Part 2 of THIS fic got longer than I planned.

(NSFW & some mild emotional angst under the cut for Kait’s Loverboy AU.)

A million thanks to @seeyounextlevel and @book-of-flights for beta-reading my draft and turning it into something presentable (and listening to me whine a lot)

Yuri nearly chokes on his own spit when he feels someone poking his shoulder. He is ready to roast whoever it is that inconsiderate bastard who dares to wake him up so early, when he had barely closed his eyes behind his heart-shaped sunglasses. f only he had the energy to open them fully and glare at the scum who disturbed his slumber. He might be napping on a bench under an oak tree pretending to be awake but since when did people run around, pulling and poking at strangers who—



Keep reading

lindseyylu17  asked:

I'd love to see a fic where J and C get matched up on a dating app.

The flat was quiet and dark, no sign of my former cohabitation present. My heart ached at the realization that he was really gone. Six years of having a shadow, a lover, a home full of noise and suddenly the only sound is that of my keys desolately clattering onto an empty table.

I didn’t bother changing from my rumpled, puke stained scrubs, nor did I care to turn on a light as I wound my way through the empty halls to the kitchen. The fridge didn’t help note the stark loneliness, I don’t know why I bothered opening it in the first place knowing I would find a few stray brown sauce packets, a spoiled carton of milk, and a half-eaten container of takeaway. I did a double take at the sight of a large wine bottle topped with a bow sat on the middle shelf, an interesting label and a note tied to its neck.


Don’t be such a wuss on your birthday! No man is worth the six months of depression you’ve been sporting. Drink up and perk up!



I laughed and pulled the well-chilled bottle from the fridge, without a second glance at the rest of the meager, unsatisfying contents.

“Extremely sweet red wine,” I read from the label, popped the cork and swigging straight from the bottle, then pulled out my phone.

Sweet Walter Red is it then? How sweet Walter must have been to lend you his bottle. I hope he knows he won’t get it back!

Waiting for her reply I took another drink and hummed at the delicious crisp sweetness the wine offered. I needed to eat something before the wine turned me into a blubbering drunk.


Aye! Walter is more than happy to lend sweet bottles to beautiful nurses. Especially on their birthday!

I laughed as her next message came within seconds of her first.


I took the liberty of downloading a week gift to your iPad.
DRINK THE WINE!!!!  Then…have some fun on my dime 😜

Geili what did you do???


You’ll see! I already have it pulled up for you. All you have to do is tap the big red button!

Curiosity coursed through me. The app was indeed pulled up and a large red button read ‘Pick Me!’

“Pick me? What on earth?”




Tossing my phone to the side, I quickly drained half the bottle of wine and slumped on the couch glaring at the closed cover of my iPad.

“Who does she think she is?” I questioned. “It’s not as though I’ve never had a date…” Sighing I reasoned with myself. “…although, he never did call back. I guess I could… NO! Beauchamp, what are you thinking? Molesters, con artists and psychopaths use the internet for dating… or that’s just my overactive paranoia coming into play and generalizing to avoid admitting that I do want a date and I’m actually extremely lonely.”

My life was starting to look like a cheap early 2000s romantic comedy, only without the romance and comedic irony in abundance. I sat back down on the couch, took another mouthful of wine and started laughing riotously.

“Bridget eat your heart out!” I laughed into the bottle, the wine already nearing the opening.

The bottle of Sweet Walter diminished surprisingly quick. My food deprived stomach craved more with every sip to ebb away the hunger, and my alcohol buzzed brain’s confidence soared.

“Get a grip Beauchamp! What’s the worst that could happen?” I slurred, and tapped the obnoxious ‘Pick Me!’ button.

A burst of confetti digitally fell down the screen and I laughed as balloons rose from the bottom spelling out ‘CONGRATS!’ So far, so good!


Congrats on deciding to take this leap into the unknown. We’re here to help you find love and fun all at the click of a button! Pick Me!, Inc. has a 98% success rate and we’re happy to have you join our team! In the home bar below you will find your access to your personal profile, messages, private chats, and most importantly your matches! If you have any questions just tap on the HELP! Icon and we’ll be there to assist.

Happy Picking!

After canceling the automated tour of the app I fumbled my way through the sections, finding my profile and groaning at the photo and information Geili had chosen to submit. The title of my pages was named Hot Shot Lady Doc, “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Geili! What have you done?”

Name: Claire Beauchamp

Occupation: Professional Knife Wielder, aka SURGEON

Looking For: The perfect peen to make me happily scream and other forms of fun. 😉

Interested In: Tall, NOT Dark, but very Handsome: MEN

My eyes widened and the wine was suddenly back in my mouth. I really needed to change the information. Drunk note to self: Change all information and profile picture ASAP once sober. A heart appeared in the corner of my screen, blinking the number 6. Did this mean six messages or six matches? Why didn’t they ever make this clear? Oh, wait… Maybe that’s what the little tutorial was meant for…

“Ahh fuck it… when in Rome,” I murmured clicking on the flashing heart.

My heartbeat quickened and my stomach twisted with nerves. There were six matches waiting for me to view and one had a gold star on the top left corner stating we were a 95% match, the rest filtered through with 90%, 88%, 85%, and an 80% ratings. I bit my lip and scrolled through each, eager to see what made us compatible. One man was a wine distributor, another a carpenter, there was an army surgeon, a police officer, a publisher and even a farmer. All had stunning smiles and colorful profiles, and there was one thing important I noticed about each of these men as I read their profiles; none of them were the least bit like Frank.

“I can do this!” I said matter of factly, tapping my, unfortunately empty, wine bottle to the screen in a mock toast. “I am a strong, independent, hotshot lady doc! I managed to graduate top of my class before the age of 30! I don’t need a man but would definitely like some fun!” A new sense of excitement washed over me at that realization, but my stomach sank in guilt. “I do want a man, but am I doing this too soon after Frank?”

Chewing on my lip I paced my living room with the empty wine bottle and iPad in hand. “No! He is not caring if it was too soon to get married two days after I landed a job to be closer to him. He didn’t seem to mind that we were still together when he started dating whats her face Candy! This is for me! Geili was right, I do deserve some fun!” Confidently I flipped the iPad back open, I bit the bullet and messaged the first profile that caught my attention.

One of the original Star Wars trilogy staples J.J. Abrams presumably wanted to revisit for Episode VII was having a bulbous alien who’s a total d-bag to citizens of a desert planet. How else can you explain Unkar Plutt, the junk dealer who resembles a SpongeBob SquarePants character who sold his soul for a truckload of meth?

But how was this character made? Was he CGI? A failed attempt by the Henson Company to make an Alex Jones puppet? Nope, it was mostly just a dude in a costume – and not just any dude, but famed actor and all-around nerd Simon Pegg (best known for Shaun Of The Dead, Hot Fuzz, and, oh yeah, Star Trek).

Adding to the “who the hell is that”-ness of the whole thing, Pegg’s flabby prosthetic face was augmented by digital effects to make the character “as gross as possible,” thankfully stopping short of adding puke stains to his overalls and making Axl Rose his roommate. Pegg’s voice has also been altered in the movie, changing the pitch of his lilting British accent to a low, cranky growl – less Shaun Of The Dead, more Buffalo Bill from Silence Of The Lambs.

7 Movies That Secretly Hid Big Actors Under Special Effects

God I hate this fandom and I hate people who think Lauren’s or Hamilton are wonderful examples of queer men like honey they were racist crusty puke stains that didn’t know how to wash their booty holes

So fuck off with that shit rn

seleneremusravenclaw  asked:

So you mentioned that Alistair got sick from both ends on a plane, could you write that?

Okay, I tried to do a emeto and scat request! It was SO HARD, and it actually ended up being pretty mild, I couldn’t bring myself to actually use the words for…what comes out. XD I just used euphemisms and focused on the pain. But whatever, I tried my best guys. I hope you enjoy it. This is when Alistair and Julius are about sixteen. I have a lot of fun writing them as teens.

Warning: descriptions of vomiting and diarrhea below.

“What do I do if I throw up on here?” Alistair mumbled, sounding uncharacteristically quiet and frightened. The sixteen year old was deathly pale, his eyes ringed with dark circles, and he sat curled up around his stomach on the airplane seat. At this age he usually drew heavy black lines around his eyes with makeup, but today he hadn’t bothered, though his fingernails were still inky black with polish. Julius patted his friend’s shoulder kindly.

“Then we’ll deal with it. You can’t help it,” he said gently.

They were flying home from a holiday in the Maldives, Alistair, Julius, and Francesca and Howard Renfrew, Alistair’s parents. They’d been bringing Julius along on holiday with them for years now, especially since John had grown too old for family holidays. They were happy to pay for Julius as long as it meant they wouldn’t have to deal with Alistair themselves.

Alistair and Julius had actually enjoyed themselves whenever they could break away from Howard and Francesca, exploring the local area all day and paddling in the crystal sea every evening.

But Alistair had woken up on the morning they were flying home feeling so nauseous that he couldn’t even bear to sit in the dining hall at breakfast, making his parents frown and tut irritably. He’d been silent and pale all the way through the airport, leaning heavily on Julius, not even bothering to snap back when his parents were sharp with him.

He’d had to dash to the toilets in the airports twice, once with Julius, where he’d dry heaved painfully, going chalk white, but not managed to bring anything up. The second time Alistair had gone hunting for the quietest, smallest toilets right at the end of the terminal, and this time he’d ordered Julius to stay outside. Julius could guess what was going on in there, especially when Alistair returned staggering, his knees shaking.

When the boys had returned to the boarding gate, Julius had seen Alistair’s lip wobble, and he knew he was thinking of the long flight ahead, and those tiny airplane toilets. Julius felt a strong surge of love for his friend, and though he knew he still had to hide his affection, he could at least give Alistair the care he deserved on the flight.

Alistair certainly wasn’t going to be coddled by his parents. Alistair had heaved into an airsickness bag as the plane made the stomach churning ascent, and Howard and Francesca grumbled and fussed and complained, hissing at Alistair that he was an embarrassment whenever he made the tiniest noise. Julius rubbed his friend’s back instead, hating the red-head’s unfeeling parents, so glad that Alistair wasn’t alone with them.

“Do you think you can sleep a little?” Julius asked now, his arm tight around his friend. Alistair shook his head miserably.

“No. I can’t. My stomach is fucking killing me.” He bit his lip hard, trying to fight back tears again. “Jules… We’re gonna be stuck on here for ages, and I feel like shit,” he mumbled, his fists clenched. Julius held onto him tighter.

“It’s okay. You can get through this. I’ll help you all I can, alright?” he assured him. Alistair nodded, leaning against his friend gratefully.

There was an uneasy silence for a while, Alistair resting his head on Julius’s shoulder, but he eventually started to shift and fidget again. His stomach was clamouring angrily, but the pain was ominously low in his stomach, and he was going to sit there in uncomfortable denial for as long as possible. Even so, his white cheeks flushed pink, and he stared hard at his lap, not looking at anyone.

It didn’t take long for Julius to catch on - it wasn’t difficult to figure out with Alistair fidgeting around in his seat. At first Julius suspected Alistair might be needing to throw up, but then Julius noticed his friend’s face was a little pink, and that enlightened him.

Alistair was always embarrassed when he had to vomit in public, but that was nothing compared to how he felt when he had a stomach bug that had him purging from both ends. He tended to start blushing even when he just needed to use the bathroom, even when there were no outwardly signs at all and nobody could possibly tell. Julius knew how much it horrified his friend, but he couldn’t stand to watch Alistair fidgeting around on his seat, his expression pained and desperate.

“Do you want me to help you out of your seat, Alistair?” he whispered, trying to be as tactful as possible. Alistair scowled at him, his face flushing.

“No! Why the hell would I?” he snapped, painfully embarrassed. Julius remained unruffled, putting a kind hand on Alistair’s back.

“Alistair. It’s okay.”

Alistair cringed, hunching over in his seat, clutching his stomach. “I’m fine. It’ll go away soon, I’m sure of it,” he said forcefully, as if he could make it come true by sheer determination. He started biting his nails hard, nibbling all the black polish off, his hands shaking a little.

Julius thought it best to wait it out. There was a limit to Alistair’s stubbornness if you waited long enough, and Julius knew he would go along to the bathroom when he realised he really had to. Sure enough, several minutes later Alistair groaned in agony, quickly undoing his seatbelt.

Don’t follow me. Stay here,” he ordered, then darted up the aisle to the bathroom. Julius waited until he was out of sight, then quickly followed his friend - he wasn’t about to leave poor Alistair to suffer all alone. If Alistair needed him, he’d be there. He waited outside the bathroom door, listening hard for sounds of distress.

Alistair had a miserable time of it, locked in the little claustrophobic bathroom. He gasped and groaned, his hands clutching his knees tightly, his stomach feeling like it was being torn apart. To make matters worse, he suddenly started to feel nauseous too. He couldn’t get up off the toilet and he hadn’t thought to bring a sickness bag with him, so all he could do was lean forward, vomiting violently into his lap.

He started crying properly then; he’d managed to fight the tears all day, but now he couldn’t help it. He still felt lousy, he had a very long flight ahead, and he had no idea how he was supposed to clean himself up now. He put his head in his hands and howled.

Julius, pressed up against the door, could hear the retched and then the sobbing from inside the bathroom. He grew more and more anxious for his poor sick friend, and eventually he couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“Alistair? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“I told you not to follow me!” Alistair yelled, though his voice cracked and wavered and he didn’t sound particularly threatening. When Julius next spoke, his voice was oozing with sympathy.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“No I do not!” Alistair said quickly. Then he paused, sniffling. “Jules, I don’t know what to do. I’m covered in fucking puke now.”

“It’s okay, don’t panic. I’ll help you, I’m sure we can sponge some of the vomit off. It’ll be alright. Just let me in and I'll sort you out,” Julius said. Alistair sighed.

“Alright. I’ll let you in soon, when I’ve…you know…done here,” Alistair muttered, blushing scarlet again.

“Oh, I don’t mind about that,” Julius said, as brisk as a nurse. Alistair rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but funnily enough, I really fucking do mind.”

Julius gave a wry smile and waited obediently until Alistair’s stomach settled enough for him to stand up again, though it was uncomfortable in his puke stained clothes. He reluctantly unlocked the door and Julius squeezed into the tiny bathroom, having to stand practically nose to nose with Alistair. The red-head pulled a face.

“Everyone will be thinking we’re joining the mile high club, you know,” he muttered. Julius giggled, grabbing a wad of paper towels and wetting them at the sink.

“Let them think it. We’ll probably get a rousing cheer when we come out. Now stay still, let me clean you up a little.”

It was so cramped in there that Julius had to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet as he expertly sponged the vomit off Alistair’s trousers. He had known Alistair since they were thirteen, and this meant he had a lot of experience when it came to getting puke stains off their clothes, what with Alistair’s tendency to get motion sick. He’d expected Alistair to fidget and fuss, but he just stood humbly and let Julius work.

When Alistair was reasonably clean, Julius led him back to their seats, sitting him down and making him have a few sips of water. The red-head’s parents didn’t bother to ask if their son was okay.

All the passengers had been given blankets for the long haul flight, so Julius quickly wrapped Alistair’s around the red-head’s shoulders. Julius pulled Alistair close, holding him so his friend’s head was on his chest. He rather expected Alistair to protest or pull away, but Alistair just nuzzled into Julius gratefully. He was feeling so lousy right now that he really wanted to be held, and breathing in Julius’s warm, clean cotton smell was strangely comforting.

Julius held him tight as Alistair finally started to doze, not saying a word about how his arm was going numb, or about how Alistair had essentially pinned him to his seat, so he couldn’t even take out a book to read. He’d have sat there without anything to do for hour after hour if it made Alistair feel better.

“Why do you put up with me..?” Alistair mumbled, his voice thick as he drifted off to sleep. Julius waited until he felt Alistair’s breathing grow deeper and his body heavier, making sure he was really sleeping - and then he gave the honest answer, whispered into Alistair’s red hair.

“Because I love you, Alistair Renfrew.”

I’ve finally come to peace with the existence of the Jake Paul puke stain only to be informed that there is an Asian version of said puke stain who goes by the name of RiceGum. Why are these abominations against humanity allowed to exist?

Escape; pt.4

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 3824 words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff?

Y/L/N refers to your last name/family name

A/N: Who cares about Y/N and Jungkook because the real question is does Buster make it?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 5  // Part 6


You let your free hand grasp Jungkook’s tightly and move to interlace your fingers with his. You just needed this right now, his hand in yours or you might just breakdown in his car. Buster, please buddy you can’t leave me like this.

You fidget in your seat as you wait for the results of Buster’s surgery. You had come barging into the emergency veterinary clinic with Buster in hand and your words were simply all over the place so Jungkook had to do most of the talking. As the vet assessed Buster, you were still close to tears, grasping onto Jungkook’s hand for comfort and he would leave soft kisses on the top of your head to calm you down. In any other situation, you would question his actions but you were far too occupied with the situation at hand to worry about that.

“Oh sweetie, I’m sure his symptoms scared you but Buster here is only suffering from urinary stones in his bladder.”

“Urinary stones?”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to change his diet but first we need to get him into surgery to remove the stones.”


“Not to worry it’ll be a small keyhole surgery, so there isn’t much risk involved.”

You could only nod your head while petting Buster one more time before the vet puts him under anesthesia for the surgery.

You know the vet said that Buster would probably be alright and that the surgery would probably go smoothly but you can’t help but feel anxious as you wait for the surgery to come to an end. You wanted to tell Jungkook that he could leave and that you’ll be alright but the truth is that you wouldn’t be so you let him stay beside you with his fingers still interlaced with yours. He would look down from time to time at your tiny hand clasped between his and he would smile. He didn’t know how long he’d been waiting to hold your hand like this but all he knows is that he’s glad that you seem to find comfort in his presence.

“Y/N, did I ever tell you about how I got this tiny scar on my left cheek?” Jungkook says as he points to it.

You shake your head no and he smiles before he begins his story.

“Well there was this one time where..”

He’s been doing this all throughout the wait. Telling you stories of his past so he could take Buster’s surgery off of your mind and you can’t help but feel grateful when you look at him. For your family to think that he’s using you was simply absurd to you because like many times before you feel a sense of genuineness in his company. He didn’t have to wait with you, didn’t have to hold your hand, didn’t have to tell you stories and yet he did all of those things and you can’t help but think about how precious he is as you watch him intently tell you the story behind his scar.

You know you were traveling down a dangerous path as you felt your feelings grow for him. Forget that your families are sworn enemies but the difference between your numbers were so great that it would possibly be a world record if the two of you got together. As much as you tell yourself that your number doesn’t define you, you can’t change the way society thinks so, you try your best to push away the feelings you think you have for him.

“So, I mean the scar’s barely noticeable bu—“

“Ms. Y/N, Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s story.

You stand up almost immediately, “Yes, that’s me.”

She signals for you to enter the room and you quickly drag Jungkook with you.

“The surgery went well as you can see but we would like to keep him here to monitor his condition in case of any complications.”

“S-sure, of course.”

“Well, you should go get some sleep then. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” The vet says with a smile.

At that, you only bow at her while thanking her for all that she’s done.

Sitting in his car you let out a deep breath, finally being able to relax at the thought that you’ll have Buster right by your side again by tomorrow.

“Y/N, how about we just stay in the city tonight? It’s a little too late to drive back now.”

“Sure… but where? I don’t think your family will be very happy at the idea of me being inside your family home because you know we’re rivals and all that,” You say with a small laugh.

“Are we? I didn’t know that,” Jungkook replies sarcastically and you playfully punch his arm.

“Whatever, asshole.”

“I have a small studio apartment in town so yeah but I mean if you want to meet my family again that’s fine, we can go there too. I didn’t know you were so eager to meet your future in-laws,” He says as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You blush at the implications of his sentence and you try to think of a good response but you’re so flustered that your brain can’t seem to form a witty comeback.

“W-What I don’t… Just, shut up and drive ok.”

“Sure thing, babe,” Jungkook says in between laughs.

Keep reading

(Seeing Axl with Erin, while engaged to Axl)

“We’ll be landing in 15 minutes” the pilot said over the PA system on the plane you were on, startling you awake. Though you were having quite the nice dream you couldn’t wait to land and finally see your fiancé. The last time you saw Axl was right before you left on a two week business trip, which was the night he popped the question to you.

The plane had finally landed and Axl was picking you up, you practically trampled the people in the aisle way to be able to see him. The moment you saw him your heart dropped; he was standing there holding none other than Erin’s hand looking very engaged in their conversation. You looked at your hand where the small diamond ring was before you stormed over to see what was going on. “Axl what the fuck is this? I leave for two weeks and you go back to her?”

Axl jumped up and threw Erin’s hand down and walked over to you. Attempting to grab you; you pulled away, not wanting him to touch you at the moment. “Y/N it’s not what it looked like! Baby, I fuckin’ missed you… Let’s go home and talk this out, please.”

You couldn’t even look at him; you just proceeded to walk away to baggage claim until you heard a female voice which made you whip around. It was Erin. “Y/N, I swear I wouldn’t do anything to ruin yours and Axl’s relationship!”

You got dangerously close to Erin which made her frozen in place, flinching when you spoke. “I don’t want to hear it out of you; I know he still loves you. And you, Axl? I’m getting a taxi; we will talk about this at home, but I will not sit in the same car with you right now.”

Flagging down a taxi, you threw your bag in first before you slumped down onto the puke stained seats. Your anger had turned into tears, spending the whole way home crying thinking about your future. When you arrived home you told the driver not to leave, you never knew what could happen. Walking into yours and Axl’s bedroom you saw a delicately folded piece of paper labeled ‘Erin’. Unfolding it as fast as you could; you saw the top of it was a note for her above a song he wrote for her, ‘Erin, I will always love you’.

Not wanting to fight with Axl about any of this, you folded up the piece of paper, placed your ring next to it, grabbed your bags and headed back to the airport. You had to go see your best friend, Duff. You didn’t intend on telling Duff you were coming, you were just going to show up and stay there until you figured out your next move.

Duff was surprised to see you at your door, but even more so to see your tear soaked face at his front door. “Y/N, what the hell is going on? Where’s Axl?”

Struggling to speak through your sobs, you told Duff the news. “H-He was with Erin and they were holding hands at the airport. Duff, he wrote a love song for her and it was on our bed. I left the engagement ring on the bed and left.”

Duff leaned against the doorframe and ran his fingers through his hair before taking you into his arms. “Shit, Y/N, that’s really shitty… I don’t even know what to say besides shit. I know what you need, you need a drink.”

Walking into the kitchen with him you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, setting them on the counter for Duff to fill with none other than vodka. The two of you went back into the living room where you laid on the couch while Duff stared at you in offense to taking his spot. As the night went on you told him of your business trip; until you were interrupted by the phone, the two of you looked at each other knowing who it was. “No man, she’s not here I’m sorry. What happened?”

You nodded your head at Duff, thankful he didn’t rat you out to Axl. Beginning to feel tired after Duff returned to the couch, you grabbed your half full cup and headed for the guest room. “Thanks for letting me stay here, it means a lot. I won’t be here long I promise, just until I find a place of my own.”

He got up to come hug you, seeing that you were yet again crying. “You’re my best friend; you can stay here for however long you want. Things will turn around, I love ya Y/N.”

The next morning you woke up to go make yourself coffee, grabbing a mug and starting the pot you waited for the coffee to brew. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a body sitting at the small kitchen table and assumed it was Duff. “Good morning Du-… Axl?”

You dropped the coffee mug onto the floor, letting it crash into a million pieces once you saw it was Axl and not Duff. Axl walked over to clean up the jagged pieces of ceramic scattered all over the floor as you stood there in shock. You heard Duff’s footsteps coming down the hall; he started talking before he stopped in his tracks, shocked at the sight of the redhead. “What the fuck is goin’ on in here Y/N?! Oh shit… Hey Ax… Uh, I’m gonna head back to bed.”

Axl stood up to throw away the collection of the broken coffee mug pieces he had in his hand before he finally spoke to you. “Duff’s a bad liar, I knew you were here.” He shoved his hand into his back pocket, pulling out your ring and laying it in his palm. “I think you forgot this, Y/N.”

You gently closed his palm and took a step back to lean on the stove. “No, I left that there on purpose. As many times as we’ve talked about Erin and you being over her, I never believed you. I just never had evidence to prove it until now. First the airport, then I find the love note and love song to her. Go home to the girl you really love, Axl. Don’t waste your time with me.”

Axl walked over to you and leaned up against the counter next to you. “I know it looked bad yesterday, but I was telling her about you. I was telling her I found someone who replaced the void in my heart she left. It was huge, Y/N, and you filled it. The love song you found? It was from before we even met; you have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

Axl brought the ring out once again, opening his clenched fist to reveal the small, yet beautiful diamond. You grabbed it and slowly slipped it back onto your finger, looking up at Axl with your eyes glistened by tears. “I love you, Axl. Please take me home.”

Axl wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into his chest and squeezing you tightly. Duff walked into the kitchen with a gigantic grin smeared over his face. “I knew it!!! Group hug!!! You crazy kids in love.”

Cleaning day

There’s something cathartic about getting the cat puke stains out of the carpet and finally putting away things that are out of place.


Happy Lowman imagine based on the song “Unsteady” by the X Ambassadors. 

Trigger warning: Drug abuse. 

Originally posted by ugh-fuckoff

Originally posted by oreilysamcro

Of course you knew Happy Lowman.

He was a big legend back in Tacoma, where you’ve lived your whole life. You worked as a dancer/waitress in the most famous local strip bar “Benny’s Bunnies”;  The visits from the local SAMTAC were usual, it was like Benny and SAMTAC being almost like a big family. You were close to the whole MC, and the whole MC was close to you. Like you said, a big family.

Happy Lowman was the most interesting men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Big Bad Biker, loving son, loving nephew; Scary man. His tattoos all over his body, his raspy manly voice whenever he asked you for another round of pure whiskey and his strong frame made you go nuts, but his tender heart and the look on his face whenever he talked about his mother melted your lust away. 

You were thinking about him, while snorting blow up your nose, leaned against the bathroom of your work mirror, your skimpy work uniform being lifted up to your stomach, being taken from behind by a dirty old dealer, running his filthy hands up your sides and moaning on your ear. You threw your head back, as you felt his cum on the low of your back, too lost in your own cocaine extasis to even take notice of it. 

You were a drug addict since you were 14 years old. The streets were rough and cold and some days, the only thing that helped you through was some cocaine and some H. You cleaned yourself, pulled your skirt down and fixed your hair, stumbling outside the bathroom, the dealer following behind, spanking your ass as he left. 

You could see your boss staring at you, crossed arms, an unbelievable look on her face. You looked down, watching the blood pour out of your nose and into your fantasy nurse uniform. 

“Go get cleaned up.” She whispered as she walked past you. “I don’t want you around looking like this. Come back tomorrow.” You sighed. Another day off for you, you guessed. You turned around, aiming to get your jacket but stumbled across a broad chest, making you almost fall, if it wasnt for a pair of strong arms that stopped it. 

“Really?” Someone asked, looking at the blood on your nose. The raspy voice you already knew and the whiskey and weed smell that you longed on your body made you stare up at the one and only Tacoma killer holding you in his arms. “Really, (Y/N)?” You sighed and hanged your head low. You were in love with this guy and out of all people, you didn’t want him to see you like that. 

He lead you outside of the bar and walked you over to your house, making sure you got there safe and sound. You were silent the whole way up there and only speaked when you groaned, for you could not open the door with your keys.

“Let me.” He whispered, taking the keys from you and opening the door. You looked at him, oily cinnamon skin, covered in tattoos, cold stare. The man was all you wanted. You put your hand on the back of his neck, cupping it and biting your lip, watching him close his eyes in pleasure for a moment. 

He grabbed your hand, putting it down and looking at you, as the dawn emerged; Pink, yellow and orange filling up the sky. 

“Kiss me.”

He shook his head, cleaning the blood from your nose. “Don’t kill yourself this way.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, tears starting to fall off your eyes.


“(Y/N)…” he whispered, shaking his head. “Get cleaned up, close your doors and sleep it off…” He said walking away from you and on to his bike. You frowned, feeling humiliated and  confused. You banged your door shut and cried yourself to sleep that night.

In the next few months, Happy was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t at the clubhouse, he wasn’t at the bar and he wasn’t at his mother’s. You found yourself missing him everyday, even if you weren’t anything; he always acted quite protective around you, and you missed that. You dunked yourself in even more cocaine and a bit of heroine, feeling so lost without him; You were lost without Happy Lowman.

That’s why your sister called him the day you almost overdosed.

Two hours after the call, Happy’s bike was in front of your apartment, helmet in his hand as he walked over to your sister, waiting for him on the door step. 

“Thank you for coming.” She said as he nodded, watching the inside of your house, the crime scene. They were puke stains on the carpet, clothes all over the place, dirty dishes and mainly dirt all around. “We just came back from the hospital, i didn’t had time to clean up.” She said.

“On what?” Happy groaned as he stepped in. 

“Cocaine, new brand.”

“Stupid bitch.” He muttered under his breath. Your sister nodded, showing him the way over to your bedroom while he silently followed. A few steps and he was inside of your room, watching you fast asleep on the bed, covered up to your nose, sweating like a pig. Your hair was a mess, and your face was pale, the bags under your eyes were big and deep and your lips were chapped and faded. He sighed and nodded at your sister, meaning he was good on his own. 

He walked over to your bed, watching all the bruises in your arm and legs, how unhealthy you looked and how, yet, beautiful you looked to him. He put a strand of your thin hair behind your ear and sit down on the bed, waiting for you to wake up. 

Which you did a few seconds later staring back into his eyes. Fluttering your eyes open, trying to take in who was in front of you. Your pupils were still as big as grapes and your mouth tasted like a NY sidewalk. You fixed your hair and pulled your oversize sweatshirt up, avoiding you to practically flash Happy. 

You had nothing to said, except the last words you heard Dr. Montez say.

“I’m a bit unsteady” You repeated. He nodded. 

“I brought you weed. Gemma Teller said it will help you.” 

 You bit your lip, trying to hold your tears in but it was impossible. You leaned your forehead on Happy’s bicep and cried your soul out, sobbing and yelling, feeling all the bottled up things coming out for once. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, i don’t want to be like this…I just…” You looked at your bruised forearms and gulped. “I don’t do well without you” you said in between sobs as your face went red. He shook his head and caressed your hair, getting up. Panic was set in your eyes, but you calmed down when you saw him walk around the room. grabbing a chair and placing his kutte on it, removing his boots as well and crawling into bed with you. He quietly wrapped his tattooed arms around you and, even if you knew how many men those hands killed, you didn’t cared, for you felt save inside of them. 

“This coke shit ends right now. I don’t want you getting hurt.” You nodded against his lap. “You’re better than that.” 

“Am i?” You sniffed and cleaned your swollen eyes. “Because you know what they said.” sniff. sniff. “Once a junkie, always a junkie.” You felt his hands starting to caress your hair. 

“Fuck what they say. From now on…” he looked down at you. “If someone’s got a problem with you, they talk to me first.” You looked up at him, staring at his hard face and unbreakable temper. You nodded slowly; Then you knew you were his. You addiction, your recovery, your rehab, your pale face, your sidewalk mouth, the heroine shot bruises on your arm, your body, heart and soul belonged to Happy Lowman. 

He stayed there the rest of the night, holding you into his arms, taking care of you, making sure you were drinking enough water and shaking every panic attack away. You still didn’t kissed him, he didn’t tried to cup a feel. He still didn’t  touched you in a personal, close, relationship-esque way, but you knew…

Damn, you knew…

As unsteady as you were, you belonged. 

  • Boyd: Emilio, I'm sorry I crossed all those boundaries.
  • Emilio: It's cool. Me and drunk Boyd worked it all out. In fact he signed this paper.
  • Boyd: [Reading the paper] I, drunk Boyd, am a... what's that word?
  • Emilio: Punk ass hoe.
  • Boyd: Thanks. I, drunk Boyd, am a punk ass hoe. I promise to keep my big mouth shut and replace all of Emilio's poor people chips. I will no longer meddle in his relation-chips...
  • Emilio: You laughed about that until you threw up. Oh and if you're wondering. No the puke stains will not void this contract.
Vampire Money (Short Story Smut)

Vampire Money (Short Story Smut)
[Michael Clifford]
Rating: R
AN: the intro is extensive, but I hope you enjoy!

After my least favorite class, pre-calc, I sighed in relief. Mr. W hadn’t assigned any homework for the weekend. Another homework grade would’ve dropped my grade below a B, which would’ve pissed my parents off that I had gotten another C in pre-calc for the third time, despite the fact my parents are the worst at math.

I placed my earbuds in my ears, and loudly played my music, walking to my final period, English 11. Even though I loved writing, I hated English class. The class was very easy, but it was very difficult to pay attention when he sat adjacent to me, on my right, and we both sat near the back of Mrs. Ritter’s dusty but large, classroom. And additionally, Mrs. Ritter is a complete and total bitch.

Michael Clifford. No one really knows who he is, he’s not like the all-star of the football team, he only has a small circle of friends. Most of the attention he recieves is stares, at his flaming red hair, and the black eyebrow piercing.

I’ve had a crush on him for only about a month now, but I’ve never made the effort to talk to him. His music taste is phenomenal, and similar to mine from what I can tell. He wears band shirts practically every other day, and he’s never repeated one of the shirts.

As soon as I made it to Mrs. Ritter’s class, I sat in my usual seat, with 4 more minutes to spare before the bell rings. I nodded along to my music while taking out my English notebook, and heard someone faintly talking to me while I was checking the time on my phone.

I pulled out my earbud and turned around, my phone in both of my hands on the desk. “Huh?” I said, as I now face Michael. My heart begins to thump.

“You like My Chem?” He said smiling, pointing to my phone.

I felt my face blush and burn up. “Oh! Uh, yeah, Iove them.” I smiled back nervously. “I love All Time Low, too.” I said, referring to his shirt.

“Well damn,” Michael chuckled, setting his books down onto his desk, and leaning onto his chair. “We definitely need to talk about music.”

“Definitely,” I said, as the bell rang.

“OK, everyone take out their homework,”
Mrs. Ritter began. “I will be coming around to check it.”

“God fucking damn it!” I muttered to myself, furiously searching through my bag for the Grammar Packet she’d assigned us.

“’Sa matter? Didn’t do the homework?” Michael smirked.

I glared at him, setting my bag back down on the floor. “No, I did, I just don’t have it with me.”

“Tisk tisk, you know what the old bat’s policy is. No homework equals a detention.”

I smiled, playfully rolling my eyes. “Like you did it either.”

Before Michael could respond, Mrs. Ritter interrupted. “(Y/N), where’s your homework? And Michael, you didn’t do it again, of course.”

“I don’t have mine.” I stated, as she checked our names on her list.

“Very well, detention for both of you. You’ll stay after class.” She instructed sternly.

I sighed loudly in frustration. I guess I’d be considered a “goody goody,” because I’ve never had a detention, suspension, I always did my homework, and so on. As you can imagine, my parents are going to kill me when the find out I have detention.

“Don’t worry,” Michael said, interrupting my thoughts. “I’ll make detention fun.” He winked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned crimson red from his sexual joke, and avoided eye contact. Was his joke serious? No one had ever talked to me this way.

“Let’s see,” Mrs. Ritter anounced, looking down at her clipboard through her bifocals. “We will go over the packet but first, Clifford, (Y/L/N), you’ll go out in the hallway. No talking. Each of you get one of the packets on that desk on your way out.” She said.

Relucantly, I made my way out of the classroom as Michael followed behind me, and we each grabbed one of the packets. The packet was at least 5 pages long, and there was about 20 questions on each page. I sighed in annoyance, that I had to complete this again, even though I had done this last night.

But, I was happy I was finally talking to Michael, despite the fact I got really nervous, probably due to the general anxiety I got around males, since I’d been so inexperienced.

I sat down on the cold tiled floor, leaning against the lockers.

Shortly after, Michael came out, with both of our backpacks, and I looked at him with my one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

“Why did you get our bags?” I questioned.

“Because,” he said, holding his hand out for me. “Stand up. We’re leaving.”

I took his hand(which was very nice and soft) standing up, and took my bag from his other hand. “No, no, no, we can’t! We have detention!” I exclaimed in a low voice. “We’ll just get a suspension or something worse.” I let go of his hand, reluctantly.

“Okay, fine.” Michael said, setting his black backpack down on the floor, unzipping it. He then pulled out a black cube-shaped lunch box, then pulled out a bottle filled with a mysterious-looking concoction. “Take this, and dump some of it into a bathroom stall, don’t flush it. I’ll go in and tell Mrs. Ritter, you’ll go to the nurse, you’ll be sent home.“ He handed me the bottle.

"But, what the hell is in this?” I looked at it, disgusted.

“Oh, it’s just a smoothie, from lunch; but it looks like vomit so it’ll be fine. Now, run to the bathroom, remember that there’s cameras.” He reminded me.


I ran down to the bathroom at the end of the hallway on the right corner. Luckily when I entered, there’d been no one in the bathroom.

I smiled to myself. I’m amused that Michael was pulling this off and thought of this little scheme just to hang out with me.

I poured the smoothie into the bathroom stall, and dipped my finger in the water bottle, and smeared some on my sweatshirt. I came back out with my hand on my stomach, and walked back towards Michael, where he had been standing with Mrs. Ritter.

“Oh my, (Y/N), I hope you get better. Michael, why don’t you go with her and take the waste bin right there to make sure she makes it to the nurse okay?” Mrs. Ritter said, actually sounding concerned.

“Will do, Ma’am.”

Despite the fact there’d only been about an hour left in the day, the nurse sent me home, and told me I would make up my detention on Monday. Michael waited in the small waiting area for me.

“Is your mother busy?” She asked me, while I stood in the waiting room with my backpack over my shoulder, and my “puke”-stained sweatshirt in a plastic bag. I looked at Michael and he nodded his head.

“Uh, yeah, she’s working and so is my dad,” I looked at Michael for the follow-up. He pointed at himself. “Could my friend here Michael just drop me off?” Michael grinned.

“I guess that’d be fine. You both never get into trouble, you’ll be okay.” She smiled. “Don’t get detention again. I’ll let Mrs. Ritter know to change your detentions to Monday.” Miss Smith joked.

Michael led me out the door, opening and closing it behind me. “Holy shit, that was awesome. You’re really smart.” I laughed, as we walked to his car.

“Where are we going, though?” I questioned, buckling myself into his black Corrolla.

“Well, it’s,” he turned the keys into the ignition and waited for the blue digital letters on the radio to appear. “2:15, so it’ll be a ten minute drive to my house, so we can just hang there until the time schooled to be over, I’ll drop you off, no one will know what happened. Simple.”

“I see.” I responded, with a nervous laugh. I was hanging out with someone really attractive, with really good music taste, who has their own car, and got me out of detention(for now). How could this get much better?

The next few minutes were silent, but not awkward. The local rock station was on, but neither of us had seem to recognize the song.

Unexpectedly, Michael swerved harshly to the right into Wendy’s. “Jesus fucking Christ, Michael!”

“I’m sorry! We have to go here.” He replied, pulling up to the speaker in the Drive-Thru. I only heard the muffle of the worker speaking. “Yeah, we’ll take two Junior Chocolate Frostys.”

“That’s why we have to go here?” I laughed, while he pulled up to the next window.

“Of course.” He replied handing the girl two dollars. “You like Frostys, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Exactly!” He agreed, taking the two Frostys from the girl’s hands. “Thank you.” He replied to her, handing me a Frosty.

“Thanks for buying me one.” I thanked him, setting my Frosty in the second cup holder. Surprisingly, his house had been only across the street in the housing development.

He pulled up into the driveway, unbuckling and grabbing his keys from the ignition and his Frosty. I mimicked his actions, following behind him and up onto the stairs as he unlocked his house. I missed the third step and tumbled backwards, my Frosty splattering across the concrete, and onto me. “God damnit!” I yelled, sitting up, as Michael ran down to me.

“Christ (Y/N),” He pulled me up, holding my forearms. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” I sighed. “I knew something’d go wrong.” I forced a smile.

“Oh, (Y/N), come in, I’ll get you some fresh clothes, wait here.” He said, jogging up the staircase to his bedroom.

I took the time to look around at the photos hanging in his dining room, which was the first room to enter in his house. You can tell from the photos he has no siblings. The one photo is him with black hair with a teal blue stripe, and his arms are wrapped around his happy, smiling mother. I don’t see any pictures of a dad, so I assume his dad has abandoned him, or maybe died.

The one photo right next to that struck to me the most. In this picture, the bottom left corner is dated 2014, and his hair is lavender. There’s four boys in the picture, one with black hair, one with shaggy brown hair, and another attractive boy with a lip ring and blonde hair, and they all have their arms around each other’s shoulders.

I can also tell from all of the photos on his wall that he’s dyed his hair a lot.

“Oh, those are my best friends.” Michael said from behind me, and I gasped and turned around to face him. I hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs. “Here, you can go change in the bathroom over there.” He said, pointing me in the direction of it.

I locked the bathroom door behind me, then looked at myself in the mirror. I’d been covered in chocolate ice cream, but luckily my hair remained only touched slightly by it. I was wearing a sweater and jeans, so my skin remained unaffected. Unfortunately, my Vans had been caked in it, but I’d wash them when I returned home.

I slipped off my jeans and slid into the baggy black sweatpants Michael gave me. Luckily they had a drawstring, so they fit around my waist accordingly. Next, I slid on the shirt he gave me.

It was a My Chemical Romance shirt.

I left my Frosty-covered clothes in the bathtub, as Michael mentioned I could just leave them there.

“Nice shirt you gave me.” I commented, walking out of the bathroom. I watched Michael eye me up and down before gulping. I recognized that form of behavior, as I had practiced it all the time. He was anxious. Was it about me? He eyed me up but did that mean anything?

He took a spoonful of Frosty. “I thought you’d like it. Let’s go up to my room, I have a bluetooth radio in there.” He went up the stairs and I scurried behind him. Since his legs were very long compared to my stubby ones, he made it up into his room before I did.

Once I arrived to his room which was only shortly after him, he was on his iPhone. I sat down on his bed, which his bed was surprisingly made, and everything was tidy. Seems unusual for a teenage boy.

He put down his phone and adjusted the volume, and I immediately recognized what we were listening to. It was Vampire Money by My Chem.

“How about you, Mikey?” I said, repeating the line from the beginning of the song, as he sat down next to me.

“Fuckin’ ready.” He stared at me, and bit his lower lip. I felt my heart rate increase.

“Well I think I’m alright.” I responded.
My body felt like it was on fire.

“May I kiss you?”

I swallowed. “Um, but…I’ve…I’ve…never…yes.” I spat out.

“Oh, (Y/N), Michael tucked my hair behind my ear. Instinctively, my eyes fluttered shut, as he leaned in.

"3-2-1, we came to fuck,” Gerard sang, as Michael’s lips touched mine.

The way his kiss felt was indescribable. It was almost as if there was an electricity flow between our lips. I followed Michael’s lead, moving my lips against his. We both came back up for breath. His pupils were widely dilated, as his forehead was pressed against mine. “Tell me if we go too far.” He muttered against me. I nodded.

He pecked my lips once more before peppering kisses from my chin down to my jawline, and down along random places along my neck. I locked my fingers into his hair, enjoying how good it felt. Once his lips made it to the middle of my collarbones, I let out an involuntary soft moan, and I was surprised and a little embarrased of myself.

He came back up to my face level, nothing but lust and desire in his eyes. “You are so fucking beautiful, (Y/N).” He murmured. “Can I take these off? He said, referring to my clothes. “Please.” I said back.

He gently pulled my shirt over my head, now leaving my torso half-exposed. “Fuck.” He bit his lip again. He gently laid me back, my lower legs hanging over the edge. I lifted up my hips and he slid the sweatpants down onto the floor. He then stripped off his tight skinny jeans, kicking off his combat boots as well.

I became more nervous at this point. I knew about sex, after all the internet does exist. But, I was still unsure of what to expect next. Michael quickly stripped his shirt off, and I looked up at him in awe. His body was perfect in an odd way. He didn’t have rock hard abs, but I still admired it.

I could feel a rush down to my core, as Michael hovered over me. “What do you want me to do?” He seductively asked, I could feel his hot breath.

“T-Touch me.” I muttered in an almost-whisper.

Although it wasn’t specific, he knelt down at the edge of the bed, grasping my thighs and scooting me closer with him.

He began by kissing up my left leg, slowly spreading kisses up to my thighs. “Michael,” I moaned, wanting him to do more.

His hot breath fanned over my pussy, making another rush of wetness come to my core. At last, he hooked his fingers in my underwear, and slid them down, discarding them with the rest of my clothing.

He placed my thighs around his neck, and looked up at me for final assurance. I nodded vigorously in anticipation.

“Babe, you’re soaking wet. We’ve only just started.” He murmured.

I bit my lip. “Please, Michael.”

Deliberately after my plead, I felt the pad of his tongue press against my slit. I let out the mixture between a moan and a gasp. It was a foreign but amazing feeling. His tongue darted around my opening, then up to my clit, gently licking it. “Oh, Michael.” I moaned, grasping the locks of his hair tightly. He responded positively, and moaned against me, and I felt the vibrations course through my center.

“Michael, I-I’m gonna–” I warned
him, but his tongue then plunged into my center, rapidly moving, and his hand came up to my clit, and he looked up at me.

I began to buck my hips against him, trying to get the most pressure on my core as possible. He rubbed my clit even faster, and I felt myself climax while in a state of pure euphoria.

I then relaxed down on the bed, breathing heavily out of exhaustion. Michael then stood up and my mouth gaped open at the sight.

His dick was fully erect in his black boxers.

He laid down on the bed, next to me. “What’s wrong?” He looked at me in slight horror.

“Your…” I trailed off, pointing at his bulge. “Do you want me to…?”

“You don’t have to…” He trailed off.

“I want to.” I reached down into his boxers, and grabbed ahold of his stiff dick. I began to move my hand up and down his shaft, my face a mere inch from his, as I watched him sigh in pleasure, his eyes hooded.

“Faster, please.” He moaned. He was in his most vunerable state yet, and I was the one making him feel like this. I began to pump him faster, and gripping slighly harder.

“Fuck!” He almost yelled, and I felt him twitch within my hand. “I’m gonna come.” He grunted, now coated in perspiration. I was now sliding my hand down his cock even faster, and I felt another twitch and his cum spurted straight up in his underwear. Iand out of his underwear.

After he recovered from his climax, he spoke; “Oh my god, no one’s ever made me come that hard and fast.” He bit his lip.

I blushed, unsure of what to say. I’m Not Okay was playing in the background, as we both laid there. “(Y/N)?” He sat up.

“Yeah?” I responded, sitting up with him.

“I…” He had trouble searching for the right words. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing. Would you like to… maybe do something a little more romantic, like a date? OK, (Y/N), would you be interested in pursuing this relationship and go out on a date with me?”

“I’d very much like that.” I smiled. “Are you counting detention on Monday as a date?”

Revenge Gerard x Reader
Gerard’s POV (May be a little triggering and sad so………..)
I never want her to leave me.
Being able to hear her voice makes me over joyed
Even though we are miles away we still chat over Skype.
I want to Skype her all day. I want to be able to see her face and touch it.
I want to kiss her adorable little face and cuddle all day and eat pancakes.
“Gerard I need to go.” “Please don’t leave.” I feel my eyes swelling, this happens every time she leaves. “Gee honey, it’s 12:23 AM, I’m really tired.” “O-okay.” She logs off. I go over to the couch and cuddle up in a ball. I softly fell asleep. 
_____________________Next morning_____________________
I fell the warm sun hit my eyes. I groan loudly, knowing Frank was trying to get me up. “Gee come on, you need to get up.” I rub my eyes and look at the clock, 6:15 AM.
I groan again, hoping he gets the hint and leaves. “GERARD.WAKE.THE.FUCK.UP!” He yells. Why doesn’t he get the hint I want to be left alone? “Please…..leave….I’m not in the mood nor the shape.” I throw my pillow, that was lying right next to me, at his face. “Well, you need food and something to hydrate you, so get up.” I can almost see him rolling his eyes. “I want alcohol, pills, and a cigarette.” I mumble quietly. “What?” Franks asks. “I said I want pancakes, milk and syrup.” I say as I nuzzle deeper into the pillow. “We’re out of Pancake mix and syrup, since you feel sick I will be nice enough to get them at the store.” Frank says. I silently cheer when he says he’s leaving. “m'kay” I mumble. I hear him leave. I get up out of my bunk and head towards the kitchen. I look for cigarettes and booze. I open the fridge and grab the last beer. I also grab Frank’s cigarettes.

Y/N’s point of view

I always feel bad when I need to leave. I get so worried for him, I don’t want him to take anything too far, he’s had an alcohol problem for a long time. I pack up my stuff and get in my car. I put the “Three cheers for sweet revenge” CD in and I drive to where he was touring. I wanted to surprise him for a while but I never got the chance. I had Frank join in on the surprise. I told him to get a cake and fake cigarette candles to go with it, or real ones, it really doesn’t matter, as long as he’s happy. I drive to the hot topic and get him skinny jeans, knowing he is running out of them. I also get myself son MCR shirts and a Harley Quinn shirt.

I get back in the car and get a call from Gerard. “Yes honey?” “Heyyyy baby.” I could hear him slurring and crying, he’s drunk. “What are you doing?” I miss you so much, do you even love me?“ "Of course I do what are you saying?” “NO YOUR FUCKING LYING! YOUR CHEATING ON ME I CAN HEAR IT!’” “No that’s my car.” “SO YOUR DRIVING HOME FROM FUCKING HIM HUH?!” I start to feel tears prickling at my eyes. “No I would ne-” “DONT FUCKING LIE TO ME. YOU DON’T MISS ME. YOUVE ALWAYS HATED ME!” “Honey don’t yell, please don’t.” “IM DONE!” *click* I stare at my phone knowing what happened, and knowing what’s going to happen if I don’t act fast. I speed dial Frank. “Yea?” “Its Gee, he thinks I’m cheating, he’s drunk, I’m pretty sure he’s stoned or something, but he called me then hung up, I’m worried-” “Calm down, I’m almost back.” he hung up. I start up the car and drive as fast as I can.

Frank POV

Holy shit. I knew Gerard has a tendency to take things far, but I didn’t know this far. By the time I arrive at the bus, I’m happy I arrived at the time I did. “GERARD!’ he turns around with blood shot eyes and a gun. Good job Frank, always bringing the gun for other shit. "Drop the gun” “Why she’s cheating on me.” his hand on the trigger. “Gerard, your drunk, she would never do that. Your everything to her, and she’s everything to you. Don’t do this.” I slowly grab the gun and lower it. “Come on, your filthy, lets clean you up.” I say. “I don’t want to take a shower with you gay ass.” I roll my eyes. “Do you want your brother to clean you up?” I say holding him as he puked. “Fine, just once.” “Get into swimming trunks or something after I wash your hair.”

>Time Skip<

*Knock Knock*

I sigh while trying to keep Gerard still in the bath, him splashing around like a 3 year old. “One second Gee.” I run towards the door. I open it seeing Y/N with tear streaks. She hugs me, I hug back being a gentleman. “Is he okay?” “yea I’m just getting him cleaned up.” “Is he still drunk.” “its worn off a little, go get cleaned up yourself, it wont take that long to set up the table. I got a tux for Gee if you want.” “No the last thing you need is to clean a puke and food stained tux, also it will be a pain to get him in” she says.

<Time Skip Again>

Gerard’s POV

I’m so confused., where did these new skinny jeans come from. There nice, and woman’s cut. I walk out the door of my bathroom and I see a pretty lady sitting down at a table. Her face looking down. She looks up at me, that’s when I notice its Y/N. In front of her is a black cake with a red ribbon, with cigarette candles. It looked perfect. I sat down near her in the booth. I look at her. “I’m so sorry….I love you.” I kiss her cheek. I see her glowing smile. Almost in sloe motion she looks at me and kisses my lips. I wrap my arms around her. this goes on for a minute, then she pulls away. “I love you too, I would never cheat on a perfect man like you.”

(A/N *hides under blankets* please don’t kill me for making you sad. *guns shoot at blanket* I swear I’ll do better just please don’t kill me. sorry for making this sad.)

Teenage Drug Dealer Name Generator

January: shit
February: pizza
March: pebble
April: turd
May: skeeter
June: pube
July: dick
August: pee
September: fart
October: beer
November: ass
December: bitch

1: jizz
2: cum
3: skeet
4: dong
5: fag
6: ass
7: weed
8: punk
9: fart
10: fuck
11: drool
12: anus
13: fairy
14: gym sock
15: ugly
16: gay
17: homo
18: sweat
19: booger
20: nut
21: doobie
22: cop
23: snot
24: puke
25: armpit
26: stain
27: stench
28: dank
29: taint
30: pee
31: turd

Lonely blue, lonely blue

The blue cave, the deep dark unknown

Submerged forever soaked to the bone

She screams but she’s stone

Repeats my theory

Crawling through the dirt

From the deep dark, I wandered alone

So forlorn

Now I’ll be glad to see you

Now I’ll be glad to see you

In a ballad, we touch

‘Cause our skulls will mush

So please don’t let go of our kingdom of trash

I got high off butane, I was born amidst a wrath

That boy he’s just a puke stain

That girl she made me mutate

Oh so lonely

Oh so lonely

Oh so lonely

So lonely blue

The sky was blue

And high above the moon was new

This eager heart of mine was singing lover come back to me

Lover, lover come back to me

@awolxsiblings liked for a starter ! || x

{ ☕ } ||  Looking Ayleen up and down, it was clear that he was especially
amused. However, the toothy grin that had begun to spread across a pale
face was not the result of her walking out in a rather lovely outfit for their
dinner reservation.

“Babe, y’know I love that dress y’always wear, but I like seein’ ya in it,
minus the baby puke stain.

Halloween: From Freaks to Spirit Halloween and why we hate this Holiday

Let’s call this person Mari. Mari and I were good friends and we work together at Joanne Fabrics.

Mari and my other coworkers knew I cosplay a lot. Coworkers are okay with it and they think its neat, Mari doesn’t.

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Open Starter.

These days it was easier to just forget all about Rick, but to be fair nothing in Morticia’s life has ever really been that easy. She finds him in the most annoying places. The space of the couch where a puke stain in the shape of George Washington’s head ( or was it a cloud? She could never remember. ) stayed plastered to the cheap green fabric. The empty seat at the kitchen table where her mother still lays his plate, as if he’d come strolling through the garage door any minute. It’s happened before. Not nessiarily always the same Rick, but Beth didn’t know that and Morticia didn’t want to tell her. It would just make matters worse.

Armed with cardboard boxes under her arms and a handful of baby wipes Morticia kicked open the garage door. Not an amazing feet as it had already began falling off the hinges a month ago, and no one bothered to fix it. Stumbling into the garage, a new found anger coating her insides, she got to work. Tossing random somewhat unfinished inventions, a bottle of what she could only hope was some sort of Space Booze, and a questionable looking diagram of a fish like creature into a box, she sighs. This was going to be a long day.

anonymous asked:

Can I request?? Please?? Jungkook getting drunk and spilling all of his deep dark evil maknae thoughts to jimin

“Well, I’m going to hit the sheets,” Taehyung suddenly says, standing up from his spot on the wooden floor of their dorm’s living room. He stretches his now-stiff arms and shakes his legs. “Goodnight.”

“Wait, Taehyung, no,” Jimin says, panicked. He wants to grab onto the younger’s wrist and pull him back down to the floor, but his current position prevents him from doing so.

Jungkook’s head is resting on the space between Jimin’s crossed legs, and the maknae is giggling so much as his fingers reach for the older’s chin.

 “I need to sleep for a long day of practice tomorrow,” Taehyung justifies himself, but everyone and their dog knows that the boy just wants to leave him alone with Jungkook.

“I need sleep, too!”

“But, unlike me, you’re actually good at dancing,” the younger says, now waving at Jimin with a sly smirk. “Ta-ta for now.  Don’t have too much fun!”

“By the way,” Taehyung suddenly says. “It would be such a shame if, you know, Jungkook was a bit drunk.”

Jimin wants nothing more but to throw an empty bottle at Taehyung, because everyone knows Jungkook is more than wasted as they speak. He’s so wasted that calling him wasted is an understatement.

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