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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

Note

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP

Din Djarin

53. Mutual pining, 41. First kiss, 6. Bookshop AU 👀

Hope this is enough of a distraction! ❤

First of all, how dare you make me think of how cute this little AU is, because now I'm yearning for modern Din and Grogu! Second, yes darling, this is going to distract me all night lmao

53. Mutual pining

41. First kiss

6. Bookshop AU

Din Djarin x Reader

Owning your own little bookshop had its pros and cons. Some of the cons, to name a few, was worrying about making enough to keep the store open, dealing with angry people when you shop didn't carry the book they wanted, the building you were in was old and leaked every time it rained, and just the entire business side of the bookstore bored you and made your anxiety raise just thinking about it. But the pros, those more then made up for the stress of counting each penny in order to order stock. And those pros came in the form of your two favorite customers, a young boy, always dressed in the cutest green frog sweater and his father who took your breath the first time he walked into you small store. Din Djarin was handsome in a way that was devastating. Not only was he physically handsome, with brown eyes that screamed of kindness, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, hands big enough to dwarf any book in your store, and scruff that was so patchy you couldn't help but find it cute, but Din was also handsome in the way that he acted, the way he would gently talk to his son as they picked out books or as he sat in the reading nook and read to Grogu, the way he would always ask about your day, how when he saw you struggling with boxes on more than one occasion he had stepped in and moved them for you not letting you lift another box. Din was sweet and kind to you, and with every small smile he gave you, you thought your heart would burst from your chest. And his son, Grogu, was obviously in the best hands. The boy was just as polite as his father, and just as devastatingly cute. The young boy, who you always joked about being your best customer, always ran into the store with an excites wave and a smile, and almost always ran and gave you the biggest hug he could. On occasion, the little cutie would bring you a present to add to a shelf you had cleared just for him. The presents were what you'd expect a kid to give, a dandelion, a colorful leaf, a shiny rock, and once a piece of candy that Din explained he had cried over for days after seeing it before Din went and bought it for him. You cared deeply for the two, and they brightened your weeks with each visit they made.

One week, it had been raining and storming every single day with no reprieve. You had all but written off seeing the two, knowing they always walked to your shop, but there you were shocked when a tiny frog rainbooted blur came dashing towards you and wrapped your legs in a hug, quickly followed by a hushed stern voice saying, "Stop it kid, you're gonna get them all wet!"

You could only giggle and lean down to give him a proper hug, looking over towards Din, saying, "If getting wet is the price I pay for my favorite and best customer's hug, then I'll gladly take it."

Din only shook his head and gave you his small smile, making you bite the inside of your lip feeling the rush of warmth in your chest and face. The two then disappeared into the children's section, you occasionally hearing Grogu's giggle, or Din's quiet rumbling voice, making you grin as you walked around organizing shelves. Eventually, you got lost in thought, humming quietly to yourself as you worked. You hadn't noticed the set of eyes watching you, and you barely caught the throat being cleared before you bumped into what you could have almost mistaken for a bookshelf with how solid it was. When you turned to look up, eyes wide and already apologizing, you found Din's soft eyes looking at you. Din took no time brushing your apology to the side, before furrowed his brows and saying, "There is a bucket full of water in the middle of the children's section."

You sighed painfully and nodded, before turning back to your work to both somewhat distract yourself from the way his eyes were boring into you, and to keep you hands busy from nervous fidgeting, as you said, "Yeah...it leaks back there whenever it rains super hard. I just... I havent been able to get it fixed yet."

Then Din shocked you completely, he grabbed your hand, stilling it and making you look into those soulful eyes before whispering, "I can fix that."

You had tried to argue with him, telling him you'd get to it eventually and making up reason why he shouldn't, but each time he shot you down, until he was paying for the stack of books Grogu had grabbed and he had set up a weekend day he could come over to do the job.

When the weekend finally came around, it was hot and muggy from all of the rain, and Din had shown up with everything he needed, and Grogu, who you agreed to watch while he worked, the least you could do considering he was trying to work without payment. But Din had also shown up in a white t-shirt that hugged his chest and showed off his softer middle, and jeans that fit right in all of the right places, and you couldn't help but feel your mouth go dry. You had closed the store for the day, and had made a lunch for the three of you the night before, so while Din made quick work with the roof, you and Grogu played games and read books in the little reading nook. Eventually, he got hungry so you let him eat, and shortly after he dozed off looking through a hidden images book. With a smile, you tucked him gently into a more comfortable position and draped a soft quilt around his shoulder. When you turned around though your heart stopped and you felt heat rush to your face. While you had been distraction, Din had snuck into the store and watched with an aching heart as you took care of his son, falling for the soft and loving smile that graced your features as you did. When you turned around completely, you took in his form, and felt a pang of guilt with how red his face was from working in the sun, but also a pang of something else entirely as your eyes soaked in the way Din's sweat shirt clung to his chest, leaving nothing to your imagination and how his hair curled so perfectly from the dampness of sweat and the humidity.

"I finished," his soft rumble broke you from you ogling, and the heat in your face spread to your chest as you cleared your throat. "Come sit down then, I made food last night and I imagine you're hungry so eat, and I will go get you some ice water to cool off."

You rushed away, as Din checked on Grogu before settling on the floor, and reaching for the plate that was on the coffee table. You appeared seconds later, setting a glass in front of him, before sitting beside him, grabbing your own plate.

"Sorry it isn't anything fancy, but I thought that the ravioli would be something Grogu and you both may like."

"It is perfect, thank you."

The two of you ate in silence after that, both of you stealing glances at the other while they weren't looking. When you finished, you took the plates and set them aside before shyly saying, "Thank you again, Din. You have helped me so much with this favor, and if I can repay you in anyway just tell me."

"It was nothing, and you owe me nothing, I promise."

You looked over at him, a soft and kind smile showing on your face, "I feel bad not doing anything for you or paying you. There has to be something?"

Din was quiet for a few minutes, his eyes taking in your earnest and open body language, taking in how your own eyes danced around his form, and before he could think twice about it, he said, "There is one thing..."

"Anything, you only have to ask."

Din took in how perked up you were, leaning towards him in the small space that separated the two of you. Taking a deep breath for courage, Din leaned in himself, and whispered, hot breath ghosting over your face, "A kiss?"

You swallowed thickly in shock, and met his gaze, finding no teasing look, only want so soft you thought you'd melt, so you replied by softly nodding and slowly drifting your eyes shut. Then you felt it, a soft brush of plush lips against your own, before they connected fully. The kiss was quick, and loving, and you followed his lips as he pulled away. Slowly, you both looked at eachother, taking in the other's reaction, before reaching out again. You buried one of your hands in Din's sinfully soft curls, as one of his broad palms cupped your cheek. This kiss was more passionate, but not pushing. The two of you finally just enjoying the feel of the other. The kiss expressed so much love and passion that it had you addicted and never wanting to pull away. But eventually the two of you needed to leave the other for air, and as your chests both heaved slightly, Din whispered while his forehead pressed against yours, "I also wouldn't say no to a date."

Send Me Tropes

#fanfic tropes ask game #din djarin x reader #din x reader #whoever points out the reference i made gets a big kiss and all of my love

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malecftw · 5 years

Text

You get hurt trying to protect the kids

A/N: I’ve been in love w Steve from the second I saw him, even if he was an asshole in the beginning, so this is long overdue. Please let me know what you think :) This took me so freaking long because I literally had such a writers' block so please, any feedback you have is appreciated <3

Warnings: mentions of blood, injury, unconfirmed death, basically a cliffhanger, cursing

Masterlist.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone bowling? Or at least have done an activity in a heated space?” You sigh as you hold up a piece of metal that allows the kids to crawl into the old abandoned bus. “Oh come on y/n it’ll be fun,” Dustin says as he enters the bus. You lower the metal back down, allowing it to shield you from anything that might be roaming the streets outside. You clap your hands in an attempt to get some dust off of them and cough when a huge cloud of it enters your airway. “I’ll just be glad if no one’s asthma gets triggered by this piece of shit, your parents would kill me” The whole group just looks at you unimpressed. “Stop being such a Debbie Downer y/n,” Mike says and everyone laughs.

At this, you cross your arms over your chest and scoff. “I’m not a Debbie Downer. I’m responsible for you shitheads.” Eleven looks at you and smiles softly, understanding your point of view. “Let’s just play guys.” She says and they all return their attention to the board game.

You sit at the front of the bus, trying to keep an eye on the surroundings. You didn’t trust the weird mist crawling over the damp ground and boy would you turn out to be right later that evening. Your watch beeped as the clock struck 8 pm. Normally it was time for your allergy meds but of course, you had nothing to wash them down with since Steve still hadn’t returned from a quick grocery run. He was honestly such a pushover it made you smile. He tried to be a decent role model and somewhat big brother for them but he didn’t stand a chance. Dustin had this incredible way of making Steve oblige to 90% of the things he asked him.

You get out your little pill box, twirling it in your hand as you contemplate trying to take them dry. The cold metal triggers a shiver running down your already cold body and you take that as a sign to put it back into the pocket of your jean jacket.

An odd scratching sound draws your attention and you look up, the window of the bus being the dirtiest you’ve ever seen it, but still clear enough to make out shapes and shadows. You don’t see anything so you slowly get up, muscles stiff from the cold.

Again, you don’t see anything as you squint to try and get a better view. A terrifying feeling crawls up your spine, your mouth getting dry and your brain going in overdrive. Something was very very wrong.

“Guys, I think we should go.” You say to the kids behind you in the back of the bus, not taking your eyes off of the window. “Are you kidding me y/n. We literally just got here. Chill out.” Lucas whines but he quickly gets interrupted when a huge object flies into the side of the bus, making it shake profusely.

You now have the kids’ attention. The horrified faces mirroring your thoughts as you’re trying to keep up a calm front. You run towards them and slide down on your knees, they all get together closely to hear what you have to say.

“Stay quiet, and don’t move okay.” You whisper and everyone nods, realizing now is not the time for jokes. You look up, your eyeline going just above the windows of the bus. It’s eerily quiet and you know it’s just the calm before the storm. You lay low on your tummy and slowly crawl back to the front of the bus where Steve left his bat, typical you for forgetting to grab it. The bus shakes again and you speed up your pace, determined to get to the weapon as soon as you can.

Eventually, you arrive at the front and swiftly grab the bat, holding it carefully to your chest. You don’t bother being quiet anymore considering the bus is being rocked by both sides now, meaning any hope of the monsters disappearing into the night without knowing you and the kids were there is long gone. You get up and make a beeline for the kids, who are all huddled close together in fear. “Don’t worry guys I got you. Just stay calm.” You shout as you stand before them. You look at both sides, debating which side to go for first. You decide on left. The soft fabric of the chair comes in handy as the grip of the fabric gives you a certain stability on which you plant your feet.

You open the upper window and start smacking the monster with the bat. It lets out an ear piercing scream but you feel nothing but hate for the thing. The more it cries the more it gives away that you’re really doing a number on it before its cries soften and eventually die out, signaling its defeat. The group cheers for you but you’re not in the clear yet. You hop from one bus seat to the other which is on the right side now.

Again, you try the same technique however this time it’s less effective. You can’t tell if it’s simply just stronger or if you’re getting worn out. Somehow all of a sudden the bat got stuck, or the monster grabbed it, you had no idea. Everything went so fast you didn’t have time to register what happened until you felt the sharp claw of the monster piercing your stomach. Glass traveling through the air caused by the broken window, scratching your face and arms. The kids all yelled out, obviously traumatized by what they just witnessed. Instead of finishing you off, the monster retracted and disappeared into the night before you could even fall to your knees.

You cupped your wound as you looked down at it, blood seeping out and covering your hands. You looked up again as you saw the headlights of a car shining straight at you. The kids all surrounded you as you lowered yourself down onto the filthy floor of the bus, trying hard not to squish any of them.

“Steve, get Steve.” You managed to squeeze out, the energy you had used to speak already starting to fade. Dustin nodded and as he turned around, Steve walked up the stairs of the bus looking alarmed at the state of it. It took him a couple of seconds to notice you on the ground since the sight of you was mostly covered by the kids. “Guys what the hell happened he-” He stopped talking as he saw a pool of blood starting to form on the ground. “No...” He said in disbelief as he jogged up to you. “No no no no, what happened?” He said panicking as his hands hovered over your stomach before aiming his terrified eyes at your pale face.

“One of the demodogs got her while she was trying to protect us.” Eleven managed to say between the hiccups and tears. “Shhh okay, you’re gonna be okay. Can you move?” Steve asked, trying to keep calm for everyone involved. You could vaguely make out his face, your sight blurred by the loss of blood. You didn’t really know what you were saying, not really completely there. “Mhm,” you said while lightly nodding your head. Obviously, you just tried to ease his worried mind. There’s no way you’d be able to move without being in agony. Well, even more agony than you were in now.

Steve let out a strangled noise, the hopelessness being apparent in his voice and on his face. He carefully lifted you up in a single moment that you looked more out of it, trying to cause you as little pain as he could. He quickly placed himself behind you, using the bus seat to lean against as he held you in his arms. “Shhh, you’re going to be okay alright? Everything’s going to be fine.” He whispered kissing your head affectionately.

Your breathing started to get heavier, your responses to your surroundings becoming less and less. The hand clamping Steve’s losing its strength until he was holding onto your hand more than you were holding onto his. Steve noticed this and panicked. “Shh, don't worry, keep your eyes open. I asked Dustin to get help. Don’t you dare give up on me y/n.” You’d never even heard him shouting at Dustin to get help. Must’ve been too occupied with your impending death. You tried lifting your head but simply didn’t have the energy so you just turned it to the side, trying to ease your breathing.

“Steve, I’m sorry.” You croacked out, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not sorry because you’re not leaving me. You hear that. You are not sorry. Don’t you fucking dare leave me y/n.” He sounded angry, defeated, hurt and completely heartbroken.

His grip on you tightened but you didn’t respond. In fact, you didn’t even flinch at the pain and your breathing had been so quiet for the last seconds that everyone held their breath. When no one heard your struggled breathing, they looked towards your chest.

Everyone held their breath again.

#stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #angst

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hashire · 5 years

Text

behind [closed] doors

Hi yes I am here to add spice to this very pure ship because that’s just what I do. Have some nicosasha makeouts. ;)

Grior leaves the kitchen without a word, as usual. He’s never been a friendly person, though Nicolo has noticed that he’s become increasingly cold in the past few months. They used to exchange something similar to pleasantries when they met in Marley and agonized together initially about being held prisoner. Now they spoke little.

Really, Nicolo has never minded working in silence. He did, however, recently feel the need to discuss the day's events, as lacking as they may have been. And maybe his voiced thoughts usually strayed to Sasha and things related to her...but it doesn't matter. Grior was never someone he considered a friend, even before they came to the island.

He had, at least, kept his mouth shut about her tonight. He wouldn't say she was acting differently than normal. She just stood a bit closer to him that day, both prior to and following the meals, when she returned her dishes. When she kissed his cheek before leaving - because she's bold, so bold (though the only remaining people were her close-knit group of friends) - she lingered. She put her hand on his other cheek and stayed there for longer than normal. She was moving a little as she did so, but Nicolo was distracted. Connie and Jean were making odd motions while glaring: it wasn’t the first time it happened, he just couldn’t figure out what they were trying to communicate.

The moment was over when Sasha skipped away, cuffing Jean on the shoulder and putting Connie in a headlock, cheeks suspiciously pink as she did so. A struggle ensued, though Nicolo decided to return to the kitchen instead of watching.

Grior didn’t need to know about it. He probably didn’t even want to know about it.

Nicolo realizes that he’s been staring at the dishes to be put away when he hears the door open. He has his back to it but it must be Grior, coming back to snap at him about curfew and being lazy and all of that. He busies himself with opening the cupboard door and lifting a stack of plates up, ready to brush off all snark that his not-so-willing partner has to offer.

Then two arms snake around his waist, a warm body pressing against his back shortly after. Nicolo goes stiff with shock and is ready to demand what Grior is on about when he hears the sigh: a soft, musical noise. “I thought he would never leave.”

The plates stay suspended in the air as he tries to process this turn of events. The moment extends long enough that Sasha withdraws. “Nicolo?”

He brings the plates down. “What are you doing here?” he says finally, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. Her brow creases.

“Didn’t you read my note?” She takes a step back to allow him to partially turn. Then, before he can react or even think, she reaches behind him into his back pocket and plucks something out of it. “You...didn’t notice when I put it there?”

Nicolo isn’t sure how to tell her that he was too distracted by her other behavior (and the close proximity of her body) to realize what else she had been doing. It’s a small piece of paper, folded over once. It makes sense that he wouldn’t feel it in his pocket. “No,” he says finally, when Sasha’s face starts to morph into a confused and apprehensive expression. He turns fully toward her and reaches to take the note, but she moves it behind her back so he can’t grab it. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not important now.” She gives him one of her bright smiles, eyes sparkling. “It’s just a...suggestion,” she continues, stepping back into his personal space and looking up at him through her eyelashes, “that we spend some time...alone.” The light in her eyes gives great effect to her words. The moment is broken when she wiggles her eyebrows at him.

He can’t help the sigh the huffs out; still, he smiles and puts his arms around her waist to draw her closer. “All right, we’re alone.” He intends to continue with something suave, perhaps. She cuts him off by putting her arms around his neck, rocking up on her toes, and kissing him.

It's not the first time they've kissed - not even close - yet he can't help but marvel at how sweet she tastes. The first time, Nicolo was flustered and ended up accusing her of stealing candy, his entire face a bright red. This somehow led to Sasha crying about everyone hiding things from her and him sneaking her a handful of candy and other sweet things from the Military Police's stash every day until he was caught. He didn’t even mind the punishment he received; the look on her face each time made it all worth it.

But this kiss is different: it's not quick and situated behind a closed door. There's time. A thought rattles at the back of his head, trying to remind him of something that he should be remembering. It stays banished from the forefront of his mind when Sasha presses closer and hums a happy noise into his mouth.

When she pulls back, he tries to follow. She tips her head to the side so he kisses her cheek. He leans back to look at her, confused. She’s still smiling. She withdraws a hand to pinch his cheek between two knuckles. “You’re so cute,” she murmurs. “I can always feel your blush because your cheeks get so warm.”

Sasha teases him about this all the time, enough that he no longer responds to it. Instead, Nicolo reaches up to cup her cheek, drawing his thumb over the pink that also stains her face. It goes over the bridge of her nose, muting the freckles there but not completely covering them up. She leans into the hand, her eyes falling closed as he takes her in. It’s a nice feeling, warm and comfortable: like nothing else matters but this moment. He slides his hand around to hold the back of her head, inadvertently pulling some of her hair out of her ponytail. She wrinkles her nose and opens her eyes, about to complain but stopping. She must see something in his eyes: or maybe she can read his thoughts in that moment.

“Oh,” she says, a soft, almost curious noise. He doesn’t have time to parse its meaning or the emotion behind it because she kisses him again. She’s more insistent now, parting her lips and running her tongue along his bottom lip. He can tell she has little experience in the art of kissing, but she’s earnest and right now he wants.

Nicolo’s arms wrap around her waist, trying to pull her somehow closer. She’s so warm against his front, making little noises in her throat that intoxicate him as the kiss deepens. The edge of the counter bites into his lower back as he momentarily gets knocked off balance by her eagerness. Sasha giggles breathlessly and murmurs "Sorry" against his lips.

Her hands fist in the material of his uniform as they kiss and kiss. Words bubble up in his throat as he breaks away to take a breath. He stifles them in her throat, reveling in the way she tilts her head back and makes a low noise that gets cut off. He pulls back to see her lip between her teeth, eyes shut, expression soft and content and tense at once. He makes a decision without thinking about it and uses his arms to lift her in the air. Her eyes fly open and she makes a noise that gets bitten off by her teeth sinking into her lip again.

“What are you -” she starts, looking at him with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, red, red lips. He turns them around and sets her on the counter with care. He presses their lips together before she can speak: but he can tell she doesn’t need an explanation. She lets go of his shoulders to grab handfuls of her skirt and tug it upward, parting her legs enough for him to press between them. She’s perched on the edge, wobbling a bit when she reaches for him. He brackets her waist with his hands, holding her steady and feeling the mix of softness in her sides and hardness of muscle under the pads of his thumbs.

Sasha’s hand fists in his hair and tugs on it to pull him back. Nicolo again worries that he’s misread the moment and that she doesn’t want this, wants him to get away, but then - then she sinks her teeth into skin between his neck and shoulder. She growls into his skin, sounding like an animal. He squeezes and she gasps and -

“Oh my fucking god,” Grior snaps, and they both freeze. “I should have known you weren’t sitting on your hands in here. Why did I volunteer to come back?” Nicolo looks over his shoulder to find Grior in the doorway, hand over his eyes. “Hurry up or finish up or whatever, I’m going to bed and I’m never covering for you again.” He storms off.

“What’s he talking about?” Sasha asks, looking at him with curiosity and concern. He steps back and helps her to stand.

“Curfew. I knew I was forgetting something.”

“Oh.” The corners of her mouth turn down, her expression turning so sad that his stomach lurches. “I should probably get back, too.” She glances out the window: it’s still as dark as it was when she arrived.

“Yeah,” he says. Neither of them move. He kisses her forehead. She tips her head up to catch his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s a promise, one that they both know she’ll be able to keep. She smiles, bright once more, and disappears into the darkness of the hall.

The plates, he realizes, are still on the counter. He lifts them with shaking hands and almost drops them before giving up and leaving. He presses his hand to his still-warm face and can’t stop the smile that blossoms. Grior is going to be even more of an asshole now, he’s sure, but Nicolo can’t find it in himself to care at all.

#nicosasha #nikosasha #my writing #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#the title is kind of stupid but i think it's funny so i'm keeping it

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language-of-love · 5 years

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suddenly it seemed so right...

Summary: My take on what happened at Stevie’s apartment during “Pregnancy Test”. In other words, very little talking and lots of heavy petting. ;) (2600 words, Rated M) Part 6 of my “missing kisses series” Read on AO3

(thanks to @jcr324 for the beta duties)

“Lock it up, David, lock it up…”

It’s hard to keep kissing David while he’s laughing, even if there’s something about it that makes Patrick’s chest feel light and floaty. He’s never known intimacy to be like this, so easy and natural, where the feel of someone’s lips vibrating in laughter against his own could manage to center him somehow. Even the knowledge of his past with Rachel and conversations he is currently actively avoiding can’t seem to weigh him down.

Keeping his hand curled around David’s head, he leans back enough to free David’s lips, allowing the audible laugh David has been holding in to escape in the small space between them.

“Do you think you can get it together, or should we take a minute and finish our drinks?” he teases, secretly hopeful that he can get a bit more of the strong whiskey in his system to counteract some lingering nerves. As easy as this intimacy is, it’s still all really new and he has a feeling tonight will lead to never before ventured territory he might not feel as confident exploring.

“Whiskey sounds good,” David chuckles, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he drops a quick kiss to the corner of Patrick’s mouth. It’s sweet and tender and the swoosh it triggers deep in his belly has him taking a quick, deep breath. Moving his hand from David’s neck to his knee, his fingers trace a tiny hole in the denim as he takes a big gulp of his whiskey. It tingles as it goes down, but he follows with another sip, welcoming the warmth it leaves behind even as his throat protests the burn. It’s as he goes for the last bit of his drink that he notices he’s being watched. David, with his own glass against his lips, is staring rather pointedly at Patrick’s mouth. All trace of humor seemingly well out of sight.

“What?” he asks with a smirk before downing the rest of his drink.

David doesn’t answer, apparently rendered mute as Patrick’s tongue darts out to capture nonexistent remnants of the whiskey along his bottom lip. They’ll have to figure out later where David’s still half full glass ended up, but for now, Patrick’s too focused on the man grabbing his face and doing his best to suck the last of the whiskey from his tongue. His brain is jumping many, many steps ahead, but he can’t help but imagine another part of his body being worshipped in much the same way. David’s onslaught of Patrick’s mouth slows suddenly, lips soft and more exploratory as one of his hands moves from Patrick’s face to down his chest, fingers splaying wide over his sternum.

When those fingers curl into a ball, taking some of the fabric of Patrick’s sweater with them, want surges and gathers behind his ribcage in anticipation.

“Feeling sexy, yet?” David murmurs against his mouth, warm lips leaving Patrick’s to trace a wet path along his jaw, finding a new home in the spot where the hickey from earlier in the day was just barely visible. Patrick’s response comes in a huff of air as David’s tongue traces the abraded skin, his whole body bowing forward in search of something he doesn’t have the words to ask for. He just wants more, more of David’s mouth, his hands, his voice, his everything…

One thing he does know, is they need to get rid of some of these clothes. David still has the front of his sweater fisted in his hand, so he reaches between them, covering David’s hand with his to draw his attention. David looks somewhat dazed as he lifts his head from Patrick’s neck, lips swollen and wet and...fuck...

Patrick’s speech is breathy and uneven, but he manages to get out a request to have David help get his sweater off, which he obliges, stretching the garment a bit more than necessary as he tugs it over Patrick’s head. Patrick moves his hands to David’s sides to have him do the same, but David swats him away, shaking his head in amused disapproval as he goes to carefully remove his own sweater.

“This is cashmere and must be handled with care,” he informs Patrick, standing to place the now folded garment over the back of Stevie’s chair by the bed.

He stops there and Patrick watches him bend down, lean muscles flexing along his back as he works to unlace his shoes. God, he wants his hands on David so bad. Quickly toeing off his own shoes, he stands, making the move to be the first to crawl onto the bed. Being with David, and a man, might be new, but Patrick has always been confident and he figures it’s best to just forge ahead. David will redirect him if he makes a misstep. That trust in David is something he hasn’t ever had the need to question and when David slides onto the mattress beside him, that trust has him not hesitating to pull him in close.

David’s mouth is warm and searching against his as Patrick drags him down, hand sinking in the back of David’s hair as his larger body presses Patrick into the mattress. It’s such a new sensation, feeling somewhat overpowered while being kissed, but he decides quickly that he likes it, especially when David’s thigh slides between his legs and aligns perfectly with his groin.

Rocking his hips up in search of friction, he finds himself practically panting against David’s mouth as David takes a firm grip of his hip and grinds his body down to meet him. It feels amazing and he gets lost in sensation, fingers now gripping at David’s waist as they rock together, kisses getting sloppy as Stevie’s bed groans and creaks beneath them.

“I want to make you feel good,” David mutters against Patrick’s cheek, his fingers curling beneath Patrick’s waistband. “Can I…?” he questions, not putting the request into words, instead letting his thumb ask as it circles the button on Patrick’s jeans. Not sure he’d say no to much of anything in this moment, Patrick quickly nods, beyond desperate to feel David’s hands on him. If there had been any hesitancy before, that’s long gone now.

David takes his mouth in a deep, probing kiss, momentarily redirecting Patrick’s thoughts until he feels David’s fingers slide into his jeans and cup his dick over his boxer briefs. Groaning deep in his throat, Patrick’s hips surge upward and David rewards the movement with a firm squeeze, sending shockwaves straight to Patrick’s balls.

“Fuck, David…” Patrick moans, one hand gripping David’s wrist to urge him to keep touching him as the other reaches up to palm David’s cheek. It’s softness and strength, one hand soaking up the tenderness he can feel in David’s kiss as the other holds on as David’s fingers finally seek him out beneath the cotton and take his cock firmly in hand. Like a dam breaking in the onslaught of a storm, David’s control seems to slip as skin meets skin. His hand is taking long pulls of Patrick’s cock as his mouth moves to his throat, teeth and tongue torturing the sensitive skin there as Patrick feels every cell in his body careen towards a very near, very inevitable climax. The muscles in his thighs are straining as his body clenches, pleasure and over-sensitivity and raw emotion wrenching something free as he comes in David’s hand, his cry from both pleasure and relief as his fingers card through David’s hair. David’s lips are now leaving soft, breathy kisses on his neck, up along his jaw and finally against his mouth. Patrick is sure he can feel a small smile there before David pulls back to look down at him.

“You okay?” he quietly asks, his hand still curled almost possessively around Patrick’s now spent cock.

Smiling up at him, Patrick nods, having trouble at first to find his voice before answering, “More than okay.” As if to punctuate how okay he in fact is, he bumps his hips up off the mattress, groaning as his still sensitive cock presses into David’s palm. Grinning, David gives him another squeeze before sliding his hand free, looking around for somewhere to clean himself up.

“Use my shirt,” Patrick offers, struggling while still half covered by David to tug the white undershirt up and over his head. Patrick can feel his cheeks burn at David’s naked perusal of his now bare chest, knowing he isn’t the most athletic guy in the world, just hoping he’s appealing enough. He’s never had to compare physiques with a guy in this kind of scenario before and he feels suddenly shy. But David wipes some of those fears away as he runs his now clean hand down between Patrick’s pecs, fingers tangling in the few wiry hairs there before moving to toy with one of his nipples. Patrick’s breath hitches as David leans in and takes his other nipple between his lips, tongue and teeth working together in delicious, reverent torture.

“I want…” he begins to say, but David’s tongue swirls the thoughts straight from his head. He wants to cry out in protest when David lifts his head, pupils blown wide as he gives Patrick a questioning look.

“What? What do you want?” he asks, as one of his hands snakes beneath Patrick’s back to slide into the back of his pants and take a firm grip of Patrick’s ass.

It takes Patrick half a minute to formulate words, with David looking at him the way he is and his hands touching him in ways that have before now only existed in Patrick’s shower time fantasies.

“I want to touch you, too,” he says, free from embarrassment, full of a deep, curious need he’s never felt in any sexual situation he’s ever experienced before now.

David is kissing him again now, lips sliding against his with urgency as he rolls them on the mattress, dragging Patrick with him and on top of him without breaking the kiss. There’s a piece of Patrick that realizes a move like that only comes with practice, but he can’t let his own inexperience cloud this moment. Not when David is still kissing him like he needs to do so to survive and both of his hands are inside the back of Patrick’s pants, dragging his hips down onto David’s impressive erection. The press of their bodies succeeds in bringing Patrick’s cock back to life, but he wants to focus on David now. Using his new position, Patrick leans back with his hands on David’s chest, feeling an immediate rush of awareness when his ass perfectly cradles David’s still denim trapped cock as he sits back on David’s thighs.

David stops moving, eyes warm and somewhat sleepy as Patrick takes a long, appreciative look at the man beneath him. There’s dark hair circling David’s nipples and creating an enticing trail down and into his jeans and wiry muscles Patrick wants trace with his tongue. So he does. Leaning down, he readjusts, burying his nose in the hollow of David’s throat as his lips experimentally taste the warm skin of David’s chest. David’s groan of approval vibrates Patrick’s entire body and he smiles against David’s skin, confidence surging as David’s hands tighten on his lower back and one of his legs traps Patrick’s thigh.

“Stevie is my new favorite person,” Patrick mumbles, lips twitching as the coarse hair on David’s nipple tickles his nose.

“Your current position would prove otherwise,” David argues, his ring laden hand curling around the back of Patrick’s head in what Patrick takes as a silent request to not stop doing what Patrick is now doing with his tongue. Loving the way David’s hips have begun to roll up into his stomach each time he sucks David’s nipple between his teeth, he does it again, this time snaking a hand between them to palm at David’s dick on the upward rise.

Patrick lifts his head, waiting for a few long moments before David’s eyes open to meet his. It’s only then that he begins to work open David’s jeans, fumbling somewhat because he doesn’t want to break David’s gaze.

“You’re my favorite person, David,” he says honestly, foregoing their banter for raw truth as he finally gets David’s pants unzipped enough to get his hand inside. It’s the first time he’s touched a dick that wasn’t his own and it’s admittedly a bit odd, but when he feels David swell beneath his touch it’s a total rush. And he wants more. Curiosity and his own unerring confidence has him moving further down the bed, his knees bracketing David’s thighs as he tugs David’s pants and boxers down enough to free David’s cock completely. Glancing up at David, he sees that he’s watching him, eyes dark, tongue darting out to wet his lips. As Patrick takes David’s cock in hand, David’s mouth falls open on a moan and Patrick swears he could come again just watching this. As his hand begins to move, he keeps his eyes on David, adjusting the speed and strength of his grip as David’s breath quickens and his hands reach up to grip the headboard. Fuck, this can’t actually be happening, but it is and Patrick wants everything all at once. Watching David writhe on the bed because of what Patrick is doing is the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he laughs internally at himself for ever questioning if he was gay.

“Patrick, feels so...good…fuck...” David moans, his hands now reaching down for Patrick and dragging him up by his neck. Fumbling with his pants, Patrick quickly pulls out his own cock before sliding back on top of David, groaning into his mouth as David pulls him into a breathy kiss. They are inartfully rutting against one another now, both searching for friction in whatever form they can get. Somehow, David manages to take control, aligning their bodies so as they rock their cocks slide together, the silky heat of David’s cock and crisp hair on David’s belly a delicious contrast he knows he will never get enough of as long as he lives. David comes first, his hips bucking up into Patrick’s as his legs wrap around Patrick’s thighs, holding him close as he swells between them. The power Patrick feels at triggering David’s release is enough to have him coming soon after, his body so spent he melts into David, face dropping onto the pillow beside David’s neck.

He turns his head so he can nuzzle his face into David’s skin, wondering how he’s gone this long in his life never having experienced something as amazing as that. Wrung out, physically and emotionally, he can’t seem to stop himself from holding David just a little tighter, his breath calming just a bit when he feels David hold him back just as tight.

It’s dark in the apartment when he wakes, somehow underneath the covers with David’s arm wrapped protectively around his waist. He doesn’t remember having fallen asleep or what, if anything, was said before he did. All he knows is he feels...right...maybe for the first time in his life. His world that had always felt just a bit off its axis feels somehow aligned.

The man responsible is snoring softly behind him, the rings on his fingers cool against Patrick’s belly and his knee wedged between Patrick’s legs. And oh god, Patrick is happy. And dangerously on the edge of falling in love. Or maybe he’s already fallen, but it’s too soon for all that. So, he just closes his eyes and lets things be as they are. Perfect in this moment that no one can take away.

Smiling into the pillow, he whispers quietly into the dark the one thing he would have said to David if he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Thank you, David.”

#david rose #patrick brewer #david x patrick #schitts creek #schitt's creek #my sc fic #david x patrick ff

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simone-garnett · 5 years

Text

title: we’ve never been so alone (and i’ve never been so alive) pairing: josiepea word count: 2.5k information: 5 times josie rides Sweet Pea’s motorcycle and 1 time she rides him on the bike. not compliant w/ s3 except for the summer fling.

ffn /// ao3

It is a dark and gloomy night, the moonlight hidden by ominous clouds, the brightness of the stars shining in the sky denied to those underneath. Instead of its beauty there is only a black night sky, promises of evil lurking in the grumblings of the clouds above, the approaching storm coming closer to the sleepy town of Riverdale, ready to unleash its fury on the town.

It leaves Josie worried, trapped somewhere between the Northside and the Southside. She had been with Toni, the girls having a night to themselves to enjoy the benefits of high school, gossiping and singing, Toni a duet partner Josie never expected, the best friend she never thought she would have again.

And it is magical when they are together, when they sing together, voices blending in perfectly. There is always a reluctance to leave, and each time it is later than before, though the consequences have never been as severe as they are tonight.

Because tonight her car broke down, the engine refusing to start. It is dark and she’s on an empty, isolated road, where it is unlikely she would see another soul for hours. And if she did... no one would hear her screams.

She calls Toni almost instinctual. She was closer to the Southside than the Northside and, given how crime ran rampant in both sides of Riverdale, it isn’t a comfort to be further away from her home. It takes five rings before Toni picks up, the girl casual in her answering of the phone, unaware of the urgency that Josie was struggling through.

“What’s up Josie. Miss me already?” she teases, laughing as she spoke.

“My car broke down T. It broke down and I’m on five percent battery and I need a ride girl. Please.” And if her voice cracks Toni doesn't say a word, she can't. Josie ends the call almost immediately to preserve battery, clicking it to her chest, rocking back and forth in her seat. There was only one route between the sides, Toni would find her.

She had to.

But until then, Josie was alone.

“Come on Toni, please.” There is fear thrumming through her veins, mixed in with the anticipation of seeing the headlights of her friend coming to save her. It has her bouncing in her seat, eager for the tightness in her chest to dissipate, for her to catch a glimpse of a familiar, friendly face. But she has to wait and time drags on, seconds feeling like centuries when you’re alone in a woodland area, each sound eliciting fantasies of bodies bathed in blood, of serial killers and hapless victims.

It is horrible, the way she locks the doors of her car and slinks low when she sees the lights of a motorcycle approaching her, the beating of her heart quickening as she hears the engine die. But she hadn’t forgotten the trauma of the Black Hood, hadn’t recovered from the nightmares where she thought she was going to die, where she thought her stalker would kill her. Josie still shudders at the memory, phantom touches brushing across her neck and arms.

She startles at the sound of knuckles knocking on the window at the driver’s side, wild eyes looking at her potential attacker.

It takes a few, long minutes before she recognises who it is. “Sweet Pea?!”

The door opens without a second thought, Josie jumping to her feet at the night of him. “Hey Jos, heard you needed a ride?”

She’s torn between throwing her arms around him and never letting go or glaring at him. The latter option is safer. She has too much pent up energy for the first option to go well. “Where’s Toni?”

“She couldn’t make it,” he starts, a lazy grin on his face as he lets his gaze drift down her body before meeting her eyes, no shame at being caught. “So you got me.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rolling on the balls of his feet as he watches her. His grin falls a fraction. "... unless you want me to go -"

"No! "and the vulnerability in his tone as he asks the question is drowned out by the desperation in her own, Josie reaching out to him, a hand on his forearm to hold him in place. And there is no thought of teasing her, of mocking her, not when he can see the fear in her eyes, can feel the trembling of her touch.

“What is it Jos?” And there is barely any deliberation, Sweet Pea covering her hand with his own, eyes encouraging her to talk. And it’s nice, Josie distracting herself with the warmth of his touch, of just how big his hand was compared to her own, the roughness she felt when he brushed his calloused thumb over the top of her wrist.

It’s soothing, his presence with her. And maybe that’s why she confesses. “I uhh... I had a stalker last year. It’s okay now, but sometimes I just - I don’t like being alone. Especially in this creepy-ass wood.” Her eyes betray her true feelings and she can see his concern, can see the question on the tip of his tongue.

And she can’t, can’t let this continue.

“So, you know how to fix a car engine or what?”

He can see what she’s trying to do, Josie slipping her hand from his own, moving to busy herself with the car bonnet, her voice clearer, strong once more.

Sweet Pea forces out a chuckle, ducking his head to look at the engine. “I think I know a li’l something.”

He doesn’t know enough to fix her car.

It takes ten minutes for him to finally give up on fixing the car itself, no equipment and an approaching storm enough to convince him it would be more beneficial to try again in the morning.

He says as much to her when he closes the hood, Sweet Pea walking over to his bike, telling Josie to grab her bag over his shoulder. But when he turns around she is still by her car, eyeing him warily.

Not him, he realises, his bike.

“Josie?”

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

He rolls his eyes at her conviction. “Come on, it’s not like it’s the first time you’re riding it.” But he catches her guilty expression, his own lighting up with glee as he puts the puzzle pieces together. “Oh but it is.”

Sweet Pea pushes off his motorcycle, a swagger in his step as he approaches her. And goodness, she thinks, Sweet Pea crowding into her personal space, leaning down far too close for Josie to remain comfortable, he’s still just as attractive as he was all those months ago.

There is a smirk curling his lips and she wants to hit him for it, wants to erase it from his face. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“No,” she scowls, crossing her arms and glaring at him. And good, yes, she thinks, Josie grasping at the rush of anger, clinging to the annoyance. It makes it easier to ignore the lust swirling at the pit of her stomach, their proximity reminding her of their summer together, of just how he could make her feel.

“Then jump on.”

“No.”

“Well, if you’re not afraid to ride it it must be me.” And there is a look of smugness, she can hear in his tone. “Scared of being close to me, scared you can’t resist me?” His voice drops an octave, “scared you’ll want to ride me instead?” And he leans in closer, eyes fixed on her lips. She can’t really blame him... she was staring at his own.

There’s a clap of thunder that has her jumping, Josie’s gaze darting away from Sweet Pea, going to the darkness, imaginary figures dancing in the shadows, ready to creep up on them when they were distracted.

He softens, the smirk replaced with a look of concern. The shift in her demeanour is sharp, and he knows her, spent all summer learning everything he could. “Hey Jos, I’m sorry yeah.” And it’s distracting, the way he rubs his hands up and down her bare arms, comforting her. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles, Sweet Pea looking at her through his lashes, almost bashfully. “But you gotta Jos - it won’t be safe to leave you here and I ain’t got a car. Neither do any of the Serpents.”

She looks longingly at the motorbike, a sadness in her gaze eyes she eyes the machine. “I don’t know if I can Sweet Pea.”

“Okay, so here’s what I got.” And she looks up at him, missing his warmth as he takes a step back. And, not for the first time since their break up, she wonders if he’ll indulge her fantasies just once more, his arms around her, his mouth... “Either you jump on and I drive you home and you can come get your car fixed tomorrow morning when it ain’t dangerous or dark or we sit here and wait for Kevin to pick you up.”

The second option steals her attention, hope filling her voice. “What?”

He shrugs, as though it were nothing. It was everything. “Look, you don’t wanna ride her and that’s fine, but I ain’t leaving you here.”

“But my phone is dead,” her voice drops off, Sweet Pea already having pulled his own from his pocket, sliding it into her hands.

He smiles at her, it is crooked and she knows it could be wider. But here, now, it was perfect. He was perfect. And Josie thinks she may have been staring for a moment too long, Sweet Pea jerking his head up at her, as if trying to nudge her in the right direction. “Go on, call him.”

And she starts to, the number memorised. But then a flash of lightning has her mind turning, the thunder way too close for her to feel comfortable. “But what if it rains?”

He knows what she’s asking. “I’ll be fine in the rain Josie.” But his confidence is belied by the lack of protective gear he was wearing. And god, there is a rock in her stomach at the idea of him riding in the pouring rain, skidding on the wet surface, no one around to save him. It is like a vice on her heart, squeezing it too tightly and for too long.

And in a moment of weakness she knows she’ll regret, she cancels the call, handing him back his phone. “You better have a second helmet with you.”

Sweet Pea’s smile is blinding, the boy wrapping his arm around her shoulders, tugging her to the bike. “Of course. Moment Toni called I grabbed her old one.” He turns his head to her, and she finds her heart lifting at the sight of his beaming smile. “Can’t have anything happening to that pretty head of yours.”

It should comfort her, his thoughtfulness, his sweetness. And it does,

but then she is at his motorbike, and nothing could comfort her.

He sits first, shuffling forward in his seat so that she could have enough room to sit comfortably herself.

And she knows she can’t put it off any further. With a swing of her leg over the body of the vehicle she is there, she’s on it.

It is nerve wracking sitting there behind him, the engine now running, the purr of the motor and vibrations sending her heart to her throat.

His eyes were laughing, Sweet Pea grabbing her hands and wrapping them around his stomach. “You gotta hold on real tight ‘kay?” Josie nods against his shirt, her body plastered onto his back. “I’ll go slower for you if you want.”

“No, no. Faster you start this thing, faster it ends.” She grumbles it. And the last thing she remembers hearing is a bark of laughter from Sweet Pea before the engine revs,

and they’re off.

Panic aside, the ride wasn’t that bad.

She distracts herself with the song lyrics, singing softly to herself, ensuring the lyrics would fit in the time signature they had agreed on. It fits and she smiles to herself, glad that her and Toni had done so much in their night together, their music developing. And Josie remembers why she had the Pussycats; being solo is a rush like no other, knowing that the crowds are there for her, cheering her, coming just for her. But singing with someone, working with someone, being with someone, it’s just incredible, it’s incomparable...

And she thinks that maybe she’s allowed to have more than just her music, that she can have it, can have everything she dreamt of without it detracting from her focus and dedication to it, not one iota.

There is something like disappointment growing in her chest when she feels the motorcycle slow down to a stop, Josie slowly opening her eyes to see her home to the right. It’s mechanical, the way she gets off the machine, slipping the helmet off her head, Josie standing on the sidewalk in front of the bike.

It’s strange - she had been terrified before the ride and during, but now it is over, she hopes it isn’t. It takes a single glance at Sweet Pea, the boy slipping off his helmet, taking the one from her hand with a soft word of thanks, and she thinks she knows why she’s disappointed it’s over.

He leans back on his bike, arms crossed and he stays silent, watching her with those dark eyes of his, the same that made her feel gorgeous and desirable and wanted and alive.

“Thanks Sweet Pea,” she says quietly, not whisper and yet, not loud. It was soft, intimate, and the smile that accompanies it is just as gently. He returns it easily, and she can’t let it end like this, can’t let him leave without understanding the gravity of what he had done for her. Because he was more than just a ride, he listened to her, he comforted her. He was there for her when she needed him to be. “No seriously,” the step forward is hesitant, cautious. And she places her hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. “Thank you.” And she lifts herself up on her toes, Josie pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. It is brief, is chaste, and she makes the mistake of meeting his gaze as she lowers herself back down, his eyes dark, so many things swirling in his gaze. It leaves her dizzy and breathless, Josie’s breath catching at the sight of it. Sweet Pea opens his mouth, and she knows he is going to say something that will change things. They were in a good place and she doesn’t want it to change, even when she’s hoping it does. And in that moment Josie is a coward, she knows it,

she runs.

#josiepea #swosie #sweet pea #josie mccoy #riverdale #ruthie writes #riverdale fic #the title is a slight change to the lyrics of motorcycle drive by #bc i thought it would be hilarious to have the title from a song with motorcycle in its title #sweet pea x josie

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sloumate · 6 years

Photo

I think it’s time to do a recap of the whole year, isn't it? For me, 2017 has been such an intense year: i can say that i have experienced more things that i had ever experienced in my whole life, from the purest joy that came from studying abroad and having the chance to get to know many beautiful people, to overcome my limits and get out of the comfort zone which had always been a wall between me and the rest of the world, to the darkest pain that can only come from grief. As i always say, though, fics have been a safety blanket for me, they helped me through some really tough times and i am forever grateful for the authors that have decided to put their work out there for us all to enjoy.

To all the authors i’m gonna mention in this post: thank you from the bottom of my heart. ♥

So, here are my favorite fics from this year (put in chronological order):

{ 2016 list here / more fics here }

Stars and Boulevards by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet / 6k

They’d been friends for years, had known each other throughout middle school and into high school, meeting in a music class on a sticky September morning. They hit it off instantly, falling into one another immediately, never looking back. Their friendship was comfortable, genuine, safe, always there, achingly present and solid. Harry never felt uneasy confiding in Louis, their one year age gap making Louis somehow seem more worldly, more experienced, and even when Harry had to look down at Louis, he still looked up to him. They spent the quickly passing school years making each other’s homes their own, Harry’s mom calling Louis her honorary second son, Louis’ mom giving Harry a similar title, and everyone knew that if you wanted to find Harry, you had to find Louis first.

Like a boomerang by youwilll / 51k

AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it's always February 2nd. Until it isn't.

The End Should Be A Good One by bananasandboots / @anylessreal / 43k

The one where Harry loses the love of his life on New Years Eve and finds him again, six months later, ready to open some poorly-stitched wounds.

Shape of You by sincewewereeighteen / @downgoesanotherhero / 21k

The club isn't the best place to find a lover, but somehow they find each other.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield by whoknows / @crazyupsetter / 20k

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

Tangled up in you by missandrogyny / @missandrogyny / 45k

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?” Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry. Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.” “A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute. “Of course not!” “A stripper?” “No!” Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!” “What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing. There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.” A professional…what. “What?”

Perfect Storm by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet / 80k

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet / 32k

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire / @alivingfire / 110k

Louis is an angel who is just a little too bad to be good, Harry is a demon who is just a little too good to be bad, and they're both a little too in love to be impartial when angels and demons go to war.

The Melody You Never Heard by bananasandboots / @anylessreal / 30k

The one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

Atlas At Last by louisandthealien / 83k

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

Pour Your Heart Out by hrrytomlinson / @hrrytomlinson / 92k

Louis is his soulmate. Or at least Harry thinks he is. Louis feels the same as Louis. But there are a lot of people named Louis in the world and this Louis might not be the Louis. It’s besides the point though, because Harry knows he can’t allow himself to get close to any boys. He just can’t and he’s told himself this multiple times. He has to simply stay away from Louis Tomlinson. But he can’t. Harry Styles can never stay away from Louis Tomlinson. It’s physically impossible for him to.

Show Me How The Fire Works by turnyourankle / 49k

The Styles-Twist holiday in the Catskills is supposed to be just that: a family holiday. A last hurrah before Harry relocates to the states for uni. Instead, it quickly devolves into a honeymoon for his parents, leaving Harry and Gemma to fend for themselves. Harry quickly befriends the staff at the resort, and is enticed by Louis, one of the dance instructors. Harry gets in over his head in an attempt to impress him, but with Gemma egging him on and a ticking clock, how could he not at least try?

Or, the Dirty Dancing AU no one asked for.

Rivers 'til i reach you by embodied / @crossnecklace / 29k

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

Got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove / @hattalove / 124k

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

Waiting On You by emma1234 / @lads-laddylads / 76k

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

Above your head by deadspy / 57k

Space AU. Louis is an astronaut. Harry works for Mission Control. They don't get along.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie / 70k

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore / 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Back To You And Tennessee by rippedgloves / 57k

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

Barefoot in Blue Jeans by indiaalphawhiskey / 24k

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

The wonderlands by stylinsoncity / 150k

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

Sometime Around Midnight by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet / 3k

Louis is trying to get over his ex, and he thinks that paying their favourite band a visit might help bring him some closure.

He's wrong.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings / 110k

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

It's a Better Place (Since You Came Along) by phdmama / 51k

When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days. He's got it all planned - there's going to be shore excursions, lounging by the pool on the deck of the luxurious cruise ship, not to mention margaritas. What he does not plan for are the new friends, new bonds, or the mystery from his past that comes back to haunt him, and he certainly hasn't planned for Louis.

Here, There, and Everywhere by harioandlouigi / 54k

Louis was in a rut. He was still living in the same small Texas town he’d hated all his life, he was about to graduate with a degree he’d never been interested in, and he was hooking up with a guy he didn’t even like just because it was probably his only chance to be with another man.

And then someone else’s overindulgences triggered a series of events that lead to where Louis is now, touring the world as a roadie for Harry Styles.

You're A Universe by Jiksa / 15k

Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis (domesticharry) / 79k

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

Given a Chance by Fabby / 173k

the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.

Golden Like Sands of Time by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie / 51k

AU. Harry and Zayn are spending the summer on an island, and there's a plethora of booze and bonfires and boys. Or in Harry's case, just one boy.

One Shines Brighter by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie / 11k

Harry's wedding was never supposed to be the happiest day of his life. No, that was going to be the day after, when he finally got to start his marriage. Unfortunately his family (and Louis) have other ideas.

Featuring a pair of moms who only want the best for their kids, meddling sisters with too much time on their hands, and a groom who gets caught up in the fairytale.

Turning Page by purpledaisy / 67k

AU: Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been. Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

Runaway Land by daggerinrose / @thetommmo / 103k

Louis is sure he’s stumbled upon a secret, underground nightclub, though that is far from the truth. He’s also pretty sure he’s stumbled upon Apollo, which… isn’t very far from the truth, actually.

Modern Greek mythology AU.

The World Still Turns by hrrytomlinson / @hrrytomlinson / 21k

They had their eyes on the stars.

Harry and Louis have known each other since they were tiny little boys, both wildly obsessed with airplanes, space, and the stars. More than twenty years later, Harry plans to propose to Louis, but when he wakes up, Louis is gone.

Where I Belong by hopeneverdies / 31k

Harry Styles is an introverted director of a small nature reserve in Norfolk County, England. Louis Tomlinson is an Emmy winning wildlife documentary filmmaker with a bad boy reputation. When Louis arrives at Harry's reserve in search of a new project, and a new path in life, Harry is less than thrilled. Yet, the two men realize that working together may benefit them both, especially when the future of the reserve is threatened by a large corporation and its powerful CEO.

Things Gone Cold by MediaWhore / 24k

With his soulmate’s thoughts about him written on his skin and the world’s eyes trailing his every movement, Harry Styles is having a bit of a rough time releasing his second album in peace. And that’s not even counting the breakup. Or the car crash.

Can't Fool Me by emma1234 / @lads-laddylads / 30k

AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.

No Place Without You by fackinglouis / 19k

A Wanderlust AU in which Harry doesn't have a permanent home and stays with Louis when he visits NYC.

You Know Sometimes Words Have Two Meanings by alienharry / 22k

Harry and Louis navigate the universe.

No One Like You by myownspark / 19k

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

We're What's Right In This World by BriaMaria / 48k

the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

Never mind the odds (i'm gonna try my luck) by spit_on_me_larry / 59k

Featuring Louis as a writer/workaholic, Harry as a plastic surgeon with a heart of gold, Zayn and Niall as Louis’ colleagues and long-suffering best mates, and Liam as everyone’s favorite pediatric surgeon and Harry’s right-hand man.

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy / 141k

A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

You flower, you feast by stylinsoncity / 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

(We will be) as if chosen by alivingfire / @alivingfire / 35k

the course of true love never did run smooth, because sometimes people are stubborn and sometimes people are scared and sometimes, just sometimes, love can cause just as many problems as it solves.

The dead things we carry by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics / 25k

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

(Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / 86k

A Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

Falling, catching by tsuneni / 23k

the one where Harry likes poems, soft sweaters, old novels, and that one boy in his Romantic Poetry course that keeps falling asleep during lectures.

Like Vines We Intertwined by bananasandboots / 11k

the one where Harry and Louis first figure it out. A prequel to You Watched Me Sink.

Kiwi by fondleeds / 24k

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

Knives don't have your back by turnyourankle / 51k

The lone survivor of an on campus massacre that claimed the lives of his four housemates, Harry is urged to take a sabbatical or transfer. Instead, he chooses to stay in school, move into the dorms, and overcome his fears.

He finds comfort in a budding friendship with Louis, an upperclassman who lives on his floor, not realizing that their relationship will bring him closer to his traumatizing past rather than further from it.

You and Me by delsicle / 36k

Alex goes to war. He comes back and everything is the same -- his hometown, his flat, the boy with the bad heart he left behind.

Everything is same. Except for him.

Things unspoken by stylinsoncity / 6k

he wants to say it. he’s waited his whole life to say it. but how do you tell your childhood best friend you want them?

Yellow by 13ways / 84k

A Batman/ Catwoman AU

Find You Home by FullOnLarrie / @fullonlarrie / 35k

When Louis lies to his family and says he’ll bring his new boyfriend home for Christmas, his best friend and roommate Harry agrees to play the part. It’s that, or be left alone over the holidays. What will happen? No one knows! Perhaps Santa will swoop in with a Christmas miracle. (Featuring lovesick idiots, kissing and cuddling, pies and Christmas clichés.)

The Unexplained by mooninherhair / 34k

Harry has just moved to Los Angeles to work for HiveNews Media, and his dark mood from homesickness and his creepy new apartment inspire a brilliant idea for a new paranormal video series. Unfortunately, he finds himself partnered with the biggest ghost skeptic of them all. Will they be able to get along well enough to get the series off the ground? And what's going on with the other unexplained events that are beginning to surround their lives?

To the light by fondleeds / @fondleeds / 13k

AU. Harry is a mermaid lost at sea and Louis is a boy determined to make his first Christmas a memorable one.

#i'll add more if i read smth new before new year #2017 fic rec #fic rec #larry fics #hl fics #hl #ff #rec list #recs #fics #a year in fics #mine #fic masterpost

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deadsy-doodle-blog · 6 years

Photo

PUNK ROCK RUINED MY LIFE

SECTION TEN

“Grim.” He heard Sara say quietly, tapping his arm.

“What?” he asked rolling over.

“Will you help me build a snowman?” she asked.

“No.” he said quietly. He burrowed deeper into his blanket and turned his back to her. She pushed his back and he grunted trying to scoot away from her.

“Please?” she asked looking sad.

“I guess.” He groaned as he barrel rolled out of his blanket and popped his back as he sat up. She smiled and handed him his coat. Grim smiled. “Let me get dressed first.” He said scratching his bare chest. He pulled his gray thermal shirt on and his green pants, then tossed the tan coat on and pulled a beanie over his mop of hair. He dug into his drawer and found some fingerless gloves. He followed his little sister out into the deep snow. He helped his little sister roll the snow and stack up the balls into t snow man. He told her to go find some rocks for the eyes and face. Grim pulled some sticks off the tree and stuck them into the sides. He lit up a cigarette and puffed on it as Sara finished their snowman. About five minutes later he stuck the filter end from his mouth into the snow man’s face and Sara laughed.

A few hours later their mother came home from work with another guy toting on her arm. She had eggnog in her arm and some brownies from a coworker.

“Mom! Look what we made!” Sara said smiling at her as she was walking up the driveway.

“Wow.” She said distracted. The guy looked uncomfortably toward Grim. “These are my kids.” She said with a little smile.

“How old did you say you were?” he laughed looking at Grim kind of awkwardly, Grim’s glare shot through him. She thumped the stranger’s chest and kissed the neck of the guy and whispered something to him before they headed inside. Grim lit another cigarette and started walking down the road.

“Where are you going?” Sara said sounding distressed. He ignored her. “It’s Christmas Eve.” She said sadly.

“It doesn’t matter. It never mattered, Sarah.” He said turning as he kept walking. He showed up at the house after night fall, the snow was falling heavily and his nose ran, numb fingers. He opened the door and saw his little sister frosting some cookies.

“Did mom make those?” he asked.

“Yeah, they’re in her room now.” She said putting some sprinkles on the cookie. Grim picked one up and took a bite out of it. He sat it back down and took his coat off. He blew his nose in a paper towel. Grim and his sister watched tv for a while, until their mother was showing her friend to the door.

“Nice.” Grim scoffed as she shut the door, she glared at him.

“I don’t tell you how to live your life.” She said abruptly to quip.

“I thought you said you were trying to be better.” He snarked.

“I am. I’m only human, Grim.” She argued.

“you sleep with every guy you meet. I’m surprised we don’t have another sibling as often as you whore yourself out.”

Sara cried “just stop!” Grim and his mother stopped arguing and looked at the floor.

“There’s Christmas movies on tv.” Grim said quietly sitting back down, feeling sorry for his little sister. Their mother cleared her throat.

“Let me go take a shower and I’ll come watch a few.” She said quietly. Grim curled up on the couch with a blanket as his little sister colored some coloring pages from the free coloring contest book for businesses. Their mother came back a little while later in her spaghetti strap nightgown, which was a little too revealing after a few movies Sara went to bed. Grim stared into space on the couch quietly.

“You wanna polish off that bottle of tequila?” his mother asked after a moment.

“What kind of mother are you?” he asked sitting up.

“we’re both miserable.” She said shrugging. Grim got up and brought the bottle and two shot glasses out.

“might as well be drunk and miserable, right?” he asked setting them down on the coffee table. She took a shot and poured him one.

“How well can you hold your alcohol? Think we can finish this?” she asked swishing the bottle.

“Oh yeah.” He said nodding his head. He took his shot quickly and she poured more. “Do you need a chaser?” he asked getting up again.

“Yeah” she grimaced with her shot. He brought two sodas out and knocked another shot down.

“Whatever happened to that one girl that you were hanging around a lot a while ago?” she asked starting to feel the alcohol.

“We broke up, or called it off, whatever, we didn’t get along as well as we thought.” He said shaking his head taking another shot.

“I liked her, she was cute.” She said looking disappointed.

“We’re still friends. She’s the bassist in my band. But I’m getting kind of serious with another girl in Grandma’s town right now. She’s really nice and has her life together.” He said awkwardly.

“Good. She sounds out of your league.” She said taking her shot.

“I thought so too. She must have a thing for bad boys I guess.” He shrugged.

“She probably doesn’t know what to do.” She said taking a long drink of her soda.

“Not really, but she’s trying.” He said nodding his head. “It’s been four months with her coming up soon.

“Don’t knock her up. Don’t be shitty.” She said lounging back.

“Mom, close your legs or put some underwear on.” He said averting his eyes from her. She pulled a blanket over herself and rolled her eyes. After they drank the bottle Grim stumbled to his room and passed out on the bed. A few hours later his little sister woke them both up with excitement. Grim’s blood rushed to his head and as he sat up his stomach flipped. He bolted for the bathroom across the hall and hung his head in the toilet vomiting up tequila and soda. After getting cleaned up Grim went into the front room and they sat down to open gifts, which was usually money from their mom and clothes from their grandma. Grim opened up a new coat and a pair of jeans from his grandma, and Sara a new pair of pajamas, shirts, pants, and a new handmade blanket.

Grim handed his gift to Sara, she opened up a new stuffed animal from him and hugged him tight, excited to have something for herself that wasn’t his old toys passed down.

Grim opened up a pack of cigarettes and fifty dollars from his mom. He smirked. “Thanks.” He said in cynicism.

“What. It saves you a bribe.” She said with a smile, still a bit drunk.

That day Grim dawned his new coat and went to practice with Shade. It had been about a month since he had last seen anyone from the band. He was excited to play some music that his grandfather had wrote and see what they thought of the sound of some of the guitar riffs.

“How’ve you been?” Crue asked hugging him thoughtfully as he walked into the old abandoned house. He embraced her hug and squeezed her tight in a friendly hug before putting his arm around Orion as well.

“I’ve been doing okay, actually.” He said with a grin between her and Orion.

“How’s your mom?” Morty asked quietly from the back of the room on his drum kit. The other two looked at him.

“…What?” Grim asked seeing their reaction. Crue’s ears dipped and she glanced over at Orion. He nodded his head to her, his brows were scrunched and he looked genuinely pissed, which was rare for him.

“Just wondering.” Morty added quietly.

“Grim…can I talk to you, in private.” Crue said giving him a very serious look. Her eyes looked like they could be smoldering with unspoken rage. He nodded and followed her outside into the snow. “we weren’t going to tell you, but I think you have the right to know.” Crue said holding her hands together and then unclasping them to scrub the short side of her mane as she sighed and hesitated.

“What?” Grim asked confused, growing impatient and anxious

“Morty fucked your mom.” She finally blurted out. She watched as Grim’s shoulders grew ridged and his ears flattened back. His breathing became heavier and he clenched his fists.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Grim asked feeling that damn migraine again. He looked up at Crue.

“You’d have to ask him for the full story, but he’s been bragging about it at school, Orion and I were pissed when we heard. There’s some nasty shit being said, I’m glad you don’t go to our school anymore.” She said shaking her head and lighting a cigarette. Grim slumped down further on the icy ground and lit one for himself, he held his head in his hands as he puffed at the cigarette, fighting off some angry tears. Crue touched his back, trying to comfort him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He snapped. “I’m so pissed off right now.” He said jerking away from her. He got up with the cigarette still in his mouth, puffing out smoke like a locomotive. He stormed inside the abandoned building full of band supplies. He handed the cigarette to Orion as he brushed past him then pounced on Morty, tipping his drum kit over. The drums clattered and thumped with their struggle

“How the fuck could you?” he yelled with his hands pinning his throat down to the floor. He held his fist up ready to start pummeling the chestnut pony.

“She came on to me.” Morty choked, he squirmed under the band’s front man. Grim lifted his leg over the drummer and straddled him, pinning him with his entire weight. He started bringing his fists down onto his friend’s face and chest.

“You fucked my mom? I thought she couldn’t get any lower and she does this? And you went with it?” Grim said punching him repeatedly.

“I wasn’t going to pass up on free pussy. She asked me to shovel your driveway a while ago, and she said she’d pay me off. I went inside and she just went down on me.” Morty said in rhythm with the blows delivered by Grim’s fist. Morty was able to wriggle out from Grim’s legs, he stood up and tried to scramble back until Grim pinned him against the wall. ortyfought back a bit after a while, clipping Grim’s chin and nose, Grim started beating him harder with more rage until Morty was about to pass out in pain, starting to slump against the wall as his eyes rolled up a little bit.

“Grim!” Crue said trying to pull him off the drummer.

“Fuck you!” he said still punching, blood spattering the wooden floor boards.

“Grim! That’s enough!” Crue screamed as she and Orion started pulling him off of their drummer He pulled away from Crue’s grasp and kicked Morty in the side. Grim heaved for a moment looking at Morty curled up in a bleeding ball. Crue’s fist popped Grim in the eye and he turned his attention surprised, he held his hand over his swelling eye and looked at her fuming.

“Stop. You made your point.” She said standing up to him. Orion timidly went to the drummer and cared for him. He was badly injured from the kick in the side. Morty grabbed at his side and wheezed, blood seeping from his nostrils and gums.

Grim’s mouth bled and he shook his head, he grimaced and spit a part of his tooth out, from Morty’s struggle. Grim was shaking and literally steaming in the cold as he was licking the blood from his bottom lip. He looked from Crue’s face to Morty and Orion against the wall.

“You probably broke his ribs.” Crue said feeling that he was being excessively violent. She turned and helped Orion gather Morty to take him to a hospital. Grim stormed out shaking his head as Orion lifted Morty onto his shoulder and Crue ran to open the car door.

By the time Grim got home his eye was watering badly, it was already deep purple and swelling shut. He approached the trailer house that caused so much of his pain and baggage. His brain coursed with a mishmash of punk eulogies, suicidal thoughts, violent tendencies as he approached the door. His hand touched the cold door knob and his thoughts left and all he could feel was blood. Blood rushing inside his head, blood flowing from his face, blood throbbing in his hands, blood stinging in his busted knuckles.

“What happened?” his mother asked when he returned, he heard her in a foggy distorted cloud. He took a deep breath and his eyes slowly tracked to her, feeling the fog. I was like being high on everything at once. His heart raced but his head was slow until catching up to that sentence.

“Why don’t you fucking tell me? I just kicked the shit out of my friend Morty because he was bragging about something you did.” Grim said confronting her. He sounded so calm, he even surprised himself.

“You know how boys are, he’s making it up.” She said shaking her head.

“I’m not so fucking sure, mom, you’re such a fucking whore. If it has a dick you’ll suck it.” He said as the blood build up and the words spat out with it.

“I felt bad because I didn’t have any cash on hand.” She said angrily. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She said growing irritated. “He’s eighteen, isn’t he?”

“Pretty bad when your seventeen-year-old son is more responsible and can keep it in his pants! You throw your vagina around to get what you want, just like it’s fucking international currency! You don’t care who gets in the crossfire!” He said screaming. Sara peeked out of her room afraid. There it was, the rage, the migraine.

“Stay in your room Sara!” Their mother screeched down the hall.

“Ya know, I’d tell you to suck my dick, but knowing you, you probably would!” Grim screamed storming off to his room. “Fucking puta.” He added as he flung the door open.

“Don’t fucking talk to your mother like that!” she said following him into his room. He started aggressively shoving everything he could into his backpack.

“You’re not a mother, you’re just the person who gave birth to me.” He said glaring up at her.

“Oh Saint Grim, he can do no wrong.” She said crossing her arms.

“Excuse me for falling out of your vagina and living in this hell for sixteen years! You’re such a bitch.” He said shaking.

“Run away to grandma’s again, go mooch off her.” She said as he brushed past her with his back pack. He went to the phone and called his grandmother, she said she’d pick him up. He ignored everything his mother was yelling and throwing at him as he stormed out the front door. He walked about five miles by the time his grandmother drove by and picked him up. He was freezing, his pants were soaked wet from the snow and ice, his hat frozen and his hair starting to become crisp. He flung himself into the car and turned the heater on full blast.

“What happened?” she asked worried looking at his black eye and the blood on his lip and hands.

“She fucked my best friend.” Grim said shaking his head.

“Language.” She said looking at him. That was the word she really hated.

“I don’t care right now, grandma, I’m still really pissed off.” He said looking out the window and folding his arms. “Soy un hijo de puta.” He sighed. Tears started to silently leak from his good eye, he carefully wiped them away so his grandmother didn’t see him crying. She looked at him sadly as she shivered and sniffled.

“calm down, you’re out of there.” She said handing him a pepsi. He took it in his hand and held it up to his eye, the cold relief.

“I’ve gotta go to school with a shiner.” He said looking at himself in the mirror after a few minutes of silence.

“Did she do that to you?” she asked looking worried.

“No, my friend Crue did, I was beating the shit out of the friend that slept with my mom…Crue made me stop.” He said quietly. “My mom was throwing shit when I was leaving, I honestly don’t even know if anything hit me. I just feel numb.” He sniffed.

#horse anthro #horse character #anthro #original character #furry

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therakeisnogentleman-blog · 7 years

Text

Cogito Ergo, Dean: Chapter 1

The sound of the gun filled the alleyway behind Fairview’s Motel 12. It roared, bellowed in the still Pennsylvania night like the heavy handed hammer of an angry god. Fire blossomed from the end of the hexagonal barrel of the intricately carved antique revolver to form a deadly flower that bloomed almost as if in slow motion. A bead of black perforated the delicate fiery blossom. A bullet, as decoratively scrimshawed as the weapon that fired it, spun from the chamber with deadly purpose. It didn’t have far to travel before colliding with its target. Metal met meat and the imprisoned magics of a long dead gun maker set about their grim task of unmaking the unfortunate recipient.

It doesn’t really hurt. The dark haired man with the brooding face and scruffy green jacket thought as a light began to shine from the red ringed hole that spread rapidly of his grungy shirt. Hell, I’ve felt worse. Survived worse. His body bucked under a sudden surge of red hot magical energy, his bravado shattered like glass. Thoughts were momentarily driven from his mind as the tidal forces within the bullet wound drove him to his knees. When he came back to himself, his thoughts turned outwards. He looked up at the shaking man before him, who still held the Colt revolver in a limp, shaking grip. No, not a man, but a boy. Some kid. The dying man chuckled as blood slipped from between clenched teeth. He’d killed monsters, devils, angels, and small gods. And here he was. He was going to be taken out by some two-bit thief who’d made a bad call on whose room he was going to turn over tonight. A thought came unbidden to his dying mind and played across his pained grimace. Took a Colt to kill a Winchester.

Another torrent of energy coiled in his chest, driving thought away once again and replacing it with a blinding whiteness. The Colt dropped to the ground in front of him as the kid bolted. The dying man considered reaching for it, putting all of his last energies into taking a shot at the boy who’d taken him out. He would have, too, if his arms hadn’t refused to obey him. He slipped forwards, landing on his elbows. Blood leaked slowly onto the gravel road. Somewhere far off, someone was yelling out. To the dying man’s ears, it was nothing but a dull roar behind another duller roar. His body bucked again, his back arching and his teeth grinding together. He refused to cry out. Light seared from behind his eyes brightly enough to illuminate the space between the motel and the adjacent diner, then went out for good. The man was dead.

“Dean!” the other man cried. He was tall, lanky and long haired. He dressed similarly to the dying man, emulated him, though he would never admit it. He ran across the gravel that crunched just a little too loud in the silence that followed the gunshot. He moved fast, but not fast enough, his brother was in the last of his death throws by the time he skated to a stop and dropped to his knees in a spray of stone chips. The crushed rock tore at his already blood flecked jeans and cut his knees, but he paid it no mind. His attention was on the slumped form in front of him. “Dean?” His voice was hoarse, ragged as he laid a hand on the fallen form. Dean was still. Too still. No breath stirred his chest. “No.” The tall man couldn’t believe, he just couldn’t. He saw the weapon lying in the gravel mere feet from him, noted the smoke emanating from that banded barrel, and dread rose up in his chest. It clawed at his innards, turning his legs and arms to water as he reached over and clutched at Colt’s masterpiece. The chamber was warm. Three cartridges lay nestled in its clustered chambers. But four had been there when they’d stashed it in the locked safe. “Damn it, Dean, no! Why’d you have to run off!?” He shook the man, the corpse, his brother. But Dead could not respond.

In the distance, sirens blared. The entire police force of Fairview, Pennsylvania would be down here any minute. The tall man looked around, searched for his brother’s killer, but found nothing but the unlit night on all sides. Hastily, he tucked the murderous revolver into his belt and struggled to lift his burly older sibling. Boots and knees and elbows scrabbled in the sharp gravel as he gained his footing. The fatigue of the long day and his fresh injuries weighed heavily on him as he stumbled around the front of the motel building. In the distance, someone was screaming. He’d have to change the plates once he crossed the boundaries of the small township. He’d have to call… someone. Bobby, maybe. The cranky old hunter would know what to do. The tall man made plans, anything to distract him from the weight he carried on his shoulders as he reached the low, crouching, animal form of Dean’s Baby. The Chevrolet Impala, all black with silver fittings, lay still and silent as its owner. The tall man yanked open the passenger door and gently lay the body down in the back seat. The sirens were getting closer, but the tall man added no extra urgency. He made sure that Dean’s head wasn’t jammed uncomfortably against the far door, propped his knees up to keep him from rolling out of the seat, and threw a dusty old blanket over him.

He had to run across the driver’s side door as red and blue lights began to flicker on the far side of the motel. The door jarred close as he shut it with just a little too much force. The throaty sound of the car’s powerful engine filled his ears and shook his fingertips as he turned the key in the ignition. More gravel crunched under the tires and he was away. He spun out onto the road and put his foot down all the way to the floor. The motor roared and the car charged down the road that led to the interstate. He had made it. No one had seen him, by the time the police made the trip around the building he’d be long gone and out of sight. He allowed himself to relax, just a little. He leaned back into the leather seat and ran a hand through sweat matted hair. He addressed the air, a question on his lips that would go unanswered. “Okay, Sam. Now what?”

Xxx

Rain lashed against the tar paper shingles and raked the windows of the house that lay nestled between stacks of junked cars in a lot just off the road in South Dakota. The unseasonal storm beat at the wooden siding and caused the whole building to creak as if in pain. Inside, the two occupants shared a different, but no less severe pain. Sam sat leaned forwards in the lumpy, beaten old sofa and stared into the lit fireplace that banished most, but not all, of the rain’s chill. A forgotten tumbler half full of something that burned on the way down dangled precariously from his fingertips and swayed slightly with the unrestrained emotion that shook his body. Sam ran his free hand through the long hair that hung limply about his ears and let out a hollow, mournful sound before finding his tumbler once again and pressing it to his lips. The dark liquid felt like oil on his tongue as it slipped from the glass and into his gullet. He swallowed, suppressing a splutter. He wished for the drink to ease some of the wracking guilt that even now ate away at him. All it did was turn his stomach into a pit full of snakes.

“Tell me again how it happened,” a gruff voice shook the distraught Winchester brother from his reverie. There was a man standing in the open doorway. Concern twisted the short beard that graced his well-worn, experienced face, but his eyes were hard, shrewd. He had a drink in his own hand, one of many he’d downed already that night. Every night since he’d gotten the phone call that one of his boys had fallen on the field of battle. Only this time, he wouldn’t be getting up again. Not even Dean Winchester could shrug off Death forever. “Sam…”

“Damn it, Bobby!” Sam shook with a sudden violent outburst. “What difference does it make? You said it yourself, Dean’s dead. Not coming back.” He knocked back another slug of his drink, enough to drain the glass completely. He held it out towards the older hunter. He could still feel, that meant that he wasn’t done drinking.

“The difference it makes is that you haven’t told me what you two idjits were doing all the way out in Fairview, Pennsylvania in the first place. The difference is I need to know what you found out there, if it’s still alive and kicking, and if I need to round up a posse to make that kicking stop. And most of all, the difference is that I don’t know why in the Hell you needed to drag the Colt out there. The Colt, Sam.” Bobby knocked back his own drink. The sternness of his face softened a little as he watched the younger man shake on his couch. “Look, I know what it means to lose family. Hurts like Hell and worse. But there’s a whole world of people out there. We can both do our mournin’ when the job is done.” He came around the dilapidated couch and let himself drop heavily into its overstuffed confines. He plunked the bottle of his finest booze down with a dull thunk upon the rickety table. Sam reached for it, but he slid it away.

“Bobby…”

“Drink later, talk now.” Bobby’s face was set, resolute. It was not the face of a man about to change his mind. Sam sighed heavily and sank back into the sofa. His eyes were glassy as he slowly opened them, but he spoke steadily and without stumbling.

“Alright. I’ll talk.” He stopped for a second to gather his thoughts. The empty tumbler still swung in his hands. Outside, the first peals of distant thunder rolled across the South Dakota country side. The rain redoubled against the roof and against the junked cars outside until it played a symphony of percussion to underline Sam Winchester’s words. “We had a case. A nasty one. A monster called…

Xxx

…Khazrak the One Eye?” Dean snorted with derision. “How’d he get that name, doya think?” The engine of the Impala thrummed as he gunned it through the open Pennsylvania farmland. This was always his favorite part of the job. The road was empty, the windows were down, and the radio was turned all the way up. Dean sang along to a snippet of the song playing on the current station. “…place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned!”

“Well the lore says… he only has one eye…” Sam answered awkwardly, trying to compete with the thumping drums of whatever noise his brother had selected for this afternoon’s driving. He finally stopped trying to raise his voice and reached for the dial. Dean slapped the grasping hand away.

“Hey, never touch another man’s radio,” he growled, though there was no threat in his voice. This was, in fact, a time honored tradition between the two.

Sam fixed his brother with an aggravated stare. “Come on, Dean. This is serious.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean twisted the knob and brought the music back below ear splitting levels. “So, what’s the deal with ol’ Kazgraz? And why’s he only got one eye? You taking us to fight some kind of cyclops?”

“Khazrak. And it says here that it got shot away,” Sam rejoined as he thumbed through the ancient and creaky leather bound journal. “Yes, here’s the passage. And I looked upon mine foe at last. The One who walks in the woods and steals our sons and daughters. He was terrifying to me, his visage bestial to behold. Like that of a great horned goat who walked on his hind legs. His cloven hooves were like that of a cart horse and his hands were great claws that grasped his crude weapon. His hooded head bore a great curving horn of a ram; the other horn was broken in our last encounter. His eyes gleamed malevolently beneath that hood. I raised my flintlock to deliver my final justice. I sparked the flame, and lo did I see his right eye plucked from its socket by my bullet of silver. An eye for an eye, the Book says. I have taken his eye, as he has taken mine. The beast is still now. I will bury it in woods that it used to stalk. It seems… seemly. The job is done.”

“Yeah but if the job was done, why are we heading up there right now?” Dean asked. He absent mindedly scratched at his chest. “Sounds to me like our buddy the Pilgrim hunter took him out.”

“Well, at least he thought he did. That wasn’t the last entry in the journal. Looks like the killings he describes started up again a while after. He never found Khazrak again, but he was sure that he hadn’t killed it.” Sam flipped through the book again. “They tailed off just before the author died. He fought the beast must have died of old age but…” He carefully closed the age ravaged tome and set it aside, instead reaching for the stack of computer print-outs. “These are some of the latest missing persons reports from the area. Matches One Eye’s M.O. Late night disappearances, all around the same patch of woods. And then there’s the cattle mutilations.”

“Cattle mutilations? What, the guy can’t stop in for a hamburger like the rest of us?” Dean chuckled at his own joke.

“He… uh.. takes liberties with the livestock,” Sam answered with a grimace. “They don’t generally survive.”

Dean’s face twisted in a look of disgust. “Okay, so looks like we’ve got us a horny goatman to kill. Why do we need the Colt with us?” He patted the oilcloth wrapped revolver that lay on the seat between the two brothers.

“Guy who hunted it before tried a little bit of everything and couldn’t make it stick,” Sam said. “Silver, cold iron, wood from local trees, holy water, unholy water, the works. He made it his life’s work to hunt down and kill this thing, and it looks like it’s still up and walking. I figure, better safe than sorry.” He put the print-outs down and patted the journal. “I figure he deserves a little closure. Plus, I don’t like the idea of an unkillable monster loping around the Northeast with Eve on the loose.”

“Yeah, don’t want the purple people eater finding his way back to mommy. So, what’s the deal? We roll up to this town, run off into the woods, and hope we don’t get mistaken for a pair of sexy cows?”

“It’s going to be a little more complicated than that,” Sam responded, intentionally ignoring his brother’s comment. “Looks like the attacks are centered around this one patch of trees that backs onto a whole bunch of farms in the area. Only one hasn’t been hit yet, the… um… Strutemyer property. We stake out that farm tonight, odds are good we’ll catch this thing out.”

“So what’s our play? F.B.I.? Sherriff’s Department? Aww, come on!” Dean’s face fell as he saw the badges his brother held up. “FDA? We never get to be anyone fun anymore.”

Xxx

“So, did you get him? This One Eyed monster?” Bobby asked cautiously. Sam had stopped in the middle of his tale to stare forlornly into the fire. The rain still beat at the windows, driven by a rising wind that rattled the panes as it drove in across the lot. The taller man sipped slowly from the drink that his mentor had poured while he was talking.

“Yeah. Yeah, we got him. Wasn’t easy, had to burn down the forest to drive the thing out, but Dean shot him in the head and he went down hard. Salted the corpse and scattered the ashes just to be sure.” He gulped, a deep swallow burning his throat and adding fire to his words. “That was when we… when Dean, he…” Sam stopped abruptly and put his head in his hands. “He wanted to celebrate.”

“Let me guess, a tour of all the bars in town?”

“Turns out there was just the one bar,” Sam answered ruefully. “We stowed the Colt at the motel, found our way into the local dive, spent a couple hours. We didn’t realize that our room was being watched.” He finished his glass and dropped it down on the table. He scrubbed at his red-rimmed eyes with his palms and resisted the wave of fresh, raw emotion that threatened to boil up inside. It was like holding close the valve of a steam engine with his bare hands. He hunched over, a solitary sob escaping confinement.

“One of Eve’s monsters?” Bobby asked with evident concern.

“No.” Sam answered. “That might have made some sense….”

Xxx

Sam swayed slightly as he walked beside his exultant brother. The two leaned into each other to hide their inebriation, but the joy of victory was flush above both their faces in a way that was impossible to disguise. The younger Winchester wiped absent mindedly at the smudge of soot on his brown jacket. The older brother sang a snatch of something out of tune and finished off a half forgotten line with a hearty guffaw.

“Sammy, we might just be the best hunters on the face of this God damned earth.” He studiously put one foot in front of the other as they turned the corner onto the main street, passing the darkened windows of the small butcher’s shop.

“Yeah, or the luckiest. If you hadn’t tripped when you did, that thing would have taken your head right off!”

Dean made a dismissive noise. “Pssssh. If you’re referring to my genius tactical maneuver, then you should know it was all skill. All skill.” He stumbled slightly. Sam caught him by his elbow before he could pitch face first into the asphalt of the road.

“Yeah, Dean, alright. Why don’t you just go and spell ‘maneuver’ for me. If you’re such a genius.” He gave his older brother a friendly jab in the ribs as the two ducked into the alleyway that separated the butcher from the motel complex.

“Lessee. M… a... n… um, uvver. Look, Sammy, point is we just killed the unkillable. And I’ll tell you what, that bitch mom of all monsters is going to be next. Jus’ a matter of time until you and Bobby put your nerd heads together and figure something out.”

“Whatever you say, Dea…” Sam stopped mid-word, struck silent by the sight before him. Their motel room door was ajar, the flimsy cheap lock broken. A thin bootprint marked the spot that someone had kicked in the door. Sam clamped a hand over Dean’s mouth to block his impatient prompt for his brother to finish his sentence. “Shhhhhh.” He hissed.

Dean yanked the hand off his face, but his next question was a whisper. “What?”

Sam pointed to the door and went for the concealed handgun in his waistband. Dean’s face sharpened, the signs of inebriation flushed in an instant by a cold rush of adrenaline. Someone or something was in their room. In their room with the Colt. He drew his own weapon, his thumb brushing over the well-worn safety catch as if it were a lover. He motioned forwards with a jerk of his head. The two brothers moved silently over the gravel of the parking lot, their boots barely crunching on the loose rock chips. Sam reached the door first and pressed his shoulder into the frame. No sound emenated from the darkened interior of the room. He gestured the all clear to Dean. The older brother whipped around to the other side of the open doorway and covered the visible sliver of the inside with his pistol. Nothing moved, all was still.

Dean slipped inside. The room was lit only by the half full moon outside the windows, but what little light did shine in revealed a sight that made his stomach drop. The room had been searched thoroughly. Drawers and doors hung open, their contents spread on the cheap blue carpet. The mattresses of both beds had been flipped over and slit open. Sheets lay jumbled in a corner where they had been tossed in haste. Dean’s eyes searched imploringly for the dark green duffle bag and found nothing. Then his eyes found the room’s small safe. It looked like someone had knocked in the combination lock with a hammer, leaving the door hanging open to reveal an empty compartment. Dean’s blood ran cold. He tried to swallow on a suddenly dry throat. “Sammy…”

“I see it.” Sam rushed to the safe, taking a knee and yanking open the door. “Dean, it’s gone.”

“God damn it!” Dean roared. He lashed out at a nearby end table with a booted foot, sending it crashing over. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and shook his head. “I told you we should have kept it in the car!” He turned around and just managed to catch a glimpse of someone in the uncovered outside window. A startled looking kid, dressed in a grey hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans. In his hands, the long barreled shape of a revolver. “Hey!”

The kid bolted. Dean saw red and charged after him, the devastation of his motel room forgotten.

“Dean, wait!” Sam called after him. There was no answer but the sound of leather on stone as the chase went on. Sam shook his head and began to walk after his brother. Then the gunshot came. “Dean!”

Xxx

The fire was little more than dull embers in a smoldering hearth. The empty bottle sat on the table between the two men. Bobby’s mustache twitched as he grunted softly as the younger man finished his tale. “Hmm. So, that’s it then.” Resignation was threaded through his words. “The end of Dean Winchester. Shot for his gun in Fairview, Pennsylvania. At least he went down at the end of a successful hunt.”

“I just wish…”

“Don’t,” Bobby cut him off sternly. “What you were about to say. You wish you could have done something. There weren’t a damn thing you could have done short of tacklin’ your brother down to the ground to stop him runnin’ off. And that would have lost you the Colt besides. No, ain’t nothing you could have done. Though I get the feeling you’ve already gone above and beyond on Dean’s account. Unless you’re trying to tell me it took you a week to drive the body back here.”

Sam looked away guiltily. He studiously avoided Bobby’s inquisitively raised eyebrow. Finally, he spoke, his words slightly slurred. “They couldn’t bring him back.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Not Heaven or Hell. ‘Nothing to bring back’ they both said. ‘Utterly destroyed.’” He hiccoughed. “Took some extra pleasure to rub that one in I bet. Had to look for something else. Find an alternative. I just don’t want to believe…”

“Aww Hell, Sam. You shouldn’t have put yourself through that. God knows you’ve been through that too many times already. And as for believing, well… Facts don’t care what you believe.” The older man grumbled as he propelled himself out of the sofa to go throw another log on the fire. “Why, I…” He stopped, half turned towards his surviving protégé. The guttering flames cast his grizzled face in partial shadow. “What kind of alternative?” He asked suspiciously. The look of guilt on Sam’s face intensified. He nudged a ragged bag behind the seat, failing to fully conceal the dusty tome within. “Sam, what is that? What have you brought into my house?”

With two quick steps he was across the room. The younger man tried to stop him. On a better day, he would have succeeded, but not today. Bobby was an old hand at working through the bottle while Sam’s actions were fumbling, clumsy. Thick fingers grasped the book and pulled hard. The book in the bag slipped out. Silver lettering, etched in Greek shone in the firelight as a fresh peal of thunder shook the windows. “No.”

“Bobby, I…”

“Necromancy, Sam? Have you lost your God damned mind!?” Bobby roared. The sympathy that had lined his face was gone. “What? You thought it would be okay to raise Dean’s corpse from the dead like a puppet?”

“I need my brother.” Sam said in little more than a whisper.

“I don’t care how much you think you need him. What this book’ll give you ain’t him. A freaking zombie. You may as well invite a demon to come in and ride him around like a meat suit. How could you be so stupid, boy? ‘sides, even if you bring something back that walks and talks and hunts like Dean, you think it’s going to stay that way? You’ve seen what messing with this stuff does before. And that’s not even counting what all the other hunters might think of your little bit of casual necromancy.”

“I don’t care what the others think.” Sam spat miserably, though the look of defeat was already in his eyes. He sank in on the couch and into himself as Bobby proceeded to hurl the book of black magic into the other room.

“Well it’s just as well you’ve got someone looking out for you what does. Now, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that little touch of madness, and you are going to help me give Dean the funeral he deserves. A proper, Hunter’s funeral. Now.”

There was nothing to do but agree. Sam slogged out into the rain and the wind behind his mentor and helped stack the wood for a funeral pyre. He tried not to look at the black Impala, the impromptu hearse that had carried his brother’s body for far too long. He tried to ignore the sting of the gasoline in his nostrils as he helped Bobby liberally douse the pile and the cloth wrapped form of Dean. He looked away when the match was thrown and the salt was sprinkled. He blocked out the incantation in Latin as the body began to burn, its burnt meat stink rising above the fumes. He didn’t feel the rain as it splattered over his face or the wind as it tugged at his hair and clothes. He just stood, staring into the firelight. He stood there all night, even after bobby had left to spread the ill tidings. It was early morning when the last embers finally went out in the spreading pile of ashes.

Sam knelt in the sodden dirt of the junker’s yard. Before him, the rain had made a thick mud of the funeral ash. His mind was numb, empty but for a pair of phrases that kept repeating themselves around and around in his brain. I just don’t want to believe. Don’t care what you believe.

Believe.

An idea dawned in the back of his mind as dimly at first as the dawn that seeped over the wooded landscape of Sioux Falls. It was stitched together of memory and half-forgotten lore, of fierce hope and bitter desperation.

Believe. I believe.

Before Sam new what he was doing, he had scooped up a handful of the wet ash. It was cold as ice in his hands as he loped over to where the Impala loomed silently.

I believe.

Sam knelt before the hood and clung to the thoughts that raced around his brain. Then, in the dim light of the morning, he began to paint.

#supernatural #fanfic #dean winchester

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adralockhartfanfic · 7 years

Text

Angel Eyes

I had sworn off relationships altogether, it’s been 6 months since Alyn broke off our engagement. I had been with the man for 5 years of my life. Gave him my whole heart, but he found someone else. It was another Friday night; it just so happens it was Halloween. I watched the sun set in the distance from my big bay window in my living room, curled up on the couch hardly paying attention to the marathon of slasher movies that played on the flat screen above the fireplace. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I remembered his face and how it lit up when his favorite holiday came around. I heard the laughter of children outside then a knock, I quickly wiped my cheek and rushed to the door.

“Trick or Treat”

Three young kids said in unison, they made me smile. I quickly handed them candy each one saying thank you. I watched as they ran back to their parents waiting at the sidewalk for them. After they dispersed, only a man remained. He was tall, pale skinned, black hair with streaks of dark blue that accented his blue eyes. Fur lined black leather jacket tightly hugged his body. Damn he was gorgeous, our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly my phone started blaring music from my jean pocket, causing to drop the bowl of candy in my hands. I fetched the phone from my pocket, I looked down to see the name of the caller across my screen. Lily my best friend, I answered the phone looking up to where the mysterious man stood. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! Hey I know your there I can hear you breathing”

“Sorry”

“Jeez spaced out much”

“I just saw a-no never mind. What did you want?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your best friend? I can’t just call you to talk”

I rolled my eyes as I knelt to pick up the spilled candy.

“You never call me just to talk”

I could hear her scoff on the other end, I could imagine her face.

“I called to see if you wanted to go to a Halloween party with me tonight”

“I can’t Lil, I already have plans”

“Bullshit Adra, I bet you’re just sitting at home watching that same damn marathon you watch every year, giving out candy to kids and crying your eyes out because of that dickhead”

“Lil I- “

She cut me off immediately

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, so suck it up and wear something cute”

Silence, she hung up. I picked up the bowl of candy and went back inside and plopped down on the couch. Screams up a girl getting murdered echoed through the quite house. It’s been six months I suppose its time, I laid my head back against the couch and sighed.

I stood in my closet looking through my clothes, the hangers scratched and squeaked across the bar as I pushed them out of the way. I sighed this is hopeless,

“You still not ready?”

Lily said from the doorway, making me jump out of my skin. She was already dressed in her costume; I guess a sexy kitten or something to that effect.

“Jesus fucking Christ Lils, ever hear of knocking?”

“Nope, that’s why I have a key”

I rolled my eyes at her, she pushed me out of the way of my closet. She pulled black item after black item and threw it at me,

“Yes this will be perfect!”

She squealed excitedly nudging me towards the bathroom to change. I put on the clothes reluctantly and stepped out of the bathroom, a scowl on my face.

“Don’t look at me like that, your hot as fuck”

“Gah”

I looked down at myself, black stiletto heels and fishnets graced my legs. Black mini skirt and a tiny shirt that pushed cleavage into my chin, complete with a leather jacket.

“Lil I look like a biker whore”

“A sexy ass biker whore”

She giggled

“Now makeup”

She sat me down on the bed and proceeded to paint my eyes in black eyeliner. After she was finished she practically drug me out of the house and into her car.

We drove into the hills, pulling up to a beautiful mansion, I began to fill uneasy.

“Lil are you sure about this?”

“Don’t fret, I have our legit tickets right here”

She handed me a red ticket with black writing

‘Night of bloodshed’

“Oh that’s lovely”

“C’mon Adra it’s just a theme”

I narrowed my eyes at her as she stepped out of the car, I followed after her as she made her way to the front door. I felt eyes on me, I looked over my shoulder but no one was there. Thunder rolled in the distance and lightning lit up the sky, the wind began to pick up. A storm was moving in quickly, I heard finger snapping next to my ear,

“Yo Adra, give the man your ticket”

“Oh my I’m sorry”

I handed over my ticket to the tall husky man, covered in tattoos and had more piercings in face than I could count. He gripped my wrist and placed a black band around it. He handed me a black lacy masquerade mask,

“What’s this?”

The man spoke with deep voice,

“You must wear the mask, many famous people are attending and anonymity is a must”

“Oh okay”

I sunk back at his demanding voice and I tied the mask around my face. He ushered us through the doors, the central room was packed with people dancing to loud rock music. The walls draped in black sheer curtains that blew fiercely in the wind from the open balcony doors. A flash of lightning illuminated the space around the windows, Lils walked ahead of me, but I stopped something calling to me to look towards the balcony. The man I saw across the street stood behind the curtains, they fluttered in front of his masked face, I was captivated by his beauty. Such perfect features, like a god.

“Adra”

I snapped back to reality,

“Hmm-what?”

“What are you staring at?”

“The guy over by the balcony doors”

“What guy?”

I pointed over towards the doors and he wasn’t there. I looked back at Lils with a bewildered look,

“I swear to god he was just there”

She laughed loudly patting me on the back,

“Sounds like you need a drink. I’ll be right back”

I nodded slowly, I felt unsure of myself. Did I really see him or is my mind playing tricks on me? I rubbed my temples and let out a deep sigh, damn this is too much. Lils brought me a red colored drink, I looked at it intently.

“It’s called vampires blood; they are really going all out with this blood theme”

She smiled brightly taking a sip,

“Mmm this is good! Try it!”

I held it up to lips and smelled the strange liquid, I coughed at the strength of alcohol in it. I took a small sip and began to gag,

“It’s”

Cough

“Strong alright”

Lil had already finished hers and said she was going for another. I laughed at her,

“I’m going to go look around for a bit”

She waved as she maneuvered her way back to the bar. I walked through the throngs of people, saying excuse me and pardon me. I made my way through the crowd to a less populated room with a long staircase that seemed to lead into a dark abyss. I felt an uncontrollable urge to climb up them, I felt like I was being possessed by an unknown force. My hand gripped the cold marble railing as I took my first step, each step I climbed I felt the overpowering grip of dread, but I couldn’t stop walking. Before I realized it I stood at the top of the long spiral staircase, a clock behind began to chime loudly signaling midnight.

“When did it get so late?”

“Adra”

A soft male voice spoke my name into my ear, I felt his breath on my neck. I turned to look and no one was there.

“What the hell is going on?”

I looked down the dimly lit corridor to see the mysterious man slip into one of the rooms. I quickly rushed after him, I heard the door click behind him before I reached the room. I stopped and stared at the black door, intricately carved with demons and devils, devouring women and men.

“Yeah that’s not creepy”

I muttered under my breath, I had to find out who this person was though. I have to know why he is following me, why he was at my house of all places and now he is here. I took a deep breath in and slowly pushed open the door. I peeked my head inside,

“Hello?”

I spoke softly as I slipped inside, the room flickered with shadows from the flames burning in the fireplace. I turned to close the door quietly, I felt a presence behind me and shiver ran down my spine.

“Hello Adra”

His lips slightly touched my ear lobe as he whispered. My heart raced inside my chest, I struggled through the fear coursing through me to make a jumbled sentence,

“Who why are following me you?”

I sounded better in my head, I swear. I felt his hot breath on my neck as he chuckled,

“I understand, don’t worry. My name is Sid; I am following you because I want you”

I thought about his words and took a deep breath,

“What do you mean you want me”

“Well it’s no coincidence that you showed up to my mansion tonight”

I turned to look at him, his face was so close. He stared deep into my eyes with those beautiful angel eyes. Every alarm bell in my head was goes going off in succession.

“You planned this? But why where you in front of my House-I”

His long finger covered my lips shushing me, he smiled devilishly. His lips quickly replaced his finger pulling me towards him, I fell limp in his arms overpowered by his kiss. He bit my bottom lip, causing a trickle of blood flow out, I felt him suck my lip. He pulled away slowly, his eyes a crimson red,

“You taste sweeter than I ever could have imagined”

I gasped in pleasure, I knew what he was. I knew what he wanted, I didn’t care I was possessed by him, he could take everything that was left of me. I didn’t care at that moment, I felt his teeth scrape across my neck sinking deeply into the flesh above my collarbone, I felt my conscious slip away, everything fading too black.

I awoke a short time later, I blinked my eyes open to see my lap, I lifted my head up to see a table with a black briefcase in front of me, the smell of something metallic tickled my nose, I titled my head and realized blood was seeping out the bottom. I struggled in the chair I was sitting in but my wrists were strapped to the arms of the chair. I screamed loudly, when a glove d hand covered my mouth. I looked up to see the man named Sid standing before me. He placed a finger in front of his lips,

“Sshh”

He removed his hand from my mouth and he pulled the case across the table toward him smearing blood behind it. He opened the lock and lifted the top inside were five hearts lined in a row, I gagged at the sight. He traced his fingers across an empty slot,

“These are the hearts of women I’ve loved from afar over the decades. This final slot is for you”

“Oh please no”

He stood in front of me and peered deep into my eyes, his eyes turning from blue to red.

“Oh but I must, there’s a devil inside that I can’t resist”

I felt his fist hit my chest, the pain rushed through my body, he pulled out of chest my heart cupped in his hands. Pumping just as it did in my chest, he carefully placed in the open slot. He watched as my head fell, he closed the case and smiled. He looked over in Adra’s direction as her head lifted, her eyes devoid of life blood seeping from her mouth as she smiled devilishly. His new love had been reborn into the world of darkness, he picked up the case and held out his hand to her, she snapped the restraints around her wrists.

“Let’s go get you something to feast on”

He smiled as he led her back to the party. It wasn’t called the night of bloodshed for nothing.

#sid arnault #midnight cinderella #midcin #midcinfanfic

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