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honeykept · 3 years

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for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too. PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one.

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now.

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles.

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.”

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know.

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits.

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued.

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea.

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow.

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush.

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand.

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

#b*gen #bookshelf #spnprideweek #sam and cas #rambleoncas writing #roc original #my post #theedorksinlove #userdainty #klinejack #usershey #creativecaviar #userpris #usersully #spnclownpals #hope it was okay to tag!!

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pondermoniums · 3 years

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A little post season 3 ficlet (2749 words) featuring some holiday fluff <3 See tags or read on ao3 here ~

• • • •

Billy still feels it. He wishes his muscle memory had died with him, but it just came back with him too.

The things he felt.

The things It felt.

Everything It made him do.

His psychiatrist tries to tell him that his scars are his body claiming his soul back. Billy couldn’t agree. He didn’t like touching the starbursts on his torso because the shiny scar flesh felt tissue-paper thin—not to his fingertips, but underneath. His heart trembled as if he could just push a little too hard, and enter his ribs—

“Hey, the new place opened up off Main Street. You know those new roads they’re building? There’s already a Greek place there. Let’s get a menu.”

Billy frowned at him. Steve Harrington. He’d been at the mall. Billy didn’t remember seeing him…during…but afterward. In the spotty shreds of memory that were all his own, he remembered Steve looking nearly as bad as he felt. The memories swirled together like a circus dream. Steve and…Robin. Her name is Robin…in striped costumes. Steve carried Max away from his body. Robin practically did the same for the girl with a number for a name. All of them glowed with Starcourt neon pink and purple and red.

Steve’s car hummed around them, and fell silent when he turned onto the fresh asphalt of Hawkins’ new road. Steve laughed a little. “Farmer Higgins is probably still fuming. Last thing the mayor did before he got booted out of here was steal land for these businesses.”

“What’s it matter?” Billy exhaled. There were less people in Hawkins to fuel the shady economy anyway.

“Well I can’t speak for your Camaro, but my car doesn’t last long, driving brodies with trees in the way.”

His little sapphire. A dark mixture of humor and apathy seeped into his blood at the memory of Steve Harrington, of all people, slamming into him. He didn’t do it hard enough.

Now he sat in the car Steve drove. Not because the Camaro couldn’t be fixed, but because Billy wasn’t fit to drive yet. Maybe there was something full-circle about it. Or a broken circle; an open-ended thing, like Billy.

“As if you could do a brody.”

Steve smirked. “Thankfully I’ve ruined enough fields for practice.”

And then he pulled right off the road, slipped through a tiny thicket of trees framing the road, and burst upon a dry, yellow field. He turned sharply, throwing Billy against him…until the car locked into a paradox of calm and chaos. The back wheels revolved around them to dig a doughnut in the earth. Steve let the wheel go, and they rocked as the car jerked with the front tires straightening.

Steve looked around them to find the road again and made a mock sound of getting sick. “Glad we didn’t eat first.”

He grinned at Billy, making him realize a smile had stuck on his face like a cramped muscle. He pushed a hand over his mouth, physically melting it off.

The food was good. The flavors shoved their way over his pallet. It was kind of hard to enjoy food now. He ate when his body needed it but he didn’t get the emotional reaction to it—

“I didn’t know we had Greeks in Hawkins,” Steve conversed openly. A small, lost part of Billy remembered Steve calling him out for being mouthy during basketball, but Steve could talk. He wiped his mouth and dug back into his rice plate. “Then again, Robin and Dustin always have something to say about authenticity. Like you spend a day outside of Indiana and you’re worldly.”

“Did you forget where I’m from?” Billy spoke before he meant to. California didn’t seem to matter much any—

“Did you?” Steve tossed back.

Silence fell over their booth while Steve waited. Then he went back to his food when Billy clearly didn’t care about responding.

Over and over again.

Steve picked Billy up.

Hospital.

Food.

Back to Cherry Lane.

Steve talked. Sometimes Billy replied.

Then things began to change. Steve took Billy to the grocery store after Billy’s therapy. Billy had emerged ruddy-eyed liked he smoked a pound of weed, and Steve had merely said, “I’m feeling tacos.”

Only instead of a restaurant, he took them to the store. And then the Harrington house. Billy talked more there.

“No, no, it’s queso fresco.”

“It’s just cheese, though?”

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the one who grew up with farmers. Different rain waters different grass. That makes different cows, which make different milk. Do you know anything about breweries?”

“Do you?” Steve challenged while they made a mess of his kitchen counter. Crumbles of white cheese, lettuce, and other tacos toppings littered the fancy granite.

“I know that breweries stay put. Because the water’s different. They have to have the right water to make the right beer. I haven’t had my favorite lager since I moved here.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Billy told him. Billy told him a lot of things. Steve just…got a rise out of him the way his therapist couldn’t. Then again, Steve never asked about all the things Billy wanted to burn out of his brain.

Then Cherry Lane fell off the list. Billy couldn’t say how exactly he moved into Harrington’s house. Maybe the food flowed into Billy falling asleep, and starting the next day from Steve’s house just happened too many times. Maybe Max used Steve’s pool too many times. Maybe it was when Billy realized Steve wasn’t just driving him to his physical and mental therapy sessions.

He walked out of the physical therapy gym at the back of the hospital to meet Steve in the same lobby they parted ways in. But Steve wasn’t there. Billy asked the nearby receptionist if “the guy with the hair” had gotten lost to the bathroom, but she only replied, “He’s running a little overtime, but he should be on his way.”

Billy’s appointments took hours. It made sense for Steve to leave and come back—

But the elevator dinged, and Steve was too busy reading something to not walk into a passing nurse. “Oh! Ow—sorry! Sorry,” he exclaimed, holding his arm…

He rolled the shoulder of that arm on the way through the parking lot, swinging the arm round and around like he was warming up for tennis. Inside the car, Billy cornered, “What were you doing in there?”

Steve glanced at him but shrugged as he turned the ignition. “Blood work. An IV drip. MRI’s. My usual stuff. The drip took longer this time.”

“Usual stuff? How come I’m just now hearing of this?”

“Remember, Robin used to meet us here? She got cleared faster.”

“Cleared out of what? How are you more broken than she was?”

Steve stared at him for an unnerving minute. “They…kind of beat the shit out of me. So… I mean, you pack a wallop, but Russians with an agenda put you to shame.”

Billy suddenly wondered if he’d overstepped a boundary. Steve just talked so much, and took whatever Billy gave him without flinching that he never considered…

“Getting concussed and doped up with unknown chemicals isn’t everyone’s normal Thursday.”

Billy had forgotten that Steve had been through shit like this before. Not with the same variables, but… “I forget that your normal got thrown out the window before I got here.”

“It’s not a competition,” Steve tried to say lightly. He waved a hand in front of the vents as if their lingering in the parking lot was just to wait for the heating to kick on.

“And if it is, who’d win?”

“Oh, I think Will Byers has us beat.”

That…hit differently than Billy expected. A laugh burst out of him, like it had just been waiting for a weight to lift off of him to break free. “Yeah. Maybe he does.”

Then they went to Steve’s house, where more and more of Billy’s clothes had accumulated. The kitchen had been stocked with food bought from Steve’s wage and Billy’s top-secret government allowance—which turns out, was rather high. Steve, for all his fancy furniture and basically bottomless bank account thanks to his parents, had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Billy finally revealed the monthly check to him.

“Holy shit. Don’t let the nerds see that; they’ll siphon quarters out of you for the arcade.”

“They’re old enough to want beer and condoms.”

Steve scoffed as he flipped their dinner pancakes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think they’ll sooner pop their cherries than go for beer.” Then he grimaced and waved his spatula. “New subject! Change the subject.”

Billy laughed from the breakfast bar, where he was arranging his medication into a days-of-the-week organizer. It was just a bar of little snap-closed boxes, but it helped him keep track of the pills he took—and the ones he ignored.

Steve had asked him once, “Why do you always leave the red ones?”

“They turn me into a vegetable.”

“Oh. You can’t, like…split it in half? Half vegetable?”

Billy couldn’t say why he felt comforted by Steve’s uniquely clueless way of thinking. Perhaps the guy actually made sense, or maybe he just over-simplified things in an over-complicated world.

Now, though, he set the spatula down with the announcement, “Oh! I got you something. Well, I hope I got the right stuff.”

Billy didn’t go with him to the garage, but he did follow Steve with his eyes. Blue irises locked onto the shockingly familiar box of lager when Steve returned. “Where in the hell did you find that?”

That dopey, thrilled grin made Steve glow like the Christmas lights they’d thrown all over the open floor plan. “Dude, there are professional shoppers! I mean, that makes each can like…a twenty-dollar beer, and this is the only box I got, but this is the stuff you were talking about, right? The lady on the phone said they released other flavors, but you only said ‘lager,’ so it’s what I got.”

The cans were practically frozen from being in the garage, but Billy tore open the box as well as he could to pry one out. “I don’t think I’ve been given the okay for alcohol.”

“We can water it down.”

“You don’t water down beer!”

“Then split one with me. I’ve chilled glasses somewhere…”

He went digging in the freezer drawer and pulled out plastic wine glasses. Billy snorted as he accepted one. “This is so cheap.”

“Yeah well, even mom’s fancy bimbo friends break wine stems around the pool. Gimme that.”

Billy appreciated that Steve made it sound greedy, instead of pitiful. Billy had trouble with his hands.

The can snapped open with a satisfying metallic crack. Billy teased as Steve poured, “Is this your first rodeo? Look at all that foam.”

“We’ve got time. The pancakes are almost done.”

Billy pushed his pill organizer aside to rest his chin on his arms, listening to carbonation sizzle while he watched Steve’s shoulder blades move under his sweatshirt.

“When do you get cleared for pot?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be officially cleared for that—hey, hey!”

Steve had turned around, leaning back against the counter with a pancake in his hand and a full cheek. “Whuh?”

“You’re eating my dinner! Dump the skillet over a plate and get over here!”

Steve came around to sit on the stool next to him with a pancake in his mouth and—

“Are those my slippers?”

“You mean my slippers that I hadn’t worn yet? Yeah, I took them back,” Steve retorted.

Billy successfully knocked one off his foot. “They still had the tags when I got to them. So dibs.”

Steve kicked the other slipper into the living room. “No dibs if you don’t have both.”

“You’re wearing my sweatpants. I get your slippers.”

“I get your beer and you get my pancakes.”

“Not if you eat all of them! Syrup, now,” Billy demanded with a grabby hand gesture.

Steve disintegrated into giggles that made him sound as much like a little kid as movie heartthrob. He finished pouring and passed the bottle.

So it went. Back and forth. Back and forth.

First Steve took Billy’s time. The minutes that built into hours driving to and from the hospital. Then Billy ate his food. Steve covered the restaurant tabs until they switched to cooking at his house. Steve washed his clothes and wore them like his own. Billy took Steve’s car keys and drove for the first time with Steve practically hostage all the way to the tree farm.

“I didn’t take you for a real tree kind of person.”

“You have the ceiling space for a nine-foot tree.”

“How the hell are we hauling a nine-foot tree?” Steve practically blanched. “And with what car?” He adjusted his earmuffs because he’d rather be caught dead than wear a proper hat. Billy, meanwhile, strolled through the greenery and the first snowflakes spitting from the sky with leisurely ease in his beanie.

He laughed, “I like how you’re not saying no.”

Steve didn’t do much to hide his mimicry as he trudged behind Billy, who chuckled to himself. “For once it actually smells nice. The trees really cover up the cow shit of—oh my god, there are actual cows.”

A line of tables displayed other living decorations like wreaths and garlands, but beyond them was a field of black and red cattle. Billy moved under a line of wreaths hanging over their heads to see how they actually had blankets on their backs. “Are the cow jackets norm—”

Steve caught his mouth in a quick, firm kiss. The sound of their lips parting echoed in Billy’s ears. Steve’s fingers lifted off his jaw to touch something noisy above their heads. Billy dumbly looked up to see the tiny bells interwoven with a mistletoe wreath. “Careful. We have real mistletoe here. Not whatever plastic California has.”

He left Billy stupefied, having the audacity to stroll away with a whistle on his lips before Billy snapped out of it and nearly tackled him. “OW! Agh, fu-shit, Jesus—”

“You’re better about planting your feet,” Billy breathed against Steve’s earmuff. He held Steve’s arms trapped against his body.

“Are you always this mean when someone kisses you?” he strained in Billy’s tight grip. The gravel under their boots grit and rattled as Billy dragged Steve deeper into the trees. “Alright! I should’ve asked! I’m sorry—”

Steve might’ve stolen the first kiss, but Billy shoved him into a tree and took it back. He took Steve’s cold shock against his lips, until hot breath warmed them up between nervous stares. Then Billy took his lips, his tongue, the taste of the mint brownies Steve ate on the way here. The cold tip of Steve’s nose pushed into his cheek, and Billy’s heart felt fragile against the softness of Steve’s mouth.

His breath trembled as he asked, “Why did you do that?”

Why do you give me rides? Give me food? Why do you cook every night? Why did you give me a bedroom? Will you let me into yours?

Steve’s arms around his waist moved, tightening a little but also moving up Billy’s spine as if to comfort him. To anchor them together. Steve swallowed, and the fragility in his eyes made Billy’s throat hurt. “I didn’t get to the first time.”

Billy couldn’t stand it. He pushed Steve’s earmuffs off in his effort to press his face against Steve’s neck. To absorb the delicious little sound that escaped him when Billy’s cold nose found the warm pocket inside his collar.

Billy didn’t think he’d be able to kiss anyone ever again.

Not after…

But all he wanted was to keep Steve’s lips on him. To steal him away like some fairytale winter troll and either keep him or devour him if he tried to leave.

“Billy?” His name was muffled against his own scarf, so tightly did Steve hold onto him.

But if Steve was taking…maybe Billy could let himself be stolen again.

“When we’re home…” he sniffled on his way back up to standing on his own. “Kiss me again.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

Billy laughed through his tears. “No, you’re buying me the biggest tree your car can carry. And I’ll steal that wreath while they’re distracted.”

“You have the money to buy it!”

“That’s no fun.”

#harringrove #pondermoniums #stolen #ficlet #one shot #holiday fluff #snowy kisses #post s3 #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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the-scooby-gang · 4 years

Text

Us... But no quite

Part 4

Summary: After falling thought a portal while they were being chased by their most horryfying monster yet, The Scooby Gang finds themselves in a place they never been before. A place called Crystal Cove

Now also avaible on Ao3

“What are you guys doing?”

The question broke their walk down memory lane like a bullet in a quiet night.

The vampire looking waitress was standing over them, one eyebrow up questioning, a hand in her hip and the other lazily holding the notepad.

They held harder to each other prompting the other eyebrow to follow the first.

“Like, we are connecting, dude” Shaggy shrugged, a mask already plastered on his face. “Like, getting more in tune with each other, you know? After all, I have to trust this danger prone mystery lovers, to like, not let me die. This creates bonds stronger than blood, man”

“Rit ralso relps rif ranxiety” Scooby head emerged from under the table, causing the waitress to take a step back. The waitress chuckled softly her previously rigid posture melting away.

“Well, it is certainly a way to deal with things” she giggled, shaking her head. Getting a pen out of her dress pocket, she angled herself towards Shaggy “Yours is the biggest one Shaggy, so what is going to be?”

Quickly taking a look at the menu, Shaggy ordered a little bit of everything. While the stream of highly detailed food order was being made, the hand that was not holding Velma’s was taping the table. They collectively thanked whatever God or Goddess that could hear them for the week where Fred and Velma decided that knowing Morse code was an indispensable skill in mystery solving.

She knows about us .

Ok don’t panic was the response the purple nails had to offer. The waitress was diligently still writing down the stream of dishes and sides with the practised ease of someone that had done it a thousand times.

What do you mean don’t panic? That’s the only thing to do when vampire looking ladies address you by name!

We already established that they are not vampires, love taped the red shoes That confirms my theory. These people know us, or at least a version of us. Jinkies, this must be a different dimension entirely for all we know. They started a meaningless conversation over the tapping, never letting go of one another for a second. Something about a new dress in need to be bought, new books in need to be read, new ropes for traps to be built. All while the food order glowed larger by the second.

Well, at least we can say we are not that different from us from this reality. We talked about traps, books on corrosives, mysteries and whatnot and she is yet to accuse us of being serial killers the brown boots tapped their two cents.

Which either means she is used to us or SHE is also a serial killer frantically tapped the lanky man. His fingers were the only visible indicator that he was one “I’m actually a killer waitress” away from bolting out of there and running his way across the ocean. It was a real trip to find out that, if frightened enough, Shaggy could run over large bodies of water as if he was sprinting in concrete. Useful. Made Fred question if he was dating Jesus for a while, but useful not the less. Especially when inside boats without motors and a monster coming behind you. Those arms really were stronger than they looked.

His voice was, however, as stable as a rock. Order after order, it never vacillated or lost its volume. For anyone watching without knowing him and the small ticks that betrayed his nervousness, it would appear as if it was just another day in the diner making the same order he did every day.

They were really proud of how good of an actor Shaggy was.

Finally, the order was made. The waitress and the surrounding patrons didn’t even blink at the size of it. A normal part of the routine. Daphne's nails were already working in overtime. The longer she stayed there, the creepier the feeling got. She may not be as good an actress as Shaggy (she still hade to convince a monster to dance the macarena after all) but her face and marble could as well be the same. She wanted a map or the book on the history of the town. Something tangible under her fingers for her to explore and dissect instead of this constant uncertainty of trying to act like your normal self in a place where your normal may as well be the farthest from the norm possible. The smile now plastered on her face was so far away from the anxiety consuming her heart that it should be carved on the moon.

Feeling her silent distress Fred squeezed her hand, a reassuring smile on his lips. He nodded towards the waitress, who had just finished her five pages long order turning towards her, an expectant look in her face.

"And you Daph? What's the order for today?"

Shag? the boots asked again while Daphne was placing her, in comparison, far smaller order. The boots owner was engaged in a discussion with the sweater-clad woman in front of him about the uses of cybernetic enhancements in a van and “How long do you think it will take for the van to gain sentience, Freddie?” "I'm not creating Skynet on my van, Velm" "Give it time"

Yeah? answered the long fingers, their owner now engaged in a conversation with their Great Dane about horror movies to watch later.

Do you have the mystery machine with you?

Frowning, the young chef removed his hand from the table, looking for the world as if he was going to search for something in his back pockets. After a minute of looking he removed a familiar key. Pressing the looking button, the gang collective turned their heads for the outside when the familiar beep made itself know. The daisy covered van parked on the front as if it was always there was shining on the sun, clashing phenomenally with the unicolored cars outside.

“Like, sorry Freddie. I, like, completely forgot about looking at the van” he gave the keys back to the blond, looking to the world as if he hadn’t just removed a whole car from the void. A good actor indeed.

“No problem, Shag” he took the keys, smiling while his boots worked overtime.

We are going to eat and act like this is just another day at the weird vampire diner. Then we are getting the hell out of here.

#Scooby Gang #us... but not quite #scooby doo #Shaggy Rogers #Fred Jones #daphne blake #Velma Dinkley #Gih Writes #Scooby doo crossovers #morse code #Wizard Shaggy #this boy works on cartoon logic and I'm going to take sooooo much advantage of that!#next chapter: Meeting the gang #wish me luck writing THAT #its probably to go like that new umbrella academy meme with the two siblings in different cars #*suprise pikachu face*#im going to enjoy that

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allelitefics · 4 years

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Your Past... Pt 2.

Characters: Jon Moxley x reader (OFC)

Summary: He was your best friend for the longest time, and now he’s reemerged in your life. All the feelings you once had start to resurface. It gets complicated.

Warnings: borderline infidelity.

Categories: eventual smut, fluff, angst - again all the good stuff

The night was coming to an end, Brandi invited you out at the end of the show to go get drinks with some of the roster and you could honestly use it after taking a trip down memory lane. A terrible, horrible, trip down memory lane. And now all you wanted to do was avoid Jon, because you could feel yourself feeling how awful he made you feel after things ended. Unfortunately for you, he wasn't wanting to avoid you.

"Hey" he said approaching your area. You were almost done cleaning your makeup brushes. Once you packed everything up the crew would transport everything to the next location. "Hey" you said with a smile to him. "Mind if I sit?" he asks. "Go ahead." "Ouch, you not looking at me brings back memories." You shake your head and let out a laugh, "Seriously Jon?" you say. He laughs when he see's your smile, "Sorry. Last time I saw you in person.. it sucked." You nodded, "Yeah it did, didn't it." "Yeah..I question myself all the time if I did the right thing." You glance at him, "You're married." you say matter of factly. "Heh.. yeah." he says hesitantly. "Trouble in paradise?" you ask, did you care though? you thought to yourself. "For a while, but I don't want to bore you with that. How's Brian?" he asks raising an eyebrow at you. You lean against the table to face Jon. "That ended 6 months ago." "Damn.. I'm sorry." But he wasn't. "How do you know about Brian?" you ask. "Instagram." he says shrugging.

Your phone goes off, it's a text from Brandi asking where you were. "Oh shit." you say out loud. "Whats up?" "Brandi asked if I would go out tonight, can you give me a ride?" you ask then smile cutely at him. "Oh yeah, I was supposed to be there too. Yeah of course I'll give you a ride dummy." he says with a smirk. You smack his arm, damn has he gotten bigger since the last time you saw him, in a very good way. He laughs at you and looks at you ...he looks at you the way he used to look at you and it makes your heart race. "You all done here?" he asks. You nod your head, then bed over to grab your purse, and yep his eyes are all over you. All he can think about his grabbing you from behind and fucking your brains out. "Fuck" he says under his breath. You stand up and turn around to look at him and you almost laugh at him. "Did I say that out loud?" he says, he's flirting and you know it. "Yeah you did." you say. "You look really good." he says gesturing. You look to the side, "Thanks."

You walk in silence till you reach his rental. He opens the car door for you, "Aw thanks" you said and he laughs. "You always made me laugh." he says as you get inside. He stands in between the car and the door and looks at you and you turn back after you buckle, "Jon." you say because he's looking at you still...that look you knew all too well. "I want to kiss you so bad, y/n" You look in his eyes and get lost, "I know." you say nodding your head. He leans towards you, he's hesitant at first - things are rocky in his marriage and he's given up clearly. And then you pull him towards you and he presses his lips against yours. Your hand roams to unbuckle to the seat belt to free your body as you get out of the car and your back is against the door to the backseat of the SUV. His hands are tangled in your hair and you pull him towards you feeling him grow hard against you. He breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours. "Holy shit I've missed you." he whispers, then kisses you softly. You mouth won't let you say it back to him, even though you have. As long as he stayed away you never thought about him, but clearly for the last 3 years you still weighed heavily on his mind. You pull him closer one more time so that your lips touch. "We should get to that bar." you say. He steps back and nods, "Yeah good call." he says. You get back into the car and he gets in the driver seat. You pull up the address on your phone and put on the GPS. "Should I have not kissed you?" he asks after a few minutes of silence. "I..honestly don't know." you say. "I mean you're married Jon.." "But its you." he says quickly in rebuttal. "You also ended our..." you pause "friendship" for her." He sighs, "I know.." then he pauses, "I wish you told me how you honestly felt." "Would it had made a difference?" you ask. "Yeah it would have." he says almost sounding irritated. "See that's the thing, you always did that.. or I guess do that" "Do what?!" "Downplay how special you are to me. Or downplay how you feel because you don't want to be rejected. You had a relationship after me for a few years, clearly it's just me you do this with." You roll your eyes, "Don't roll your eyes." he says. Which makes you do it again. "So if I told you back then I was in love with you, you wouldn't have ran away?" "No!" "Bullshit, you were just as scared. I overheard you saying so many times to your buddies you didn't want to be locked-down." He shakes his head like he's disagreeing, and now you're 5 minutes away from this bar. "It's true Jon." "Fine I was an asshole, but all I ever wanted you to do was to be honest with me about how you felt. And you never could. So I had to let you go, and it fucking sucked." You had no words, and he pulled up and parked the car. "Thanks for the ride Jon." you say then go to get out of the car but he pulls your hand back and you're forced to look at him. He leans over and kisses you again, you give into him again and then gently push him off of you. "I can't do this with you. Not if you're still married." you say. "We're separated." he says. You almost want to laugh. But you just leave the car and head inside.

"There she is!" Brandi says when you approach her. "Yeah got caught up again in memory lane." Brandi then looks behind you and see's Jon coming through the door. "Did you two talk?" she asks as you order a drink from the bar. "Yeah, I don't know if i'm angry or sad or what." you say. "He told me he was separated. Which I call bullshit, I mean really you show up out of nowhere, clearly flirts with me, and then tells me that he's separated only after I told him I wouldn't basically hook up with him." Brandi's eyes widen and then she looks down to the side, "What.. what do you know?!" you persistently ask. Before she can reply to arms sneak up from around you, "Theres my favorite makeup artist." it' a line that everyone says to you..you get used to it now. You take in that heavenly scent, it was Scorpio Sky. Tall, dark, and extremely handsome. You turn around and give him an actual hug. Brandi standing there watching this interaction and she's just grinning. "You blew me off today!" you say hitting Sky's arm. "I'm sorry, you knew I would've come to see you, too much extra filming and bullshit."

Eyes on you, there were a pair of eyes on you and they were staring daggers into Sky. Jon from the other end of the bar watched you flirt with another guy and it was driving him insane.

"I'll let you two get back to your conversation. Come find me when you're done?" he asks. God is he charming, but very outspoken about not wanting to be in a relationship. You turn 30 next year, you're not wanting to be the hookup girl anymore. "Sure." you say knowing that conversation would be the same one that happens every time, he tries to convince you it'll be worth it and you laugh it off.

You turn your attention back to Brandi and you stop her before she can say anything about that interaction. "Don't! You know all he wants is a hookup." She shrugs, "Maybe just do it." she says laughing and taking a sip of her drink. You down yours, and now onto your next drink. Jon still keeping a close watch on you while another new kid from the roster picks his brain. "What were you going to say though?" you say. "Oh yeah!" she pauses, "So apparently that might be true." she says referring to Jon's separation. "How much did he pay you to say that?" you ask and she laughs. "Seriously, I still have friends over there. Word is that she cheated and now that they're not on the road together he was like fuck it." "Wow." you say...he was telling you the truth. "I guess if you're not with him 24/7 he'll just not care anymore." "I'm sure that's not what happened with you two." she says. She knew you never fully admitted your feeling to him before. "Yeah yeah.."

---

You go for your fifth drink when you see a hand take your drink before you can and you're about to give whoever it is a piece of your mind when you look over. "5 is your limit." he says. "I'm not 22 anymore, I can handle my alcohol like you." you say and then he laughs. "Have this one, but I'm cutting you off after." "Oh really?" you ask tilting your head. The alcohol made you definitely more comfortable. "Yeah really." he says with a smirk tilting his head to mock you. "What am i supposed to do after you cut me off?" you say sipping from your drink. "Let me take you back to your hotel." he says. You laugh, "I don't know Jon." He leans in and whispers into your ear, "You and I both know that we want this." he says and then kisses your neck and you melt. "Fuck" you say under your breath. "Wanna leave now?" You nod your head.

---

Everyone is usually booked at the same hotel, which made it even easier for Jon to navigate how to get there after the bar. He was glad he only had two drinks because he had been thinking about you all night. "I got really jealous when you were talking with Sky." You laugh, "Yeah, he's been trying for the past couple weeks." "He's a good looking dude." he says casually. "I know what you're trying to do.." you say. "What!" "You're trying to figure out if I've fucked him." "Have you?" he asks. "No. He's pretty outspoken about not wanting to be in a relationship. Legit all his focus is on wrestling." "And you." You shake your head, "It's whatever." and you finally pull up to the hotel. He grabs a parking spot and you get out of the car. You take his hand and go into the hotel from the back entrance.

It takes two minutes to get up to your room and it felt like the longest two minutes of your life. Once the door to your hotel room is shut your back is against the opposing wall and Jon's mouth is all over you. He pulls your shirt off of you and you do the same to him kissing each other in between clothes coming off. He's pulling your jeans down to the floor along with your panties as he drops to his knees, your body is eager as his tongue hits your core. You whimper, it's been a while since you've had sex, you needed this badly. "Fuck, get on the bed." he demands after a few minutes. You do what he says, you like this dominant side of him. You forgot how your body responded so well to it. Your back hits the bed and he can now really get a taste of you, his mouth is right back to where it was this time he sticks two fingers inside of you and you moan out. You can feel him smiling knowing he made your body react the way it did. "Fuck Jon." you moan out. You try to pull him up. "No I'm not done yet." he growls and you gets even quicker with his pace and within seconds after that you orgasm. "Oh my god" you moan out. He pulls you up and turns you over, so you're on all fours. He lines himself up with your entrance and eases himself into you. "Fucking shit" he growls as he enters you, you're so tight around him, because again it's been a while since you've had sex. He thrusts into you so hard you fall to your stomach and he remains on top of you until he wants to change positions, he flips you over again taking full control and you're on your back. He looks into your eyes when he enters you again, the moan that escapes your mouth he catches with his lips. "Goddamn you're beautiful." he says. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him intensely, which makes him go faster and harder until you reach your next orgasm and he cums seconds later, filling you up. "Fuck shit, I didn't mean to..I just" "It's okay." you say as he exits you. "I'm on birth control." He lets out a sigh of relief. "Sorry." "It's okay." you say laughing. He lays on his back out of breath next to you and lets out a laugh as well. He looks over at you as your laughter fades, "What's wrong?" he says then he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss. You look over at him, "This whole thing just brings back a lot of memories." "Yeah..same here. I'm glad you decided you believe me." "Yeah well sources told me you weren't full of shit." "Told you." he said then rolled over to his side, he leaned over and kissed you. "Look I know this shit is crazy, but I never stopped caring about you.. shit you know I don't use fucking social media but I checked on you all the time.." "I know." you say looking into his eyes.

He seemed truly genuine but you were afraid of what you've just gotten yourself into. Or that you became so vulnerable to him already.

You turn your head again and he can already feel you growing distant. "Don't do this to me again." he says, you quickly turn your head back. "Do what?" "You're getting distant, you're afraid. I'm not going to fuck you over...not again." "I believe you Jon." And you do believe him, you do. But your anxiety gets the best of you, you can't help but be a little timid to all of this. "But?" "No buts" you say. "There's always a but with you, but i'll take it. Come here." he says pulling you into him. He kisses your forehead. There's so much more he wants to tell you, tell you that he's loved you since you walked through the doors of CZW for training, that he never stopped loving you. But he knew it would just overwhelm you. For now, you both were going to embrace this moment.

#jon moxley x reader #jon moxley fanfiction #moxley x reader #jon moxley #dean ambrose

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thotwonu · 5 years

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ella y yo → zabdiel de jesus/christopher velez

lmao hi, it me. so, basically i really wanted to write my first cnco piece and i couldn’t figure out what to do. then during reina’s visit i came up with this idea and decided to use two of her lanes bc isn’t that just fun. this is HEAVILY inspired by “ella y yo” by aventura feat. don omar. this is my first cnco writing piece pls be nice. -drea

Zabdiel knew that what he was doing was highly wrong. But he couldn’t help himself. He loved the thrill of being able to see you when nobody else knew. And he loved hearing his name leaving your lips every night.

But the thrill and happiness came to an end every morning when he woke up to see that you had already left by then, leaving him alone with nothing but the memory of the previous night.

Why was it so wrong?

You were married to one of his best friends and band mate, Christopher Velez.

This whole ordeal with Zabdiel had started off as innocent flirting but it had turned into more after drunken confessions while Christopher was away and one thing led to another and you had ended up sleeping with him. You thought it was just a one time thing, but it became far from that. You two began to live your own little adventure that was punished by God. But it was harder on Zabdiel, who ended up falling in love with you.

Falling for you was something that had not been planned but a man can only control his feelings for so long. The rest of the band began to take notice in Zabdiel’s change of attitude. They knew something was going on with the blonde Puerto Rican but could not come to a conclusion. And they sure as hell did not know about his affair with Christopher’s wife.

The boys kept trying to push it out of him, the reason why he was acting so strange. Eventually with enough convincing, they got him to agree to go out with them to the bar that night, with hopes that maybe he’ll meet a woman and get his mind off of what was bothering him. In all honesty, the boys thought that maybe Zabdiel was still hung up on the ex that completely crushed him. But this was far from it.

Some of the boys decided to join in on the fun of meeting a woman, leaving Zabdiel and Christopher behind at the bar. Zabdiel swirled his finger around the rim of his glass as he avoided eye contact with Christopher.

He would occasionally take a couple of sips here and there, the silence awkward between the two friends before Christopher decided that enough was enough. He was tired of seeing his friend so down over whatever it may be.

“Que te esta pasando, Zab? (What’s going on with you, Zab?)” Christopher finally spoke up, turning in his seat to face his friend and taking a sip of his own drink.

Zabdiel couldn’t help but shrug, unable to find the words to describe his situation without basically exposing the fact that he was sleeping with you.

“Nada, solo un poco estresado. (Nothing, just a little stressed).” Zabdiel lied straight through his teeth and it was almost as if Christopher could look right through him.

“Okay.. como se llama? La muchacha que te tiene como un loco? (Alright, what’s her name? The girl who’s got you crazy?)” Christopher asked, catching his friend off guard. How the hell did he know that this was about a woman other than his ex? Was he that transparent?

Zabdiel didn’t know what it was but eventually he began to speak, pouring all his feelings out on what had been bothering him for the longest time. “No es que importe tanto el nombre. No es nada comparado con como me hace sentir. Parecemos dos locos viviendo una aventura castigada por Dios. Un laberinto sin salidas, donde el miedo se convierte en amor.. (Her name doesn’t matter much. It’s nothing compared to how she makes me feel. We’re like two crazy people living an adventurous life that’s punished by God. A maze without exit where the fear turns into love).”

Christopher couldn’t help but feel slightly interested in just who this mystery woman is that somehow has his best friend so hooked on her. He knew the story with Zabdiel’s ex and how in love with her he was. But this was clearly not the same woman. This was someone else. Someone else had stolen his friend’s heart and had him absolutely whipped.

Zabdiel took another sip of his drink, the alcohol giving him a little bit more confidence to continue speaking on how he feels. “Pero es triste, en serio. Ella y yo solo nos vemos a escondidas para ahogar esta prohibida pasión. Y ‘pa ‘certe bien honesto, aunque tiene dueño, yo solo tengo un sueño.. ser su protector. (But it’s sad, really. She and I only see each other secretly to drown the prohibited passion. And to be very honest, although she has an owner, I only have one dream.. to be her protector).”

The last sentence really hit Christopher as he heard his friend pour his heart out. It made him feel bad for him, he knew how great Zabdiel was. Any woman would be lucky to have him, even if she was married. If this woman meant so much to Zabdiel, he had to fight for her.

“Y porque no luchas por el amor, si tanto la quieres? Quizas su marido no manda en su corazon. (So why don’t you fight for this love, if you want her so much? Maybe her husband doesn’t even own her heart).” Chris began to say before Zabdiel shook his head almost immediately.

This couldn’t be happening. This was the last thing Zabdiel wanted: to be given advice by his friend when he was already causing so much drama.

“Mira, papa, mi esposa y yo? Somos felices, dos almas matices, se lo que es el amor. Por eso te entiendo. Y aunque sea casada, no te alejes por temor. No lo hagas. (Look, papa, my wife and I? We’re happy, two nuanced souls, I know what love is. Which is why I understand you. And even if she’s married, don’t run away due to fear. Don’t do it).” Christopher preached to his friend, who continued to shake his head in denial.

If only it were that simple to just fight for love and have it work out for him.

“Amigo, ella y yo teniamos claro que era una locura esta relacion. Pero la cama nos hacia una invitacion a solo hacer el amor. (Dude, she and I had it clear that this relationship was crazy. But the bedroom gave us an invitation to only make love).”

Christopher dismissed the lame excuse, waving it off as he shook his head. “Ay, ya te lo explique, papa. Cuando hay personas que se aman el amor tiene que vencer. Y el marido? Bueno ese tiene que entender que perdio su hembra, ahora es tu mujer. Porque no pueden ganar los tres. Por eso te repito.. lucha por amor. (I already explained it to you. When there’s people who love each other, the love has to overcome. And the husband? Well, he has to understand he lost his woman, now she’s your girl. Because all three of you can’t win. That’s why I’m gonna say it to you again, fight for love).”

At this point, Zabdiel had had too much to drink and the fact that his friend was trying to give him advice despite the position he was in made him even more mad. It made him livid that he was rooting for him to commit to this.

It angered Zabdiel that in reality, he was rooting for him to go after his wife. His temptations were getting the best of him and wanted to just listen to his friend, but he knew that it was wrong.

Zabdiel’s mind wandered to his last encounter with you. How he felt like he was the only man in your life. How you were basically melting at his voice and his actions. He also thought back to the pang in his chest when you mentioned having to go home to Christopher.

But just how long can he keep this up for? This will never work out for him.

Zabdiel took a deep breath before looking over at his friend. His cheeks burned from the alcohol but it was almost as if it was doing the talking for him at this point. He officially had no control left.

“Amigo, te voy a pedir perdon por lo que te voy a decir. Me traicionaron las ganas de volverla a ver. Y aunque todavía no puedo creer, lo que este amargo encuentro me hizo comprender. Pues tu también llegaste a ese lugar, donde tantas veces yo la fui a buscar.Y aunque no es fácil lo que voy hacer. Admitiré... que salí con tu mujer. (Dude, I’m gonna ask for your forgiveness for what I’m about to say to you. I was betrayed by my desire to see her again. And I still can’t believe what this bitter encounter made me understand. Well, you’ve also been to the place I’ve picked her up from multiple times. And it’s not easy for me to do this. But I will admit.. that I’ve been with your wife).” There was no going back now. Zabdiel had admitted it all.

As the words left Zabdiel’s mouth, Christopher’s ears began to burn. Was he hearing correctly. And he thought that he had heard wrong until Zabdiel repeated that again, he’s been with you. The glass that was in Christopher’s hand was shattered as he broke it out of rage.

His mind began to spiral. This couldn’t be true. But at the same time.. it began to make sense. He realized that it had been a lie when you claimed to be going to Puerto Rico with a “girl friend” of yours. It made sense when you brought home no pictures with said friend. You had been with him... and Christopher had been oblivious to it.

Christopher rapidly got up, standing up to look at his best friend in the eyes but he looked at him with nothing but pure rage... and hatred right now. “Que te perdone Dios, porque yo no lo voy a hacer.. los perdi a los dos y a la misma vez. Ya veo que todo, pero todo era mentira. (Let God forgive you, because I won’t be doing it.. I lost both of you and at the same time. I see now that everything, everything was a lie).” He shouted in his friend’s face, getting the attention of the three other members of the band, who rushed to separate the two before things got physical.

Zabdiel looked at Christopher’s hand which was now bleeding from breaking the glass and then took notice of the way he was looking at him. He had never seen Christopher look at anyone in that way. And he knew he was to blame.

Christopher continued to shout insults at him, calling both you and him “liars” and questioning how could he ever do that to him.

And he was right.

In the end, Zabdiel was the one who suffered the most.. he lost a friend because of temptation and not realizing the damage he was causing.

#cnco #zabdiel de jesus #christopher velez #richard camacho #joel pimentel #erick brian colon #cnco imagine #cnco concepts

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hazeleyedleto · 7 years

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Matters Of The Heart Part Two

You hold a hand up to your mouth, stifling a yawn that doesn’t go missed by Jared’s piercing eyes. “Still not sleeping good yet?”, he tosses out the question and drinks from the steaming mug in front of him. The two of you are currently sitting in a coffee shop a few blocks away from where you’re partaking in painting a mural on the side of the old library, with several other local artists.

"Not really", you shrug, tracing your thumb up and down the handle of your own coffee cup. You had been engulfed in outlining the background for the main focus of your part of the art piece, way ahead of your schedule, when Jared stumbled along and invited you for a drink since he hadn’t seen you in a couple of days. It was a little chilly out for this time of the year, so you agreed, figuring that a little break and a warm beverage wouldn’t hurt anything. After submerging your paint brush in an old bucket of water and letting the others know you would be back in a bit, you and Jared headed to the cozy little cafe.

Jared gives a small smile, but doesn’t push you any further on the subject. He mentioned something about smoking some pot the third day he’d seen you with dark bags under your eyes. He figured it would help you mellow out, and make slumbering a regular thing for you again. Your first choice would have been to drink away any cares, but that was quickly weeded out with any smell even resembling alcohol making your stomach churn angrily. That bitter scent was now tied in with regret, it being a big culprit in helping you mess up the best thing in your life; Shannon. When you were sixteen and your parents had passed away, you were sent to live with your aunt. It was there in your sophomore year of high school that you met Shannon, Jared, and Tomo, those three guys becoming the best of friends to you.

It was eating you alive that in a very short span of time, you did to Shannon’s fiance Emma what Jackson had done to you; and it wasn’t something that you would ever feel good about. Any time you would think about it, shame would burn you to no end. In all honesty you didn’t intentionally set out to have sex with Shannon, you’re still baffled at how it even came to happen, yet at the same time grateful for the heavy drinking that only let you recall minimal details.

In the two weeks following the incident, you and Shannon exchanged a few texts about it, you telling him that it was his choice if he wanted to tell Emma what happened; but you would take the secret to your grave. You were adamant about how things should be; and Shannon’s calls, messages, and knocks on your door all went ignored. In your mind, you’re lower than scum and Shannon deserves better than you from a best friend. To further that, you were punishing yourself by not allowing yourself any vices to numb your feelings.

Jared had now become your number one. He practically bought out the stock of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream from Costco for you and camped out on your couch for a whole week, lending a damn good shoulder for you to cry on when you needed to, and just was a comforting presence. As far as you knew, he had no idea what transpired between you and Shannon, and you were more than happy to have the breakup with Jackson to mask your sadness at ending the friendship.

Once your drinks are finished, you deem it time for you to go back and finish painting, with Jared kindly accompanying on the walk when a familiar black car creeps up, stopping right beside you guys on the sidewalk and rolling the window down. “Bro, we gotta head out to Neon Lights”, Tomo calls out from behind the steering wheel to Jared.

"Oh shit, I forgot about that", Jared’s eyes widen and he shows an apologetic expression.

"Monique, wanna come with?“, Tomo invites you along. They have a small show to perform at a rinky dink bar in a few towns over. "Come have a couple drinks while we play.”

You do your best to pretend like you don’t see Shannon sitting in the passenger seat, looking between Jared and Tomo.

"Yeah. Come on", your former best friend, or whatever his label is right now chimes in, hope adorning his face.

You shake your head. “Nah. Still not over my last binge. Thinking about drinking makes me nauseous. Besides”, you nervously pull the beanie tighter over your hair trying your hardest to avoid Shannon sitting in the passenger seat. “I gotta finish something up”. "Just what the hell happened last time you got shit-faced?“, a curious Jared inquires.

Thankfully Tomo decides to take a path down memory lane before you can try to force out a lie. "I’m still not over the time you flashed the cops”, he exclaims, making all of you erupt in laughter at the reminder.

All four of you were drunk and walking along the main strip of whatever town you were in, bar-hopping when somehow a game of truth or dare got started up, and you got dared to flash the next car that came by. Never one to pass up an adventure, you pulled your shirt and bra up, giving a peek of your boobs to the man driving by in a yellow Camaro. He honked his horn in response, spurring the game on even further. “Again”, an easily amused Tomo requested, three sheets to the wind and easily entertained.

"Dude, no. Just my luck it’ll be the po-po next", you waved your hand in dismissal.

"Ten bucks says she doesn’t have the balls", Shannon baited you.

"Game on", you countered and waited for another to car to drive along, considering it was two o'clock in the morning and traffic was extremely light. Not much time passed before another vehicle advanced and both your shirt and bra we’re yanked you by your own hands once again.

Low and behold, no sooner than said vehicle drove past when a pair of flashing blue and red lights on top of the car suddenly came on and illuminated the night sky.

You don’t know who took off running first, but you decided to try and follow suit. Just as luck would have it, you ended up landing on your knees six feet away after twisting your ankle.

Less than five minutes later after being let off with a warning by two amused cops, Shannon, Jared, and Tomo all crept out from the alley they had dodged into. “Fuckers”, you snarled at them and held your hand out to collect your earnings, making them each pay you ten dollars for being chicken shits; along with forcing them take turns giving you piggy back rides back to the car since your ankle was swollen and painful. ************************************************************************* Luckily for you, you’re able to manage minimal contact with Shannon once again for another couple of weeks, but that comes to an abrupt end when he saunters over to the table and invites you to dance. You’re at a party celebrating the release of Thirty Seconds To Mars’ new single, that Jared convinced you to come to. His idea of convincing meant begging you to be his date, literally on his hands and knees; complete with surprising you with a gorgeous navy blue dress in your size, a pair of Jimmy Choo stilletoes, and borrowed accessories from jeweler, Neil Lane. As if you could possibly turn down a night of being pampered like a princess, Jared pulled out one last stop, equipping you with a hair stylist, who swept your hair into an elegant updo; lifting your mood and making you feel excited to leave your apartment for the first time in a month. This is the first time you’ve been in such close quarters with Shannon since you slept together, making you feel all kinds of awkward, but you can’t very well turn down his request without rousing suspicion, so you follow him out to the dance floor. Once there, you step into his embrace, resting a hand behind his neck, and putting your hand in his, allowing him to hold it up as the two of you began to sway together, you careful to keep your distance and look around as others dance around you. Of course with tension hanging so thickly in the air, the lack of conversation didn’t last nearly as long as you wished it would. Shannon leans down to your ear and speaks just above a whisper, so you’re the only person who can hear. “I know you feel weird since we slept together, but we can put it behind us and pretend it never happened if it’ll make you be my friend again.”

You still momentarily at his words, searching for the right thing to say, remaining unwilling to catch his gaze. “I’m sorry. For everything. It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have drank so much. I-”. Stuff you’ve been dying to get out pours from your mouth until he interrupts.

Placing a finger under your chin, Shannon lifts your face until your eyes meet his. You’re shocked to be met not with hate or disappointment from his stare, but rather the warmth and easiness that’s usually present in those hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna lose you, Mo”, he pleads.

His words make your heart skip a beat, mirroring your own views on the subject. Before you can voice your response, you’re suddenly spun in a circle and dipped backwards, forcing you to grab onto Shannon’s shoulders and let out several surprised shrieks. His eyes are twinkling, a hint of mischief pulling at the corners of his lips. “I’ve missed your smile.” His sentence melted away most of the tension you’d been holding onto, and you felt much more at ease than you had in some time.

"Friends", you nod, giving your answer and stepping closer to Shannon, resting your cheek on his chest, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, content with the status of your on-again friendship.

Of course, anyone who is anyone knows happiness never lasts long, and that is such the case when Jackson appears in your line of vision, wearing a smug smirk. As he approaches, he eyes you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Looks like you’ve gained ten pounds since I last saw you. Surprised you could even find somebody to take your fat, lame ass out.”

Shannon steps forward, “Leave her alone, man”, he warns Jackson, but you push your way in front of him, ready to fight your own battle. The smell of booze is strong on Jackson’s breath as you get closer to him, and after leering down at your chest, he surprises you by having enough audacity to further insult you. “Those boobs though”, he ogles your breasts like you’re an oasis and he’s been lost in the desert for a week. Just the sound of his voice makes your blood boil; if it wasn’t for him, you never would’ve been put in such a predicament with Shannon you’d just escaped from.

Unable to control your rapidly growing aggravation, you draw your fist back and then up to Jackson’s nose with as much strength as you can muster. No sooner than your hand collides with him, you yelp in pain, stumbling backwards while cradling your hand to your heart. “Fuck, that hurt”, you yell, then stop to admire your handiwork with great satisfaction as blood runs down Jackson’s face. “But it was so worth it!”

you used my own story! so much better with 30stm in it!!!

i love this story so much, and hell yes for the punch in the face, I’d totally probably not do that, but in my head i’d want too.

Thankks

Chapter 3 plz!

@fyeahproudglambert

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