#out of rage I put my pizza in the car and dump the rest of the cup out on the pavement. tasted like shit anyways

[slxyangel]

Pain and Noise (Duff x Reader)

Summary: I was fed up with just about everything that constituted my life, so I started playing.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, mentions of violence, swearing, panic attack.

Wordcount: Almost 5k

A/N: First fic I ever write, I am nervous and this was originally in Spanish, so be nice with my best try of a translation. Enjoy :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

The pain in the back of my hands was intense, searing, and growing worse with every minute I spent holding the drumsticks and unloading my rage over the drums in the studio. The accumulated tension stiffened my fingers, the muscles in my arms were numb and it had been a while since I started feeling my nails spiking my own skin because of the pressure I was putting on it. I didn’t care; I preferred to feel that rather than the anguish that had been threatening to rip off my chest these last few weeks. I don’t know how much time I spent like that. What I do remember is the pain. And the noise.

I also remember sitting on the stool during a little while the guys were out, I’m not sure what for, maybe to grab some food or take a break. They had been working on the album for months, and these days of polishing, re-recording, fixing and tuning everything up for the final version were being especially hard; they deserved a breather. “And so do I”, I told myself while I held Steven’s drumsticks and gave it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. He, as any other percussionist, didn’t like it when someone else fiddled with his instrument, not to mention if it happened without him being around to control it. I could only hope that he didn’t show up in that very moment and caught me, because I don’t think I would have the strength to explain him every thought that was circling my head the moment I decided to play his drums, and even less not to drown the whole story with my tears. I mean, come on, it was only going to be a little while.

I had been working with the band practically since the recording process for Appetite for Destruction began. I was in my last year of university, and needed an internship to complete my learning agreement, and, I still can’t comprehend how, my best friend’s father got me plugged-in in Geffen Records. They were the ones who decided that the best option for an audiovisuals student was in the recordings for a young rock band’s debut album. This is how I ended up being Mike Clink’s personal assistant and hanging out with Axl, Slash, Izzy, Duff and Steven. The chemistry had been practically automatic, I got along with them pretty quick and, even though I started being basically the coffee girl, I was always very comfortable in such a creative and carefree environment.

I remember those first days in which Mark, my boyfriend, used to drive me to the studio in his car. I could drive, of course, but my new job seemed almost more exciting for him than it did for me, so he insisted in getting me there, picking me up and making me tell him every little detail of my brand-new work life. He was thrilled when I told him how I had spent twenty minutes of my first day talking with Slash and he had shown interest about my studies, my reasons to be there and my general life. “If we’re gonna work together, we might as well be friends”, he said. The guy told me that he had a snake, that his parents were artists and that’s why he had always been so involved with music. He also said he got his first guitar when he was 15 and that he and the guys ended up together out of sheer coincidence, but they had realized they were the perfect combination, so they were really excited about their new project. It was there that I realized I was in the right place and, even if, worst case scenario, the rest of the band hated me, at least I had a new friend.

However, my worries couldn’t be any more unfounded. Once I had talked to Saul, the rest of it went smoothly. Axl was quite a character, for instance, a guy you felt like looking at. Wherever he was (because he couldn’t stand still for a second), your eyes would be glued to him. He had an enviable magnetism no matter what he did: singing one of their songs, bringing order to the mixing desk, finishing off half a liter of Jack Daniel’s… He was the kind of person who seems out of reach from every one of us mortals but, deep down, is a cinnamon roll. Our first interactions (mostly his, let’s be honest) were filled with double intentions. In any case, now that I see it in retrospective and compare it with the way he treated other girls, I came to think that this was his way to know women in general, his default mode. Actually, those anecdotes of conversations I had with the vocalist were worth a fair dose of laughing for Mark and me during our more than usual supermarket-pizza, Ben-&-Jerry’s-ice-cream dinners in the flat we shared. Over time, Axl’s phase of blatant flirting with me faded away, making room for a really close friendship between the two of us.

Izzy, on the other hand, treated me almost as if I was an experiment. Do you know the feeling when you arrive to a new school but the year has already started and everybody is curious about you? Well, that was more or less how the guitarist reacted to my incorporation. He had never been too talkative, or, at least, not as much as the rest of them, so my first days with the brunet can be summed up to him joining conversations between me and someone else, to learn a bit more about me without having to ask directly; to my hand-waving gestures and his responses raising his chin or his eyebrows; or to him offering me drags of his cigarette from time to time, while we waited for the rest of the guys to record their tracks so we could all go partying together. It was interesting. It was entertaining. It was even funny to see us unfolding, adapting to each other until we gained full trust. We could argue that his more reserved, almost wary personality and my own, more explosive and versatile, complemented each other as two puzzle pieces; one had what the other lacked.

And, while Izzy complemented me, Steven understood me. We were two peas in a pod: energetic, chaotic and jam-packed with energy. Basically the kids in the team. Like two naughty twins, we loved to terrorize the studio. We threw stuff at each other, we laughed like crazy, we yelled from one corner of the room to the other the dumbest, most absurd shit you could imagine… One of the activities I enjoyed the most was to scare away the chicks from him. Some afternoons when he was chilling on the couch, unaware and concentrated on hitting on whatever girl he had just met, I arrived, seated next to him on the couch and went full on clingy-ass-girlfriend with him: handsy and unbearable. I interrupted the groupie and put up with Steven’s deadly glares until, after a while, the girl took off, sometimes walking towards one of the other guys, sometimes straight to her house. The drummer always got mad at me when I did this to him, but his anger never lasted for more than ten minutes.

And then there was Duff. He was something else, something different. I had never had such a connection with anyone, and even less with anyone I had met for so little time. Duff had his own light, like an extremely bright star, and I was flashed by it but, at the same time, he irradiated a delightful kind of warmth, too nice for me to voluntarily step away. He was fun, he was compassionate, he was sensible, he was a little bit mad and he made everything unspeakably easy. The rest of the band spent their days saying that we should have sex or betting on whether we were or weren’t conscious of the sexual tension they assured was too obvious between us. At first, we either told them to fuck off or went along with it, but without giving it much of a second thought. At the end of the day, I was dating Mark, who I adored, and Duff knew it. We were nothing but friends, like the rest of the guys.

Weeks went by and I kept getting closer and closer with the bassist: we talked about everything and anything, we told each other countless anecdotes from our lives before arriving to L.A., and he even sometimes helped me with the paperwork. More than once, even though smoking was allowed in the studio, the two of us stepped outside to do it, and a break that was meant to last for 10 minutes ended up being one hour long. When this happened, Slash had to come out for him, wielding his guitar and threatening to smash it on his head if he wasn’t back inside in the following fifteen seconds. In fact, some of those days when it took me longer to finish my job he would stick around and offer me a ride home before he headed to the club, so that Mark didn’t have to come pick me up that far that late.

Of course, it was all being too good to be true. The first day this happened, when I arrived home in “some other dude’s car, instead of a fucking taxi”, Mark’s own words, I found a version of my boyfriend that I didn’t like one tiny bit: wary, silent and mean. When I asked what his problem was I already saw the answer coming, but I just refused to believe he was going to get all possessive over such a nonsense, he had never behave like that. That night we went from yelling at each other to the silent treatment in a matter of a few hours, and the next day, when I got to the studio in my own car for the first time since the guys knew me, that place looked like goddamn press conference. They took less than two minutes to notice I was a little bit off, and less than five to tell me “Dump him, fuck Duff”. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t broken up with Mark, we had just argued; I would speak to him and we would fix things; that’s what couples did. Bitch, you thought.

For the next few days everything seemed to have turned back to normal: my boyfriend and I were okay, he said he was sorry and begged me to let him apologize by being my chauffeur again. I didn’t quite feel like rocking the boat after that night, so the idea of not driving myself to work didn’t seem that bad, until the days Mark started arriving a little earlier each day. Five minutes, fifteen, half an hour before my cutoff time, as if he had to make sure I went back home with him, as if he had to keep an eye on me. In fact, one of the days in which he arrived with a bigger margin of time, he decided it was a good idea to wait inside the studio while the band was recording, and argued that “it would be a lot more boring to wait in the car”. Over the last days, the guys had noticed how pissed it made me the fact that he was chasing after me, behaving like an asshole and little more than tying a leash around my neck, so Axl stepped up and asked him to leave, since the guy wouldn’t listen to me. I have to admit I was surprised with how calmly the vocalist took the intrusion, taking into account his normally short temper. He told Mark that “it wasn’t his problem if he wanted to be his girlfriend’s chauffeur, but he couldn’t simply burst into a private property as if it was his house, and even less when they were working.” To be honest, that was one hell of a comeback, because if the singer had exposed the real reasons why he wanted him out, the other one would have clutched at straws to the philosophy “She is my girlfriend, you don’t get a saying on this.” But on his argument and on his turf, Axl had the upper hand.

Despite all the efforts, Mark told him to mind his own business and that, if the redhead kicked him out of the studio, he would be behaving like a total dick. Then, as if the destiny was trying its best to fix things, sarcasm be sensed, Duff showed up in the anteroom where we were. As soon as my boyfriend saw him, his eyes started blazing, and it only took the bassist telling him he had to leave and that I was still in my working hours so I wouldn’t go with him, for his fist to connect with Duff’s jaw in a nasty jab. And hell was fucking raised.

Axl pushed Mark, who was holding my arm with the same hand he had punched the blond with two seconds ago. Not letting go of me, he tackled the vocalist, mumbling something I can’t remember. Then he walked towards the front door, grabbing me with him. “Let’s go. Now”, he ordered. His fingers dug into my skin with such anger and despair that I could already feel the bruise forming underneath, and I was half shocked, half scared shitless. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get in the car with him and I didn’t want any more punches either, but in any case my limbs were not responding to the commands my brain tried to make, whichever they were. It was then that, halfway across the room, before reaching the door, Mark stumbled and fell, finally releasing my arm. The first thing I saw when I lifted my eyes was Duff standing there, with his mouth covered in blood, shaking his right hand once and breathing heavily.

- If you ever touch her again like that, I’ll kill you.

While Mark was trying to get up, Slash stormed in from the recording room. He had seen the events of the last two minutes from his position behind the glass, and he wasn’t going to take any more of that shit. Right before the other one went ballistic attacking the bassist and blood started to hit the fan, Saul grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kicked him, literally, out of the place. Once the metal door had closed between Mark and us, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I vaguely remember I started hyperventilating, on my knees, on the floor, and the sound of punches hitting metal on the outside was all but helping me calm down. As tears streamed down my face and I frantically run my fingers through my hair, a hand started trailing my back. It was a soft touch, slow, really slow. Making its way upwards and then going back down, over again. The noise level had considerably decreased, and now all I could listen to were whispers, the sweetest whispers coming from the mouth of one single person. “Shhhh, easy. You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here. Breathe.” Little by little my quick and superficial breathing became steadier, and after a few minutes I was able to stand up to sit on the couch. The beating on the door had stopped, and I realized all the guys were surrounding me, worried look on their faces, as Duff, seating beside me, still had his hand in my back.

_________________

It had been two weeks since that day. After the incident, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be under the same roof as Mark, and even less with the fight still recent. Who knows what he would do to me as soon as I crossed the threshold… The guys profusely insisted that I could stay with any of them, but they let me use their phone to call my best friend when I told them I would be in very good hands with her. Laura received me with a warm hug the moment she saw me, and that night, at her home, we cried, we ranted and we ate ice-cream until we couldn’t take any more. I have to admit that, given the circumstances, she managed pretty well to get me into bed feeling kinda happy. But of course, nothing lasts forever. I was about to graduate, with no home (the foster-bed in Laura’s house didn’t count), no boyfriend and no plans of work, projects or future in general; ahead of me there was a massive precipice with seemingly no ending. Besides, the production process for Appetite was coming to an end, and so did my internship and the months of togetherness with the band. Now was the time for press conferences, concerts and, if it all went well, the tour. To be honest I was super happy for them. I had seen the birth of that album, and I was blindly certain that with such a masterpiece they were bound to success. It was inevitable. But in any case, that meant the end of what had given me the most joys in the last four months and, if apart from all the financial and emotional stability I had gained during my college years, someone took that away from me… what did I have left?

__________________

After that much time hitting the drums, I had ultimately interiorized the beat so much now I was just reproducing it on loop, with my eyes closed and breathing heavily. I was so self-absorbed that I didn’t realize the door had opened and someone had stepped into the studio. Suddenly I felt how, behind my back, two hands softly landed on my shoulders. I didn’t stop playing. My arms moved now with less vigor to the beat I had marked from the beginning, while those fingers gently traced small circles in the back of my neck, comforting me.

Duff.

It had to be him, I was certain.

Little by little I reduced the speed of my movements, gradually, until I completely stopped playing. When I left the drumsticks on the snares and turned around in the stool I saw him. He was standing there, right in front of me, asking with his eyes, a calm and expressive look on his face. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped my lips. He was worried about me.

- Good thing it was you who entered, and not Steven – I said, half jokingly, as I stood up, hoping to relax the tension built up between us.

- Yeah – he laughed softly. – Had it been him he would have ripped the drumsticks off your hands and hit you with them.

I laughed too, quietly, bitterly. This was too much for me. The words we never said were floating around, like a thousand needles falling into a tailspin above us; eventually, they would have to land. The worst part was that I didn’t know if I craved that moment or, on the contrary, dreaded it.

It looked like he had read my mind when he slowly, almost asking for permission, held my hands. I startled a bit with the contact, but I let him go on. Duff looked at them for a second before he noticed the tiny wounds I had unconsciously inflicted on myself digging my fingernails too hard a while before, at the drums. Without saying a word, he started caressing them very softly, as if he wanted to calm, more than my physical pain, the sentimental one. He was breathing deeply and slightly frowning. He was concentrated in trying to make that feeling disappear, the confusion, the guilt, the fear… the stream of emotions that had been threatening to break me for some time now. He looked me in the eyes. In that very moment, the temperature inside the room raised a few degrees. We were really close. So close I could feel his breath on me, listen to his heartbeat accelerating with every second that went by, see how his lips lightly parted, practically not at all, only a hint of the thought that filled our minds in that place, in that moment. Then, almost involuntarily, as an instinctive reflex, I stretched my neck upwards. That was the only sign he needed to make the already scarce distance between our lips disappear, and kiss me.

The contact was slow, sweet and full of longing. Our lips moved rhythmically, perfectly fitting on each other’s. Duff was still holding my hands, and I could feel my breath accelerating progressively. I released one of my hands and placed it on his neck, stroking the hair on his nape and helping myself keep balance in my tippiest toes. He saw my struggles and moved his free hand to my waist, firmly holding me so that I wouldn’t fall. All of a sudden, I felt the urge to be closer to him, even more. Everything that I hadn’t been able to do and that had bottled up inside of me was now too overwhelming, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. Our kiss intensified, we hungrily enjoyed each other, panting. The next thing I knew was that Duff had placed his hands on the back of my thighs and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and leaned my arms on his shoulders, so I could keep kissing him while he crossed the room and sat on the leather couch, with me straddling his lap. He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, slightly lifting the hem of my dress, as if he was testing some boundaries that I hadn’t set and, at this point, I didn’t plan to.

I was euphoric, nervous and loaded with desire. In a burst of braveness or lust, I’m not entirely sure, I started to buck my hips, back and forth, following a slow path at first, which progressively accelerated. The friction of my underwear in direct contact with his leather pants was about to drive me mad, and I couldn’t stop. His hands, which a moment ago were on my hips, guiding them, started moving over my lower stomach, tracing the edge of my panties in painfully slow motions. His breath was also heavier, somehow ragged, and I felt him hardening beneath me. His lips were stuck to the base of my neck, lightly sucking as I, with my eyes closed and lips parted into a silent “O”, gently pulled his blond hair. My core grew more sensitive by the minute, and when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold the moan trapped in my throat anymore, his fingers touched my most sensitive spot, turning my steadily rocking hips not that steady for a moment.

In a matter of seconds, and with his hand working wonders between my legs, I got rid of the dress, which only bothered, and the perspective of my almost absolute nudity on top of his entirely dressed body made me shake with arousal. His free hand took care of my breasts, now exposed, as I dug my nails into his shoulders, underneath the sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

-  Take it off – I managed to blurb between gasps.

-  What? – Duff seemed confused, too concentrated on something else for having been able to follow the road of my own thoughts.

-  Your shirt, take it off. I want to touch you.

A shit-eating grin lit up his face right before he separated in a quick motion from that piece of clothing and threw it somewhere else. Immediately after, in a total change of the atmosphere, he laid back on the couch and, placing his hands behind his head, said:

-  Then touch me.

I didn’t hesitate for a single second. My hands flew to his shoulders, his arms, his shoulders again and went down his chest as I peppered kisses all over his lips, jaw, neck, collarbones… I took my sweet time while swinging my hips against the fabric that separated my pussy from his erection, and my nails traced a descending path down his torso, really slowly. I could notice how he was growing desperate; I felt his breath, now turned into a subtle growl, against my hair; I realized how shortly he had managed to keep his hands off me, since now he was caressing my flanks, my back and my chest. When I reached the cord of his pants with my fingers, I slowly undid the knot that tied them together and slipped my hand underneath, without stopping my hip motions. The very moment I found the base of his length, a soft grunt escaped his lips. He was driving me insane.

After a while arousing each other, we couldn’t stand the teasing any longer and Duff took the first step to getting rid of the clothes that were still around. I stood up and took off my sandals so that he could slide my panties down my legs, grazing my skin along the way. He also let go of both his pants and sneakers, tossing them on the carpet. Our moves were clumsy thanks to eagerness and anticipation. I once again sat on top of him, in our initial position, only now there were no clothes in the middle of the road. I could feel him against me. Touch. Friction. Desire. His expert fingers moved now freely over my core, as he left little love bites under my left ear. I kept on rubbing his cock, fully hard and a bit wet, while, with my other hand, I held on to his hair for dear life. We were close, really close. It felt as if every centimeter of my skin was on direct contact with Duff. He was everywhere, every corner, every goosebump, every scar… With all this overstimulation, my moans filled the room, and I didn’t have enough sanity to realize anyone could come in. I was a mess.All of a sudden, right when I was seconds away from cumming, his hands disappeared from my core. Even though I couldn’t see myself, I was sure in my eyes one would be able to read the anticipation and confusion.

-  Wait – he said in a desperate whisper -. I want to feel you, I want to be inside of you.

If he hadn’t stopped touching me a moment before, I am sure that sentence would have sent me to the wildest of orgasms, but it wasn’t the time for my sweet release. Not yet. He put his hand right next to mine, on his cock, and, with an almost unbearable slowness, he brought the tip of it to my entrance. A trembling sigh fell from my lips and we looked into each other’s eyes. Then, I gently let my hips descend on his lap, and he completely slid inside of me, letting escape an unearthly growl that gave me chills. He had dropped his head back, leaving his neck and collarbones exposed to me, but I had my eyes closed as I tried to control the delightful contractions that were about to take over me. I felt him inside of me, extremely deep. As if we were two pieces of the same puzzle, as if we had been manufactured specifically to be together. Now THAT was overstimulation. Once my body had adjusted to him, I started motioning my hips up and down, holding on to his shoulders so that I didn’t lose the limited balance I had left. He once again was looking at me, with his hands on my waist as I kept the path. Close, very close. His arms slid around me and I kissed his lips eagerly. Our moans died in one another’s mouth while the movements became faster, erratic, frenetic. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep my sanity, I was almost raving with pleasure, and the moment our lips broke away to take air and we looked at each other, nose to nose, without stopping for a moment, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I came with a flashing intensity, pronouncing his name countless times, asking God knows who for this moment to last forever. I couldn’t stop screaming, and when Duff begged my name and I felt his liquid warmth filling every bit of me, I saw white.

_______________

His hand stroked tenderly my naked back while my breath came back to normal against his neck. The same as that day, but at the same time entirely different. I was still on top of him, he was still inside of me. I hadn’t yet gathered the strength to pull him apart from me, but he didn’t seem willing to get separated either, so we stood like that for a while, I don’t even know how much, but I don’t care. This felt utterly intimate, intense, extremely ours and totally apart from the rest of people, from the rest of things. It was a parallel universe inside of a crystal ball. It was the embodiment of all that was right. What we had been, without knowing or admitting it, even to ourselves, waiting for all this time.

#duff #smut #angst #guns n roses #duff mckagan #oneshot #imagine #fanfic #reader #fem reader

[dawnowar]

So this school lunches thing got me thinking about the way my abusive stepmother treated me as a child.

Thats as much of a trigger warning as you’re getting cause I think its better to process things than avoid them...  I have time to write and this is on my mind this second. Writing is a huge part of how I process things... so here we go.

So i passed on a post cause our local school system is offering free lunches for any kids under 18, which is great. I’m a big proponent for school lunches because growing up my evil stepmother didnt feed me right. and I was a rich kid so i think there was a lot of expectation that i was being taken care of in a way that I was not.

My stepmothers whole thing.. my family’s whole thing.. was pretending we were a normal family. Presenting that way to the outside world. Even in our house there was a huge degree of this. Which made it worse for me because it was so easy for people to assume i was just a weird kid when the signs presented themselves to people who could have helped me.

Anyway since i grew up and especially after she died, so many people told me that of course they noticed things weren’t right and of course they said something and fought for me. I never knew that until recently. So as nice as it is to hear, it didn’t help me live through those 8 or so years she was in charge of me.

At home she fed me candy.  and ice cream. cupcakes, etc. and that’s all. Breakfast was one cup of hot cocoa with two packets of mix in there that was always like a clumpy syrup at the bottom of the cup. After school was candy until my dad got home and we would all sit at the table and pretend to eat a meal together. She would give me the tiniest portion of meat or any real food and then tell my dad how I “eat like a bird”. which is nonsense. He never questioned it any further than that. 

On weekends when I had to eat at home I was allowed noodles and butter, mac and cheese and not a lot else. just pasta. When I got older, I would actually sneak eggs and tuna when she wasnt home. I’m sure she noticed these things going missing but what was she gonna do after I ate it? 

She had a lot of rules on me for every single thing. That didn’t make any sense. Where i was allowed to go, where i was allowed to sit, who i was allowed to talk to.. and i just mean in the house on a regular day... I wasnt allowed to use the upstairs bathrooms at all, i had to use the guest bathroom downstairs and I wasn’t allowed to bathe or shower, but when I got older i started sneaking showers when she was gone as well. 

I’d hear the garage door close as she was leaving and I’d be showering and eating tuna and trying my best to cover up my tracks before she got back. 

All this started gradually... wasnt at once or anything so when it started i was like 8 give or take.. and we moved a couple of times so more rules were put in place as i was moved further away from the neighbors who looked after me. When i was 10 we moved to a different city where I knew no one and i was on my own. Inside my own home. I just had to deal with it till i grew up. But it got much worse before it got better. By the time i was around 14, i was dealing with growing up stuff.. by the time I was 16 she really couldn’t control me anymore, so stuff like what i ate or where I sat or if I showered... i just one day figured out that if i just do things she usually cant or wont stop me. 

She used to steal my things and i didn’t have a hairbrush for years. I wasnt allowed to bathe, or do my laundry and I didn’t have a hairbrush, so you can imagine I looked like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown. She told my teachers I liked being like that or something. One of my gym teachers humiliated me once by forcing me to stay after class and shower as if i was just gross and she was solving the problem. She just humiliated me on top of all i was suffering, so i didn’t look to teachers to help me. 

My evil stepmother was physically abusive to me as well but that was the easy part. She would just go into rages and take it out on me if i didn’t obey her nonsensical rules which were impossible to follow anyway. She would come and attack me while I was asleep any morning my father left for work early. Most mornings. A normal morning for me..... She would wake me up by dragging me out of bed by my hair, onto the floor, out of my room, into the hall, around the corner and down the stairs and leave me at the bottom of the stairs to start my morning routine getting dressed and ready for school. 

Then I watched cartoons in the TV room by myself and drank the chocolate sludge till it was time to get on the bus to go to school where all the kids hated me because i was gross and I spent all day getting teased and taunted till I came home and went back to the TV room where she would either bring me candy or come in an attack me and pull my hair out. I wouldn’t know which one she was coming in the room for until she was doing it. There was a lock on the door and I would lock her out when she was being violent but she had the lock removed. Lied to the locksmith and my dad and made them believe there was a reason to take the lock out, so I started locking myself in the bathroom.

By the time I was 16, I was a much more imposing figure she couldn’t control completely anymore. I was washing myself and i was dressing myself so i didn’t look so dorky and maybe people started liking me at school. I got super lucky that a girl actually became my friend at school. She was not only super-independent but she had a car so she could pick me up and drive me away and she had a job working at a laundromat so i was able to wash my clothes for free and spend time away from home and learn how to grow up into a person who could do something besides just stay alive. 

But clear up to the very end of high school school lunches were my main source of nutrition. My evil stepmother was letting me eat pizza by then too. For her, being fat was the worst possible thing I guess so she just tried her best to fatten me up feeding me only carbs while both her daughters grew up to become anorexic. 

The first day I was actually on my own ever.. I was in England and I had just slept off the jet lag in my new rented room that was just for me. I wasnt on any program or plan. I wasn’t at college, nobody was in charge of me...  i was just there. just me and this rented room and I woke up in the morning with nothing and realized i needed to feed myself. I went to McDonald’s and got a vanilla milkshake and realized i have no idea how to feed myself like a normal person. 

I had to start that day and figure every single thing out for myself via trial and error about how to be a person in the real world.

That woman only had control of me for 8 years of my life and then I went out into the world and became a real person after that. She didn’t break me or destroy me. She did, however, destroy my family.

Its my dad’s fault for letting her. I’ve always felt this way. He was the adult. He was the only one who could have stopped it but instead he spent his time pretending everything was OK. I didn’t know until recently that literally EVERYONE told him, so he was willfully ignorant. He sacrificed his own children for this facade of a relationship with this woman. I can’t explain why a person does that, but he left me and my brother to fend for ourselves.

Which we did and we are ok. 

I don’t care what happened to her or her daughters. She basically stole the life I should have had and gave it to her children, but from what little i know about them from the outside is that they had their own problems which seem much harder to get past than what I had to deal with. 

I don’t mourn the loss of that life i never had any more than I mourn the life that we pretended we were having that we never were. 

I only wish I’d known back then the enormous power I really had if i’d only just kept on telling everyone who would listen truth. If i had told everyone everything at every turn i would have saved myself. I didn’t know that at the time. I was just a kid and I gave up because i didn’t believe anyone was listening once my most trusted adult didn’t believe me. I suffered until I grew up and didn’t have to suffer anymore. 

I am an emotionally healthy adult for the most part. I’m not without scars. It’d be impossible to come out of that unscathed. I’m perpetually single because being alone is safe and comforting for me. Because when people come in, you don’t know if they’re going to attack you or give you candy but neither one of them is what you really need. 

I flailed around for a lot of years as an adult trying to figure out how to take care of myself. I finally got it right after my boyfriend in the late 90s dumped me and I wasn’t dealing well when my best friend died and everything just burned down around me and i had to rebuild everything from scratch slowly and methodically starting with cleaning my kitchen and i found the flylady.org who put me on the path to getting my house cleaning under control and then the rest of it followed. 

Now i actually clean other peoples houses for a living.

We always had housekeepers and those ladies were the best women to me ever in my life and I’m proud to see that I’ve followed in their footsteps. These are the women who cared for me. These are the women who were kind to me. These are the women who worked hard for what they had instead of marrying rich and stealing from their cash-cow’s children. 

I didnt get the evil stepmother until I was around 7 or 8 years old but i had plenty of great parenting, people who loved me, people who took great care of me and taught me to be smart before I got there. I believe this is how I survived. 

School lunches, other people’s good parents, and good role models on my TV. And Rock and Roll, which became a real source of empowerment, an outlet for stress, and a way for me to meet people who became friends as I got older. 

I love all the true crime stories of how abused children grow up and somewhere around puberty they rebel and their abuser can’t control them anymore. I think this is how so many of us get away. We become adults. Probably best you don’t kill your abuser, but there’s some part of that tragedy i can’t help but like when you find out people like Gypsy Rose Blanchard was suffering for so long so she did something about it. 

I never did shit. 

I grew up and got away and that’s good enough. This woman didn’t give a fuck about me and until i got away from her and my dad pretending everything was fine and her daughters going along with it all, I was never going to have my own real life... which i deserved to have. 

Glad i wasnt so trapped i felt like i had to kill her to get away. She was more than happy to let me go away so I was already gone years before i realized i didnt have to let her control any part of my life at all. 

Seems so dumb i still played along for so many years after I was grown and moved away. It’s just the way things were for so long i just kept doing it. 

Until one day my younger sister was getting married and she called me to ask me to be in the wedding and im like...... you dont even like me, why would you want me in your wedding? and she said she orig only wanted her sister but they needed more bridesmaids or something.. maybe that was other sisters wedding.. i cant remember but it was stupid and had nothing to do with me and i was not gonna put my life on hold and spend all this money to travel states away to pretend any of this mattered to me so that was it. 

It was over. Finally.  Totally over.  All I had to do was just not live like that anymore. 

and I did. I live however I want to now. 

So fast forward to present time and im in my early 50s and i get a call says the evil stepmother is dead and my dad is still alive but only barely. My first inclination is to scoop him up and go thank goodness thats over, but unfortunately i doubt he saw it that way. and instead it ended with me trying to contact him directly and not through my step-sister but it was impossible and disappointing since she was still trying to act like the middleman i didn’t ask for but not providing any useful information or assistance in communicating with him.  She wanted me to call him even though he can’t hear so a phone call was just going to be more of the pretending everything is fine I refuse to take part in anymore.

I wrote him a letter directly asking him to take his time and write me back but all i got back was more interference from her and more insistence that i call him. Which I never did..... because he can’t hear. so what’s the point. He died shortly after that and i knew almost nothing about what was happening or not happening at any point.  

So he’s gone now too. Buried with the wife and one of the sisters who committed suicide a few years back. Growing up in a family like this isn’t good for anyone even if you aren’t the target for the abuse. All three of them are gone and im not sorry im glad for it. 

Their dead bodies can lie in the ground pretending they were a good family and no one walking by them ever has to know the truth. That’s how they lived their lives and that’s how they’ll rest forever. 

I expect to have a lot of life left to live and i’m going to do it on my own terms and be kind to people and not value money or other people’s perceptions of me over everything. 

[malmuses]

A Very Human Risk - Part 4 - Dean

Authors Note:

Hello to anyone that’s reading! If you’re new to my tumblr or to this particular fic, the place you probably want to start is here.

As you may have seen so far, each fic-part switches between POV’s. We’re back to Dean today, though we’re still in angst-vile. All is not lost, though! Bear with me, sweet tumblr-inos :)

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to anyone who reads, notes, comments or messages. This is just the beginning of my tumblr experience and it has been wonderful so far!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

A Very Human Risk

Part 4 - Dean

“Cas? You still in the shower?” 

Dean could hear water running as he swiped the motel card and stepped through the door. He dumped the beer he carried down onto the end of the second bed, avoiding thinking for the moment about the strange, yet somehow exhilarating moment with Cas in that spot just a short while before. “Cas?”

He stepped up to the bathroom door, knocking with one knuckle. “Hey Cas, I’m back… I’m kinda still hungry, you wanna order pizza or something?”

The water continued to run, but there was no response. Calm down Dean. He’s fine, he found himself thinking. Unbidden, the image of Cas’s face, his eyes closed as he lay on a simple cabin table, comes rushing to Dean. He’s fine. He’s not dead. He’s in the shower.

For a few minutes, Dean stood awkwardly next to the door, before forcing himself to shake off his jacket and place his gun on the nightstand. His eyes rested on the bathroom door. I’ll just open the door and shout, I won’t go in and be weird…. I just need to know he’s okay. Just checking up. It’s been a rough day, after all.

“Cas, just letting you know I’m back from the store.” Steam gushed out of the tiny bathroom past Dean as he swung the door open, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the foot of the bed, standing sideways in the entrance.

When there was no response, Dean was done. He stuck his head into the bathroom.  “Sorry Cas, I’m not meaning to intrude or anything, I swear… don’t think you could hear me calling from the bedroom.”

It took a couple of seconds for Dean to take in the scene before him. Cas is stood in the shower, burning water beating down onto his shoulders, as he leaned his forward to rest his brow on the tile, a hand each side of him holding him up. The rest of his body was somewhat obscured by the slightly yellowing shower curtain, but the plasticy fabric did nothing to hide the fact that the angel was crying. Deans green eyes widened in surprise as they followed the tears down the angels cheeks. It had taken a moment to even realize what he was seeing… the drip of red falling from the corner of Cas’s squeezed shut eye. Deep distress. Dean had looked it up once, with Sam – both of them fearing that Naomi had done some physical damage to Cas. But the only reference they had found to angels crying blood had indicated that when suffering, an angel can lose control of their empty vessel and without the underlying processes that make the vessel ‘alive’ for the angel, the tear ducts can fill with blood. Suffering.

Dean approaches gently, a hand going out to rest on the back of the angel’s neck. Goddamn that water is hot, he registered in the back of his mind. “Castiel?”

He jumped. Cas jumped like a cat, so lost in thought that even with his supernatural angel-senses he hadn’t heard Dean speak or approach until his fingers rested on top of his spine. He blinked over at him, streaks of bloodied pink water quivering down his cheeks. “Dean?”

Brow furrowed with concern, Dean pushed the shower curtain aside and reached up to turn the water off with one hand, using the strong, tanned arm that now rested atop Cas’s back to pull the angel into his chest. 

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” The sparkle of green in Dean’s eyes seemed to glint dangerously for a second. “Did someone hurt you?”

Whatever answer the angel would have made was lost into Dean’s chest as his attempts at comfort seem to suddenly cause Cas to come undone, shaking and sobbing into his arms.

Well shit, Dean thought. He battled with sorrow at seeing his best friend sobbing so desolately, warring with a simmering rage at whatever or whoever had caused this distress in the usually stoic angel. How do I fix a wet, bawling angel who can’t even tell me what’s wrong?

Keeping a firm hold on Castiel, one arm around him at all times, Dean guided his reddened, damp body out of the shower and through to the bedroom, murmuring senseless, comforting gibberish the whole time. 

“It’s okay Cas, I got you… Come on buddy, I got you…” 

He pressed lightly on Cas’s surprisingly muscled shoulder, forcing him to sit down onto the bed as Dean pulled the top blanket up and tried to get it around him, suddenly very conscious that Cas is completely naked. Keep your eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, He chanted mentally as he maneuvered the blankets, tucking them around the angel like a fussing mother hen. Sitting next to him then, Dean extended an arm around his blanketed shoulders and pulled him towards him again. They sat like that for a few minutes while the angel’s breathing slowed and his sobs became gentle hiccups.

Once he seemed calmer, Dean tilted his head down, trying to catch Cas’s eyes. He could feel the heat radiating out from his reddened skin even though the blanket. 

“Hey hot wings,” he tried lightly. “You always have the shower that warm? Human skin can be a little fragile, y’know.”

“Yes,” Cas answered simply, his voice even lower and scratchier than usual from all the crying. His gaze dropped back to his blanketed lap, returning to silence and breathing.

“Do you, uh… do you wanna talk about it?” Dean asked quietly, hoping that his voice didn’t betray that ‘talking about it’ was hardly one of his strong suits.

Cas raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. He knew. 

“I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable Dean.” He paused and shook his head slightly. “Let’s just put some TV on. A beer, maybe.”

Although that was definitely what Dean would prefer in any situation, something didn’t sit right in his stomach just letting the angel shrug it off. He was crying blood. Sobbing like a baby. He barely shows any emotion at all but… he seemed so heartbroken. I can’t let that go, buddy.

* * *

After passing Cas the remote so he could find a show for them to watch, Dean stood from the bed and stepped briefly into the bathroom so he could privately call Sam in a whisper.

“Dean? Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the bathroom, away from Cas.”

“You know he can probably hear you anyway, right?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. But I’m hoping he’s being polite. Listen…. Did anything happen earlier? When you were sneaking around with my damn car?”

He heard Sam give a long exhale before he responded. “Why Dean? Like what?”

“I went to get beer and when I came back he… he was in the shower. Crying, Sam. Like… tears of blood crying. Remember when the God Squad tortured Samandriel?”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. 

“Yeah, uh… I guess that might be my fault. I mean, it might not be, but…” Sam trailed off awkwardly. “Did he say anything to you? Before you went to the store?”

“Not really… he cleaned up one of my wounds for me. We…uh... chatted for a minute I guess.” Dean reached up, pushing his hand through his hair. “I mean… it was a little… intense? I suppose? I dunno. Probably no weirder than he usually is. Why? What’s going on Sam – what did you do?” The frustration was clear in Dean’s voice.

“You’re probably going to be mad at me, and I just want to say you have every right to be, I probably should have talked to you first…”

“Sam.”

“I just… I thought I was helping him I guess? I mean I understand why you would be angry but…”

“SAMMY.”

“He’s in love with you, Dean.”

And..... that’s it for today! Back tomorrow, to our embarrassed Angel.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

#destiel #supernatural #spn #s13 #all the feels #dean cas #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #dean #fluff #impala #shippersam #samshipsit #post-empty #dean grief #first time #first kiss #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #canon divergent #sam #misha collins #smut #optional smut #supernatural s13 #team free will

[thirst4fictionalmen]

The Holiday Pt.1 (Billy x Reader)

words: 2700

summary: The reader thinks that Billy didn’t want to celebrate Valentine’s day. Little did she know that Billy just couldn’t afford to give her anything. 

You only brought up the holiday once just to figure out if you should schedule something for that day. You asked Billy, your boyfriend of two months (give or take a few weeks), about Valentine’s Day and he fucking scoffed. Like how dare you think about going on a romantic date with your boyfriend. Especially, your first boyfriend since the rest of the guys in towns is bland assholes (besides Steve, of course). At least Billy his a hot asshole (and becoming less of one but now that made you rethink your choices).

That was two weeks ago.

You knew that Billy wouldn’t go all out for Valentine’s Day, but you were at least expecting a date. It didn’t even have to be at a fancy restaurant, but a movie or going to a diner and sharing a milkshake and fries (even if you hate sharing your food because get people should get their own food!).  Billy can be romantic if he wanted to be. Hell, he gave you a mixtape for Christmas (even if you don’t really care much for metal music) it was the thought that counted. And you even got him a gift, too for Valentine’s Day. You kind of knew that the day was just a cabalistic scam to increase sales because who should put a value on love? But a small part of you wanted to do something romantic. This is your first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend. And to make things less stressful for Billy, you even get him a gift because why does everyone expect the guy to be the only one giving gifts?

It was nothing special but you were still excited to give it to him. So when you heard the roar of his Camaro outside your house, you grabbed his gift from the kitchen counter and made your way out the door.

“Good Morning,” you greeted him before giving him a short kiss on the cheek. He looked at you warily as if he was expecting something. “What?”

“…Nothing,” Billy mumbled before driving out the driveway. “Hey, Max. How ya doing?” you asked her. Max was frowning when you looked back. “What’s wrong?” you asked her. She glanced at Billy, so you did the same to see him glancing back at her through the rearview mirror. Something is up… “We just had a talk,” Billy explained. You waited for either of them to elaborate but none spoke any further. You sighed. It must have been about you then since you know what goes on in the house. Max was the one to tell you since Billy did not want to you to think of him as he said: “a weak ass pussy”. “Anyways…” you pulled out both Valentine’s Day gifts from inside your coat. Billy’s eyes widened in shock. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Max sucked her teeth. “I thought the guy was supposed to be the one to give gifts.” “That’s what they want you to think,” you wink at her as you tossed her the bag full of treats. You then turned to your boyfriend who was frowning with his jaw clenched. “You can’t eat yours until after school.” “And why’s that?” Knowing the Billy can handle his alcohol, you handed him one of the chocolate truffles from his bag of treats. He took his with a bit of hesitation before throwing it in his mouth. His blue eyes widened as soon as he took a bite. “I-Is their booze in this?” You grinned. “Yep, whiskey to be exact. Thought I should spice it up with the chocolates.” You then relaxed in your seat. You felt better when Billy’s hands clasped onto your thigh like usual. And there was no other mention of this dreaded holiday. You didn’t bother asking again about it to Billy since you were not ready to start a silly fight in the morning. But as if Max was reading your thoughts, “So, Y/N, you have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” You side-eyed Billy who kept looking straight but his face was now red with anger. Must have been the secret conversation he had with Mad. Keeping your cool you said, “Nope. Probably doing homework tonight. Do you?” “U-um, just hanging out with Lucas.” “Hanging out? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” you teased her. “We’re just hanging.”

Billy decided if he does not think about Valentine’s Day then his anger won’t flare up. Unfortunately, Max didn’t get the memo. When Neil and Susan told them about their dinner plans for tonight, Susan then asked Billy if he had any plans with Y/N. Billy declined and that’s when he earned a confused expression from his step-sister. “You’re not doing anything for Y/N?” Max asked him as soon as she got into his car. Of course, she wouldn’t let this go. Billy knew that his girlfriend was more than half the reason that Max tolerated him more. Billy had to admit that Y/N simmered down the typical rage he can make him pretty compliant when she gifts him with her shy smile. “And here I thought you were trying to be a decent boyfriend.” “Shut the hell up, Max,” he told her. Billy reeling in his anger that really wants to yell at her but he’s getting better at not taking his annoyance out on her. Too much at least. “She’s gonna dump you if you don’t do anything romantic every once in a while,” she commented. And Max looked seriously scared about the idea of Y/N dumping him as if she’s also dumping Max. It is not like she won’t see her if things don’t work out between them. Max was ‘friends’ with Y/N before Billy even became her boyfriend. She’s babysits that annoying curly haired kid and is fucking best friends with Steve Harrington. She was even there at the Byers’ house when he knocked the shit out of Harrington. That didn’t bode well with her since at the time she was thinking about going on a date with him. That set their relationship back by a couple of weeks. Billy had to apologize to both Harrington and Sinclair before she even glanced at him. It took a lot of groveling but Billy finally got a date with her in the middle of November. It was nothing special. He only twenty bucks to spare that night. They went to a pizza joint and Billy loved that she ate four slices with no hesitation or embarrassment like the usual chicks. When Billy said something about her appetite, she threatened to walk home and that being their last date. Of course, he groveled and paid for dessert.

Billy couldn’t afford much since he’s too busy trying to earn enough money to move back to Cali. He did odd jobs around town since he refuses to work at as a cashier since he only has a limited amount of patience and that’s only for the bitches he wants to fuck. Of course, that patience is gone now since he’s in a committed relationship. So, they went on cheap dates. Went to diners, a movie listened to records and made out like crazy.

“Max, first, fuck you. Two, you don’t know shit,” he said. Billy didn’t know why but he was feeling the need to vent and the only ones he allows to see a snippet of the real ‘Billy’ is Max. “It’s not like I can afford to do anything either.” Because fuck Hawkins’ freezing weather that ruined his baby. Aka the Camaro. Neil wasn’t going to pitch in to fix his car so Billy had to dip into his savings. It’s practically nothing left. Just enough to pay gas and some smokes. Not enough money to take someone out on a romantic date. It was like karma waited for this moment. Waited two weeks before Valentine’s Day. And Y/N had to bring it up a few days after he drained his savings to fix his car to ask if they are doing anything. He didn’t mean to snap at her but he was fucking ashamed and pissed off that his plans were ruin. Fuck anybody that thinks Billy can’t be romantic.

“She wouldn’t care. It’s the thought that counts,” Max told him. Billy scoffed. That’s some bullshit that people say to make one feel better if their gift is shit. Billy rather give nothing than give shit—especially to Y/N. And he said just that to Max who looked at him like he said the most foolish thing. They finally made it to Y/N house. “Don’t say a word about this. Got it?” “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes before climbing to the back. Billy was nervous when she didn’t say anything in particular about Valentine’s Day. He thought he was in the clear until she brought out chocolates. The liquor chocolates did nothing to simmer down his humiliation that his girlfriend got him something but he didn’t even write her a fucking card.

Billy avoided you the whole day. On a typical day in school, his hand is on the inside of your back pocket with his body pressed to yours against the lockers. He snuck kisses in between classes. It was hard to separate yourself from Billy and you would not complain. But who knew that this dreaded holiday would make your boyfriend go MIA. You still see him in class. But other than that, he stuck close to Tommy and Carol. The two people you can’t stand, so you don’t bother with him if he’s with those two. At least you had Steve who was also in a semi-mopey mood (who denies it). “You. Me. Lots of junk food and scary movies. My place,” you tell him at lunch. “Um, no,” he said before taking a bite of the mystery meatloaf. “We have a shit ton of math homework due tomorrow.” You groaned. You do pretty well in the academics’ department which differs from Steve who struggles. But if there is one thing he is stellar at, it’s math. Which you suck at. Because calculus can go suck a dick. “Wanna’ come over and help me? I feel like I’m solving the meaning of the life with this fucking rocket science.” Steve snorted. “It’s math, not science. And you would have a B in class if you weren’t such a space cadet in there.” “Are you calling me an Airhead, Harrington?” you ruffled his hair causing your friend to whine and squawk. “That’s not how you get me to tutor you.” You jutted your lower lip and batted your eyelashes. “How about knowing that I failed and couldn’t graduate and get into college and that all of this could have been prevented if only you tutored me?” “You really do know how to turn on the violins, huh?” he glanced behind you and you just know who he is staring at. “No plans with Hargrove? No romantic date and fucking in the back seat of his car?” You decided not to react to his last question. “Nope. So let’s spend the holiday with junk food movie, and— “—homework,” Steve added. You were glad that he didn’t question you further about Billy. He already questions your choice in men since the very first relationship you had in two years had to be mullet-haired (which you want to cut badly) blue-eyed Cali-boy with anger issues.

It was only once that Billy avoided Y/N when they started their relationship. It didn’t last long. A few hours to be exact. His dad fucked him up one night before school and he picked her up from school. Luckily, his dad got him in easily hidden parts that he can cover. Y/N knew something was up when she got in the car and wasn’t greeted with a kiss. She also noticed that his shirt was buttoned up. Max was in the car but didn’t say anything. She looked dejected but not angry. Meaning that maybe whatever was going on was not really Billy but something else out of their control. Y/N turned down the music much to Billy’s chagrin and asked him what was up. Of course, Billy had to be snarky about it and threw his bad attitude on his girlfriend. By the time he made it to the school, he stormed off and didn’t bother waiting for you. Y/N gave him space until she cornered him during lunch. She dragged him off from Tommy. That’s how she found out that her boyfriend was abused by his father. And this is why Billy loved her, no matter how much it scared the shit out of him to fall so quickly into their relationship.   She didn’t show pity. She didn’t cry and say, “Oh, Billy.” And at that moment, he just knew he was head over heels. She was it. Only a month and a half into a relationship but fuck it. He’s dragging her with him to California and have her see the beautiful beaches and warm sun. She wrapped her short arms around him and snuggled close. That day she didn’t ask any questions (she did later that night while playing with his hair).  She then unbuttoned two of his buttons before the large bruise was exposed on his right pec. She then kissed him lightly, leaving a lip gloss mark. “Come over, tonight? I’ll make you feel much better.” And made him feel better she did. 

So here Billy was. Avoiding his girlfriend again, but this time it’s been a full day of school and she hasn’t sought him out. Instead, she stuck close with fucking Harrington and ruffled his hair while she smiles and teases him. He had basketball practice so he couldn’t drop her off. Instead, Harrington gave Max and Y/N a ride (he quit the team) and now Billy was going to go the whole day without talking to his girlfriend because he was pouting like a bitch. By the time Billy came home, he knew that he would only have thirty minutes to relax before he had to give Max a ride to a bowling alley (Neil thinks it is only going to be Jane there but little did he know that this was a double date with Sinclair and Wheeler with Jane). Billy greeted his father before making his way to his room. By the time he came down the stairs, he sees Max with Susan and Neil. “Max just told us that you’re not taking Y/N out tonight?” Neil told him with disappointment. Billy had to guess that was one of the two things that him and his father have in common. Anger and their fondness for Y/N. It helped that Max always gushed about how awesome his girlfriend his. “And here I thought you were becoming a respectable man.” Billy sighed. “I used up all my money on my car.” Neil just stared at him for a long few seconds before reaching into his back pocket. “Y/N doesn’t deserve to sit at home on Valentine’s Day. Take her to a nice restaurant.” Billy watched in shock as his father held out a fifty-dollar bill to him. As much as it killed Billy to take the money his abusive father gave him, he rather feels like shit taking the money instead of feeling like shit for being the worst boyfriend for not treating his girl. So that’s how he found himself driving to Y/N’s house. What he didn’t expect was the maroon-brown BMW parked outside of your house.

#billy #Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagines #steve harrington #dacre montgomery

[purplesurveys]

90

[Pause: Currently] What style is your hair in? 
It’s starting to become really hot in the afternoon so I’ve put it in a ponytail.

What’re you wearing? 
My outfit yesterday, a turtleneck and shorts. I’m too lazy to change.

What’s the weather like outside? 
No wind, just sun. It’s making me miserable. GIVE ME RAIN.

What time is it? 
2:23 PM as of this typing.

Who, if anyone, is in the room with you? 
I’m alone right now. Not my choice, but that’s what I’m stuck with.

What’s on your mind? 
That I have a midterm on Tuesday and should really get to studying now lol

What make-up, if any, are you wearing? 
I’ve stopped wearing makeup regularly. Come to think of it, I only really got into makeup because I wanted to look pretty in front of my ex…then I was able to ask her out again and eventually got too lazy to put in effort to use makeup anymore.

What month is it? 
It’s March! …and getting so much closer to the end of the semester. I’m excited.

[Fast Forward: Future] What career do you want? 
I want something that wouldn’t give me the draining feeling I’ve been getting in school for a while now. I don’t want a prison, that’s all.

What age do you think you’ll get married by? 
I always wanted to get married by the time I reach my late 20’s. I don’t know about that now, though.

What about having kids? 
Still around the same age, ideally. But then again I also always want my money to myself and be able to travel, be independent, and not keep a close eye on a kid 24/7, so I’m a little torn.

What age do you plan on moving out? 
21-22.

Can you see yourself moving away from here and if so, to where? 
Yeah, I’m not completely ignoring a move to another country. It’s possible. But I don’t mind ending up still in the Philippines, albeit in a different city. In the end all I want, honestly, is to cut off ties with my mother.

Do you think you’ll marry your current significant other? 
It’s ridiculously early to ask…for now I’m the one entirely okay about marriage; excited about the idea, even. My girlfriend is rather closed off to it. But I do think it’s way too early to bring up a conversation like that and I’m not going to be sitting her down to talk about it any time soon.

Do you know what the weather is supposed to be like for the rest of the week? 
Not specifically, but I know it’s only going to be warmer from here.

What tattoos and/or piercings do you want in the future? 
I wanted so many tattoos. I wanted to put on my thigh, ankle, wrist, at the back of my neck, my fingers, etc. until watching my mom get tattooed totally destroyed that goal of mine. I turn into a wuss at the general concept of anything piercing my body, so I had to say goodbye to piercings too :c I wanted to get a lip ring so bad.

Do you want any cosmetic surgery sometime down the line, if you had money for it? 
No. Imagine all the pizza I can buy instead.

In ten years, how old will you be and where do you see yourself? 
I’ll be 29 and Gab and I have a lovely little place to call home. We’ll also have a golden retriever we’ve named Theo and hopefully I’m so much happier with life by then.

[Rewind: Past] When’s the last time you took a shower? 
Yesterday.

What was the last text message you sent? 
"I miss you"

What did you do yesterday? 
I went to my one class for Friday running on two hours of sleep because I worked nearly all night for a news report project that I soon found out wasn’t needed until next week, so that fucking bummed me out. I drove to Gabie’s early so I could sleep in my car, then I drove her home where I stayed for a bit. We played games on each other’s phone till the sun set, then decided we wanted to watch a movie. I eventually realized we weren’t going to end up watching anything because we were only critiquing EACH AND EVERY FILM that we skimmed through on her hard drive like the film nerds that we are. We’re pretty great.

How old were you when you first started dating? 
I was 16.

When was the last time you saw your best friend? 
I saw Gab yesterday, and Angela I last saw about three weeks ago, at a friend’s debut.

What was your first word? 
No clue. My parents didn’t care enough to track it.

What’s your earliest memory? 
When I was three, my parents set up a kid’s tent in mine and my sister’s room to do pretend camping. That’s my earliest one and can’t remember anything before that.

Do you remember what you were doing twelve hours ago? 
Passed out in bed. That was 3:04 AM.

Three years ago, did you dress the same way you do now? 
Not really, but it’s not drastically different from what I wear today. 2014 I was obsessed with Audrey Hepburn, so all I ever wore out were little black dresses, summer dresses, skirts, flats, etc. Right now I can’t say my style is super defined because I would wear anything, as long as they match and make me look cute ha.

How old were you when your first younger sibling was born, assuming you’re not the youngest or an only child? 
I was two.

[Eject: Stuff You Wish Didn’t Happen] How did your first serious breakup go? 
A mess. I was so mad and was even made madder by the fact that she didn’t seem to be the least bit sorry for what happened at first. There was zero interaction made up for with endless subtweeting, and it was just silent rage all around. I wrote her a letter some time after expressing everything that was in my heart and head and that seemed to slap all the sense right back to her. We are now dating again though so it’s all goodski HAHAHA

TW// Have you ever had an eating disorder? 
Nope.

TW// Have you ever cut yourself? 
I have, yeah.

TW// Have you ever thought about or attempted suicide? 
Yes, and yes.

What was the last thing you cried about? 
I get triggered by the smallest things, so when I was asked to run errands in a very rushed manner this morning, I comletely lost it and had a good cry in the car.

What’s one thing that’s stressing you out like crazy right now? All the requirements being asked of me by all my classes.

Have you ever had a horrible teacher and/or boss? 
It couldn’t get any worse than my history prof last semester.

The first time you dumped someone, was it hard? 
I’ve never dumped anybody.

[Record: Awesomeness That Deserves to be Recorded on Video Forever] When was the last time you laughed really hard and what was it about? 
Yesterday morning! Gab and I were having breakfast at Jollibee when I started playing with the filters on her Snapchat. We got to the face swapping option and quickly filled the area with our noise because we were laughing sooooo fucking much.

What was the last funny movie you saw? 
No clue. I haven’t seen anything new in months.

The last time you ate something really delicious, what was it? 
A goddamn plate of risotto. IT NEVER FAILS

The last time you got your paycheck, how much was it and were you satisfied with it? 
None of that just yet. Hopefully soon!!!

How exactly did you and your best friend meet? 
Gab in 7th grade, Angela in the 1st.

What was the last compliment you received? 
I was told I smelled nice.

What’s one thing you wish you could relive just for one day? I wish I could replay the night I went to my WWE show, but with better eyeglasses because I saw dirt shit that night.

[Play: From This Moment On] Now that you’re done, what will you do? 
Maybe look for something to eat. Then take another survey.

What’s on your agenda for today? 
Surveys surveys surveys then hopefully get the drive to start studying for my soc sci midterm.

What’s your next meal going to be? I’m not sure. I’m craving for pasta though ;(

Will you change your clothes later in the day? 
Maybe change out of this annoying uncomfortable turtleneck, yeah.

Who do you plan on seeing today? 
My dog.

Are you going to take another survey afterwards? 
Maybe.

Is the weather supposed to stay this way all day or will it change? 
Yup. The sun never goes away here, unfortunately.

Do you have any chores you need to do? 
I did all of them this morning.

Do you have work later in the day? 
Hahahayeahdon'tremindmeplzsurveysaresupposedtobemtgreatescapefromthingsplzplzplz.

What about any homework to do? 
SAME THING

#surveys #survey

[vicekings]

Blind Eye Blaze

Brynden/Ben fic i promised lol. ~1750 words, nothing really explicit about it.

if you’ve got eye issues and struggle with reading it on my theme, here’s a link to the google doc copy of it

dunno if im gonna put it on ao3 yet we’ll see.

note: bryn’s just gonna be referred to as the Playa for most of the fic, but it is 100% bryn lol. takes place during sr1 after Ben is rescued from the VK coup and up until the boat explosion. 

The “Playa’s” apartment was comfortable, if not exactly homey. It was quiet most of the time, with the owner absent and Ben left alone. It felt much more like an abandoned military outpost than an apartment. The place felt… empty.

Ben vaguely wondered how the Playa trusted him purely on Julius’s word (if he even did trust him, really) enough to leave him alone in the apartment. Trusted him enough to let Ben take his bed and sleep on the couch instead, at least. Trusted him not to leave, as the lock on the door had been broken long before Ben took up residency and remained broken even now. The Playa didn't have much in the apartment worth stealing, he supposed.

He supposed, and didn't complain. The Playa made him breakfast. The Playa made sure the bathroom door locked. The Playa gave him his space. The Playa brought back takeout and didn't interrupt him.

He was good.

“The best friend I've had in long damn while.” Ben had said over lukewarm chicken fried rice one evening.

“And I don't even know your goddamn name.”

The Playa smirked and cocked his head aside, silver eyes twinkling in the dim light. As per usual, he offered no reply. He poked at his food.

---

Ben found the Playa’s leftovers in the fridge the next morning; barely touched. The styrofoam box sat right beside the almost-empty bottle of scotch. On the shelf above sat Ben’s lunch, with a note from the playa in deceptively elegant script, asking him to put the clothes in the wash and letting him know that the “lift” was out. There was money on the counter for Ben to buy pizza with. If he wanted delivery, he'd have to go downstairs and pick it up.

Judging from the increasing cracks in the windows and the Playa’s already proven cooking proficiency, Ben figured the money could be better used on other things.

He bought pizza anyways. They shared it over the last dregs of scotch and shitty beer.

“If you didn't waste cash on pizza and booze, you might be able to afford to fix those windows.” Ben said casually, just barely watching the shitty hallmark movie on the old box TV.  

The Playa snorted.

The woman in the movie grew visibly angry. “This is not a home!” She snapped. “This is not my home!” Her fiery red hair was whipped around by the fierce winds of winter.

Ben didn't quite know why, but he chuckled. The Playa did too.

“Her dye job is almost as bad as yours.” Ben laughed.

Something sparked in the Playa's eyes. It almost looked like fear. The glimmer of it lasted a breath, then left as fast as it had come. Had Ben been looking, he might've noticed. When he finally did look up, the Playa had pulled his hood up over his greasy black locks. Ben stomped down the whim to ask him when the last time he had showered was.

---

The Playa showered the next day, though Ben suspected he wouldn't have if not for the sudden and overwhelming smell of gasoline and rotting fish that lingered on him and his clothing. When the playa emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, his greasy black hair had changed back to a blood red. So blood red that Ben had felt a brief moment of panic smack into him like a train at the sight of it. Only when the Playa shook out his shaggy mop of hair did Ben feel his heart rate drift back to normal.

“You'll need a new dye kit.” Ben observed.

The Playa glanced up at him with the eyes of a kicked puppy and then nodded cautiously.

“Relax, Lisbeth Salander. I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret.” Ben chuckled.

The Playa cracked a smile, and pointed towards the first aid kit on the counter. Ben handed it over, noticing the gash on the Playa’s stomach for the first time as he did so.

---

If Julius was going to send Ben to the doghouse for weeks over a little bullet wound, then of course it made sense he'd send the Playa back too for the knife wound. Ben never considered that the Playa might've made the choice on his own. This was, after all, the man who had taken on a daredevil mission to save a gang leader with only a motorbike and a handgun. He had to be advised once in awhile.

While the Playa was in the bathroom re-dyeing his hair, his cell phone lit up with a text.

Julius: Where are you?

Five minutes later, the Playa’s cell phone rang. Ben picked up.

“He's recovering, Jules. Give him a day. Yeah, knife wound, I think. He's fine. I'll let him know you called.”

This was also the man who had thrown him on Johnny Gat’s desk and successfully patched him up on his own, no hospital required. Perhaps he didn't need advice after all.

---

Ben's newest friendship was built on beer and shitty Hallmark movies. He supposed there were worse ways to make friends. He supposed that spicing things up and watching melodramatic hospital shows with his new friend counted as developing their relationship. For two days while the Playa rested, that’s all the two of them did.

That's all Ben did.

The Playa read, mostly when Ben was asleep. Ben wasn't sure the Playa slept at all, but then again Ben wasn't sure about much when it came to the Playa. What he did know was that when he woke up, the bookmark had gotten closer to the end of the novel.

When the Playa left again, his copy of Dorian Gray was tucked neatly on the DVD shelf filled mostly with other tattered books.

---

Ben woke up shaking. He hadn't done that in a long time. As he caught his breath, the warm hand against his back almost made him lose it again.

The Playa looked him with concern in his eyes. “We can start tomorrow.” He said, in the gravelly tone that was rarely heard and barely sounded right on his tongue. “You've healed up enough.”

“What about you?” Ben asked, still shuddering.

Snorting, the Playa shrugged. He offered up the glass of water from the end table.

---

On the last night Ben spent at the Playa’s apartment, they had homemade pasta and cheap boxed wine. Ben went to bed early, only feeling slightly guilty that he had displaced the Playa from his bed for three weeks.

With the sound of spraying water from the shower came the rise of a soft voice. At 2:01 in the morning, unable to sleep and sparking with nerves, Ben pondered the irony of a man who never spoke but sounded like an absolute angel when he sang.  

---

Standing at the shattered glass and looking down, Ben felt a sigh settle in his soul. With Tanya fell his empire. With his car Kingdom Come burned.

The Playa placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Ben always forgot how tall he was until the Playa stood directly behind him, at perfect height for Ben to tuck his head against his collarbone. Ben stepped away, and fished his keys from his pocket.

“I don't have much use for it now. Get her patched up, send her to the dump, I don't really give a damn.” Ben shrugged. “Thanks, Playa. For everything.”

“I'll get her fixed.” The Playa replied, the gravelly wrong-voice dropped and replaced with a distinctly smoother and much more Irish voice.

“And it’s Brynden. The name.”

Ben paused until the silence between them became as awkward as a middle school dance.

“... What the fuck kind of name is Brynden?”

The Playa’s silver eyes glinted with the reflection of the fire. He offered a grin. “‘S my name.” He said.

“... Oh.”

“And-” the Pl- Brynden dug into his jean pockets and pulled out his own key. “Something in return. In case you ever need to lay low again. Don't be a stranger.”

Ben cocked his head aside. “So now you get the lock fixed?”

Brynden shrugged. “Until it breaks again. Best of luck to ya, Mr King. It was a pleasure.”

He trotted off into the night, carrying himself much more regally than usually.

---

No one else knew his name. The papers called him a gang member. The ladies at the coffee shop called him “a handsome devil, likely not so much though after that.” Ben called him Brynden, and Brynden was as good as dead.

Ben choked on his coffee and spat it out against the paper. He had to toss it out and nab a new one. A new one confirming he hadn't been seeing things. There on the front cover, a story that froze Ben to the core.

Alderman Hughes Dead In Tragic Boat Accident. Full story on page 4.

Brynden was a second thought, a barely mentioned nobody who died and was in critical care in the Stilwater Prison. He was the probable perpetrator, caught in his own plot.

But his grainy little picture, said to have come from a “friend” showed unmistakable silver eyes and a trademark horrendous dye job.

Ben threw the newspaper in the nearest trash bin.

---

The Playa's apartment sat as still as it had in all the time Ben had stayed there; the eerie quiet of the rooms even more noticeable with the lack of the Playa’s presence.

The lack of Brynden’s presence.

Ben exhaled shakily and sat back on the worn leather couch. He shook his head and took in the empty living room, ran his eyes over the box TV and the cracks in the walls and the books-

One was missing from the shelf. The others had slipped down in its absence. Ben found the missing text in the kitchenette, bookmarked and already gathering dust.

On the bookmarked page, a passage from a poem was highlighted in neon yellow.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

#my fics #my writing #kate writes #brynben #brynden stark #benjamin king #sr brynden #sr #saints row #sr1

[callmoiwhatuwant]

1-100

I hope you know you’re the best and this kept me entertained for a while 100 questions1. Is a kiss considered cheating?On the lips 100% yes. On the cheek in a familial way, no. 2. Have you ever faked orgasm?Nope I’m very straight forward and if I’m not enjoying it then I’m not gonna fake it to save someone’s feelings 3. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?Time travel! 4. Do you think you are going to be rich in 7-8-9 years?Hahahahahaha probably not. I’m already drowning in debt probably will be drowning in more student debt by then 5. Tell us some funny drunk story.I swear I have good ones but like I can’t think of any6. Why are you no longer together with your ex?He dumped me 🤷🏼‍♀️ His loss 7. If you had to choose one way to die, what would it be? Gun shot to the head. Instant. Painless. 8. What are your current goals?I’m actually going back on my whole30 diet again so weight loss and I really want to get back to school at some point. Happiness is a goal too. 9. Do you like someone?I love someone if that counts 10. Who was the last person to disappoint you?Myself 11. Do you like your body?It’s a love hate relationship, some days it’s good some days it’s bad12. Can you keep a diet?I’ve had really good luck with whole30 so yes! 13. If the whole world listened to you right now, what would you say?Stop. Just stop. Listen to what you are saying to each other, look at the way we are treating our underprivileged brothers and sisters. How can we not decide to work collaboratively? We would all benefit if there was equal give and take and the world would be more peaceful. Stop trying to be the strongest, stop trying to out do another country. We need peace more than we need nukes. 14. Do you work?Don’t think that’s even a question anymore 15. If you could choose only one food to eat to the rest of your life, what would it be?Probs salad cause it’s really diverse or maybe pizza 16. Would you get a tattoo?I already have 3 and I’m dyin for more 17. Something you don’t mind spending all your money on?Tattoos 😂18. Can you drive?Yes and no. My license is expired right now19. When was the last time someone told you you were beautiful?Uhhh I honestly can’t recall 20. What was the last thing you cried for?Something dumb on tv tbh 21. Do you keep a journal?I try to actually! 22. Is life fun?Debatable.....23. Is farting in front of people irrelevant?Older you get the less you care 24. What’s your dream car?Something from the 50s or 60s muscle car25. Are grades in school important?In college and uni absolutely 26. Describe your crush.Tattoo artist. He’s a cutie. But I’m committed. He’ll tattoo me though! 27. What was the last book/movie that really impressed you?WONDER WOMANNNNNNNN28. What was your last lie?That I was okay 29. Dumbest lie you ever told? I don’t really lie a lot so I don’t really know honestly 30. Is crying in front of people embarrassing?To me it’s become a weekly ritual soooooo31. Something you did and you are proud of?I’m proud of graduating and moving somewhere I knew no one and still being okay on my own. 32. What’s your favourite cocktail?Don’t really drink em to be honest 33. Something you are good at?Weird knowledge on an assortment of topics 34. Do you like small kids?I think they are the most adorable creatures till they can talk then they are devils 35. How are you feeling right now?Tired, sad, frustrated, anxious 36. What would you name your daughter/son?Son: JamesDaughter: haven’t put much thought honestly, always thought I’d have a boy first 37. What do you need to be happy?Comfort, attention, love, food38. Is there some you want to punch in the face right now?Yeah most definitely 39. What was the last gift you received?My mom bought me a bunch of stuff lol 40. What was the last gift you gave?Probably Christmas and an A7X mug and slippers and something else to my partner 41. What was the last concert you went to?Sawyer Brown but before that it’d be Slipknot 42. Favourite place to shop at?Walmart as weird as that sounds 43. Who inspires you?My dad actually 44. How old were you when you first got drunk?Like 14 45. How old were you when you first got high?14 46. How old were you when you first had sex?1547. When was your first kiss?When I was like 12 48. Something you want to do until the end of this year?Keep my damn diet 49. Is there something in the past you wish you hadn’t done?self harmed.... tried to kill myself... 50. Post a selfie.51. Who are you most comfortable around?My best friends 52. Name one thing that terrifies you.Being cheated on again53. What kind of books do you read?Anything from classics to erotic lol 54. What would you tell your 12 year old self?Its gonna get worse but don’t be afraid to get help55. What is your favourite flower?Roses and orchids 56. Any bad habits you have?I overthink a lot 57. What kind of people are you attracted to?Girls who can dominate preferably alternative and burly tattooed guys. All have to be animal lovers and like to be fit. 58. What was the last thing you cried for?A movie on tv 59. Is there something you don’t eat? Some food that truly disgust you?I love all food honestly 60. Are you in love?Yes, I think so still anyways, I just don’t know if he feels the same anymore 61. Something you find romantic?Genuine interest and eye contact 62. How long was your longest relationship? Almost 3 years 63. What are 3 things that irritate you about the same sex?How bitchy and catty girls can be, periods and girls who pretend to be ditzy to get men’s attention64. What are 3 things that irritate you about the opposite sex? Men who think they need to prove their manliness, overtly sexual and can’t keep conversations normal (maybe just my age range though) guys who think being jerks is the way to girls pants. 65. What are you saving money for?Tattoos, paying people back. Traveling. School. 66. How would you describe your bad side?A raging psychotic bitch67. Are you actually a good person? Why?Debatable lmao 68. What are you living for?I don’t really know anymore, for myself and my cat I think69. Have you ever done anything illegal?Definitely.... 70. Do you like your body?Most definitely love and hate 71. Have you ever made someone feel bad about themselves intentionally?Yes but they deserved it72. Ever sent nudes?So many omg 73. Have you ever cheated on someone?Nope and never will74. Favourite candy?I love twizzlers and kit kats 75. Is there a blog you visit every day, or almost every day? Tag it!No not really... 76. Do you play any computer games? What is your favourite game?I play sudoku but that’s it lol77. Favourite TV series?Ayuh that’s really hard to pick.... right now it’s greys anatomy 78. Are you religious? Does God exist?Spiritual. I put myself under the pagan category. A single god in my eyes does not exist but many gods and goddesses do 79. What was the last book you read? Did it impress you and why?The secret garden. It was a reread but it’s always good 80. What do you think about vegetarianism/veganism?Great for you if you can do it but I definitely can’t 81. How long have you been on Tumblr?I believe my blog turned 4 or 5 this year 82. Do you like Chineese food?Love it. I grew up in a predominantly Asian city and region and it was a way of life lol83. McDonalds or Subway?Depends if I’m drunk or not or on my period. But usually McDonald’s 84. Vodka or whiskey?Why not both? But I prefer whisky for its flavour 85. Alcohol or drugs?Drugs. Weed is a drug right? 86. Ever been out of your province/state/country?Numerous times87. Meaning behind your blog name?I was like 14 at the time and edgy but the moi part is for my francophone early life 88. What are you scared of?Change. Lots of change89. Last time you were insulted?I don’t get insulted very easily so probably a while ago cause I don’t remember 90. Most traumatic experience ?Having someone die under my hands as they bled out as I was performing CPR after a horrendous car accident that my dad and I were the first responders for. We helped as the ambulances were on their way. Unfortunately the deceased lost too much blood to be revived. 91. Perfect date idea?Nice dinner, walks and long talks. Or getting tattooed and making out. 92. Favourite app on your phone?Probably Facebook. I use it a lot 93. What colour are the walls in your room?At my moms they were white and gray, here they are off white which I hate. 94. Do you watch Youtube? Who is your favourite youtuber?A little. I love Joe Santagato and The Try Guys and Ladylike 95. Share your favourite quote.“You are my sunshine my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away” 96. What is the meaning of life?In biological terms it’s to reproduce and balance ecosystems, in bigger terms.... I’ll let you know when I figure it out 97. Do you like horror movies?Love them! 98. Have you ever made your mum cry? What happened?Yes, when I left to Alberta99. Do you feel lucky or special in a way?Not really. I feel pretty ordinary to be honest 100. Can you keep a secret?Yes I definitely can. I am a hella reliable friend.