I'm your little harlot, starlet !

Valencia was never good with hospitals, or loved ones in pain really. Sure it was easy for her to be just silly when a friend had a knick or a cut, but after stepping into Will’s room she nearly walked  back out. Seeing someone she cared about look this mangled up made her want to double over and cry. However, she just stood there at the doorway, looking like a dumb deer in headlights. Her busted lip and twisted ankle looked like nothing in comparison to Will. After taking a long deep breath, she headed further in, immediately getting to work. “God, where are the nurses? This is ridiculous.” She muttered to herself, keeping her eyes down as she took a cup full of ice chips and dumped it into a few paper towels. She felt like her grandmother, who muttered complaints to herself and hummed Shirley Caesar hymns as she fussed over someone. Valencia was no different, letting out a small frustrated huff as she gingerly placed the ice on his eye. “Hold it with your good hand.” She told him, before moving to grab him an ice-cold glass of water and then she sat next to him as she took over holding the makeshift ice pack. “Here.” She held out the cup with the straw with her left hand. “Drink.” Valencia ordered him. “You call your mom yet?”

“thanks a lot, val. keep reminding me,” he replies, feigned offense in his voice. to be honest, he isn’t all that bothered about getting older. making a big deal out of it is what he doesn’t like about it. but then again—he appreciates what his mom tries to do for him. even when he knows she’s busy as hell. so he’ll sit her and have fun (or pretend to, if it comes to it) for her sake. “are you trying to tell me something? though i already had something going for me and you tell me i gotta wait till forty to get hot? ouch,” he chuckles. he nods at her next comment—it’s almost like they’re constantly around booze and a lot of them find it hard to say no. thank god bash still knows when to stop, though. “you’re being so mean today. isn’t that a rule, that you gotta be nice to me because it’s my birthday?” he teases; suddenly he’s ready to use the date as an excuse. “but you;re right. getting real drunk, sticky bar, salty pretzel. throw in a game of pool in there. i’m sold,” bash says. he’ll ask around who’s up for it when it gets late enough and off they go. “anyway, how are ya doing? thought you’d have more fun shit to do on a weekend than being here. appreciate that you are, but still.”

"Oh shut up, you know you’re cute.” Valencia got comfortable on the seat, making sure her red dress didn’t show any of her goods to the partygoers passing by. If Valencia knew anything about parents, she knew they were kind of old-school, and she definitely didn’t want to offend Bash’s mom in any way shape or form. Valencia knew the eye when she saw it, and she wanted none of the trouble that came with that kind of intense gaze. “No.” She singsonged, taking a sip of her beer. “I also gotta punch you thirty-one times. I would, but I’m kinda tired. Also, I got my nails done yesterday, so, y’know.” She replied with a shrug and a smile. “Can’t wait to beat your ass in pool though. Manicure or not, I’m definitely gonna fuck you up.” She teased, before sitting up. “I’m good. Same ole’ same ole’ really. Besides, wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything. Sunday’s are slow at the club anyway, I’d be bored as hell.” Valencia hummed as she let the sun warm her face. “This is much better anyway. You’re lucky, having a mom that cares about stuff like this. The whole party thing is cute, dare I say fun, even.”

…

They’ve had variations of this conversation before, almost every week. That doesn’t mean Will won’t make the same points, over and over, nor will he give up his relentless quest to make Valencia see she doesn’t need nobody, especially not this guy and his bank account. “If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…” he trails off, giving her another very pointed look from his spot on her couch before quickly jumping up at the word food. V’s cooking beats the freshly shop lifted Cheetos he’d brought as an apology. Will steps into the kitchen, pulling out plates for himself and his best friend, setting them down beside her before leaning against the counter. Sometimes he’s well behaved.  Then he opens his mouth again. “What do you mean investments?” his eyes narrow, ”I don’t think getting your hair and nails done counts as an investment, V, but go off.” Will jokes, sticking a finger along the hot edge of the pot, impatiently trying to get a taste, “you know, with this new gig I’ve got, I could start helping you out, too.”

“Hey! You want to burn yourself?!” Valencia popped the back of his hand with a quick tap of the handle of her spoon, before she shook her head in disbelief. “Stocks, cryptocurrency, boob jobs- you know, that sort of thing. Investments.” She waved the spoon around before she turned the stove off completely. Valencia grabbed the plates and loaded his up a bit higher than hers, she knew that she’d send him home with a to-go plate but for now she was going to let him eat like a king. “Oh, so you’re the big man now huh?” Valencia chuckled and put the plates on the already set table, grabbing a beer for the both of them. “What’s the gig? And before you get any ideas, no you will not be helping me out in any way. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” She told him matter of factly as she put some bread onto his plate.

“Don’t get me started!” Sybelle said with a groan, stretching her arms over her head. Then she proceded to tell her everything. “And then, the widow’s son, tried to flirt with me right there, on his father’s funeral. I mean, what the hell!” she said. “I told him I was not interested but you now how some men are, they ca’t take a no for an answer so I moved closer to him, and whispered into his ear that unless he wanted to join his dad, he better leave me alone,” Sybelle said with a smile, taking a sip of her drink. “I mean, no offence tothe guy, he was hot but it wasn’t the right time, you know? Maybe if we had been somewhere else, i would have said yes,” she shrugged with a smirk. “What about you?” she asked her. “How’s everything going on your end? Sybelle then picked up some cheese cubes from a silver tray. “Damn, these are good!” 

Valencia listened closely, wincing as she heard of the sheer drudgery of her day. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the fuckery while she nursed her drink. “Who the hell hits on anyone at a funeral?” Valencia chuckled before taking another long sip of her drink. “Oh come on, you so wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not even if I met them at the bar. One night stands aren’t all that fun, ugh especially when you have to go home right after. I always feel so...weird.” She downed the rest of her drink. “Mm, my day. Well, it was pretty okay. Made eight hundred which was just okay, got home slept until about ten-ish? Then I went for a mani and pedi, got salads with a friend, and- ooh! I forgot to tell you! I think I’m gonna get a new bag later this week!” She grinned.

for: anyone ( @vengeancearchives​ ) MAY 8TH, afternoon; bash’s family home

+ mostly geared towards the iron coffins members / characters affiliated with the club or neutral civilians bash could be friends with (feel free to assume connections in this case!!); anyone affiliated with the blazing phoenix’s might be a bit trickier but i’m open to plotting out why your muse could be here. or i can write you a different starter, just let me know in the dms!!

asking his mom to not do anything for his birthday was really a waste of time, bash should’ve known she wouldn’t listen anyway. and not only did she ignore bash’s request, she invited pretty much everyone she could think of. the entire club is here, his other friends that he wasn’t even aware his mom knew about, even some of his mom’s neighbors showed up, despite the fact that bash hasn’t lived here for the past eight years. he’s still not entirely sure whether he’s enjoying himself or not—that’s yet to be decided.

the cake’s good, he’ll give her that. store bought, because she doesn’t have the time or energy for anything else but it’s the good stuff from the bakery, not the shit from the supermarket he’s so used to. taste of his early childhood, when the cheap supermarket shit was all they could afford. bash gets himself another slice and a fresh beer, then sits on the back porch steps, mostly so he can get the view of the entire backyard—full of his friends and family. 

“you know i told my mom not to do this,” he says when one of the guests joins him. “still convinced any birthdays past twenty-one really don’t need to get celebrated. it all gets so…repetitive. you peak at your eighteenth anyway, then it’s all downhill from there,” he chuckles. thirty-one is a far cry from that. to think he’s this old now—an actual adult. mad. “but thanks for coming anyway. i’m thinking about an afterparty. getting smashed at lucky’s sounds like a good idea, right?”

“Oh look, it’s the old man.” Valencia teased, drink in hand as she sat down with him. He was only now and officially one year older than her. “She’s your mom, she’s gonna do exactly what you tell her not to.” Valencia smiled softly. “Shush, they do. You so do not peak at eighteen either. Watch, you’re gonna get real real hot at forty. Thats what always happens anyway. Its like second puberty, but without all the awkwardness and go straight to hot. Then, it’s all downhill from there.” She raised a brow at his invitation. “Y’all are some damn alcoholics I swear.” Valencia teased, but was half serious. It seemed as though the majority of the town was always at the bar, but then she wouldn’t expect less from a bunch of bikers. “Its your birthday. If thats what you wanna do then we’ll get really really drunk and I’ll pretend to laugh when you start making terrible jokes. Hell, maybe the drinks will actually make you funny.” She smirked, as she took a sip of her beer. She really needed to stop hanging with Will, her mouth got worse since he came into her life. “I could use a few more drinks, a sticky bar, and some super salty pretzels. Sounds fun.”

                                                                                    ⤷ closed starter for @vcxens ◊

     as soon as monique heard her front door open she was hobbling down the stairs with two different shoes on and fabric gently clutched in her hands. ‘ sorry - sorry for changin’ the meeting time and place to here, ’ she huffed offering the other a sympathetic smile. ‘ just needed to see what you were wearing before we got to the restaurant. you’re always lookin’ drop dead and i needed to give myself a fighting chance. ’ eyes dancing over valencia’s frame for a moment before looking back up to meet her eyes with a soft smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, ‘ and today is no different. ’ moe held up the leather jacket in her left hand and stuck her left foot out, ‘ this jacket and the strappy heels ? or denim and sandals ? your call.  ’ she took a turn holding the denim over the burgundy fabric of her slip dress letting the other woman have a look.

If Monique was late then Valencia was even later. Valencia was notorious for taking her time trying to pick an outfit, so much so that she had to start getting ready hours in advance. She settled on a classic long-sleeved dress and some heels, and kept her hair down as always. After arriving at Monique’s place, Valencia invited herself in as always, smiling as she saw her friend. As Monique hobbled down the stairs, Valencia couldn’t help but giggle, she was so adorable. “Leather jacket, strappy heels.” Valencia confirmed, her eyes dancing over Monique’s small curves. “And, I’m gonna slap you! You know you always look amazing. Forget a fighting chance, you blow me out of the water every time! You look like a model.” Valencia was sure if Monique had lived in her hometown she would have definitely been a beauty queen. Meeting her for the first time nearly scared her off, as she incorrectly assumed she wasn’t the nicest of people. However, Monique was down to earth and pretty, and that was all it took for the both of them to become fast friends. “You know you’re drop dead gorgeous, hush.” Valencia waved her off. “And don’t apologize, it’s fine. You know I’m never up to anything really.” She shrugged, “We’re taking my car, right?”

a fine spritz of baccarat rouge 540, the perfect shade of red lipstick, cuban espresso, a strong strain of weed and a chill playlist, salty sea air, pricey handbags, sweaty yoga mats, calloused hands, and the sheer inability to ever be serious

tw: some mention of domestic abuse + shitty boyfriends :/