music so much so that he didn’t even notice he’d played his drums until his fingers were numb, cramped from their tight hold. 

But soon enough, even that didn’t satisfy his yearning for something more. As many teens come to realise, they exist in a limbo period between children who don’t know any better and adulthood, in which you must take measured steps weighed down by responsibility. It’s within these few short years that mistakes are accepted and moved passed, sometimes even encouraged.

  Their first open-mic night came quickly and with a heady rush. His heart pounded in tandem with the vibration of the music through the floorboards. With cigarette smoke to calm his nerves and alcohol buzzing in his mind just enough to allow breezy nonchalance, they took to the stage. He got his crowd. He felt the rush of moving a room of bodies, like a puppeteer pulling strings. The floor was as sticky as his brow and it was a heady feeling. He’d reached this new height, and Roy was reckless and arrogant and he wanted to take this higher. 

And in no time at all cigarettes and alcohol were traded out for something stronger.The rain continued, plastering his clothes thick to his skin. He’d become ghostly pale in the cold, and the marks that littered his quivering arms stood out in stark contrast to the drained colour of his flesh. The track lines collided and overlapped in his vision as his eyes burned with tears. This wasn’t a big deal. He’d only done this to himself.

  Speedy dealt with lowlifes every day. He saw the darkest corners of the city; he’d seen people pushed to their limits. He’d lost count of the junkies he’d dealt with that would risk and sacrifice anything for their next fix. He wouldn’t ever be one of them. A perk to having a billionaire for a guardian was that he was never strapped for cash. He bought his rocks and he shot up, he didn’t owe anybody anything and his choices were his alone. Nobody else was affected by his transgression. It wasn’t a big deal.

  He remembered how the addiction had set in, shifting his priorities ever so slightly from the task at hand. He recalled the first time he’d missed his mark – a vital mission with the Titans that had ended in his shaking hands becoming unable to keep his arrow straight, the projectile hit wide of its target. Desolation set in. His mind was too preoccupied with the realisation that maybe this was a big deal after all. He could no longer do what he was best at. He was now endangering the lives of others. That was the first time his team mates had been left to pick up the pieces. They gazed upon him with careful concern, and that was also the first time he’d lied to them.  

The hot of his tears burned his skin in contrast to the rain that fell without mercy. He was out there alone. And his mind kept spewing such venomous thoughts. He’d deserved everything he got. He’d done this to himself. But, honestly, he’d never really expected to be left this way. He’d never imagined that those closest to him would simply give up.Still, he couldn’t shake this awful habit. And he was forced to lie in the bed he’d made, buried deep in the husk of himself. He’d tried. God, had he tried. But it was just so easy to fall back on. He had money to waste and stress to relieve, and he craved the make-believe version of himself he’d somehow conjured.

  So, it was no surprise that Oliver eventually found him, his mind buzzing and reeling and the used needle haphazardly left upon the counter-top. He’d heard the sickeningly smack more than he’d felt it. But even in his intoxicated mind he knew he’d been struck. And one punch led to two and he could feel the warm ooze of blood trailing down from his swollen lip. With wide eyes that didn’t truly comprehend what was happening he stared up at his mentor. The older man was shouting, his face red and murderous, his clenched fist held up the syringe and shook with the intensity of his feeling. But, Roy couldn’t hear what he was saying, not really – he was lost on that fact that his guardian, his father had just struck him. It was like a fever dream. The yelling was garbled like he was listening from underwater. Oliver took a step forward and Roy stumbled back under his own accord. He started screaming too, words that he’d grow to regret, words that escalated the whole situation further. Fuck it. He’d lost so much already. This wasn’t a big deal. 

 And so, there he was, on the streets and alone. Soaked through to the bone and quivering from more than the cold as he came crashing down. Reality set in. This was all he had. He’d done this to himself.