wesfms

[wesfms]

kiercnmurphy​:

Head cocked to the side in amusement, the kind that only doubled with every word that rolled off the male’s tongue. It was clear that Kieran hadn’t been the only person in Lancaster who had been given the gift of gab. “Well, I’ll just have to test that theory myself. It’s good to meet you. I promise I’ll get creative when it comes to calling for you.” It felt more like a challenge than anything else and being the stubborn man he was, he couldn’t turn one of those down. Even if it was something as mundane as getting another’s attention. The amusement shifted to curiosity and curiosity was a dangerous thing for a writer. Once he built a narrative in his head, the only option he had was to chase it until the thought burned out or led to something else. “I’ll take what he’s having,” he rattled off smoothly, eyes never leaving Weston, even as he lifted his own drink to his mouth. It wasn’t the usual kind of drink for Kieran, but he’d settle in hopes of getting the other’s attention. The smell of the man’s cologne filled the journalist’s head, but rather than lean away, he leaned into the not-so-quiet speech. “What I’m hearing is that I can put my drinks on your tab and you’ll cover it? One way or another?” His brow was cocked upwards, his crooked smile the same. He wouldn’t do such a thing, but if his ties really ran so deep, then he must have known something else. Something that Kieran wanted to know too. “Don’t worry, I won’t run up the tab. I’d hate to be the reason you end up on your knees later.” His words hung in the air between them, the smooth rasp in his tone cleared with a thick swallow and a grin towards the bartender as they slid another fruity concoction towards him. “So, Wes,” he started, gaze on the other’s as he spoke, “are you from around here?”

“Oh, please do. I love when people get creative,” Wes grinned, body relaxed as he watched the other. Maybe it was having someone’s attention - the man thrived on any kind of it, after all, it calming some little itch deep inside of him that clawed whenever it wasn’t indulged enough. It was one of the reasons he’d enjoyed his career as a dancer and kept doing it for so long - because he’d thrived on the attention. “I’m very creative, I’m sure I’d figure out a way to cover it.” But the promise of not running up his tab has a playful pout spreading over his rosy lips in a bit of a joking, teasing expression. “Pity,” he hummed. “Being on my knees is one of my favorite positions.” With an easy flick of his wrist, the man is pushing his hair back and out of his face, head cocked to the side just a touch. “Nope- but, where I’m really from depends on how ya look at it.” As he speaks, the drawl that is hardly noticeable most of the time takes more of a pronounced position in his voice, lazy in the Texas way that had been in his bones for as long as he could remember. “Spent half my life in Texas, growin’ up. Then I moved to Vegas before here, spent the other half of my life there. So it’s kinda like I’m from both places - only been in Lancaster a few months.”

[wesfms]

kercsene​:

.

“Famous last words,” Valeria said with a laugh. She could drag him down quite quickly if he let her. There were moments when the woman was stable, quiet, normal. But there were others when pushed she would seek hell only to stop feeling and thinking. And she had been on that downward spiral of trying to find hell. And maybe Wes at the same place, which could only be dangerous and probably a lot of fun. “I have no doubts about that. I’ve seen them line up at the club. All of them.” He was gorgeous, had a smile worth a million bucks, was fit and flirty. He would never have a problem finding anyone. Or even keeping them if he wanted, which didn’t seem to be a thing. But she was the same, for different reasons, or so she assumed. “First we drink, then we dance.” Valeria wasn’t certain how this night would go, if she would go to the deep end but it seemed like steps had been taken in that direction. “I have something a little stronger, if you’re interested.” 

Wiggling his eyebrows in her direction playfully, Wes made a faint hum in the back of his throat. “I don’t believe in famous last words,” he hummed, but that was probably because there wasn’t anything he’d say no to - that he’d ever say no to, really, because Wes did what pleased him when the inspiration struck, and that was the beginning and the end of everything. “It’s easy to convince people you’re worth it for a night.” The comment is light, flippant really, because he knew the truth - he was a hurricane, rolling through and causing chaos whenever he got bored, and it wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could stick around for long before it wore them out. But that wasn’t something he talked about beyond the odd comment, so he only grins at her and tips the rest of the fruity cocktail in his hand back, before raising an eyebrow as he sets down the glass. “Stronger, eh? I never turn down stronger.”

[wesfms]

sinnerbl00d​:

“Oh, my sweet baby boy.” Sammy reached out and clamped a hand down on Wes’s shoulder. “You look like shit.” He leaned in and smiled brightly at the other man. Some people just did not do well under stress. Poor guy. He was beaten, bruised, and clearly on his last legs. Not that Sammy was doing any better. Sure he wasn’t so deep down in the pits of depravity that he was sporting a mesh top. God no. Sure if you looked closely at his boots they may or may not have some blood spatter across them. And if you looked into his eyes and really saw how red they were you would know damn well how far away from sober he was. But a mesh top? Oh no, he wasn’t that far gone. Looking to the bartender, Sammy held up one hand. “Two whisky sours. Heavy on the whisky, light on the sour.” He ordered before leaning into Wes’s side. The thumping of the music in here had started out as an annoyance but now it felt like every drum beat had Sammy flying just a little higher. Not too close to the sun Samuel. That could be dangerous. It’s nighttime, dad. Not too close to the sun. “What’s got you so fuckered up?” Sammy asked in a coo as their drinks slid across the bar towards the two of them. “Someone crawl up your ass? Or not crawl up your ass?” He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow and twisted grin. It was always nice to have someone around as fucked as he was. A nice change from day-to-day life.

“I’ll have you know, I just finally unpacked the box of my clothes from Vegas,” Wes hummed playfully, his grin easy as he all but relaxed against him. Sure, it wasn’t totally true - it was a box of clothes he’d worn while working the floor of the strip club he’d used to work at back then, in between his sets up on stage, but they’d been unpacked for weeks now, waiting for a very Wes-like spiral of depravity like tonight. The man liked all eyes being on him, after all, so really, the people here merely should be happy he’s not wearing black assless chaps and a hot pink speedo, since those were also options in his wardrobe. 

“Or it’s Tuesday. Take your pick for the reason.” It wasn’t Tuesday, but the proclamation wasn’t much of a surprise coming from Wes, because he never knew what day it was without Elijah there to remind him. “Need to blow off some steam, figured this was as good a place as any, you know?” Sure, people he knew had ended up dead - but Wes was hardly the type to linger on things like that, he never had been.

Is everything a joke to you? Well, no, dad, only the funny stuff. Your future isn’t a joke, Wes. I think it’s called a comedic tragedy.

“Never had trouble gettin’ someone to crawl up my ass,” he hummed, though that wasn’t entirely true, considering Elijah had been seemingly immune to every comment Wes had ever sent his way. But he wasn’t convinced that his best friend counted.

[wesfms]

dustcolored​:

.

Laughter escaped Elijah has Wes stumbled to the floor, the ow coming out of him only making it funnier. The fact that he wasn’t in his bedroom was a good sign that had the man breathing a little easier. He wouldn’t have to deal with the constant conflicting feelings that came with seeing his best friend with someone else. Still, hes eyes lingered over Wes, the muscles and skin, that little place at his waist he had dream about before. He had seen the other plenty of times, seen him naked back when he danced, althought that was something Elijah never told him. That Wes didn’t know of all the times he had sneak in the back, eyes riveted on him. “No one else wanted your ass today.” Joking meant that nothing was taking seriously and that was good. “I’ve been stuck with you for too long. You’re like a dirty old blanket by now.” Comforting, that was what the other was to Eli. He sank on the sofa, coffee in hands and handing half to Wes. “Took pity on you. I don’t know what this is but it’s pink so how could I pass it.” Elijah had no one serious in his life, his most stable relationship being with Wes and he wondered how the other would react if he was serious for a moment and told him how much he meant to him. All of Wes jokes and flirting was always brush aside, the other being like with everyone. “Who else is going to look after you today?”

“You know, I think that implies that no one wanted your ass either,” Wes hums, a grateful hum escaping his lips as he takes the pink drink and brings it to his lips, sucking down a long gulp. “You know I love pink shit.” His house was barely more than a bachelor pad, hardly decorated at all because it was a skill he’d never quite learned, but the things he did have were hardly considered normal for a man of forty. A curtain made of pink glass beads hanging across his bedroom window being the most glaringly obvious thing, solely because he’d seen them at a thrift store and decided he liked them. He takes another sip of the drink before setting it on the coffee table - only bought because he was a man who liked to sit with his feet up - before he shifting, fluidly all but shoving himself across Elijah’s lap so his head could rest on the other’s thigh. Personal space, after all, was not a privilege afforded to the best friend of someone like Wes. “You’re the only one who ever looks after me and you know it. I hardly look after me.” He wiggles his eyebrows at the other playfully. “So what are we gonna do today? What are you gonna spoil me with for being such an integral part of your existence?”

[wesfms]

It was rare for Wes to make it into his bedroom on nights he was alone - no, it was far more common to find him sprawled, passed out somewhere else, and this was no exception. Elijah barging in summons a snort and a jerk, before he’s rolling off his couch and landing on the floor with a thunk, tiny grunt escaping his lips soon after. “Ow,” he whines, nose scrunching up as he pushes himself into a sitting position on the floor. It takes only a moment of recovery before an easy grin spreads over his face as he focuses on the other male, head cocking to the side just a touch. “You really think I’d make you share me on a day like today?” he teases, voice light as he slowly uses the couch to push himself up off of the ground, arms stretching over his head as soon as he’s standing, making his shirt rise up to reveal an expanse of skin at his waist. “You’re stuck with me, baby, better get used to it.” Sniffing the air, the male comes over and inspects the pink drink, doing his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at what Elijah is saying - he refuses to read too much into it, after all. “Brought this over for little ol’ me?”

where: wes’ place who: wes @wesfms​

Elijah knew that going to Wes’ place unannounced always meant a possibility of him not being alone, which the former marine was still unsure about how he felt about that. He always told himself it was out of worry and protection for Wes but when he looked himself in the mirror, truly saw himself, he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t a lie that hid somethng else. Knocking was only for formality as the man always let himself in anyway. “Wake up sunshine,” he said as he opened the door. With his friend’s work, sleeping late was always a possibility and if today was the case, Elijah would gladly wake them rudely, by barging in. “I brough you some pink coffee atrocities and a heartshaped brownies. You better be alone in there because today I’m not sharing.” Did he meant that he wasn’t sharing the food or Wes? Eli himself didn’t know the answer to that.

[wesfms]

dustcolored​:

.

Worrying about Wes sometimes felt like a full time job to Elijah. There was a time when the role were reverse, the man was certain of that, and another when they worried at the same time. But Elijah had calmed down, a little, even settled down for a while. He understood why the other was involved with the Sinful Ones, that need for some sort of family, of brotherhood. And he knew the collateral damages of such involvment. When Elijah heard about the shipment going wrong, he had immediately texted his friend, heart frantic, needing to make sure he was still breathing. The marks on his body were nothing, they would heal and at least, he was alive. “Haven’t needed you to cover my tab in years,” the man said with a laugh. Eli knew better than to try and talk Wes out of whatever tonight was, some way of getting something out his system. He had done the same plenty of time. There was a thought, far at the back of his head, of who Wes would go home with, some one night stand found in the club of him, to nurse his hangover in the spare bedroom. Eli wasn’t sure how he felt by any of it and so he always did his best to push the thought away from his mind. Wes was his best friend, nothing else. “You sure your bank account can handle this?”

Having someone care about him - worry about him - had been a foreign concept for most of Wes’ life. Until the day he’d met Elijah, that is. Try as he might, it still made something inside him turn all warm and fuzzy whenever that worry shone through - whether it was the text, after the shipment was taken, or just the fact that he could practically feel his best friend’s eyes on him now, and as messy as Wes is now, when Elijah speaks, his attention is suddenly focused solely on the other male. Like a planet orbiting the sun, Wes has been drawn to Elijah since the day they’d met, even if the devotion had never been returned. He’s good at ignoring things like that - that Elijah is merely his best friend, because Wes knows he’d never be good enough for the other, and he doesn’t want to ruin them by pushing. “Need and want are two very different things, babe,” he hums, grin bright as he half leans against the other’s side, a faint hum falling from his lips. “I think you greatly underestimate how much people paid to see me get naked.” He’s kidding, of course, but it’s only a half lie; he’s relatively certain that the nest egg he’d built while living in Vegas - coupled with a few decent investments, because Wes is a mess but not stupid - made him comfortable here in Lancaster. Especially since he was getting paid at Sapphire. “I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be either.”

[wesfms]

Send my character a ★ and I’ll bold everything they feel toward your character.

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better  

[wesfms]

(     *     VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET   !    

send some letters to find out more about my muse   !

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not? 

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

[wesfms]

kercsene​:

.

The woman hadn’t known him for that long, her involvement with the Sinful Ones not going as deep as his, but what she had come to know from him, of him, was far from the picture he was trying to sell her. Maybe he was fucked up, she was in no position to judge, and after all, weren’t they all a little like that for doing what they did? But Wes was not a dick, he had shown it more than once at the club. Valeria soflty shook her head at his words. She knew he wanted her to believe him even if she didn’t know why. Recent events had hit them badly and Val was sure there were emotional scars there too. “If that’s what you need to believe,” she answered, not in the mood to argue about it, at least not now. She knew he would only insist. “I need something that will get me drunk without tasting like it. What you have looks exactly like that.” There would be a hangover tomorrow but that would be dealt with in time. “I’ll be your wingwoman for the night, not that you need one,” she added with a laugh. There was a certain worry in her for Wes and she wanted to make sure he was okay.

The smile he flashes her is quick, part flashing of pearly white teeth as much as it was a pleasant expression, a faint hum falling from his teeth. Wes didn’t put much thought into how he’d try to explain it, not seeing it as worth it in the long run - because how did you explain that there was only one person in the world who’d ever been able to put up with you for any length of time? His family now, even, only called him for holidays, and had long since stopped asking him if he was coming home to visit any time soon. Truthfully, he thought that his stepmother was thankful not to have to deal with his icy attitude, since she’d been part of the family for over two decades, but he still hadn’t brought himself to give her more than distant politeness. “Your wish is my command, darling,” he hummed, pressing an affectionate kiss to her cheek before he ordered another of his drink for her, an easy, cocky expression settling onto his features. “Oh, I never need a wingman or woman - but I think it might be fun to see you being my wingwoman, so it’s help I’ll accept gladly.”

[wesfms]

kercsene​:

.

The bruises on Wes had been noticed a while ago, Valeria was certain everyone in the club had seen them. There was a part in her, the rational part that hadn’t truly shown itself lately, that wondered if the shirt was not by design, if the man didn’t want everyone to see the injuries. Some sort of statement or cry for help. But these thoughts were easily drowned by everything else that was in her system, from the pills to the alcohol, and all she wanted was to have fun. And Wes was sure putting up a good front at it and she wanted to be swallowed by that, even if none of it was real. She had danced some and was now sitting by the bar, just where Wes came up. “I’ll take the free drinks,” she purred. “But everyone?” There was a vague sense of déjà-vu, of Mateo doing the same not so long ago at a different place. “Everyone loves you already. How could they not.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Val darling,” Wes hums, standing just to her side but mostly behind her, almost blocking her from most everyone’s view - he doesn’t know why, really, only that he wants to make some semblance of privacy for what he’s about to say. “I’m kind of a dick.” Was it true? Every action he’d ever made while he was working at the club - or the lengths he’d go to, to protect anyone he deemed worthy of him caring about - said that it wasn’t. But maybe growing up knowing he was the black sheep of the family had done more harm to his opinion of himself than he’d ever admit. “I make it very easy for people to hate me, and I don’t blame them when they do.” Every ex - who he wouldn’t really call an ex, since there was never a relationship so much as romps in the sheets - who cursed his name? He wasn’t surprised, merely accepting, because deep down, he figured he probably deserved it. “My goal is to bring so much good to the table that it makes up for my personality.” A new pink fruity drink is set in front of him, the bartenders already knowing what he’s been drinking all night, and he nudges her playfully with his shoulder. “So, what will you have, hm?”

[wesfms]

kiercnmurphy​:

He was attempting to clear his mind from the straight up rejection he’d faced through Mia ghosting him. He should have known that things weren’t going to be so simple, and yet, he’d really thought that maybe they’d shared something together. It was dumb considering he had a job to do, but the woman had been his easy way in and somehow, he’d managed to screw that up without even trying. It was why he’d found himself at the bar, a place he hadn’t gone to since everything went to shit. His side ached the moment he’d stepped foot instead, but after a few rounds, the pain had numbed and all he could about was the next round. He’d lingered in every corner that he could before he’d found himself at the bar once more, his usual whiskey neat on the mind before someone offered a free round. “Well, that’s a good start. Do you have a name or should I just call you my new friend? I’m Kieran, by the way. I appreciate the freeze round.” It probably wasn’t going to be his drink of choice, but free booze was his kind of booze, even if it didn’t give him the same burn as his go-to drink. “You realize there’s a lot of people around this bar right now, right? Hope you’ve got deep pockets, pal.”

“I go by a lot of names,” Wes hums, his head cocked to the side as he leans against the bar. “Weston is my legal name, but most people call me Wes. I’ve also gone by ‘dumbass’ and ‘princess’, and once or twice, even ‘daddy’, so really, as long as you’re looking at me when you say it, I’ll probably respond if I hear you.” He turns until his back is pressed to the edge of the bar, and he feels a glass set down beside him. He knows it’s his drink, and he turns his head just enough to look over his shoulder, tossing out a quick, “Thanks, mom, and get another of whatever he’s drinking for him, yeah? Put it on my tab.” He brings the fruity pink concoction to his lips and takes a sip, before finally of deeming the other worthy of a response to the more pressing of his questions. “I mean, I do, but more importantly, I know everyone who works here-” He leans over slightly, offering a conspiratorial whisper that’s more like a shout to be heard over the music in the club. “And between you and me, if I magically run up a tab so big I can’t cover it, I look real pretty on my knees, and I know the owner likes the view.” Not that he’d ever expect Mateo to clear his tab just because they had sex whenever they felt the urge, but Wes was Wes - and he liked making jokes whenever he could, especially when they held little nuggets of truth. But no, he’d made a good living in Vegas, and was at least moderately certain that he’d never spend enough to drain that safety net, not while he was working for Sapphire and getting a steady paycheck from that as well.

[wesfms]

where : wonderland status : open

Wes was spiraling - in true Wes fashion, of course. Because when things went wrong, it’s what he’d always done. Someone who’d spent too much money on college degrees might say it’s some sort of coping mechanism - that terrible things don’t seem so terrible when you’re blowing yourself up like a supernova in front of everyone for their amusement. Ever since he was a kid, it’s how he handled everything - something went wrong? Make something go worse. Which is probably why he’s not holed up, licking his wounds - no, he’s practically half naked in Wonderland, because a mesh shirt definitely doesn’t count as a shirt, but it’s the only thing he’s wearing on his torso beyond the dark bruising over his ribs from that night, a half full glass of something pink and fruity in his hand as he’s dancing in the midst of people he doesn’t know. He’s been there for hours now - and if he didn’t know everyone behind the bar, he probably would have been cut off, but he’s good at sweet talking. At some point, he’d acquired glitter and lip gloss - probably from some woman he’d danced with and subsequently kissed, but he couldn’t quite remember - and now he was draining the rest of his glass before turning off, making his way back over to the bar. “Can I get another round?” he hums, one eyebrow lifting as a bead of sweat runs down his temple. “In fact, make that for all of my friends here-” His arms thrust out, gesturing to everyone that’s currently standing at the bar. “Have to give the masses a reason to love me.”

[wesfms]

chalmeida​:

────────────────    

She wasn’t shy about studying him, a tickle at her memory almost faintly recognizing him, yet not being able to place a name to the face. New, perhaps? Newish? Or Charlotte had just been so preoccupied with her own life she was starting to forget old faces. He’d maybe been to the shooting range, but plenty of people stopped by. Whether it was to practice their aim or take out aggression, Charlotte was here for it all. And she judged, calculating who had a decent shot, keeping personal tabs for the Wild Coyotes own use in the future. “Sure thing,” She stepped back to re-open the door, taking the Be Back Later! sign inside with her. “You got your own gun with you, or are you wanting to rent? We’ve got plenty of options if so.”

“Only shoot with my gun,” Wes hummed, stepping through the door as he kept his shoulders relaxed, head cocking to the side just a touch. “Wouldn’t want her to get jealous, yeah?” His lips twitch, quirking up in a lopsided grin - making it more than a little obvious that he was making a joke. He leaned his elbows against the front counter before lazily pulling out his wallet, eyebrow quirking up as he looked up at her. “How much for the space and time?” He was good at this - remaining calm despite the fact that he knew he was right in the middle of the lion’s den. But when it came to Wes, he’d never made good decisions, and he wasn’t about to start now. The closest to smart he’d decided to get was leaving his cut proclaiming himself as one of the Sinful Ones at home, and wearing a long-sleeved thermal solely because it covered his tattoos, for the most part.

[wesfms]

[wesfms]

“I’m just naturally this sneaky,” Wes quips immediately, the words out of his mouth before his brain has a chance to process what was going on. It was his biggest flaw - which was saying quite a bit, considering he had a lot of them - opening his mouth and responding before he thought about what it was he was actually saying. He lifts his bottle of beer to his lips as he leans back against the side of Sapphire, brick digging into his shoulders pleasantly through the material of his shirt. The small bite of pain grounded him as he swallowed, eyes locked on the other male carefully. “I can slip into wherever I want unnoticed, if I need to.” Though he rarely did - always preferring to be the center of attention, it was rare for anyone to see Wes not drawing everyone’s eye for all the wrong reasons. 

On break from his shift, it probably wasn’t such a great idea for him to be drinking, but he figured one beer wasn’t going to impair him - and he wanted to enjoy his break, right? “You know you sound desperate, dude, right? On the phone.”

TIME&PLACE: 11:43PM, OUTSIDE OF SAPPHIRE. WHO: ANYONE.

At nearly midnight, on a school night, most parents would expect their eight year old child to be sound asleep. So, why was Logan Callegari sitting outside of a strip club, blowing up his son’s phone at such an hour?

Logan had been at Sapphire for a few hours by then, had a few cocktails by the time he called, he had done a few lines too. Maybe it was mixture of the lights, the drinks, and the drugs that were talking, but calling his son at that hour seemed better than not calling him at all. Logan had just gifted his son with his first iPhone a few weeks ago, to his mother’s dismay. They had agreed to wait until he was eleven to get him a phone, but after the separation, Logan needed a win. His win was the look on Sammy’s face when he opened the unexpected gift and saw what was given to him. The look on his estranged wife’s face when he opened it was just a plus. 

“Hey buddy,” Logan spoke into the phone, “It’s your dad. Again. Hey, I forgot to say in the last message….” his voice trailed off.

He was so caught up in passing down wisdom to his child via voicemail, Logan didn’t even realize the figure who had approached him. When he did, Logan fearfully yelped out, “Jesus!”  He hung up the phone. “You scared the fuck out of me,” Logan told them, as he tried to catch his breath. “What are you doing? What are you sneaking up on me for?”

[wesfms]

One of his eyebrows quirked up as he looked at her, head cocking to the side just a touch. “Well, I was hopin’ to get some in before my shift started, later,” he hummed, voice a faint rumble as he settled a hand on his hip. Wes had never been much of a gun person - they seemed so impersonal, to him, when he’d much rather get up close and bloody - but with things heating up, he figured it probably wasn’t a bad idea to make sure his aim was still halfway decent.

Location: Bullseye Shooting Range ; @wesfms​

A cruel twist of fate being owner of the shooting range that had belonged to her father and uncle. Meant to be passed to her brother, and wasn’t meant to end up in her hands at all. Charlotte had done her best to keep it afloat, to maintain the atmosphere the men in her life had, had been running around the range since she was a little girl. The scent of gunpowder always brought back the memories of them, keeping them very much alive. “Oh–” She uttered, not realizing someone would be trying to enter as she’d been trying to leave. “I was closing up for a little bit to grab some lunch. But if you’re itching to shoot, I can order delivery.” 

[wesfms]

dissolvedfm​:

‎

      “ WHILE I AM endlessly happy that you’ve found a fellow heathen to express your sexual frustrations with, i promise i want to hear none of it. even remotely. ” his expression was more than enough to convey the truth behind his sentiments. esmé was, continuously, a man of little emotion - outwardly. within there was a rage untamed by any person or object, vice or mantra. it roiled within him like the tempest waves during a tsunami and battered against his resolve with every small transgression. he’d ripped his jacket because of how willing he was to throw a punch. entering into the actual fights would have been frowned upon, considered uncouth, but the brawl that happened thereafter? it’d felt all too good to crush bone against his knuckles. these violent delights.

      “ the only tension between you and i is the one i stand continuously on the precipice of —whether or not i want to wring your neck and leave you on the roadside for the carrion to find. ” it awarded wes a little smirk, something sassy that didn’t quite meet his eyes and disappeared just as quickly as it’d come. that was the nature of their friendship. wes continuously offered up their unfiltered selves where esmé continuously offered sarcasm and harsh commentary that anyone outside of the little duo might assume was sincere. it took little more convincing between them before esmé shifted for the exit —weaving between people either still attempting to claw at one-another or limping away to lick their wounds, until he shifted toward the back rooms to exit from the alleyway rather than the front door.

      “ if we’re fast enough we can make it to the lot to get out before the authorities arrive. i’d rather not leave my car here. ”

“I’m not worried about that,” Wes waved off the mere thought of his demise by the other’s hands, brushing it off like he so often brushed off just about everything. “You’d miss me too much, I know you would. Even if you don’t admit it.” If there was one thing that he’d always been able to do - and do well - it was lie to himself. Throw himself into whatever it was that had sparked his fancy, with no semblance of rhyme or reason to his decision-making process. Actions, maybe, or in this case, the belief that he was an integral part of Esmé’s life, though he had no reason to actually believe so.

His ego, for as large as it was and for as many people who told him he was full of himself, was nothing but bravado. A simple delusion he’d spun for himself in order to ignore the knowledge that he didn’t mean much of anything to anyone, and he never really had. 

Those were the kinds of thoughts that Wes kept on the inside, though. Because they didn’t fit the image of who he’d made himself to be.

A faint hum escaped the man’s lips at the other’s words, head cocking to the side just a touch as a wicked grin spreads over his lips. “My bike is in the back, so if they start showin’ up, I’ll just hop on and burn rubber to draw them away, so you can get your car.” Though he didn’t think it was a good idea for him to drive, not with the fact that he was seeing double - when had bad ideas ever stopped Weston Davis? “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” He shoulders open the back door of Blast, sucking in a large lungful of clean air and basking in it for a moment before he’s half jogging towards the other’s car, faint hum sounding in the back of his throat. The sirens were getting closer - they had to hurry.