#if you ever wondered why rich people are assholes its not because they grew up spoiled it just makes it easier to be risky

[mewvore]

as someone who worked as a stripper for several years, showing your body is not a one way ticket to financial security. there were many nights where i worked for 8 hours and ended up owing the club money, due to how things like set rent work. and many more where i made $60-80 for a full night’s work. not that you can’t have great nights some times, or make half your rent in a hour, but many people who work in sex related industries are doing so freelance, and may never know if their next month is going to be able to support them through the year or if they’re getting their power shut off. you can be trapped in a cycle of saving what you can for months, only to have it evaporated by an unexpected expense during a bad month.

yeah absolutely, its... well its work. I don't mean to sorta condense it down to that but of all people I'm WELL aware that sex work is a working class activity.

for anyone a bit lost on the convo thread at the moment, I made a post about how I'd personally never get rich because it requires a persistent gambling mentality, and someone mentioned sex work (or adjacent types of showing off ones body publicly) as one thats probably less of a gamble for wealth. and this anon here is explaining that its very much just a normal job you probably shouldn't bet everything on it for making you rich/very few people are rich solely from sex work

to circle back to what I meant overall, when you grow up in poverty a lot of things have to be calculated based on risk and loss, as opposed to risk and reward. that mentality is very hard to shake the longer you stay poor. when you've eaten syrup sandwiches and worn your siblings clothes for 10 years, even very little things can make you completely satisfied and less willing to risk that little bit of satisfaction because you know what its like to have literally nothing. so I personally can't see myself doing the kinds of risky behavior with the little bit I have that a lot of wealthy people do to gain and maintain their riches, whether its making shady deals, playing stocks, trying to fool people, committing felonies like wire fraud, or even just like actual straight up gambling.

also theres a survivorship bias? like yeah there seems to be a million celebrities and or influencers doing all the above betting, but even in their seemingly endless masses they're like 1/100000, you rarely hear of the gamblers who lost

[angry-geese]

Sukuna requests. S/o makes fun of him all the time, calls him weak, etc. What nobody knows at the beginning is that s/o is significantly stronger than sukuna

The Definition of Human - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: some swearing but its pretty tame. mention of death, and violence. Sukuna kind of needs his own warning. sfw. gn!reader.

a/n: as much as i love the idea of sukuna being soft for his human s/o i also love the thought of them being much stronger than him and him having no clue what do to with that

Word Count: 2.1k

You were just a sorcerer when he first met you, barely an adult, cast out by your village.

Someone so powerful hadn't been born for centuries. A sorcerer like you could turn the world of Jujutsu on its head. And that was the last thing they wanted to happen. The older you grew, the more unpredictable you became. You were far too strong for the village elders to handle. While you could have been a powerful ally, you would have been an even worse foe. The very people that had raised you, who taught you how to use your powers had begun to fear you.

Though you weren't trussed up like a sacrifice, you were sat by one of his altars like one.

It was only by chance you stumbled across such a thing. The surrounding woods were vast, and winding. No matter what path you took, you always seemed to wind back up by them. Perhaps it was a work of sorcery, meant to keep you lost in the woods forever. No trail seemed to lead back home. The village elders never expected you to last long on your own against the elements, let alone the King of Curses. But growing exhausted, and hungry, you had little choice but to stop and rest. The altar had offerings in the form of food, and a place to rest. Far more than Sukuna needed. You figured he wouldn't notice if you took a few things.

At the base of an altar sat a much smaller form. A human, one from the local village. Your shoulders were slumped, your arms curled around a bag. You didn't look sad, so much as you looked furious. You were talking to yourself, listing out all the ways you’d flatten each and every structure, how you’d salt the very earth they stood on, how you’d turn the once rich, fertile soil uninhabitable.

For having Sukuna’s interest in mind, he was certainly ready to burn it to the ground. Your village did little to appease the King of Curses. The humans in it were conniving, and rather quick to betray him. The relationship between the two was strained at best. In exchange for offerings in the form of crops, alcohol, and whoever decided to get on the village elders’ bad side, he wouldn't burn your home to the ground.

In a way, you were their last sacrifice to him, and by far his favorite.

As a child your parents had warned you, telling you never to go into the woods alone. A four armed man wandered out there, and he had a habit of making travelers disappear. Now that very same forest you once feared was your only sliver of comfort.

It took you a moment to realize he was standing there. And when you finally noticed him, you didn't look at him with the fear most humans did. There was a curious glint in your eyes. You sized him up, studied him in a way he wasn't used to.

In your hands you held an apple—an old offering—paring it with a knife. You were carving around the bruises. The texture of bruised apples always bothered you.

“It's dangerous to be out here alone, little one,” he said, eyeing you up like prey, “you should know that by now.”

“You’re the least of my worries, old man,” you said, popping a chunk of apple into your mouth.

You were still human. Strong, but human. You needed sleep, and food. If exposed to the elements too long you would freeze, or succumb to heatstroke or thirst.

“Old man?!” He said, clearly offended.

“What? You don't think I’ve heard the stories?” You asked. “You don’t scare me.”

And you were right. Even as he looked you in the eyes, you didn't back down once. You, unlike every other human from your village, weren't scared of him. He found you curious, and interesting. From the very moment your eyes locked with his, he was infatuated.

“I should frighten you,” he warned.

“You don't,” you said, “in fact, I think I could kick your ass!”

Expecting it to be an easy fight, he took your offer.

What resulted was a fight that would last days. Sukuna had never met anyone who could last so long against him. Let alone a human. Your strength was only rivaled by your unwavering rage. You were determined in a way he’d never seen before. Your village, along with half of the surrounding forest would be razed in the battle.

They had to have seen this coming. The child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel it's warmth.

And it's warmth you felt.

You couldn't imagine yourself being sad. You were too filled with anger and betrayal. There was no room left in your heart for sadness.

He remembers the look of the fires, and how they glinted in your eyes. He thinks that's when you began to turn into a curse.

After the third day, he had grown not only bored, but tired. It was clear neither of you were capable of destroying the other. He figured you were too tough to eat; you wouldn't make good meat. Uraume couldn't do a whole lot with you. And you were too combative to be a concubine. You would not go with him willingly. He's not one to give up, nor is he one to admit defeat, but he knows when he's not going to win. The two of you would mutually destroy the world before you would destroy each other. There was no end in sight. Sukuna simply wanted to leave.

So he simply headed for home.

That enraged you. After days of fighting, there was no climatic end to the battle. You wanted something more.

"Hey asshole!" You said. "You can't just walk away!"

"I know when I've met my match." He said. "Do you?"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means this world will burn before we destroy each other."

The two of you were quite literally a match made in hell. You would be a powerful ally and an even worse foe. There was no point in fighting you.

He did nothing to stop you when you followed him.

You were more of a nuisance than anything else. He often found himself comparing you to a cockroach. No matter how many times he tried to squash, poison, or starve out you always came back. If he couldn't kill you, then he had to have you on his side. You weren't something to be deceived, betrayed, injured, or killed. You were stronger than that. You were sharp, too, with a tongue to match. Whether harsh words he threw your way, you returned in double. It was rare he found a human with quite a tongue on them. He often remarked about having it nailed to his door. You simply pointed at his servants and dared them to try it.

They never did. Anyone who dared harm you often met a gruesome fate, either at his hands, or yours.

He didn't consider himself capable of falling in love. And he isn't. To some extent. But love is what he felt. You were the closest to an equal the King of Curses had ever met. In many ways you surpassed him, but those who admitted it often met a swift death.

He moved onto the next village. So did you. Word had not yet spread of what happened. People knew of the fires, but not of the deaths, and your connection to them. You settled down, taking up work with the local shamans. Though you were a newcomer, your help was gladly accepted when Sukuna first showed up, demanding offerings.

In the beginning you tried to warn them. That didn't help. They never listened. It always ended the same way; with a razed village and a bunch of needless deaths.

Sukuna would visit. Often in the late hours of the night as you were trying to get some sleep. He did little more than steal your food, and make himself far too comfortable. Of course that's how most of your meetings went.

He's not sure when he fell for you. But it was something that happened all at once. After years of a back and forth between you two, something gave. You took a place right by his side. He found himself no longer taking concubines, no longer indulging in the sacrifices presented to him. He found himself consumed with the thought of you. He had to have you.

“I can't believe you’re all out of sake,” he said, one night while visiting.

“I wonder who’s fault that is,” you said.

He cast you a glare from across the room. You'd have to buy more in the morning anyway. But all the good stuff has been put up as an offering, and the only sake left in the market is watered down, and worth nothing to you. You don't drink the stuff all that much anyway, you just used it for cooking.

“I question why I keep you alive,” he said.

“I think if you could even kill me,” you said, “you would have by now. Someone as weak as you doesn't stand a chance.”

He didn't like this, and hauled you into his arms, carrying you away from your cooking.

“No!” You squealed, too busy giggling to put up much of a fight. “The rice is going to overcook!”

Sukuna couldn't care less about the rice. He tossed you rather carelessly onto your shared bed, caging you in his arms. The kiss he pulled you into was fleeting, and soft, like he was almost afraid to touch you.

When the village elders first discovered these meetings, it didn't take them long to exile you. The very people that had welcomed you had ignored your warnings and betrayed you. You had gone from respected, and even loved, to feared in an instant.

At some point you stopped trying to warn them. If you really wanted to, you could stop him. Delay him at best. Give people time to run. At least someone would survive. But after a while, you began to think some of them deserved it. The sacrifices they provided were never enough when Sukuna grew tired of toying with them. It was just you and him. Two constant presences in each other's life. You grew used to his company. Enjoyed it, even. You’d never tell him that. Mostly because you didn't want to inflate his ego even more. You were as much his as he was yours.

At some point you became more curse than human.

You could breathe, your lungs would fill with air, but the action provided no relief. You no longer felt the need to eat, and often found yourself forgetting to do so. Food turned to ash in your mouth. The enjoyment of eating was long since lost to you. You're alive, but you're not. Your heart beats but the blood that courses through your veins is not quite right. Your memories of yourself when you were younger fade. But the anger. That fear, that anger, cast into the past, is the only humanity left in you.

You found yourself falling asleep next to him, and in turn waking up next to him. Sometimes in his arms, sometimes on the other side of the bed. He found himself opening his arms for you to climb into. You would do so, albeit reluctantly.

You were his partner. You were a nuisance, but you were his partner.

"Am I dead?" You asked, one morning in the fall. You think it was fall. You remember the leaves turning yellow and orange, but it wasn't cold enough to be winter.

"I haven't killed you yet, so no." He said. "Why?"

"Because I woke up and saw your face, and thought I had finally gone to hell." You said.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. An offended sounding huff left him. He rolled over onto you, pinning you to the sheets. His knees planted on either side of your body, his hands found your wrists. It’d take no effort from you to throw him off. But you didn't. You never did.

“You’re not in hell yet,” he said.

“I'd beg to differ,”

“Then beg,”

“Make me!”

He attacked your neck with wet, open mouth kisses, sending you into a giggling fit. Your skin was warm under his lips. You were always so warm. You were flushed from your chest to your forehead, blush dusting the tips of your ears and your nose. Your arms wrapped around your neck, pulling him flush to your chest. Your heartbeat was audible, racing as he pressed his ear to your chest.

“Stay in bed a little longer,” he said. He was pleading more than he was asking. And you weren't able to find it in you to refuse.

It wasn't entirely awful having someone stronger than him.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Cupid

Note: This is for @afriendlyblackhottie​​ Brat and Birthday challenge. Happy Bday Month 🎉🎈🎊🎂🍰! I chose Cupid by 112. Chris art work by @nix-akimbo​ she is amazing here is the original.

Summery: Ransom likes a bridesmaid.

Warning: Daddy Kink, gag, oral (reader receives), sex

Groomsman Band member Ransom x Black Reader, Knives out Alternative Universe

Leaning in the archway of the reception hall you sighed watching the newlyweds dance their first dance. You didn't want to be here. Not after all the shit he put Courtney, the bride, through.

But your bestie was the kind of girl that could not function without a man in her life. He had cheated on her five times, that you knew of. You were sure there was more, but she as well as you were tired of the berating.

It was always the same. He cheated, she cried, you picked up the pieces and then when he was ready she would go back. Pathetic.

"Aw don't pout princess your day will come" your eyes rolled at the sound of his voice. You had the misfortune to be linked with Ransom, the cousin of the groom. All the other bridesmaids drooled over him, but you weren't impressed. This rich boy was looking to add to his body count so you only interacted with him only when you needed to.

Their family had paid for this whole affair. You nearly punched one of the grooms relatives when she made a remark on Courtney's color choices. They were all on your shit list.

Just ignore him. Its almost over and you will never have to see him again.

As the song ended everyone applauded while you made your way over to the open bar. Your wrist was snagged as you crossed his path. Snatching it back you looked at him as if he grew another head.

"Look you don't want to be here I don't want to be here. Let's be miserable together." He held up his hands in surrender. You were stuck on this island and you were smart enough not to fall for dumb shit so you gave yourself permission to relax.

You both took over an empty table in the back of the massive hall. Ransom disappeared for a bit, then returned with two bottles of champagne and two glasses. The bar was an open bar, but you were sure they weren't handing out bottles left and right.

"OK let's play a game to pass the time." Ransom proposed as he approached.

"Game? What kind of game?" You waited curiously. Sitting the glasses and bottles down Ransom proceeded to pop the cork on one of the bottles of Champaign.

"We both take turns pointing out people we think the other would fuck."your mouth fell open with his boldness as he spoke. "If you guess wrong you have to take a sip. Yatta yatta you get it."

"Are you just trying to get me drunk?" You squint at him playfully suspicious.

"Nah, just bored. So come on let's play."

You watched as he poured the glasses to the brim, when he handed you the bubbling glass you thanked him. Ransom moved his chair next to you, sitting shoulder to shoulder so you both were sure to have the same view of the people on the floor.

"Ladies first" he held his glass high. You clinked your glass with his signaling ‘good game’.

"What about her?" You pointed to Courtney's great aunt. The lovely woman was at least eighty-seven, you knew this would be a 'no', but why not start off with a softball.

He gave you a look that made you snort.

"Wow was that a laugh? I seriously didn't think the ice queen was capable. You didn't even smile for the wedding photos. Achievement unlocked." Ransom was full of himself.

"No one is gonna believe I got the frost queen to crack a smile." Ransom boasted.

You took a sip from your glass so you didn't have to reply. There was nothing to smile about. You didn't approve of this wedding so you weren't going to act like you were. Courtney was lucky you even agreed to be a bridesmaid.

"OK my turn." He observed the crowded floor, before finding his mark. "Glasses two o'clock."

You searched out 'Glasses' and scoped him out. Tall, put together nicely. "Yep."

"Really?" He gave you a look, that made it hard to fight back the curl of your lip.

"Yep..I have particular taste." You say casually with a shrug.

"Well all right to each his own I guess."

"My turn" you stopped for a beat then found her. " Oh what about her?" you pointed to a tall slender blonde.

"Ugh no...That's my aunt."

"Oooops....My bad... let me see who else, umm" you looked around the room, but he only looked at you.

"Oh! Oh! Her" you pointed to Stephani, a younger cousin of Courtney's. Thick thighed, uber fit college student.

"You can't go twice. Take your sip."

"What that was your aunt that cant count" you argued back.

"A no is a no" he tutted.

"Fine" you gulped from your glass and waited your turn.

"OK my turn. Hmm...What about him" he pointed to an older man that was chatting up a bridesmaid that was way to young for him.

"Eww nah not my type, but he might have gotten a yes back in the day." You tilted your head with a smirk.

"Oh thank gawd. That's my dad."

"What the fuck? Dude gross" you slapped at his shoulder and laughed. Ransom rubbed it fanning pain.

"Hey you picked my aunt" he chuckled with you.

"Yeah but I didn't know she was your aunt!"

After finishing the first bottle you started to feel loose. Ransom's arm stretched out along the back of your chair, slyly rubbing circles on your bare arm, while you leaned snuggled into his side as you both continue to people watch.

"So what do you do?" You asked him.

Ransom was silent for a moment. Taking a long swig from the glass before looking over at you and sighing.

"I'm in a band."

"Oh really, is that your little hobby you do before you take over the board seat at your grand-papa's company?" you bit back a laugh. Ransom frowned at you, but you didn't care.

You knew of the older Thrombey, the famous author and owner of a publishing house. Through rehearsal you watched the interactions between the two and you knew that Ransom was the favorite of the acclaimed writer's brood.

"I don't want anything to do with that company believe it or not. I love music always have."

"Must be nice to play in a band bankrolled by a publishing house. What are y'all called 'Blood and Rock'" you laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

"Ha wrong again. We're called 'Coffee and Roses'. And I've been cut of financially ever since I got these bad boys" Ransom shimmed out of his blazer and rolled up his sleeves. His well toned arms were completely covered in ink. When he pulled down his collar you were able to see the massive art work that encompassed his neck, you bit into your bottom lip as he allowed you to ogle him. "This art work was not board approved " he joked. The booze mixed with Ransom's rocker bod was starting to lower your inhibitions and you needed to put a stop to it.

"Your cousin is a piece of shit." You changed the subject before taking a pull from your glass.

"Yeah well he gets that from his dad, he's always been an asshole."

"Apples don't fall far do they?" You snipped. When Ransom didn't respond you looked over, he was looking at his father who had now moved on to another pretty young thing.

"He made a mistake and he is fixing it." Ransom replied, suddenly in defense of his cousin.

The mistake in question was a child, by another woman. That baby you thought would be the final straw to break the camels back.

"Diamonds don't fix problems." You didn't come from money, but you knew that this wedding was a band-aid. And once it got wet you wondered what would be the gift for the next 'mistake'.

The groom had always bought his way out of his binds. The more he fucked up the more money he poured on it. This wedding you couldn't even fathom the cost. The wedding ring alone looked like it could choke a horse. And this destination wedding on his dime made you think on what happened in the interim leading up to this event.

"You're a really good friend. She's lucky that she has someone that cares so much." You both stared into the distance at the couple. They danced and smiled at each other so happy, but you felt sick. Ransom's sweet words made you immediately suspicious of his intent, his cousin had a habit of talking sweet, but he was a fucking snake. You weren't going to end up like Courtney.

"Look don't think that just because we got all chummy that all of a sudden I am gonna want to bang one out." You hit your glass on the table harder than you meant to, it tipped over and spilled out the rest of your drink.

When a little bit of the liquid trickled off the table and hit your dress you pushed away from the table. Just a tiny bit, nothing major to fuss about, but you had hit your limit. You'd done the wedding, you took the pictures and you stuck around for the reception. It was time to go.

You weren't about to be some random rich kids one night stand. So you stormed off. Thankfully the ball room was not far from the adjoining hotel. Marching you fumed and you cursed your friend for being this dumb, yourself for not doing more to stop this and almost falling for Ransom's charm. Mashing the buttons you thought of changing your number, wiping your hands from this friendship and looking into an overnight flight back home.

How much worse would it be now that she was legally married to that douche bag. The thought of them having kids only served to further irked you.

Before the elevator door could close a hand sliced down the middle, halting the closure.

You stood stunned as Ransom appeared out of breath and in-between the open doors.

**"Baby, I'm so tired of the way you turn my words into deception and lies"**

Ransom consumed the space between you two. Your ass hit the hand rail as the doors closed.

"I am not my father, I am not my cousin. I liked you." His confession made your heart flutter.

Don't be stupid. He is the same as the rest of his family. Don't fall for his game.

His hands rested on the bar on either side of your hips as he stood toe to toe with you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed turning away from him, unable to keep staring into those eyes.

**Don't misunderstand me when I try to speak my mind I'm only saying what's in my heart**

With one finger he brought your focus back to him. You frowned at him, you weren't weak. You weren't falling for him no matter how much your body wanted to throw in the towel.

**Cupid doesn't lie** He leaned in close and you held your breath as your heart raced.

**But you won't know unless you give it a try** Ransom whispered over your lips before kissing you gently. You broke down allowing him to invade your mouth. His lips felt soft and his firm arms a welcome feeling as they wrapped around you.

The elevator dinged loudly and you pulled back. Your lipstick smeared on his mouth made for a funny sight. Looking at the number it was your floor then back at him.

**Give it a try** Ransom pleaded.

A switch flipped inside you. Angry at yourself you pushed past him and marched to your hotel room.

He is just a spoiled rich kid trying to have fun. Don't fall for it. You try and convince yourself.

He shouted as the doors closed and you tried to ignore him.

**Cupid doesn't lie**

He shouted again. You halted, but refused to look.

"All men lie" You stopped as you replied back at him. There wasn't a woman in your life that wasn't hurt and you didn't want to join that club. You wanted to protect yourself at all cost. You heard the elevator doors close so you let out a sigh of relief.

What if you were wrong. What if he was right? A nagging thought bubbled in your mind. He was fun, you felt at easy around him. Some part of you yearned for him to come back.

You were so lost in your own head that you hadn't heard him rush up behind you. Ransom quickly spun you around, his eyes boring into your soul. The sight of which made it hard to stay angry.

**"Oh baby, true love won't lie...But we won't know unless we give it a try"**

He kissed you again. This time more hungry than before, so much so it took your breath away as he pulled back.

**"Give it a try"** he pleaded yet again.

It was hard to get the door open with Ransom latched onto your face. Fumbling with the key you tried blindly several times to get the card in the slot with your back pressed hard against the door.

Frustrated Ransom snatched the card and opened the door for you.

"Thanks Daddy" you teased, looking up through your lashes at him.

"Daddy huh?" The grin that grew on his face was devilish indeed. "So that's it...You act all bratty to get Daddy to react. Huh?"

Scooping you off your feet he carried you across the threshold. You were so surprised that he was able to handle your weight with ease, as he walked you over to the bed, before tossing you.

"Keep the dress on and pull your tits out" he command as he furiously unbuttoned his shirt.

You marveled at the fit rocker. He revealed more tats as he opened his shirt. Pushing down your off the shoulder strap you yanked your top down. Your half bra going down with it, allowing your breast to bounce free.

"Stand up."

Without a word you rose to your feet.

"Turn around."

Again you followed his orders. The way he commanded you made your need soak through your panties.

"Gonna come deep in that pretty pussy, show you who you belong to" Ransom taunted into the shell of your ear. "Say ahh."

The neck tie that had long since come undone was now being wrapped around your open mouth, wrapping it  quickly then knotting the fabric.  

Once secure Ransom proceeded to massage your breast from behind. As he tweaked your nipples you felt his cock, hard and stiff pressed into your ass.

You pushed and rubbed against it toying with him, the hum that buzzed from his lips almost sounded primal. "Nothing but a big tease huh? Daddy's going to show you what he thinks about teases."

Pushing you over on the bed you yelped through your gag. Looking over your shoulder you watched as Ransom bunched up the fabric of your dress, tossing it over your hips to expose your ass.

Feeling cocky you twerked your ass before him, the look in his eye showed that he approved of the sight. Ransom palmed your cheeks with both his hands, kneading the soft tissue as he rubbed his erection on you.

One hand moved around your hips and on the outer-lining of your panties.

"Fuck baby girl is that all for me?" Ransom's finger pulled at the elastic that touched your bud. He felt the drenched panties and pulled them back until they snapped back in place.

"Fuck baby girl" he purred.

Ransom lowered himself onto his hunches, pulling your panties down with them. You felt his tongue lapping gently at your folds. The sensation sending shivers throughout your body.

His tongue separated your lips, you knees wanted to cave at the tantalizing feel of him. Through your gag you moaned, the slow torture of his feasting was bringing you close to the finish line.

Ransom sucked hard on your bare mound adding a finger as he rose to his feet. "You taste so sweet baby." He praised as he curled his fingers inside of you.

"Do you want to come on my cock or my fingers?" He asked as your cunt tensed around his digits. Ransom knew you were getting close and you hoped he would choose the former.

"I cant hear you" he added another digit as you begged through your gag. You wanted to feel him all of him, but there was no way to make your answer clear through the fabric.

"Well, if you are not going to answer I will pick for you."

Ransom knew what you wanted, even with your desperate mumbling. Kicking your legs father apart he then removed his fingers. You whimpered at the lack of touch, but you were also thrilled to finally get what you really wanted.

The sound of his zipper going down made you antsy. You danced on the heels of your feet with anticipation of his next move.

Ransom took his cock in one hand while he spread one of your cheeks with the other. He rubbed his cock against the deep pink within your folds.

Toying with you as you mumbled through the tie. His pre-cum mixed with your juices as he pressed his tip hard against your opening.

"Are you gonna be a good girl from me?" He teased. You furiously nodded 'yes'.

You felt the pressure of him entering you as drool seeped past your gag. "Do you belong to me?" He halted, the sudden stop drove you crazy. Again you nod and shouted 'yes' through your restraint.

"Good girl."

Ransom filled you to your core, only stopping when you sheathed him completely. You gripped the fabric of the hotel duvet, you hadn't expected him to be so big.

The slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room. His moans mixed with the sounds of your sloppy sex were enough to send you over the edge.

Ransom controlled the pace, his length undeterred by your lack of space to take him in. You cried through your gag as he sent jolts through your body. "You were made for me" he proclaimed as he snapped his hips into you.

Your mewls were muffled by the tie, but you were sure whoever was in the room next to you could still make out what was happening here.

"Fuck" he growled as he fucked you into the bed. "I'm gonna fill you up."

"Gonna make you nice and round" he slapped your ass as he thrusted. You felt your core tighten.

"Fuck Daddy I want to come on your cock!" You finally shouted as the gag finally slipped from your lips.

"Come in me Daddy!" You felt him twitch inside you at your desperate pleading.

"Oh baby girl your tempting me."

"Please!" You panted.

"Fuck" Ransom shouted as he shot his load inside you. You felt him coat you as you milked him dry.

Ransom fell on-top of you and your knees buckled, causing you both to fall forward onto the bed. Ransom moved off you, sweaty and exhausted. "Don't think that I'm done with you yet."

[b1acksw4n]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒔

Pairings: Taehyung x Jimin, Jungkook x Jimin

Warnings: Drinking/ Swearing (Taehyung is an asshole)

Summary: Jimin’s staring at the red solo cup, long and hard. He’s not even sure why he’s at this rowdy college party anyways. These kinds of things aren’t his scene. A certain blue haired man is looking his way but the lighting isn’t helping and Jimin is wondering if he’s imagining things. Jimin decides he really is imagining things because there’s no way in hell that’s Kim Taehyung.

Word count:

~~~

Some things were better left unsaid.

That's what Park Jimin tells himself as he leans against the wall with a glass half empty at one of the biggest parties he thinks his best friend Hoseok has ever hosted. Some things are better left unsaid. That's what Park Jimin tells himself when he sees a azure haired boy with a haughty attitude, who just so happens to be the man who broke his heart two years ago. Jimin can't help but stare at his exes slender hands grabbing for a unknown girl's waist as they danced to the loud blaring music. Jimin's sharp eyes dance around the blue haired man's features.

His gaze bitterly landed on a expensive watch adorned on his oblivious ex boyfriends wrist. That was the watch Jimin had bought him as a birthday present. His eyes narrowed as he took a small sip of the strong intoxicating drink.

"I haven't seen you all night! You can't just stand here like this. Jimin, go out there and dance!" Hoseok is clearly hammered by the way his words are slurring together and his cheeks are tinted a deep pink. Before the younger man could refuse his offer, he was yanked onto the dance floor.

He felt his face hit the back of a much taller man and it felt strangely familiar. As the man turned around, Jimin's eyes widened in horror. The man he clumsily bumped into was none other than Kim Taehyung. Hoseok's drunk ass was going to pay for this later. Taehyung's face contorted into a expression of shock and his eyes had a glint of slyness. Some things just never change. "I never expected to see you here." Taehyung's voice was just as deep as Jimin remembered, although it felt like he was hollering at him due to the loud music and the party being in full swing. Taehyung smiles sweetly but there’s something feign in his actions. It makes Jimin feel icky, like he needs to end the conversation right then and there and pour himself another glass.

“I’ve thought about you from time to time. Thought of how I could’ve been better.” Taehyung’s eyes darken and his thick brows furrow as if he didn’t even know where he was going with this statement. Jimin hates that about Taehyung. He says things with disregard of consequences, leaving people with fake realities. He makes them think they have a chance. “I don’t have any regrets. I just hope you move on like I did. You clearly didn’t.” Jimin’s voice is compelling enough to make Taehyung step backwards in utter astonishment. It’s enough to make Taehyung pause for a moment, contemplating on what to say next.

Jimin is prideful that he received that reaction because he knows how impulsive Taehyung is. He always does things without even thinking. Taehyung’s facial expression screams fascination and amusement. Jimin’s eyes crinkle in confusion, brows stitched together. Had he been reading his body language all wrong? Was he played for a fool? “You seriously thought I wasn’t over you?” Taehyung’s tone is spiteful and his vitriolic laugh has the other feeling like his world is shrinking. “I was with you out of pity. You were overly clingy, Jimin. You’re a stray.” Jimin feels like he’s a gladiator in an ancient arena with royals laughing at his every move. Like he was born to be humiliated his entire life. The height difference doesn’t aid his negative thoughts either, making him feel smaller than he already felt.

“Fuck you! I told you all my personal problems and now you’re using it against me. I’d rather be clingy than a cheater.” His voice is shaky and hot tears are streaming down his cheeks. He doesn’t know whether he’s crying out of frustration or humiliation at this point. He tightly closed his eyes not wanting to even look at Taehyung. With one swift motion and fiery anger being the main force behind it, Jimin splashed his alcohol all over the front of Taehyung’s shirt. “What the fuck?!” Taehyung’s yelling loudly but his voice is drowned out by the music. Jimin pivots on his heel, speed walking away and he has to navigate his way through all the dancing bodies and drunken students.

“I wonder where Jimin went. Didn’t he say he was coming?” Namjoon curiously looked around before talking another shot of soju. The atmosphere in the kitchen was a lot more serene than the other rooms of the house. Everyone was just talking amongst themselves and enjoying a couple drinks. “I saw Jimin with Taehyung but I didn’t want to interrupt. I have a bad feeling about this.” Seokjin sighed with a deep frown. “What? He was with Taehyung?” Jungkook pushed himself off the counter, his doe eyes blown wide. Jimin stumbled into the kitchen, teary eyed. Jungkook took careful long strides in the smaller boys direction. His intentions were pure and the pitiful and troubled glint in his eyes had Jimin sobbing even harder. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s get you out of here, Chim.” The brunette tenderly took Jimin’s hand in his. Jimin nodded compliantly as his friend led the way. Jungkook’s broad shoulders blocked his view and for the first time in a long time Jimin didn’t feel inferior about feeling small.

He desperately clutched onto Jungkook’s inked hand for comfort and trailed close behind him. Jimin tried his best to ignore all the couples making out and drunk students stumbling around and singing along to lyrics with slurred words. Jungkook pushed through the crowd, making sure Jimin was okay here and there with a few thoughtful backward glances. “What did he say to you?” His voice daunting.

“How did you..” Jimin’s response trails off into silence as he climbs into the passenger seat of Jungkooks car. “I heard that Taehyung was with you.” Jungkook sighs, disliking the way his name feels like bile on his tongue. Jimin hesitantly stared at Jungkooks calloused hands on the wheel and nervously shifted his attention to the single star in the night sky outside the window. He wonders if he’s similar to that small dot in the sky. Something destined to be lonely. Something destined to be so small and weak.

“Jimin. What did he say?” Jungkook pressed, inked knuckled turning white as he gripped onto the steering wheel. Jimin felt pressured, maybe even a little anxious. He didn’t exactly want Jungkook knowing about his deepest insecurities. “I can’t tell you.” Jimin’s breathing was labored and his shoulders visibly tensed. Jungkook’s features softened, but he didn’t verbally respond. The silence was enough of an answer. Jungkook’s stubbornness finally subsided for a moment.

Jimin knew Jungkook spoke with his fists and it wouldn’t do any good for his best friend to beat up a rich boy with a lawyer for a dad.

Jungkook led Jimin inside his house, smiling down at him. Jimin grew shy under his stare, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “I wanted to thank you for being so thoughtful tonight.” Jimin’s hand grabbed the collar of Jungkook’s jean jacket and lightly tugged, yanking the taller boy down to his height. Jungkook quirked a brow, suddenly feeling overheated in his jacket. Jimin’s plump lips placed a gentle kiss on Jungkook’s cheek and he felt his face grow red.

Jimin didn’t need to worry about what once was anymore. He needed to live in the moment, so he did just that.

~~~

thank you for reading and give me feedback if you want^^ ITS PRETTY BAD THO- I tried.

[flymyhp]

Dirty dancing with Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

A/N: it's been a minute! That's because I've been working on this wonderful 80's themed collab with @quadrupledeckertaco @probably-peeves and @melody-studyblr. Thank you to these lovely people for letting me join in. Hope you enjoy!! And absolutely check out their work because they're all very talented. Much love!

Green. Everything seemed that way except for the sky, a bright blue with a glowing sun beaming down through the windows of our car. My father was driving, talking to my mother who was sitting petitely in the passenger seat, mumbling small compliments to my sister Hermione who was beside me in the backseat singing.

“I am improving, aren’t I? You’re right mom, this summer is going to be the best I’ve had.”

That was the summer of 1963—when everybody called me Baby, and it didn’t occur to me to mind. That was before President Kennedy was shot, before the Beatles came, when I couldn’t wait to join the Peace Corps, and I thought I’d never find a guy as great as my dad. That was the summer we went to Kellerman’s.

Kellerman’s was a resort in Virginia, with a big lake and entertainment every night. My father was friends with the man who owned it, and this summer I would have the gross pleasure of meeting his son Blaise, who I’d heard so much about on the way.

“We’ll get settled and unpacked first, this way to our cabin. Then to lunch!” My father said with his and mothers suitcase in hand and sunglasses propped up on top of his head.

Hermione skipped behind him and our mother with her bag over her shoulder and long frizzy brown hair bouncing half bunched on top of her head. I watched as she spun around, admiring the view of the resort.

It was pretty, very pretty and natural. Trees overlapped our cabin that was just coming into view up the stairs on the side of a hill and there was a perfect view of the lake from our porch.

“I’m taking this bed, baby. I want the window view.” Hermione chirped as the four of us entered the cabin.

“Fine with me.” I sat my bag down on the bed with a sigh. I was excited to be here, not as excited at the idea that I might see Blaise at lunch. Or any time throughout the vacation for that matter. “Hey Mione, have you met Blaise Zabini?”

She furrowed her brows in thought. “Is he the dancer? I’ve heard he’s really good, he performs the final dance with Pansy Parkinson. I’d love to be in her shoes, I bet I could do better than she does.” She droned on and on about the wrong person.

“The owners son, I mean. I don’t know any of the dancers.” I interrupted her, annoyed.

Hermione’s always been talkative and perky. You’d think she was rude if you didn’t know her, but she just can’t help it.

“Oh! I’ve met him on one of daddy’s golfing trips.” I gagged at the word ‘daddy’. “He’s very nice and a proper gentleman, not my type but he’s heard a lot about you.” She giggled and faced the window, bouncing on her toes impatiently.

I wondered what she meant by that. I’d heard a lot about him too, he’s not my type either from the sound of it. A spoiled rich kid who takes what he wants. I also wondered about the dancers Hermione was talking about.

Everyone was unpacked and settled in nicely, so we headed to lunch in the main hall. We sat down at a four person table and waited on a server. Small talk was on its way, I turned my head to look at the hall in order to avoid it.

A voice raised a few tables down. I turned my head to look.

“Draco Malfoy. The dancer I was telling you about.” Hermione giggled beside me. He had blond, almost white hair and was leant over a server, who was a good size smaller than him.

“You’re the entertainment, Malfoy. You have no right.” The brown haired server whimpered out.

“I could get you out of here in no time.” Draco snapped. “Get the damn orders right.”

I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t look away either. Why did he care so much? I hadn’t noticed him look at me until a figure right next to my face snapped me out of my trance.

“Blaise.” Hermione whispered to me. With a glance her way, she was smirking.

Great.

“Mr. Zabini.” My dad nodded his head at Blaise.

“Mr. Granger. This must be baby.” Blaise looked me up and down grossly and held his hand out to me. I hesitantly took it. To no surprise, he kissed it. I worked wonders not to show my uncomfort. My father and Blaise talked for a few minutes about the resort and how much money his family has until he eventually left, shooting a wink at me.

I let out a sigh as he left. My head turned back to where Draco Malfoy had been standing, he wasn’t anymore.

“He’s a nice boy, baby.” My father looked up at me.

I forced a small smile, not looking up. I wanted him to drop it. The last few minutes of lunch I sat with my head down hoping no one would say anything else about the subject.

I walked around the resort with Hermione for most of the day. Eventually I found myself just watching her swim with some people she’d met. Mother and father had gone golfing with some of their friends and left us to find something to do, which you wouldn’t think would be hard here.

Six came up on us pretty quickly, Hermione said goodbye to her friends for the day so we could get back to the cabin and get ready for dinner in the hall. Hermione dressed up more than I did, which is always expected. We met our parents at the entrance of the hall and sat down at a booth with them. We got our food ordered and I did well to hide from anyone I didn’t want to speak to, Blaise.

I held a decent conversation with my family as we ate, nothing too special. We were mainly just waiting for the show like everybody else.

The lights dimmed and most of the room went silent. The music that was playing changed and grew louder as a spotlight landed on two people on the stage in front of us. Draco malfoy with Pansy Parkinson's hand in his.

My eyes widened as I stared. Pansy had a beautiful muted pink ball gown dress on, and Draco was wearing a white dress shirt and black formal pants.

They took the first step as the music stopped getting louder and a steady beat formed. Their feet followed along to it.

Pansy knew how to work the crowd. It wasn't a formal dance, but it wasn't too vulgar. Her hands worked the skirt of her dress flawlessly and Draco worked with her perfectly.

He lifted her into the air effortlessly, her chest slid against his seductively as he set her down. She spinned like a top with her skirt following her as the room cheered them on.

The final step of the dance led them to the stage with pansy's leg posted up on Draco's shoulder, his hands on her hips as she leaned back and the lights shut off.

I couldn't hear it but I knew the room was going crazy. Well, as crazy as a bunch of rich middle aged couples could get.

That was the wrap up of dinner for the first night. I knew my parents would want to stay and talk to some of their friends so I stood up with Hermione and took her arm.

"Let's go back to the cabin before they start tying us into arranged marriages." I giggled at her and she agreed.

I couldn’t sleep that night. Everything called to me except the bed I was in. Careful not to wake a sleeping Hermione up, I pulled the covers up and slipped out of the cabin. The night was the type of quiet it should be, trees rustled with the singing of cicadas. A boy was walking my way when I got to the bridge leading to the main hall. He was carrying three watermelons, and then he wasn’t.

“Shit.” He did his best to pick them both back up. I jogged closer to him and picked one of them up. “Thanks. Kitchens just up this way.”

“Do you know Blaise?” I asked him without thinking. I realized I probably should’ve started off slower, but I guess my head was filled with gross images of what had happened at lunch.

He scoffed. “Yeah. I know him. A real asshole. He has a thing for getting us to seduce the women that come in on vacation.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of him. "And what about Draco Malfoy?"

"He's put together, strong-headed but he's got a kind heart. What's your name by the way?' he asked.

"Baby. That's what everyone calls me."

"Well baby, I'm Vincent. Everyone calls me Crabbe." He gave me a smile.

We got to the kitchens of the main hall. Through the windows I could see the Zabini's socializing with their guests. I tried to keep my head down.

"This way, baby." Crabbe passed me. I set the watermelon down with the other two. Then I wasn't sure what to do. "You want to see something?" He gave me a smirk.

"Depends."

"It'll be fun. Follow me."

He led me out of the kitchens and down a path behind the building. It was a bit of a walk but through some trees there was another building that looked like a cabin. Muffled music came from it.

"Do you know how to dance?" Crabbe asked, nudging my shoulder and opening the door.

It was unlike anything I'd ever seen. The place was small but so many people were packed into it, dancing under the fluorescent lights. Not ballroom dancing like at the nightly shows, it was hot, and I knew I couldn't dance like this.

"This way." Crabbe took my hand. My feet worked on their own as my eyes wandered from the people in front of me.

"Crabbe!" We stopped. Standing in front of us was Draco Malfoy. "What are we going to do about the final show?"

Oblivious to the conversation, I looked at the girl beside him. She was leaning up against a post in the room. She was tall. Dark brown hair and a look of disgust on her face.

"Who's this." She interrupted the boys conversation, looking directly at me.

I looked away from her and lowered my head.

"This is baby. I told you already, Draco, I haven't found anyone yet. The final show isn't for another week. We've got time." Crabbe argued. Then, he looked to me and smiled. An idea flickered in his eyes. "Actually, maybe I have."

"Her? Does she even dance?" Draco looked me up and down, but not the way Blaise did. The opposite.

"No I don't-" I started.

"She does. She can learn." I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't feel like lying to these people, I didn’t even know them. But I also didn't feel like dancing, or learning.

I remembered what Hermione had told me. Draco performed the final show with Pansy. Was she Pansy?

"Pansy? Why can't you do it?" I asked.

Draco rolled his eyes and gave Crabbe a look of idiocy.

"Something came up. Go back to your playpen, baby." Pansy snapped and turned her back.

"Just give her a shot, Draco." Crabbe seemed too trusting for his own good. I was certain I couldn't do it.

Draco pushed past him, grabbing my hand and stomping his feet to the center of the room. I was awestruck. I couldn't do this.

He grabbed my waist when we stopped. His hips moved to the beat of the music blaring through the room. His finger tapped my waist and he nodded at me.

"To the beat, c'mon." His eyes never left mine.

I did my best to move my hips the same way he was. It was difficult. I'd never done anything like this and I'm sure if my family could see me they'd drop dead.

"Good, good. Now like this." He moved his hips the opposite way and held my chin to keep eye contact.

I could feel Crabbe and Pansy's eyes boring into me as I attempted to keep up with Draco. This whole situation felt so odd. Two minutes prior he would barely look at me.

The song ended and he stopped. "My cabin, top of the hill. Every day at 8." He sauntered back over to Crabbe and Pansy.

"Gave her a shot. If this doesn't work out you're dead." Draco spat at Crabbe.

I stood awkwardly in the center of the floor. My feet no longer worked on their own, or at all.

"Better get to work, baby." Pansy shouted at me. I looked at her, she shook her head with a shit eating grin on her face and followed Draco.

My feet suddenly had feeling in them again. I had no idea how this evening had even happened. Something got me out of bed tonight and something else tells me I shouldn't have.

I ran as quickly as I could past everyone in the room. Eventually making it out the door I found my breath. How was I going to get away with this? How was this even going to happen?

My feet carried me back to my cabin. All I wanted to do was hide under my covers from everything outside. Blaise, Draco, this dance I was now forced to learn.

The next morning I found an excuse to get away from my family and find Draco's cabin. It was fairly easy considering my parents would be doing the same thing every day and Hermione had found her own group yesterday.

I hiked up the hill behind the main building to Draco's cabin and stopped at his door. I lifted my hand to knock as I remembered why I was there. Nerves shook in my stomach. Getting out of this would be easy. All I would have to do is avoid Draco, Pansy and Crabbe for the remaining six days and keep my head down at the final dance.

That wasn't me though. Even though I had no say so in this ordeal at all, I felt like I had to fix this for them.

I said fuck it and knocked. Heavy footsteps drew closer to the door and it swung open.

Draco stepped to the side to let me in. He let the door close behind him.

"Where do we start?" I asked him as he fiddled with a music player sitting on the floor.

"Footwork. You have to get the fundamentals down and this dance relies heavily on it." He started in front of me and put his hands on my hips.

I took a deep breath in preparation for the rest of the day.

"Stop stepping on my feet, baby."

"Arms up, stay in your circle. This is my circle. Stay in yours."

"Good, again. Not like that."

My feet were sore by the end of the day. He wasn't too awful, I had thought the night before that he had something against me but I think it's just his personality.

The next day was the same as the first. Footwork. Don't step on me and stay in your circle. I was getting less and less critiques as we went on, though.

The third day was a little different. We started on the first steps of the routine. He was getting easier to handle day after day. He was still cold and irritable, but I saw him smile for the first time the third day.

I'd attempted the first spin about 10 times and stumbled every time, or missed his hand I was supposed to grab. Finally, he spun me and pulled me back to him, and my hand caught his.

Our faces were inches from each other. He was pretty. I hadn't really noticed before that day, he was very pretty. His eyes flicked down to my lips.

"Perfect." He startled me.

Me?

"We start on the jump tomorrow." He let me go.

Of course not.

The first three days had to be rushed so we could start on the jump as soon as possible. When I got to his cabin the fourth day I was running from the rain. He was leaning up against his door waiting for me.

"Let's go." He said when I reached him.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I followed him down a path behind his cabin. "Go where, exactly?"

"You'll see."

He stopped at a large creek in the woods where a tree had fallen over crossing it. He offered his hand to me.

"No way. You're serious?" I took a step back.

"We have to work on balance, baby. I won't let you fall, I promise." He took my hand this time.

We stopped in the middle. He placed his hands tightly on my waste.

"Now, jump"

My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head.

"It's raining, Draco, I'm going to fall." I retaliated.

"You are not, baby. Trust me and trust yourself."

"Fine." I huffed. I jumped just enough to get my toes off of the tree.

"And, down." His hands didn't leave my waist like they normally would. "Again, try higher this time."

I took a deep breath and jumped harder. My feet were unbalanced when I did and I felt it. His arms wrapped around me as he caught me, trying not to fall over himself.

"Can we just go back to the cabin?" I shook with nerves in his arms.

"We'll go to the lake. Can't have you breaking your neck in the cabin either." He held my hands as we got off of the tree and headed down to the lake.

I don't think he realized he hadn't let go of one of them.

"Right, love. This will be easier. Don't worry about falling." He said absentmindedly as we entered the lake.

There was still a downpour as evening grew to night. We started out small. He could easily hold me, it was about my ability to balance myself.

"Now, you'll go above my head and hold." I nodded my head at him.

I jumped with all I had. My eyes were closed in anticipation of my face meeting the water again, but it didn't.

"Hold, baby." Draco said from under me.

And I did. My sides were killing me, but I held it until he tapped my thigh with his fingers. I let myself fall back in front of him and my head fall.

"I think I'm done for tonight. That's starting to hurt." I told him.

Hands. His hands were on my hips.

"Of course. We'll perfect it tomorrow and finish it the next. You're doing perfect." He said. I started to shiver from the rain and cold lake water.

"Oh, baby. I'm sorry. I should've known. I'll get you back, let's go." He said, but he wasn't moving.

"I don't really want to go back to my cabin." I managed to force out.

"You can't stay in the lake all night." He chuckled.

I looked at him. I couldn't believe how intoxicating he looked.

"I said I didn't want to go back to mine." I had no idea what had gotten into me.

His hands on my hips moved to my face. I had no idea what had gotten into him, either.

"Then stay with me." He whispered. I nodded slightly, impatiently.

His hand went to my neck and he pulled my head closer, kissing me.

My mind had completely left my body. This had to be a dream. I knew it wasn't when he lifted my legs up to wrap around his waist, deepening the kiss.

"Perfect." He said as his forehead pressed against mine. "I meant you." My heart stopped working at this point. "Let's get you to bed. My bed."

Nothing happened that night with Draco, other than being completely sure I was in love with him. I just didn't know if it was because I was tired at the time.

The last few days I had pushed it out of my mind. My nerves focused more on the dance than they did about my feelings for Draco. The final dance was here.

"Follow my lead, and if you forget anything just improvise from what you've learned." He held my hand from behind the curtain.

It lifted and the light hit me. I knew my parents were here and I would probably be killed after this, but I couldn't let Draco down.

The music started and so did we. I moved in sync with him, and did my best not to look stiff during my parts.

The jump was seconds away, and my heart had nearly bursted from nerves and from Draco's eyes on mine the whole time. I flicked my dress back and forth with my hands and ran to Draco who had his arms out waiting to catch me.

I flew over his head and held myself in place. The room erupted into cheers just as it did the first night when Pansy was in my place.

Our last few steps were perfect, and the lights went out. Draco grabbed my face and kissed me all over.

"Perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect. I'll have to replace you with Pansy." He joked.

My face fell.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of your folks and Blaise. Leave it to me."

"No, Draco. Pansy. Aren't you and Pansy?"

"No, baby. Of course not. That's for show. She has a guy. And I found my girl." He kissed me again. I kissed him back. His girl.

Hermione had been right on the way to Kellerman's. This was the best summer I'd ever had.

[hcywards]

jealous — topper thornton

summary: as much as he said he wasn’t, topper thornton really was a jealous guy.

words: 2k+

t/w: mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of drug use, underage drinking

note: so a large part of this is with the pogues, but like the other half is w topper, and i feel like that’s an even balance. also this is kind of long, and it makes up for the fact that “you’ll be fine” is incredibly short, but it’s pretty shitty and i hate it sooo

     Being the Pogue princess dating the Kook prince’s best friend was difficult in itself, with both Y/N and Topper feeling like they were betraying their families by doing the one thing they’d always been taught not to do. And, for Y/N, it was made even more difficult by the fact that almost all of her friends were guys, and the Kooks hated that.

     They’d never cease the questions of was she cheating on him, which only seemed to be doubled when word got out that Sarah Cameron had cheated on him with one of the Pogue boys she spent so much time with. According to them, it was John B’s fault Sarah had cheated, and he could probably quite easily trick another Pogue into cheating, too.

     Which meant that, every time she hung out with her friends, Topper had to be there to make sure neither Rafe nor Kelce said anything about it, which made things a lot more awkward then they had to be. After all, what girl wants to hang out with her boyfriend, his ex and her ex at the same time? If you do, you’re probably insane.

     This was how it came to her having to sneak around to hang out with her friends alone, no matter how much more suspicious that might seem. It was better than the alternative, because it wasn’t as if she was actually doing anything wrong.

     So, she slipped out of her bedroom early in the morning, leaving Topper still sleeping there from the night before, a note scrawled onto the Post-Its she kept on her nightstand that read “I’m w Kie”. And it wasn’y as if that was a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

     It was seven am when she reached the Chateau, and Pope and Kie were the only ones awake, lazing on either side of the couch and talking. They looked up as Y/N walked in, greeting her with grins and whispered “hi”s — JJ was asleep in the room next door, presumably. And with a girl at his side, no doubt, though she’d be ushered out the second he woke up. She knew the pattern — it’d been nearly two years since they dated, and he’d had a different girl almost every other night since then.

     Y/N glanced to the door he was behind and smiled fondly, rolling her eyes at her best friend.

     “Topper not coming?” Kiara asked curiously.

     Y/N shrugged. “I knew Sarah and JJ were, so I told him I was just hanging out with you.”

     Pope frowned slightly, but didn’t voice whatever he was thinking, and Y/N wandered into the kitchen to get a beer. She came back in with three cans, and tossed the other two at her friends casually.

     “I don’t drink before seven at night, Y/N, you know that,” Pope stated.

     Y/N shrugged, “Suit yourself. Give it to whichever one wakes up first.”

     Those words, coincidentally, were the words John B swung his door open to, Sarah trailing along behind him. The group grimaced, well aware of what had probably gone down before they went to bed, and Pope tossed the beer can to John B, who caught it easily, leaning against the wall and cracking it open.

     Sarah seemed more at ease than usual — presumably because her ex wasn’t there, sulking and making the atmosphere at least ten times more uncomfortable — and leant into John B’s side happily.

     “What’re you peasants planning on doing today, anyway?” Y/N joked, grinning. The rest of the group rolled their eyes, all immediately giving her their quickest retorts.

     “Just because you have a rich boyfriend doesn’t make you royalty, Y/N,” Pope responded.

     Kiara nodded in agreement, adding: “Yeah, and he’s an ass, so. . .”

     “He’s not!” Y/N insisted. “He just hangs out with the wrong people, is all.”

     “Right,” Kiara scoffed. “You are aware he tried to drown John B, right?”

     Y/N sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that, but, in all fairness, JJ was hitting on Sarah.”

     “And he’s ‘not jealous’,” Pope snorted, quoting what he said every time Y/N asked why she had to bring him along when she went to see her friends. Y/N rolled her eyes, wondering whether her boyfriend actually did believe he didn’t get jealous, because it was obvious to everyone else he did — but, then again, Topper could be oblivious to the most apparent of things quite often.

     Y/N knew that first hand, having not been able to get him to understand that she liked him even with the most obvious of signs and having to tell him outright once she grew fed up of hinting at it.

     Hours passed by quickly, a large contrast to the way they did when Topper was with them, and Y/N found herself soon remembering why she loved hanging out with her friends away from the Kooks so much. However, her mind was long from Topper and the Kooks when the sun began to set, and she was entirely focused on talking to JJ, John B and Sarah, Pope and Kie already having head home because both of them had shifts in the morning.

     “—Yeah, and then the cops started chasing us, and JJ was this close to being caught when Y/N tripped him up and made the cop fall over, too,” John B recounted, howling with laughter by the time he’d finished his exaggerated story of one of the group’s many escapades.

     Y/N laughed with him, eyes squeezing shut as she guffawed — and that was probably why she didn’t notice her boyfriend approaching them, the anger burning up his body increasing tenfold with every step.

     He should’ve known this was going to happen, he was telling himself, he should’ve known a Pogue was going to be dirt just like the rest. After all, if Sarah Cameron was a cheating liar, how could he put that past the people so infamously below her? The people he’d always been told he couldn’t trust?

     However, with the anger, there was also the hated side of upset — because, was he not good enough for her? Did he think those Pogues could treat her better than he could? Was that why Sarah left?

     Getting cheated on the first time hurt, yes, but now? Getting cheated on for the second time, and both of the other partners being in the same group? God, that felt worse than anything Topper had ever experienced, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t just angry, like Kelce or Rafe would’ve been. Why did he have to question himself? He wanted to be able to tell himself that if she cheated, that was on her, not him, and he couldn’t have done anything to stop it, but he wasn’t. 

     He practically tore JJ off of the hammock next to Y/N, glaring and ready to beat the shit out of him. JJ just frowned, confused, and that only angered Topper more — had Y/N not even bothered to tell them they were dating?

     That thought was completely irrational, of course. Everyone in the OBX knew that Topper and Y/N were dating, because it wasn’t as if they kept their relationship very private, and, being the island’s so-called Romeo and Juliet (or the star-crossed lovers, as they were often referred to as), they were often the gossip of the town. And, besides, he’d been to the Chateau with her plenty of times before, and they’d kissed in front of the whole group plenty of times, too.

     However, he wasn’t exactly in the mindset to be thinking rationally at that point in time — having just gotten back from spending the day with Rafe, he had had an unhealthy amount of crack, and could barely think at all.

     He pulled JJ so that they were face to face anyway, though, and his words came out a threatening growl: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Pogue?”

     Y/N frowned, standing up and trying to tug Topper off of the boy — that, however, was seemingly impossible. “Top, what are you doing?”

     At that, he whirled to face her, and suddenly Y/N was cowering underneath his stare, all of the anger that had seconds ago been directed at JJ now aimed at her. “What do you mean, what am I doing? What the fuck are you doing, Y/N? I thought you said you were with Kie? Not sucking up to your ex!”

     Y/N laughed, and Topper’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t move — he could see the way JJ moved to get between them when his anger heightened, and he hated it.

     “It’s not fucking funny, Y/N,” he spat, “I should’ve known you would be a whor—"

     “Before you say anything you don’t mean,” Y/N interjected, “I wasn’t doing anything with JJ, Topper, and you should know that by now. We broke up because we’re more like siblings, and I’m not in to incest. And he was literally just lying on a hammock with me, so can you calm the fuck down?”

     Her voice was surprisingly calm, and it was an immediate soother for Topper, who released the front of JJ’s shirt reluctantly, giving him a warning glance as if to say ‘if I catch you anywhere near her again, I’m going to put your ass underground’, and let his girlfriend drag him off to her car.

     He hated the fact that jealousy was still burning in his gut, and he hated the fact that JJ had the audacity to laugh about it as they left. He didn’t act on that anger, though, and just continued trailing after Y/N, well aware she might just kill him if he did anything but that. He got in the passenger side when she shoved him towards it, and sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, looking like a spoilt child.

     Y/N could’ve laughed at him when she jumped into her side, but she didn’t, because Topper was an asshole when he was high, and she didn’t want to get into an argument neither of them meant.

     “Topper, I wouldn’t cheat,” she stated, starting the car even though she knew she probably wasn’t in the right mindset to drive, either. It wasn’t as if she’d never driven drunk before, and she knew what she was doing. Besides, she didn’t want to have the conversation she was about to have in front of the other Pogues.

     He glared at her as he responded: “Why’d you lie about where you were, then?”

     “Because if I told you the truth, you’d come with me, and all of us find it uncomfortable when you’re there,” she answered truthfully. “You know, with Sarah and John B.”

     Topper ran a hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-- after Sarah, I guess I’m a little more suspicious than usual, and I love you so much, and I know that, like, all of the guys on this island think you’re hot, so you could easily get with someone who isn’t me.”

     “Yeah, but I wouldn’t though, Topper, okay?” Y/N stated as she drove away from the Chateau. “That’s what you have to remember. I wouldn’t.”

     Topper nodded, smiling, and the pair sat in silence for a minute before Y/N spoke up.

     “You know, you always say you don’t get jealous, but you’re always jealous,” she commented absentmindedly, thoughts going back to Pope’s words that morning.

     Topper frowned. “No, I’m not.”

     “Right, so that’s why you were about to get into a fight with JJ?” Y/N asked sarcastically, “Because you weren’t jealous?”

     “Okay, fine. Maybe I am a little. But it’s not my fault all the guys want you, okay?” Topper responded.

     Y/N just laughed, pulling the car to a stop in her driveway. Topper’s hand moved to get the door handle, but she caught his arm before he could manage, and she pulled herself over onto his lap, pressing her lips to his in a messy, passionate kiss. He kissed back quickly, hands moving to her waist to pull her closer.

     As she pulled away, gasping for breath, she whispered: “I’m yours and only yours, Topper Thornton, okay?”

     He nodded, smiling. “Okay.” With that, he was pulling her in for another kiss, grinning against her mouth as he did so.

     God, he was so in love with her.

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@thorsangel @dpaccione @ceruleanjj @thatsonobx @spilledtee @supremestarkey @babypogue @sadcupofcoffee @sacredto @poguemacking

[redrosesartcabin]

The cave incident: Kenji x first perspective reader pt. 2 of 2

(Link to part one https://redrosesartcabin.tumblr.com/post/641312472793546752/the-cave-incident-kenji-x-first-perspective )

“Looks like we are stuck here”, Kenji said with a calmness, that however had that kind of underlaying tone that suggests a storm of panic coming soon.

“Hey hey hey: Not so fast. Let’s not give up just yet”, I answered softly, “Maybe if you could stabilize the motorcycle whilst I climb on top I could reach the edge of the cave”.

“Ok”, he said sceptically.

He held the vehicle whilst I stood on top. My fingers reached to the edge, but I was definitely still too far away. I knew that had been the only option, but still I tried contemplating.

“Ok, maybe if you sit on top and I get on your shoulders-“

“Y/n”, he interrupted that thought process bluntly.

“What?”, I grunted

“Stop. This may not be the deepest of caves…holes…cave-holes, but this ain’t a three feet puddle. Face it, we are stuck. We have nothing that could us even close”

“Yeah yeah, ok, you’re right”, I had to admit. Not something I liked to admit, but he was. But I sure didn’t do it without a glare.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Did I suggest riding the motorcycle?”

“Oh I see: now you want to blame it on me! The macho man finds himself in a bad situation and needs a scape goat. Ain’t that typical for you”, I hissed back.

Usually, or especially in the beginning, he would’ve kept on discussing and defending his greatness, but this time, to my surprise he flinched.

The quiet settled in faster than a second could pass.

He sat down on the ground and seemed to space out for a moment. I couldn’t move for a while, that’s how much that reaction surprised me.

Finally my body obeyed me again. I got down on my knees before him, trying to catch his eyes.

“Kenji, are you ok? I’m sorry I-“

“NO”, he interrupted me, “you’re right. I did try to act like I was better. I can’t seem to stop it… It’s a wonder anyone likes me at all”

“Oh hey now: What’s with the sudden change of attitude?”, I asked concerned, “didn’t you consider yourself the charming glue that holds the group together? Where has that Kenji gone?”

He let out a sad sounding laugh, “That Kenji did a run for it. That Kenji did call himself that but … did anybody ever say that about me because they genuinely thought that about me?”

“Did they ever dispute it?”, I asked, trying the lighten the mood, though I was starting to get his point.

He however still didn’t look convinced. I sighed in deeply, “Look: You might’ve started off as a jerk. Maybe even a major one. You might’ve come off as a rich, spoiled child. Which in many regards, is what you are: But you’ve proven, that that was just your outer shell. You’ve proven, that you are compassionate and understanding. And you know it.

We all have flaws. Some more than others. Some appear more undesirable and annoying than others. And especially those are hard to get over, because those have been acquired by default of how you grew up”

“Oh wow”, he simply answered, “I didn’t know you understood me… that well”

“I like psychoanalyzing people”, I answered with a bemused smile before I returned to the appropriate serious expression, “but besides that: I think we connected… or at least I thought so”

“No no … you’re right: We have but… I just… nobody ever even tried to understand me that way so deeply like you have, not even our other friends”

“It’s a gift I suppose”, I smiled, a concerned frown planted on my brows, “but I might have just also taken a liking in you”

“That’s the thing: I have taken a liking in you too. That’s why I realized more quickly this time, that this thing that I keep doing is just such an asshole move. I’m sorry”

“It’s ok-“

“No! It’s not ok.”, he interrupted me. The pain he had in his eyes almost hurt: I had never seen him so serious and broken, “I didn’t want to be like this. Not with you anyways. I know It’s not impressive or great. Yet that has been planted in my brain for so long. Like a tumor you can’t get rid of. And I just don’t know how to be different. How to connect to others my age that way.”

“But you do. You’ve shown who you are. You see: Getting out of a habit is a process. There are high and low points. Moments where you succeed and some where you slip again. But eventually you won’t slip at all. It’s a matter of patience and, you could say, practice. But eventually: eventually you’ll be the version you’ve always aspired to be”

He looked at me directly now. His gaze struck deep as he gifted me the most honest and cozy kind of smile he had ever mustered up, “How are you this understanding and patient with me? How do I deserve it?”

“I love you, that’s-“, I interrupted myself as he stood up in an abrupt motion and stared at me with his eyes wide open.

“Oh”, I whispered, “I slipped”, I said out loud, “that confession was way too sudden. Sorry”

He ignored my blabbering and asked instead, with a voice as quiet as a mouse, “When did you plan on telling me that?”

I chuckled saying, “probably never”, and averted my eyes as quickly as I could.

“So, it took us falling into a cave and an accidental deep talk huh?”, he said, seeming a little stunted at it all.

“I mean: I was afraid. I’ve always been someone afraid of rejection and I didn’t think you’d like me. And you apparently-“

“Do”, he interrupted me. Now I was the wide eyed one.

“I’ve been afraid too. And not even that cave made me slip You just seemed too kind, too smart for me”

“Oh wow”, I could only say.

I stood up as well again now.

The wind was cool down here and with the sun setting. The pink and red hues of the sun set crept down the hole and lay on Kenji like a bright shadow surrounding him making the moment even more surreal. He literally looked like I was looking at him through rose colored glasses.

I had to chuckle. Luckily, that loosened the tension and he laughed back.

Kenji dared to step forward now. He came closer and closer until I could feel his hot breath on my face. I looked up at him curious and expectant. He gave me that look with half lidded eyes, knitted eyebrows that suggested a certain gesture.

I closed my eyes and led myself be led by the motion he had initiated until I could feel soft lips on mine. A moment I thought I could only ever dream of had settled and I felt at peace.

“There you are! Guys I found them, they are more than fine!”, Kenji and me suddenly heard Sammy yell.

We broke apart quickly, a little embarrassed to be caught in the moment of our first kiss, yet very happy to be found.

We looked up where we saw Sammy and Bumpy standing. One second later Ben followed who scratched Bumpy’s head and whispered something I could decipher as “good girl”. Bumpy apparently was the one who had discovered us.

At last, the others came as well, who brought a big rope with them.

“Come on you guys. I fear we got to leave the motorcycle behind, but we’ll get you out in no time”, Yaz said and we kept it at that.

And in a matter of second we were up again, holding hands as we stood before our rescue squad.

Brooklynn smiled, “I knew it”

“I can’t believe I didn’t believe you. Again!”, Sammy had to laugh as well, “but there they were smooching it away”

“We were not smooching”, I pouted

“Wait: You two?”, Ben and Darius asked in chorus.

“Am I really the only one who noticed? Come on guys!”, Brooklynn asked. We all laughed at that heartily.

I had to give it to her: She really had a feeling for people. Not even I had noticed his feelings for me or vice versa.

“And that’s why you are the unboxing girl and not us”, Kenji chuckled.

“Very funny Kenji”, Brooklynn retorted, “but seriously: It took you both to fall into a freaking hole to confess. You both are chicken”

To back up that point both Darius and Ben made chicken noises at which Sammy laughed and Yaz rolled her eyes, but with an endeared smile as she looked at Sammy laughing.

‘Those two should confess too’, I thought but kept it to myself: They’d figure it out eventually.

“Ok enough of us and kissing in a cave…hole…cave-hole”, Kenji announced, “let’s get home”

“Let’s do”, I smiled.

‘Best accident ever!’, I thought, and I’d like to think, so did Kenji…

(I hope you liked it!) (please leave feedback if possible. Also: Feel free to send requests for one shots if there is something specific you’d like to read in regards to Kenji x reader fanfics (though I won’t accept every suggestion if its about something I have little to no experience with I hope you understand <3. With that I wish y’all a great day!)

[charmedseoull]

Greta Garbo and Uemura Naomi in Imprints (For the Boys in the Back) by Anna(arctic_grey)

I am entirely in love with the writing of this fanfic. This could be called a commentary or an analysis or an essay, but I don’t entirely give a damn about the specifications. Fuck it, this is a love letter, an appreciation, and understanding of Imprints (For the Boys in the Back) by Anna (arctic_grey). I wanted to leave a comment on their works, but a comment would not do justice to the absolute love and adoration I have for their writing. Thus, I chose to do this instead. Enjoy.

This analysis is a part of Charmedseoul’s Slice of Namjin side project, which documents Namjin (Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin) fanfiction with unique writing styles and complex themes. You can find Imprints and Magnitude’s Fanlore page here.

Disclaimer: This is a 18+ work with adult content such as sexual activity. You are responsible for the content you consume, please be aware of that. This analysis contains spoilers for the work as well.

Here are the trigger warnings the author provides: depression and mental health issues, few brief references to suicidal thoughts, discussions of infidelity, self-destructive behavior, consensual sex under influence.

Imprints (For the Boys in the Back) begins with struggling actor Kim Seokjin and his self-destructive behaviors after a messy breakup. He ends up with a one night stand that grows into something more with Kim Namjoon, a successful producer in South Korea. The story follows Jin’s personal growth and their budding fuck-buddies turned boyfriends relationship. 

Now presenting the analysis of the use of historical figures Greta Garbo and Uemura Naomi in Anna(arctic_grey)’s work Imprints (For the Boys in the Back): 

In the first chapter of “Imprints (For the Boys in the Back)”, Anna introduces the two historical figures Greta Garbo and Uemura Naomi to reflect the main characters of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. They each represent the two main characters’ initial desires and hopes for the future, but as the story progresses these things change. Greta Garbo and Uemura Naomi are Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon’s beginnings. Through their relationship, these two characters change each other and alter the course of their lives. They reject the comfort of Garbo and Naomi for the comfort of each other, definitively defying what they believed in the beginning of the series. The Imprints and Magnitude series offers alternatives to their lives and gives a realistic resolution that is able to resonate with any reader who has felt broken or lost. Imprints and Magnitude hears them.

Greta Garbo: Lavish, glamorous, compelling, and renowned. She was one of the greatest motion picture actors of the 1920s and ‘30s with her subtlety and restraint. Garbo carried an air of sophistication and richness that was insatiably desired by the public. 

Greta Garbo is everything Jin wants to be at the beginning: sophisticated, surrounded by wealth, and explicitly independent. However, Jin craves affection and partnership. For him to live a life without a partner after the pain of his past relationship would doom him to misery. Jin is in pain. He is broken, a shattered glass mirror with an empty reflection that needs its pieces picked back up and glued together. He rejects his needs because they’re complicated. He was hurt deeply by someone he trusted. To fix all of that takes so much more than a comforting word or reassuring hug, it takes consistent gentle and attentive attention which many do not care enough to give. Even though he’s told his other friends about his pain, he’s still closed off. He puts up barriers and only Namjoon attempts to break those down with that consistent, gentle and attentive attention. He is the only one whose patience does not run thin. Jin tries so desperately to be like Greta Garbo, completely unbothered by the world and his wants. He isn’t Greta Garbo though. He’s Kim Seokjin. He needs to heal and at the beginning of the story, readers themselves aren’t acutely aware of that. 

Uemura Naomi: Ambitious, independent, driven, and well-loved. He was one of the greatest Japanese adventurers as he became the first man to reach some of the Earth’s most remote places alone. Naomi scaled mountains and traveled relentlessly. When he was not adventuring, he was giving public lectures and sharing his warm personality with the world.

In the beginning of Imprints, readers aren’t too aware of who Namjoon is. The story is told from Jin’s point of view where he promptly calls Namjoon an asshole after their first rendezvous. Readers do get to know Namjoon better throughout the story though, catching on small quirks about him that they grow to love. Namjoon is like Uemura Naomi with the goal to do work, in his chosen field, by himself. Namjoon is already successful from the song “Hey Cutie” and grows more successful as he produces more music. He’s content with his success, focusing on it. Jin changes that. Jin enters Namjoon’s life suddenly, broken and confused about love. Namjoon is no savior. He had no intention to change Jin, only adding his own experiences and healing to the conversation. Unlike Jin, who grew resentful and emotionally unstable due to his breakup, Namjoon grew from it as a person. He came to accept what happened and let go of his past relationship. He’s then able to provide Jin a push to grow, diverting from his own path of solo adventures like Uemura Naomi. Namjoon departs from the role he was playing in his life as a mountain man and begins a path with Jin. 

Each of these historical figures were known for being alone. Garbo closed herself off from the public and lived her life lavishly without ever marrying. Naomi scaled entire mountains and landscapes by himself, capable of accomplishing solo ventures deemed impossible. Both Namjoon and Seokjin were alone in the beginning of Imprints (For the Boys in the Back), but then they found each other and departed from their associations with these historical figures. They’re not alone anymore. They’re together and meant to be together. They’re healing.

Seokjin and Namjoon are no longer Greta and Uemura. They aren’t these lonely figures who found great success by themselves then died alone. (There is nothing wrong with dying alone by the way.) They’re human and need other people. It’s a startling refreshing take on love and relationships using a set up with historical figures. The message hits all the more with the context behind who these two were. 

And that’s why I love it.

Author’s Note:

The Imprints and Magnitude fanfiction series, written by an author who had no intention to ever be documented, analyzed, or a part of this side project is one of my favorite works in both professional and casual literature. It’s an automatic recommendation to any who ask. Its writing style flows easily off the paper, detailed and emotional and incredibly personal. In literature stuffed with attempts to mean something, Imprints and Magnitude attempts no grand pompous message. It’s simple. It excels in its meaning whether intentional or not. I love works like that. I love works that feel intimate with the author’s closest thoughts. I love works where an author bleeds into the words and pages. It absorbs emotions in a raw way that can not be replicated in professional published works often. That is because published works have limitations. They have deadlines and people to make happy with the proper words and formats. Fanfiction doesn’t do that. Fanfiction is free to do what it wants. There are no restraints. It satisfies my intense craving for a work unleashed and unedited by publishers and institutions. It satisfies my intense longing for literature that’s different. I just want one person’s closest and deepest thoughts stitched together with words and phrases and sentences and paragraphs and laid bare for the world. Imprints and Magnitude gives me all of that and a cute love story with a message that sticks to me like gum. This series retaught love, relationships, and letting go to me. I needed that, especially as I continue to grow older. Thank you to the most wonderful Anna for being the one thing I’ve wanted for so long. 

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[gayenerd]

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie 

by Tom Lanham 

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

 Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not). 

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids. 

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true. 

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake. 

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!" 

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers. 

* * * 

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not? 

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time. 

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves. 

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job. 

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living. 

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

 BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead. 

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right? 

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly. 

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs. 

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so... 

TC: Sickening! 

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too? 

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10? 

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music. 

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls. 

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

 Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]? 

MD: At work, doing their own thing. 

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her. 

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school. 

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable. 

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs. 

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky. 

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food. 

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen. 

Why name your disc Dookie? 

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer." 

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine. 

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"? 

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland! 

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night. 

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you. 

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label. 

Is Green Day angry? 

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry. 

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible. 

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently? 

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie? 

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building! 

* * * 

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract. 

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set. 

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude. 

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura. 

* * * 

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless. 

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed. 

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids? 

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want. 

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways? 

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything. 

=Was this something you went through personally? 

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything. 

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show. 

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week! 

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move? 

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

 =I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you... 

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

 =OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction... 

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?" 

=And you let just anybody touch it? 

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced. 

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut. 

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89. 

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones. 

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it. 

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too? 

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time. 

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"? 

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!" 

=As they say, you can never go home again. 

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?" 

=And if that teacher could see you now! 

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself. 

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own? 

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give. 

* * * 

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

[kyloxox]

𝕀 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔼𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 (James Potter x reader)

Summary: you and James had a complicated history. You wanted to forget he existed. But you just couldn’t.

AN: this went in a complete different direction then I attended but hope you guys like it!

Lover Series Masterlist

———————————————————————

Laughed on the schoolyard. As soon as I tripped up and hit the ground, ground, ground.

“Hey are we gonna meet up later in the library to prepare for the transfiguration exam?” You asked.

“Sure.” James briskly said as he looked over you to see behind you.

“Sirius! You got them! This is going to be perfect.” James held up a bag full of pop its. “Bye y/n!” James said as he walked with Sirius into the classroom, talking to him whatever god knows what.

“Bye.” You said huffing and walking away to your next class.

-

“Miss. L/N.” You felt your whole body go numb. Of course Mcgonagall chose you first. She placed an apple on on table, gesturing you to stand up and go to the front of the class. As you stood up your chair made a loud shrieking sound. And throughout the quiet classroom it was even more noticeable. You heard some giggles from a pair of boys but you didn’t notice who’s they were. You walked up to the front, your hand gripping your wand.

“Alright Miss. y/n.” She moved out of your way. You shakily held up your wand.

“D-duro.” You tried to say as loud and clear as possible but nothing happened. You heard some giggles behind you but ignored it.

“Duro!” You said more confidently. But still nothing. As the giggles still ensued you gripped your wand tight. “Duro!” You tried one final time. Finally the apple started to turn but instead of to stone it turned into a mush.

“Thank you, Miss L/n, you may sit down.” As you walked to your seat you were finally able to see who was giggled. James and Sirius. Your heart froze. Your best friend was laughing at you, mocking you.

While trying to hold back your tears you sat back to your seat, who now had Lucius Malfoy preoccupying the seat that was empty.

“At least you’re not doing as back as Weasley.” You turned to the front of the classroom to see Arthur’s apple grew wings.

“Shut up Malfoy.” He laughed a little.

“You coming to the slytherin party tonight?”

“No why would I go to that?”

“Cause I want you to.” He looked you up and down.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever worth a try. It’s not like you’ll be over Potter in a night.”

“Excuse me? What did you say?” You turned with a concerned look.

“Everyone knows you’re like obsessed with potter, I mean even he knows. You follow him like a lost dog.”

“I’m not obsessed with him. He’s my best friend.”

“But are you his?” Your lips parted. You never thought of it that way. “Listen come to the party tonight. It’s only slytherins so maybe you can have friends in your own house.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Your name on my lips, tongue tied. Free rent, livin’ in my mind. But then something happened one magical night. I forgot that you existed. And I thought that it would kill me, but it didn’t. And it was so nice. So peaceful and quiet.

It was the first day back for your 7th year. Your last year before leaving your childhood behind. Over the summer you and your dorm mates hung out almost every other day. They showed how wonderful life was in the world of rich purebloods, especially the shopping weekends in paris.

And your life back home had gotten better. Your parents were happy that you stopped talking to James. They believed as he grew older he became the prime example of a blood traitor. And they were more than happy to pay for your expenses. Along with getting better along with your parents they forced you to get a dark mark and join Voldemort.

“You won’t be a main member, just a follower.” They told you. It still felt wrong. But when everyone around you was doing the same thing, it help fizz that tension.

Over the course of the summer you had almost completely forgetten about James and his immature behavior. You barely tried to contact him over the summer and if he wanted you to he could have done it himself, but he didn’t. And you weren’t surprised.

So now as you were walking into the great hall, trying to act like everything was fine with your fellow slytherins you couldn’t help but feel the lingering eyes of James and his friends. Sure you changed a lot of the summer, including a new hairstyle, no more braces and new expensive diamond earrings banging from your ears. But it wasn’t like James should care.

“Bloody hell. It looks like those slytherins corrupted her.” Sirius joked as he saw you. James just slowly nodded his head as he looked at you awestrucked. You changed. Changed a lot over the summer. New confidence. New hair. New friends.

James would be lying if he said he wasn’t sad you guys didn’t hang out over the summer. I mean it was tradition for you guys to spend the first day of summer together, but James was too busy getting drunk with Sirius to notice.

But the fact that you didn’t even acknowledge James was the saddest for him.

It isn’t love, it isn’t hate. It’s just indifference.

“Hey y/n….”

“Potter.”

“Ouch denounced to Potter.” He smirked at you playfully

“Yep…that’s what I denounce blood traitors as.”

“Damn.” He continued to smirk.

“Bye Potter.”

“Wait y/n!” James said as he graded your arm. In that process your sweater as riden up amd your mark was revealed. You quickly gasped and pulled your sleeve down.

“Y/n? What the hell is that?”

“Nothing!” You swiped her arm away from him.

“I knew your parents were going to corrupt you! But I always thought you’d ignore their efforts. Now with your new friends I’m not surprised.”

“Maybe if you were a good friend I wouldn’t have to become friends with the people who you think are “corrupting me.”

“Okay y/n! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being such an idiot! I’m sorry for acting like an asshole to you for years.”

“I don’t care James! I don’t care anymore! You’re the only one obviously phased by this!”

“Because we used to be best friends! We used to do everything together.”

“Well, people change James and I think we both know who’s the one who did.”

“Says the one who’s a death eater now!” The moment he said that you turned around and slapped him in the face.

“At least I don’t go behind my friends back and treat her like shit!”

“Oh really? Then what do you call this!” He grabbed your arm and forced your mark in your face.

“It’s called being loyal to my parents! My legacy!”

“Legacy? Y/n, are you hearing yourself?!? Two years ago you made fun of this stuff?!”

“Well I grew up. Obviously you haven’t.“

With that you rushed out of the room. Leaving your childhood behind. Leaving your friendship behind. Leaving your best friend behind.

-

One year later

You barely knew where you were going. All you had was an address scribbled on your hand that was smudged. But it didn’t keep you from briskly walking through adandonded streets.

You managed to find the tiny cottage at the end of the lone street. You quickly looked out as you banged on the door. A few seconds later it was opened by James. He looked aged from the stress of the war but he still looked the same.

“James please! Just listen to me! Voldemort is going to come here. He’s going to kill you! He’s gonna kill you!” You shrieked trying time get him to listen to you.

“Please listen to me! Peter he’s….he’s a death eater now-”

“Please y/n, Peter isn’t you. He would never do that.”

“James!” You shrieked again. “Please believe me!”

“How do you even know where we’re hiding out!” He roared at you.

“Because-”

“Peter told her…” Sirius finished before you could finish “Prongs. I think she’s telling the truth.”

“James please.” You looked into his eyes, as glossy as ever. “Lily, Marlene, Mary has already been killed by him, I don’t want to see you with them.” He looked into your eyes deeply. He knew you were telling the truth and he couldn’t risk it.

“We have to evacuate.” James stated to the rest of the members hiding in the small cottage.

“Well?” James raised his eyebrows, holding the door open. You noticed you were the only one left in the room.

“Well?”

“Are you gonna come?” He said amused.

“Haha very funny.” You deadpanned.

“I’m serious. If he sees you here, he’ll kill you.”

“Maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“Don’t say that.” You both stood silent for a moment. Letting the feeling of childhood nostalgia sink in.

“I’m sorry-” you both say at the same time. God another cliche. Your life was such a cliche.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this. God I hate myself so much with this, this thing on my arm.”

“I’m the one who drived you to it.”

“No, no it was me. I thought getting it would be pay back to you. A kick in the chest to you. But I was wrong I was stupid.”

“I’m still in that equation. If I hadn’t treaten you like an asshole you would never have felt the need to do those things.”

“Yea but maybe I should have acted like tha-”

“Shhh.” James said as he moved closer to you. “It my fault. I was afraid. I was afraid of what people would think if I dated you.” He paused for a second.

“I was afraid they would think I was insane for liking a slytherin. So I acted like an asshole. To get you away from me and god was that stupid. Cause it worked. You were smart enough to get away from me. I thought you would just kept clinging, and that’s what I wanted.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you treated me like garbage-"

“I know... and it was the worst mistake of my life. Cause I lost you, during the time I most needed you, cause I was selfish.”

“James please, I get you’re trying to apologize but we need to leave.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

“Just promise me one thing.” He moved closer to you.

“After the war is over, we forget everything. The war, 7th year and we become best friends again.”

“Yes I promise.” You said and not being able to hold back you grab his face and smash your lips into his.

“Bloody hell.” You whispered.

“Wow just like I imagined.” James smirked holding onto your waist.

“Shut up now we really have to go.” You said grabbing his hand and rushing out the door.

“You two are finally done in there?” Sirius snickered to you guys.

“Don’t worry you’ll have your seven minutes in Heaven with someone soon.” James said over to him with a cocky smile. You just laughed, realizing how much you missed this.

taglist: @accio-rogers @llamaluverlizzy @arianna-17-11 @peasantview @girlyisthatweirdkid @timeladygallifrey @malina4ka @outrodaylight @emcchi @sophisticatedslytherin @thatharrypotterfan13

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter One:  Rich Broads are the Worst

Summary:

Francisco Mendoza wasn’t always a household name on the streets of New York City (particularly around the powerful families that run the underground).  Even he had to get his start somewhere.  And all it took was a good mentor, a snap decision, and the love of a good woman.

Rating:

T+ for language/violence

A/N:  Hi, friends.  Well, here we are.  Chapter one.  For those of you who don’t know, this is a prequel to the Switch series available on Ao3.  Take it at face value as an original.  Take it as a prequel.  Either way, I hope you enjoy.  And your feedback is always appreciated.  This is going to go up every Monday at noon US central time.  So, are we ready?  Because I’m ready.  I’ve been sitting on this since November.  I can’t fucking wait.

Prayer has always been called the last act of a desperate man.  Mama would beat the shit out of me for saying this, but sometimes, that desperate man reaches desperate lows not even prayer can fix. My deliverance was not an easy one, nor was it pretty.  I’m not even sure if God had anything to do with it.  But whoever put me in the path of the Old Man that night was looking out for me.  That’s for damn sure.

  Every night was the same.  Go to work, come home, lock the door, and put Mama at ease.  Between her and my brothers, that was all I had left in this world.  Papa died before I got the chance to know him.  But he knew me.  According to Mama he played favorites with my brothers and me.  She always said he saw the special in me before I even knew it was there.  As we grew up, that became more apparent with my brothers.  Tony and César may both be older than me, but they knew the pecking order in this house.  And they knew who was on top.

 And because their baby brother, their hermanito, put in a good word for them, we all managed to score jobs at the same restaurant.  Although, that commute from Williamsburg to Midtown was its own private hell.  Damn near half an hour on the subway on a good day.  But it kept food on the table and a roof over our heads and Mama taken care of, so none of us were complaining.  But one night…Normally, work didn’t get to me, but…The customer isn’t always right.

 Working at a ritzy Italian restaurant in the heart of Midtown occasionally had its perks. People with deep pockets leaving nice tips…or assholes with deeper pockets who are out to make my job a living hell.  And no one was worse than this one couple on their twenty-fifth anniversary.  It wasn’t necessarily him that was the problem. This guy had the integrity of a wet noodle.  And I had a feeling it was partially because of his…Lovely…wife.

 “Excuse me!” she whistled for me like a fucking dog.  If she would’ve called me boy, I would’ve choked her out.  I don’t have it in me to ever hit a woman, but she pushed all the right buttons.

 But still, I slapped on a fake smile and went over to their table, “Yes, ma’am.  How may I help you?”

 “I know the label on the bottle says 1979,” she told me, her voice just dripping with condescension, “But this tastes like a 1974 Shiraz.”

 “I can assure you, ma’am,” I swore, “This is a 1979 Shiraz.”

 “You say it’s a 1979,” she started to get heated, “But it’s clearly got notes characteristic of a 1974.”

 I kept my head, “It is a 1979, ma’am.  If you’d like, I could bring you something else.”

 “No,” she rolled her eyes, “We ordered a 1979 Shiraz.  I’d like a new bottle.”

 “Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, taking the original bottle away.  Once I got back to the kitchen, I took a good swig from the bottle in question.  It’s fucking wine.  It tasted like Shiraz.  Personally, I thought it was disgusting, but I digress.  Was there really that big of a difference?

 “Frankie?” Tony put a hand on my shoulder, “You alright?  You look like you want to stab someone.”

 “Just feeling thirsty,” I choked down another drink, “Pretentious woman at table twelve trying to tell me she can taste five years difference and we got our labels wrong. I don’t want to call her a bitch, but fuck, she’s making it difficult.”

 “That’s why I stay back here,” Tony jabbed, “I don’t see how you do it, Frankie. Having to deal with stuck up pricks like that day in and day out.  Either you have intestinal fortitude of steel or you’re a fucking masochist.”

 “I couldn’t be back here,” I sighed out, heading into the wine fridge, “It’s too secluded.  I need my fingers on a pulse or I get cranky.”  

 “They look down on guys like us,” he followed me, “They probably have no idea what it’s like to struggle.”

 “Probably not,” I grabbed another bottle of Shiraz, “But it’s that money that keeps us from going hungry, so we’ll be able to get out of here.  Hopefully, it won’t be for much longer.”

 “God, I hope not,” Tony took the bottle off the tray and threw a drink back, having the same reaction to it I did, “How in the hell do people drink this shit?”

 “I don’t know,” I felt for him, “Maybe the stick in the ass adds a different flavor profile that broke fuckers like us won’t understand.”

 “Because we’re too sophisticated?”

 “Because we have taste in our booze,” I gave him a nod, “Pray for me.  I have to go back into hell and look into the eyes of pure evil.”

 “Good luck, Frankie,” Tony sent me back out.

 I could do this.  I’ve dealt with people like her before.  This should be a piece of cake.  I brought their wine to their table, “I’m sorry, ma’am.  Hopefully, this one will be better for you.”

 “It’s about time.”

 I fiddled with the cross around my neck out of nervous habit, “If you need anything else, please let me know.”

 “Yes,” she dismissed me, leaning toward her husband, “I hope he doesn’t think we’re paying for that swill.”

 Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.  Ruega por nosotros pecadores.  Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté.  Amén.

 Alright. I can do this now.  She will be paying for it, but the spit about to go in her food is totally on the house.  I wanted to.  Fuck, did I want to.  Instead, I took the high road and went on break.  César followed me out, “Tu bien, hermanito?”

 “I can’t fucking do this anymore, César,” I held my head in my hands, “I’m sick of it.”

 “We all are, Frankie,” César threw an arm around me, “But what else are we supposed to do?”

 “Anything else,” I sighed out, “I’m just…fucking done.  I’m sick of being looked down on.  Not just here, but anywhere we go.  Mama always told us she moved us here after Papi died to give us a better life, right?”

 “Right.”

 “Where is the better life, César?” I wondered, “Because I look around and I’m not seeing it.”

 “We’ll get there some day, Frankie,” he swore, “But for now, we deal with this bullshit.”

 “And it’s bullshit we have to deal with it.”

 “Amen.”

 I’d make a deal with Satan himself at this point to get the fuck out of this.  I was so young, so naïve in those days.  When I had myself together again, I walked back inside.  If I can get out of this shift without killing anyone, I’ll be so proud.  One of the hostesses gave me a poke to the shoulder and sent me to a different table.  Thank God.  I’ve never needed a change of scenery so bad.  I know I’m going to have to go back to them eventually, but right now, I needed something easy.  Please be an easy table.  Please don’t be an asshole.

 A big guy sat at the table all by himself with a small notebook on the table and some mindless doodles.  All things being equal, they weren’t bad.  But I wasn’t there to admire the artwork.  As long as I don’t come across as pissed off, I’ll be alright, “Can I help you, sir?”

 “I’m meeting someone here,” he told me.  Then, he looked up from his notebook, “But I’m thinking I’m getting stood up.  You alright, kid?”

 “Fine, sir,” I suppressed it more, “It’s just been a long, busy night.  What can I get for…”

 “When do you get off?” he asked, looking me over, “I’m thinking my contact isn’t coming and you look like you could use a drink.”

 “I’d rather not have one here,” I admitted, “But I get off at eleven.”

 “Alright,” he gave me a nod, “Brandy and peach tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

 “I’ll be right back,” I promised, going to the bar.  Something about this guy gave me a good vibe.  Then again, he already wanted to buy me booze, so I wasn’t going to say no.  I flagged down the bartender and asked for his drink.  The bartender’s face lost any and all pigment it may have had. Reluctantly, he mixed the drink and handed it off to me.  I didn’t know what the hell that was all about, but I didn’t care.  As promised, I brought the man his drink, “Here you are, sir.”

 “Thank you,” he smiled a bit, “What’s your name, kid?”

 “Francisco,” I told him, “But people call me Frankie.”

 “You’re kind of stocky,” he pointed out, “You know that?”

 “According to mi mama,” I explained, “That came from my dad.”

 “And you?” he wondered, “Would you say that, too?”

 “I never met the man,” I shrugged, “I mean, I probably did meet him at one point, but he died when I was two, so I don’t really have much memory of him.”

 “Oh…” the man’s face fell, “I’m sorry to hear that.  I know the feeling, though.  Mine took off.  But we’re not here to swap sob stories.  Hey, I’m going to stick around for a while.  When you get off, meet me out front, K?”

 I had never seen this guy a day in my life, but something about him…It felt like I knew him.  Like we’ve met before, but I didn’t remember.  But I knew for a fact this was the first time we ever met.  Little did I know, that chance meeting would turn my whole world on its head.  We’ll save that part for later, though.  When I walked back into the kitchen, I needed to find one of my brothers.  Lucky for me, the first one I found was César.

 “Hey, César,” I stopped him.

 “Hi, Frankie,” César looked at me strange, “Everything ok?”

 “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I settled him, “No worries.  But I’m going to be a little late going home.  I’ll catch up with you guys somewhere.”

 “Where are you going?” he wondered.

 “I got asked for drinks after work,” I brushed him off, “The guy at table six. He told me he wanted to buy me a drink and you and I both know better than to turn down free booze.”

 “I know,” César nodded, “But don’t think you’re going by yourself.  If three of us leave the house and only two come back, Mama would have our asses and you know it.”

 “I’ll take the heat for that,” I assured him, “But I got a good feeling about him.  And I don’t know about you, but I could really use the drink.”

 “We’re not letting you go by yourself, Frankie.” Dammit, César…The oldest always figures he needs to protect the younger two, doesn’t he?  I could tell this wasn’t going to be a negotiation, “Hey, Tony!”

 “Que?” Tony perked up, wiping his last dish for the night.

 “Drinks after work tonight?” César offered.

 “You buying?” Tony wiped his hands off and tossed his towel aside.

 “Apparently, Frankie is.” I’m going to kill you, César, “There’s a guy out there wanting to take him for drinks and God forbid we let him go on his own.  Or go home without him.”

 “Mama would fucking kill us.” If I don’t get to both of you first.

 “Hold on, pendejos!” I stopped them both before they could cook up something else, “Let me talk to him first and make sure it’s alright.”

 “If he says no, Frankie,” César demanded, “You’re not going either.”

 “My ass, I’m not,” I stood my ground, “You seem to think so.”

 “I’m serious.”

 “And I’m thirsty,” I argued, checking the clock.  Just a few minutes more.  I pushed my way out the doors and found the guy again, “Hey…”

 “Hi,” he nudged a seat out for me, “Go ahead.  Take a seat, kid.”

 “I was actually about to ask you about that,” I began, “There are a couple guys in the back wanting in on this drink.  And if I go home without them, the lovely lady we live with is going to have our heads. Would that be a problem?”

 “Sounds like a real Three’s Company situation you got,” he jabbed.

 “Not exactly,” I came clean, “They’re my older brothers.  If they come home without me, my mother will beat them senseless with her shoe.”

 “You never said you had brothers.”

 “You never asked.”

 The man kept to himself for a brief minute, “Are they anything like you?”

 “I’m the smart one of the bunch,” I explained, “My brother Tony is muscle. My brother César is a master with his words.  Why do you ask?”

 “Just curious,” he dropped it, “Yeah.  They can come, too.  The more the merrier, right?”

 “I guess so,” I could breathe a little easier.  I got my brothers off my back and I still get my drink with…Wait a second, ���You haven’t even told me your name and you’re already taken me for drinks? I’m a little classier than that.”

 “You never asked,” he threw my words back at me, “Gregorio.  But mostly everyone that works for me just calls me the Old Man.”

[mother-snake]

grim tales of shadows- pt 1

tags: @idkanameatall @imma-potatoo @girl-with-many-fandoms (ask to join the list!!) words: 4545 warnings: mentions of death, abuseive, sad snek times.

part 2: n/a

-im gonna make it through this year if it kills me-

I broke free on a Saturday morning I put the pedal to the floor Headed north on Mills Avenue And listened to the engine roar

the sky was dark by now. Yellow glowing eyes looked around the city, watching and waiting for anything to appear. “sup dee!” a voice called out from behind.

He rolled his eyes, a smirk from underneath his face scarf. The winter air meant he wanted more warmth. He had always had that issue. “hello to you too Remus,” he chuckled, “I take it you’ve finished your list for the night?” he asked, voice muffled behind the fabric. “of course double dee. You need a hand?” he was asked. “can’t find it... that or its not created yet…” he grumbled.

That was true. He had been out here for several hours looking for the level five monster that was meant to be here. the baseball bat in his hands was held with a vice like grip.

His eyes looked over the blackened small city. Their home. Well… for Remus maybe. As soon as he was able to leave school, he was leaving this place asap. That was for certain. he felt himself focus hard on something fluttering in the distance, “bingo,” he cheered before taking a running start and jumping over to the next building as if it were second nature.

In a way, doing this since you were nine would have that effect. He had indeed died at the age of nine. But fate was… well. It wasn’t cruel. But it wasn’t nice either. he had died too early that day apparently. But his brother died on time.

A house fire was all it had taken. A simple spark from the stove whilst his father slept on the couch. and here he was, fighting monsters that if you told to any sane person would make you seem insane.

The loud roar of something screamed from down below. Inhumane and deafening.

His grin couldn’t get any wider as he saw the beat flap its wings and soar in the sky. it looked like a mantuary. Just with more eyes and sharp sockets filled with teeth. He would need to be careful if he wated to go to school tomorrow. “ready?” he said over to Remus. “you know it double dick!” his friend cheered as he picked up a piece of loose pipping.

My broken house behind me and good things ahead A girl named Cathy wants a little of my time Six cylinders underneath the hood crashing and kicking Ahh, listen to the engine whine

He woke up with a groan. Splayed out on his bed in the same things he had worn the night before. His window was wide open and his baseball bat sat neatly to the side. his wrist screamed in protest as he clenched his hands. he winced at the sudden pain. Just because he couldn’t die didn’t mean he couldn’t injure himself.

Apparently, he was one of the worst out there for getting hurt. he sighed and closed his eyes. Fuck school today, yeah. Nope it wasn’t happening.

He reached down to grab his phone with his good hand and looked at the time. Looks like he missed breakfast. Knowing his dad there wouldn’t be anything to eat until dinner. a thought crossed his mind and he quickly entered an old group chat. Quickly placing a message before flinging himself of the bed.

He was quick to remove his ‘costume’ as they called it. it acted more as protective gear than anything else.

Soon he was in a yellow button up and ripped jeans. His hair covering the left side of his face. he found it strange that despite how long ago he died, he was still the youngest of the group. Just by two years.

The others were either in the near by collage or in part time jobs. But today was a Friday thankfully. No one seemed to have any classes or shifts on that day. So, he was going to skip and meet them where they normally met. The park. but, he did have some spare time and change, so he was also going to get a drink. Most likely a hot chocolate of some form.

He opened his door as quietly as possible and slunk from his room. He took a deep breath as he walked past the living room to see his father passed out, head on the table. he grabbed his set of keys and jacket and left as quick as his feet could carry him. he was going to feel this more than his wrist tonight, but seeing them always made it worth every second.

The apartment building smelled horrid. That’s why he mainly took the window route. But since it was the middle of the day, well… that made things harder without being caught and having neighbour tell his dad. That was the last thing he needed.

He plucked a couple coins from his pocket and smiled. Remus had always been there for him even when his father wasn’t. he wondered what would happen if he told him exactly just when he died. If he would be sympathetic or just ditch him.

He looked up in the air to see a form of someone walking his direction. And he instantly groaned inwards. Roman. That son of a bitch who was somehow related to his best friend. “what the fuck happened last night?” roman growled as he blocked him in the street. “look, things got out of hand alright. We barely got out of there unscathed. Let alone alive,” he growled back. “what level was it?” roman asked his glowing red eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses. “five. The son of a bitch gave me a level five to deal with alone,” he growled, “now if you don’t mind-“

He stopped as he felt something buzz in his pocket. he felt his face go ghostly pale as he picked it out. “shit…” he muttered.

He glanced up to see roman looking at him confused. “don’t worry. And tell Remus that if I don’t arrive at the park that the old geezer finally left the house,” he stepped past the brunette and continued his way forwards.

A hand grasped his wrist, causing him to let out a yelp of pain. He looked at roman with a scowl and a hiss.

I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me

He arrived at the café later than he would have liked. But it was alright. He was still on track of time. That was good. His wrist still hurt from romans grasp but he was used to that sort of pain.

He felt himself sigh in relief as the smirk of the barista who knew him all too well came into view, “sup babes, mint or orange today?” Remy asked, lowering his sunglasses revealing normal eyes. “I think orange today,” he said as he brought out the money he needed.

The wait wasn’t too long, the barista being very well known to his order, he had been coming to the ‘beanie place’ for a few years now. it seemed always busy, or at least several tables were filled with people.

He looked up from his phone with a smile as he heard his name being called out. his hot chocolate sat by a cookie. his smile grew ever so slightly more as he picked both of them up and waved goodbye to Remy. He would be back in a few days once he had been able to scrounge around the house.

The cool winter air nipped his fingers as he took a bite out of the cookie. oh, this was just what he needed today.

He stopped in track as he looked down the street to see someone slip into an ally. That was new. and who was that? he had seen many faces around this place. Whoever ‘glasses’ was… well. He was going to find out.

He looked down the one-way street and walked out. slightly immortal, still sustainable to injury, he sighed. That sucked. he snapped his eyes to the ally as he heard trashcans being moved around.

It was at that moment he realised he left his baseball bat at home. Ah well… that was going to be fun.

He took a few steps down the hall before pausing. He knew exactly who it was… “Logan?” he asked. the boy turned around with glowing blue eyes, panicked and fearful. “Janus?” he asked, “yeah its me. I need you to calm down okay? I can explain what’s happening if it helps,” he said kneeling down near the panic-stricken friend.

“explain? How!” “last week, you were in the hospital right? Why?” “i- we went on a fishing trip at the weekend. I almost drowned- “Logan began. “was anyone there?” he asked. “yeah. It was night- we were on the boat and I slipped backwards,” he said, “what’s happening to me?” he cried.

Janus felt his heart break. This was the part he hated the most,” well… to put it simply, you are both dead and alive,” Janus said chuckling. “this isn’t funny!” Logan yelled.

Janus felt himself scowl, “I know. Ie been doing this for years. wait until you have to tell someone they are technically not alive asshole. So, I'm going to say this once and once only,” he growled. “find a weapon. A list will eventually pop up filled with locations. You go there and you kill the things. Got it?” Janus said.

“but I don’t want to- “ “too bad. I didn’t want to either, but you get used to it after a while.” He muttered.

“how did you die?” Logan whispered. “house fire. Simple. My brother didn’t get the chance I did that day, so be thankful you didn’t loose someone,” he stood up, “the others will find you soon. Call roman and explain the situation. He will be able to give you help,” he turned around.

“your hurt- “Logan said as he caught sight of the purple mass on Janus’s arm, “do you normally get hurt?” “its impossible to go a week without a new scar,” he smirked.

I played video games in a drunken haze I was 17 years young Hurt my knuckles punching the machines The taste of scotch rich on my tongue

The park was quiet save for the sound of laughter and squeaking swings swaying in the cool breeze that picked up. he felt his eyes light up as he caught sight of the three grim’s. Orpheus and Virgil swinging as high as possible and Remus on top of the swing set.

“Janus!” Remus cheered as he saw his friend walk towards them with a little haste. “sup Jannie!” Ophie called out, he let go of the swing and fell backwards. Everyone burst out laughing. “good to see your blondie,” Virgil said quieter as he arrived at the side of the swing set. “any reason we are gathered here today?” Remus said.

“there wasn’t before. But there is now…” Janus said. The others knew that tone. “a new grim?” “shadow,” Janus corrected.

“we know them, don’t we?” Ophie muttered rubbing his temples “Logan berry, on the baseball team with me,” Janus confirmed. “aw the guy you have a crush- “Janus slapped a hand over Remus mouth before taking it away after being licked.

“fuck you Remus,” “do it coward,” Remus said before getting a kick in the knee.

“Janus dee ceit!” an angry voice Hollard out, the words ever so slightly slurred together. Shit… he lowered his head slightly before turning to face the others with a smile, “see you guys next week then.” “stay safe- no more getting hurt you hear?” Virgil said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and nodded his head. They knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. It was nice to think though.

He walked away with a silent sigh. His breath appearing like dragon’s breath. He wondered if would be able to make it to his hunt tonight or if he would need to rest. bruises made it hard to fight with.

And then Cathy showed up and we hung out Trading swigs from a bottle, all bitter and clean Locking eyes, holding hands Twin high maintenance machines

He wasn’t happy to be back at school in that god-awful uniform. The tie felt as if it were strangling him. the blazer didn’t keep out the cold and the shoes around his feet were far too small to be comfortable. the only good thing was the fact he could carry around his baseball bat everywhere without too may consequences.

He had been able to hide his bruise on his chin using some makeup that he had bought ages ago. But it could only do so much. good news was that he had an excuse.

He watched every one of the fields as he sat down on one of the bleachers. Lunch was one of the few times he could ever get a break.

And as he looked over to the door, he caught Patton, one of the seniors that would be leaving this year. He didn’t know how he died. But it was definitely during the sophomore year. there next to him were a couple more people and… he locked eyes with Logan who seemed to look at him with excitement before leaving the group.

He watched as Patton looked over to where he was sitting. The not so clear scowl could be felt from afar. Not that he actually cared all that much. his eyes went back to Logan. or well… sort of. The new sunglasses on his face hid the fact that his eyes were glowing or frantically looking around for the creatures.

It was a good thing that the living couldn’t see what they could. It was for the best. Still didn’t mean it scared them any less though.

“greetings Janus,” Logan said as he sat down next to the ‘snake’ as people liked to call him. “good evening to you too Logan. I take it they told you everything forgot to?” he smirked. “indeed. I didn’t think that there would be two groups of death people but here we are,” Logan said, “and in my opinion, grim sound much more- “he looked down at… were those vocab cards? “lit? is that the right word?” he muttered as he flickered through. “it works,” Janus laughed. “well, its better than shadows is for certain,” he said.

They sat like that for a while more. Eating their lunch and trading conversation. Logan apparently liked the colour dark blue, crofters and well… much to his own surprise, rap music.

Janus loved the peacefulness that Logan seemed to bring. Whatever it was. even in classes when he would lag behind, Logan seemed to slow down to keep him company. No wonder why he loved the pretty face of Logan.

Janus glanced over to Logan. he wondered if his parents knew about his eyes yet… did they hurt him for it? or did they just accept that it would always be that way. “I’ve been thinking about this, Janus” he said, gesturing to his eyes, “maybe I don’t need to fight… I’ve always wanted to get a doctor’s licence, and my father is a doctor himself. So, I know some basic medical knowledge that could help,” Logan began to speak, Janus was able to follow on but only for so long. But he waited for his… co-worker? To finish. “ah… I was rambling again wasn’t I,” Logan said. “it’s alright, but I understand what you’re getting at. Like backup support? Right?” Janus said tilting his head slightly. He itched his nose as his hair tickled the corner. “precisely… and I would like to join you on one of your… hunts, I think that’s what Patton said,” Logan stated. “ill think about it. but understand that if you come, you will need a weapon still. Since there is no sunlight at night you will be screwed over if something attacks you,” Janus explained.

“ill stay safe as I can,” Logan said. the bell chose this moment to ring, “ill talk to the others about it and try and set up a date,” Janus said, “see you eventually Logan berry.” “and you too Janus dee ceit.”

I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me

The cool air was nice this time of night. but today he was alone. After explaining that Logan wished to join them one night… they hadn’t taken it all too well. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the fact that he could be easily hurt by nightmares or the fact he was a shadow.

That was a month ago… and he had no contact with them since. Deleted from the group chat and no response from his letters.

Either way, he really wished he had some backup.

The tar like thing towered twice as tall as he was… maybe even three times. And it was getting to the point he was tiering and very much so beaten.

He could feel his ribs burning in his chest. one was most certainly broken. And the bruises on his back and scrapes on his body from being thrown into the tarmac of the road stung by the fresh air.

He wheezed and almost doubled over as he ducked another ball of solid ground.

There it was! a small glowing crack in the side of the abomination came to view for the first time. The only weak point these things had. And he was so close to passing out.

This… this is why people warned him to never take on anything over a six alone. Too bad this was an eight.

He surged forwards swinging his bat and thwacking the glowing spot with as much energy as possible. the second the back hit the side he was sent flying backwards into the side of a building by a beam of light. But the thing was gone. That was good.

He sat there leaning against the wall, his bat sat not too far from his side. He dragged himself towards his weapon. He had a list he needed to complete.

He grabbed his bat and pushed himself up, grimacing as the new pain in his leg began to scream for him to stop. he held back tears as he limped against the wall. Smearing some blood as he walked onwards. Since when did he start bleeding?

He turned the corner and into an ally and felt himself crumple to a pile with a whimper. He didn’t want this to end his job… no. he needed this so badly… he couldn’t stop… he…

Why was everything so dark?

I drove home in the California dusk I could feel the alcohol inside of me hum Pictured the look on my stepfather's face Ready for the bad things to come

The room wasn’t dark. nor was it bright. It was like a waiting office so to speak. One or two people sat there wating. So was I. A name was spoken over the speakers.

He stood up unwillingly but in the same way he was safe. He knew where he was. the door opened to see a lady. White curly hair and dark skin. She looked as beautiful as before. Radiating moonlight from her eyes. she wasn’t as fancy as most people would think. Simply in grey shirt and trousers. “hello Janus, its been a while. Take a seat,” she said calmly. “why am I here?” he asked. “you are in a state of life and death once again. But this is different than before. You will live, but there will be consequences I can’t say… and I'm sorry. Fate…. She herself is cruel and sun and I are not happy about what she will do to you,” she sighed.

She pulled a pin from her hair and held it over to him, “this should keep you safe for the time being… and that boy Logan? keep him close to you. his help is needed,” she smiled, “and I have a feeling he won’t leave you alone any time soon.”

He felt his consciousness come back ever so slowly, “goodbye moon,” he said. “oh this isn’t goodbye my dear prophet. This is merely the beginning of our story,” she grinned.

His eyes shot open. His breath was quick as he looked around the room, he was in. his room… his? Why? He was passed out in the street last time?

He glanced over to his phone to see that it was a Sunday morning. Normally he would be going out for a coffee with the other grim of the area. Seeing no messages. He knew it was another day alone. he hated that… they had once promised they wouldn’t leave… this? This had gone on too far for him to think about forgiving them for.

He felt a growl rise in his throat but it stopped when it landed on a small hair pin sitting neatly next to his phone. so, not much of a dream at all… was it?

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. But- he looked in his reflection of the phone… his eyes glowed brightly. He snapped his eyes to the window- sunlight.

But he was a grim. Not a shadow… right? This. He didn’t like this. he flipped his covers off to find himself in his pyjamas. His shorts revealed his burned legs wrapped in bandages. His arms that had been grated not as badly had been covered in dinosaur pattern stickers. what the hell?

He shakily stood up to find no pain in his legs. That was nice he guessed.

 He got changed as quickly as he could. Putting on a pair of knee length black shorts and white shirt. A yellow zip up hoodie covered his arms. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes. the silver band with the pearl on top, the small pin was placed in his messy bun. The left side was still covered.

He needed to find Logan. maybe he had more answers than he realised. And what the hell did moon mean by calling him a prophet for her?

He walked out of his room slipping on some old beaten trainers. The sound of snoring filled the air. he glanced over to see his father sleeping in the same position as always, only this time. A box of something and a roll of something else sat on the floor. Bottles were gone and the place seemed cleaner than normal.

Had he crossed into an alternative universe or something? I down-shifted as I pulled into the driveway The motor screaming out, stuck in second gear The scene ends badly, as you might imagine In a cavalcade of anger and fear

He looked around the café. He had sent Logan a text to meet up with him. A cup of hot chocolate was half empty as he scrolled mindlessly on his phone.

The sound of shuffling caught him out of his trance. “sorry I'm late, I left a little late- are you okay?” Logan seemed to say all at once at an almost inhuman pace. “i… I don’t know… but that offer? I'm willing to hold it up. on one condition,” he said, “tell Roman that if I see Remus, I'm going to kick his nuts,” he smiled. “that’s- that’s all?” he asked, eyes lighting up brightly. “trust me. things are going to happen. And I don’t know what. But we apparently need to stick together,” Janus explained. “why?” “the moon told me. and that isn’t a lie. I assure you,” Janus said excitedly. Logan seemed to be in awe as he heard Janus ramble on about his meeting. Maybe if Janus stopped looking at the floor, he would see the almost lovingly curious expression of Logan who soaked in every word that was being said by the taller boy.

“well. I suppose I should say that sun came to me a few days ago as well,” Logan chuckled, “you weren’t at school for an entire week and I got concerned. I don’t understand why they called me a prophet- “ “moon said it to me to!” Janus said exasperated. “what do they have planned for us?” Logan muttered. “I don’t know- but we stick together” Janus said holding out a hand. “together,” Logan took his hand with a shake.

There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year

The next day was hard for Janus to even wake up. maybe that was because he had spent so much energy yesterday talking with Logan before apparently coming home to take a ten-minuet nap which turned out to be an entire night of sleep.

The sound of yesterday rang in his ears. Laughter and shouts of joy as he taught Logan how to jump over rooftops. Janus would admit that Logan seemed to pick it up quicker than he could. Definitely a good thing. Quicker to get to the areas.

He was I his uniform despite the fact Logan had insisted he have another day of before going to school and that he could always glove Janus the work he missed out on. but it was Monday, he wasn’t missing baseball practice.

He picked his bag up before he heard a knock at his bedroom door. It was soft… this… slightly scared him. “Janus?” oh god, what had he done wrong, “can I come in?” wait- what the hell? He was asking? “and if I say no?” he spat back. “I wouldn’t blame you if you snuck out your window little grim,” what the fuck. “since when did I get that name?” Janus asked. “since I figured out what you are. That’s how you survived the fire. Isn’t it?”

Janus found himself opening the door. His father stood there, looking semi presentable. Bags under his eyes and looking like he hadn’t slept in ages.

“I'm going to be late for school,” Janus groaned as he shoved past. “that’s why I'm driving you today,” his father spoke. “haha good one. The man who puts bruises on my body wants to drive me to school. How. Great.” “its about your mother,” he froze. This… he was willing to listen to.

I am going to make it through this year If it kills me I am going to make it through this year If it kills me

He found Logan standing by the entrance of the school. Both wore their sunglasses to hide their eyes. But they smiled as they looked at one another.

The feeling of happiness was something he found himself craving whenever Logan was around. The one person he could even let touch him for longer than a couple seconds. the small pin in his hair sent a wave of reassurance his way as he took a deep breath and entered the gate.

With new knowledge and a friend, he could trust… he was ready for whatever was to come his way.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Enjoy the smut because angst is coming.  I didn’t plan on it originally, but damn if it didn’t make sense to the story line.  Ugh, angst, you bastard.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5]

Part 6 

That Let You Fly High

“Evie!”  Maxwell’s voice rang through the house as he walked in the door, dropping his briefcase by the hall table and hanging his coat on the rack.  He was humming with a smile on his face.  He was taking two days off and that, plus the weekend, meant he had four whole days of Evie to himself.  His secretary asked several times if he was feeling okay and he was so blissed out on the thought, he couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

Evie herself was in the kitchen, looking out at the beautiful fall day and enjoying some hot chocolate.  Marnie had gone home early for the evening and she was lost in thought when she heard Maxwell’s voice calling her.  Something about the situation made her think of I Love Lucy and for a moment she felt like a fifties sitcom housewife.  She giggled at such a silly thought, but it wormed its way further in her brain and something about it felt right.

Before she let herself dwell on the idea, she walked out in the dining room and met him halfway, both wearing matching grins.  He walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her, her lips tasting of chocolate and whipped cream.  He thought her natural sweetness was better.  They kissed softly, a series of pecks on the lips that spoke of affection and hints of love where their tongues could not.  Not yet anyway.

“Hello Max.”  They pulled away and he took her mug and set it on the table.  He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned into him. He looked down into her face, that warmth he had grown to love seemed to crawl even deeper into his soul.

“I got a call from a friend of mine, Eric, inviting me to a fundraiser tomorrow.  I think it’s for the botanical gardens or something.  Anyway, I agreed and I’m taking you with me.  I think we deserve a fancy night on the town to kick off our weekend.”  He noticed a frown growing between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t come prepared for a fancy party though.”  She was already taking mental inventory of what she would need. “I’d have to go shopping.”

“I figured, so we’ll just go shopping”

“We?”  Her tone had an amused tone to it, and he grinned.

“Yeah.  We’ll go tomorrow, do a little shopping, get some lunch.  You know, make a day of it.”

“You’ll go shopping with me.”  Her amused tone growing with each word until she got the giggles.  He raised an eyebrow, trying to look mean but absolutely failing.

“Watching you trying on gowns? Why would I miss that?”  His voice turned husky and she surprised herself by blushing under his look.  A gleam glinted in his eye and she turned away from him, heat creeping across her body.  He dropped a warm kiss to the back of her neck before leaving the room, knowing he left her body humming for him.  His grin spread across his face.

---***---

Waincotters Boutique was one of those high-end parlor-style dress stores that in any other case Evie would have bypassed for a Nordstrom’s or Bloomingdale’s.  She felt a little out of place with her jeans and tee shirt when she saw the way the salesgirls were dressed.  Maxwell held her hand and he could feel the shivers as her nerves began to get to the better of her.  He squeezed a little and glanced down at her.  Its fine, the squeeze told her.

“Maxwell!  So good to see you again!  And who do we have with us today?”  A sprightly woman with a greying bob cut smiled at the couple.  The woman was entirely welcoming, and Evie felt a little more at ease under her kind eyes.  They were whisked away to a private room with a comfortable sitting area and a small platform with mirrors.

“I’m Susanne and I’ll be helping you find the perfect dress for tonight’s event.”  The woman sat down with them and another came through the door with snacks and drinks and set them on the table before leaving the three alone again.  “What kind of event is it?”

“Formal wear, not quite black tie.”  Maxwell had called Eric to get more information and that was all he was told. “Not cocktail as far as I know.”

“Perfect.  Now Miss. . .”

“Evie.”

“Miss Evie.”  Susanne smiled again and took Evie’s hands into her own, the skin warm and comforting.

“Tell me what you like in a dress.  Sleeves?  No sleeves? Slit?  Silk? Crepe?  Color?  Cut? Style?  Shape? Length? Train?  No train? Neckline?”  The questions were almost overwhelming to her and Evie took a deep breath.  Susanne smiled and patted her hand, recognizing that look of too much information on the fiery blonde’s face.

“How about this, let’s start with something easy.  What color do you like to wear?”

“Oh purples!”  Evie sounded excited for the first time since everything started.  “I love purples, but dark ones like plum.”

“Great!”  Susanne wrote somethings down and continued to asked questions like sizes and height.  “Let me pull a variety and let you try them on and then we’ll narrow it down.”

Evie nodded and soon a dozen dresses in ranging from a deep plum to a royal purple in all different styles were hanging in front of her.  While she didn’t have a full affinity for fashion, she did love quality clothing.  Most people thought her outfits for work were staid, but the fabrics were rich, and quality made.  Even her jeans and tee shirts were well fitted and everything she wore was tailored as needed.  Being able to pick out a fancy gown was like being handed a gift, almost heavenly.

As she glanced down at the price tag, though, her eyes bugged out and she snapped her head around to look at Maxwell.  He started laughing, choking on his drink in the process.  He still laughed as he wiped his pants off.

“MAX!”  She hissed. “This dress is almost $7,000! I can’t afford this!”  She put the dress back on the rack as if it were on fire.

“You’re not, I’m buying it.”

“Oh no you’re not.  We’re leaving and going to Saks or something.”  She stepped off the platform to grab her purse when he shot his hand out to stop her.

“Evie.  Stop worrying about it.  I’m buying you a dress, it’s no big deal.”

“I can’t let you spend $7,000 on me!”  Her voice rose with every word until the last one came out as a squeak. “That’s outrageous, it’s too expensive. THAT’S SEVEN GRAND!”

“Evie, please calm down for one second.”  Maxwell looked her in the eyes, an amused and almost loving look to them. “I care about you finding a dress you love and that you’ll want to show off tonight.  I want you to feel good.  Price is of no matter to me.  And if I thought it was, do you think I would have brought you here in the first place?”

She stopped and seemed to calm down somewhat, her face still red as she looked at the first dress she had pulled off the rack.

“Well, you got me there.”

“I know.  Now ignore the price tags, find what makes you feel beautiful and its yours.”

“I never had anyone spend so much money on me.”  Her tone was low, not meaning for him to hear her.  It was almost obscene how much he was willing to spend, and she felt a little guilty.  Kind of how she felt guilty asking to order a second dessert on their first date.  Quality she was willing to spend money on, but boy, $7,000 was way too rich for her decidedly middle-class tastes.

“I suppose it would be crass to say that you’ve never had anyone with my level of wealth buying things for you.”  He smiled as she giggled.

“That’s true.”  She walked back over to the dresses and ran her fingers across them, feeling silk and crepe and a jersey so soft a baby could have been swaddled in it.  And they were her favorite color. . .  She turned around.

“Are you staying here while I try them on?”

“That was the goal.”  Again, his voice turned slightly husky and a small smirk grew on her lips.  As he sat down, she turned and walked over to the door, head poking out, she asked for a pair of heels in her size and muttered something to the salesgirl.  She stepped back into the room and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Maxwell had settled back into his seat, taking off his jacket and rolling up his cuffs.  He popped a cracker into his mouth, not really paying attention to Evie as she stepped back onto the platform.  She faced away from him and pulling out a hair tie, she swept her long locks into a bun. When she could see Maxwell looking at her, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt.

Capturing Maxwell’s eyes, she held his gaze as she slowly raised her shirt, exposing the skin of her stomach inch by inch.  She ran her hands up and across her breasts as she continued to pull up the fabric, her yellow bra peeking out from under the shirt. He swallowed, but her face remained stoic.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head, dropping it on the floor.  She stood there a moment before bringing her hand to the button of her jeans.  She popped the button as she toed off her flats.  She could see the bulge growing in Maxwell’s pants and his eyes were darkening.  She unzipped her pants and pushed them off her hips.  She bent over and thrusted her ass out in his direction as she pushed them off her legs.  From where he sat, he could see the crotch of her panties darkening as Evie became more and more turned on.

Evie remained bent over, slightly turning her head and she saw that Maxwell had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.  Those forearms of his, the crisp blond hairs glistening in the overhead lights, something about his strong forearms sent shockwaves of pleasure to the very center of her.  She slowly stood up and stepped out of the puddle of denim at her feet, kicking it off to the side.  A low groan came from behind her as she stood there in just her underthings.  She paused until he looked her in the eye, and she bowed her head slightly.

Reaching up, she unhooked her bra’s front clasp and the fabric gaped, her breasts spilling out and her nipples playing peek-a-boo with the lace edges. She saw Maxwell shift behind her, his bulge now clearly visible in the mirror’s reflection.  She could his hands gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles almost white.  She threw him a sultry smile as she dragged her fingertips from her chin down the front of her neck to the middle of her chest.  

She let her hands rest there before fanning out her fingers and lightly running them across her breasts, moving the bra off them and exposing her harden nipples to the cooler air of the dressing room.  She could hear Maxwell’s heavy breathing growing more rapid as he watched her actions in the mirrors.  Evie kept moving her hands, pealing the yellow material off her body and let it drop behind her.  She threw Maxwell a coquettish look in the mirror as she brought her hands back to her breasts.

She spread her hands until her flesh was covered, and she could feel the hard nub of her nipples against her palms.  She lolled her head downward, keeping a steady gaze with Maxwell, who was practically vibrating with want.  Her fingers were soft against her skin and slowly she dragged them until her fingertips were against her nipples.  He watched as she flicked her wrists and twisted the taunt flesh and her moan went straight to his cock.

The ripples of pleasure in her breasts were making her clit feel needy and her hips jerked forward, pulsating for a touch.  Her body slightly bowed into herself and her mouth dropped open although no sound came out.  Evie tried to maintain eye contact with Maxwell, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that she closed her eyes, chasing the edges of her climax.  She continued to tweak her nipples, her body straining for her clit to be touched.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she dropped her hands, brushing them over her clothed mound.  She could feel her panties growing damper with each passing moment and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together.  Suddenly, she turned around, facing her audience for the first time since she locked the door.

“Max.  Come here.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he was out of his chair and in one long stride, he stood in front of her.  The dark pools of his lustful eyes drew her in, and she threw him a sultry look.  “Take off my panties.”

He groaned as he dropped to his knees, looking at up at her.  Maxwell felt like he was on fire.  The minute he saw the skin of her stomach, he was lost. The more she exposed, the harder he became, and he desperately wanted to fuck her senseless.  His entire body itched to feel her skin, his tongue wanted to explore the slit he knew was soaked, and he cock ached for her.  He brought his hands to her hips and he could see them shaking in anticipation.  This woman is undoing him, a small voice inside him said.  And we fucking love it, replied the roaring lust consuming him.

He hooked his fingers underneath her silky boy shorts, the shape framing out her hips and ass beautifully.  With a slow tug, they were dragged down her legs and the smoothness of the silk created flames of heat along her skin, felt long after he tossed the scrap of fabric to the side.  Every inch of her felt like she was on fire the minute Maxwell touched her.  She looked down at him and he could barely see the golden brown he’d come to love – the pupils blown out so wide her eyes were black, and he felt as if they were sucking him in.

“Touch me.”  Her voice was a raspy whisper and Evie felt that if he didn’t, she just might die.  Thankfully for her, he obliged, and their eyes remained locked as Maxwell slowly dragged his large hands up her legs, letting just his fingertips skitter across her thighs.  Her body bowed again, and the quiet moan came from deep in her chest.  Her eyes nearly fluttered shut, but she stopped herself so she could look at him in front of her, eyes full of supplication and want.  She had brough the great and powerful Maxwell Lord to his knees and the very thought made her feel hedonistic.  She brought her hands up to his shoulders, giving her something solid to hold onto as she began to float away on a river of pleasure.

Maxwell ghosted his hand around her left thigh before grabbing it and lifting her leg.  He hooked it over his shoulder, and he brought his hands to her hips.  Tipping them slightly, he brought his mouth to her slit and flattened his tongue, dragging it through her folds before resting on her clit.  Her whole body shuttered, and she moaned at the sensation.  Her hands moved up to grip his hair, giving her the balance she needed to stay upright.

Her tugs on his hair sent pleasure directly to his cock and his own hips jerked forward.  He smiled against her before licking her again, focusing on her clit with every pass through. When her thighs began to shake with her building orgasm, he brought his hand down and sunk two fingers deep into her heat.  She gasped his name at the sensation and the feral feeling in his chest grew.  This woman’s pleasure was his and his alone and he was going to take it.

Evie’s eyes fluttered shut and her body continued to tremble at the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing and her grip on him grew tighter. His eyes, despite their lust, were full of adoration for her and she never felt as cherished in such a position as she did now.  Something bloomed deep inside of her, something behind the lust that wrapped its ghostly fingers around her heart.

“Max, I’m going to come.”  She whispered it, trying to keep the noise down as to not arouse suspicion from the salesgirls.  He nodded as he continued to pump his hand into her, and he zeroed in his tongue on her clit.  Soon the familiar coils in her stomach reached their breaking point and she gritted her teeth as she came, the strangled cry sounding hoarse.  He withdrew his fingers but kept licking her clit until he felt her pulling his head away from her.

Her skin was flushed, and her body kept trembling against him, her chest heaving with exertion.  He could tell she was barely standing upright, she always lost control of her body when she came.  Knowing that he brought her to such highs felt like the best drug he could take.  Every pant, every groan – he was able to draw those from her and he almost was addicted to it.  

He brought his hands to her hips and leaned back onto his heels.  He had to have her, and his hand dropped to his crotch.  Maxwell unzipped his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out, precum practically dripping out of him in a continuous stream.  He palmed himself, stroking a few times to spread his own slickness along with hers. He found himself struggling not to go any further.

“Sit on my lap, Evie.  I need you on me.”  His voice sounded desperate, a vibration that resonated with her.  They fucked several times since she arrived in the city, but something about this time seemed different and she felt as if she would die if she didn’t feel him inside of her.  She dropped to her knees, straddling his lap as he grabbed the base of his cock.  She slowly lowered herself onto him and her breath stuttered out of her lungs as she felt him fill her.  When he was buried to the hilt, Evie briefly thought that Maxwell was touching her very soul and she wasn’t sure where they each began and ended.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. Even though he was fully dressed, the heat of his skin seemed to burn Evie and in turn Maxwell felt as if no clothes were between then at all.  His own arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his face buried into her neck.  He took a deep breath and the warm scent that was so uniquely hers filled his lungs and hazed his mind.

They sat like that for several long minutes, just savoring the moment. On that platform, in the dressing room, something changed between them fundamentally.  The touches, the comments, the thoughts, the looks, the sensations had been building, the belief that everything just felt right to them converged in that shared moment.  The squeeze on Maxwell’s heart was vice-like and he could feel tears prickling under his lids.  He shifted his hips and he touched something in her that caused her to gasp into his shoulder, almost watery sounding, as if Evie had tears of her own.

She lifted herself before dropping back down onto his cock and Evie shuttered as the pressure in her lower belly began to spark again.  He was sensitive and every movement, no matter how small, was sending out ripples of pleasure through his whole body.  The next time she lifted her hips, he drove into her and her moan was right in his ear.  It was so loud to him and he moaned in response.  Soon they caught a rhythm in that same pattern, their pace soft and slow at first but as the rise of their shared climax began to consume them both, things began to feel more desperate.

Evie raised her head off Maxwell’s shoulder, biting her lip to stay quiet, but she felt compelled to look him in the eye as she came.  He pulled his own head out of her neck and he brought his hand up to brush the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her face. They stared at each other as their pace continued to increase and their bellies felt on fire – the one that consumes you until you are nothing but ash, waiting for rebirth at the apex of pleasure.

His hips were snapping into her and she gave into him, wanting to come desperately.  He knew exactly when she did, even before her walls clamped down on him, he could see it in her eyes.  She bit her lips to conceal her scream, a strangled sound replacing it instead and he drove into her one last time before coming himself.  He was always quiet, but he found himself tamping down a strangled cry of his own.  They bowed into each other, as if they could crawl inside the other and never leave.

He slowly withdrew from her and she slid off his lap with a less than graceful thump on the platform, legs slightly splayed out.  He could see their mixed come glistening between her legs and his breath caught for a moment.  She laughed and he did, too.  He leaned into her and kissed her gently on the lips before getting up and heading to the small bathroom.  He came back with a towel, his cock back in his pants, although the damp spot she created on the front of them would have been hard to hide had it not been for his jacket.

He gently cleaned her up, stealing kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, - wherever he could touch her, and she responded in kind.  The smile on his face was gentle and loving and hers was, well, it was always like that and he relished it as usual.  Once she was cleaned up, she put her panties and bra back on.

“You going to watch me try on dresses?”  She asked again and he nodded as he helped her up.  He went to sit back down and observed her as she pulled dresses and put them back, trying to get a feel for everything.  But every time, she came back to a dark purple silky jersey dress, one that seemed perfect to her.

Reminiscent of Hilary Swank’s 2004 Oscar dress, Evie noted that it had a high back and a boat neckline, but was fitted, with ruching along the waist that would accent her shape beautifully.  She always preferred to be covered, and as she ran her fingers along the gown, the silk felt heavenly.  For a brief second, her brain flashed an image of said silk wrapped around Maxwell’s cock.  Her smirk was nearly hard to hide.

She looked at Maxwell, who was looking at his phone and not paying attention to her.  She snagged it off the hanger and went back onto the platform.  She stepped into the heels and slipped the dress on.  She looked at the ceiling and said a silent thank you.  It fit and with three-inch heels, the dress gently brushed the ground.  She felt divine and based on Maxwell’s whistle, looked it too.

“Evie, you look. . .”  He waved his hands at her.  “Fucking hot.”

She laughed and turned around, giving a T-pose perfected by years on the pageant circuit as a college student.  Her hands sat on her hips and the way she twisted her torso, her breasts looked round and perfect.  Despite just having fucked her, Maxwell desired to fuck her again.

“Sold.  This is it.”

“You want the shoes, too?”

“God no, these things hurt like hell and I’ve only had them on for five minutes.  We’ll find another pair elsewhere.”  He nodded as she stripped out of the dress and got her clothes back on.  She put the dress back on the hanger and draped it gently over her arm before turning back to Maxwell.

“I feel bad, we didn’t eat anything they set out.”

“Eh, we found something better.”  She laughed and swatted at his arm.  He grabbed her purse for her, and they left the room.  Susanne was waiting for them when they exited and was excited to see that Evie found the dress that she wanted.  They talked more as the purchase was rang up.  The two left the shop and slid into the waiting car, Bennett’s cheery hellos a welcome sight.

“Look at that, found the perfect dress and saved you money.” She looked at him with a grin.  The price for this dress had only been $2,000.  She was still appalled that anyone was spending that amount on her, but she could stomach that figure over $7,000 any day of the week.

“The perfect woman,” He smiled at her and leaned down to whisper, “especially in bed.”

She grew red at his comment but couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in her throat.  The day had been perfect, and she was in heaven.

[spidercakes]

Starker AU in which all Peter’s friends are really confused about what his ‘new job’ is.

*

“I’ve got it,” Peter says, sparing his friends trying to figure out what the pizza bill will be split four ways. They all frown at him but he goes down to the first floor of the library anyway and pays for the pizza before he brings it back up. Mostly he’s just happy that they can study with food because nothing is worse than trying to balance equations on an empty stomach. Ned, Liz, and MJ frown when they see the boxes because they didn’t watch him order it online so they had no idea he just got them all their own pizzas. If nothing else they’ll have left overs for tomorrow.

“Dude, how the hell can you afford that?” Ned asks.

He can’t, technically, but Tony gave him access to all his accounts and Peter figures if he’s got access he might as well treat his friends. But he can’t tell them that because their relationship isn’t public and there’s like a million reasons why Tony might want to keep it that way and Peter likes the anonymity also so he hasn’t said anything. “Um. I got a new job,” he lies. Actually he quit his job because if he never has to work at McDonald’s again it’ll be too soon. And he’d been so frustrated with shitty customers and his asshole boss that he accidentally told him to mcfuck himself before just walking out. He’d felt instantly bad but also he’s never going back there. Like ever. And thanks to Tony he doesn’t need to.

“Where and are they hiring?” Liz asks, digging through the pizzas to find hers and snatching it. Ned and MJ take that as an invitation to do the same, leaving Peter’s in front of him.

“Oh um. Probably no where you want to work,” he says and changes the subject to their upcoming sociology quiz and they all groan. It’d been the only elective that they could all take together and they all hated it with a passion.

*

Ned watches as Peter all but flees the table at top speeds and yeah, none of them want to study but its still weird behavior. MJ squints as they all look at him, half turned towards the stacks blushing of all things as he talks to whoever on the phone. “Does he even answer the phone for May?” Liz asks and Ned shakes his head.

“Nope. He declines her calls and tells her to text.”

“So who the hell is that?” MJ asks and Ned’s thoughts exactly.

Liz slams her hand on the table, earning a bunch of looks from the people around them and wincing. “Sorry,” she says to no one in particular. “Guys!” she hisses at him and MJ. “He got a new job, suddenly seems flush with cash, is on the phone despite the fact that no one our age talks on the phone, works somewhere I wouldn’t want to. He’s totally a sugar baby!”

Ned and MJ look over at him giggling softly into the phone, cheeks still red and oh my god. “Oh my god he’s a fucking sugar baby. Do you think he sucks old man balls?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, he’s on the phone and this dude must have a ton of cash because he’s paid for us to go out for like, the last two months. Boomer for sure,” MJ says.

Liz wrinkles her nose too. “You know what, better him than us,” she says, pulling a slice of pizza from the box and taking a bite. They nod in agreement as Peter comes back over looking weirdly happy considering being a sugar baby has to suck.

“I’ve got to go soon,” he says. “So we should probably make this quick.”

Ned gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder because he appreciates Peter taking one for the team. Peter looks confused, but they’ll let him tell them about being a sugar baby on his own terms.

*

Peter walks in the door and he’s so tired but Tony just got back from Malibu and he’s missed him so he agreed to go over anyway. Tony’s on the couch looking as tired as Peter feels but he reaches out for him anyway, pulling Peter into his lap so he’s straddling him. “Missed you,” Peter murmurs, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck.

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs, hands settling on Peter’s hips as he leans in to kiss Peter. They stay there like that for a few minutes, kissing softly as Peter curls his fingers through Tony’s hair.

Tony pulls back after a moment, grinning. “By the way you’re such a college student. Do you actually spend money on things that aren’t pizza and clubbing?” he asks, dark eyes glittering in amusement.

“Ok first of all we go to pubs because we have taste, okay? And pizza is good. And filling. And its like a nice treat after a long day of studying or classes, leave me be. What’d you expect me to get, a sports car?” he asks and he’s joking but Tony shrugs.

“Kind of, yeah. But I guess with access to more money than you can fathom you end up addicted to Starbucks,” he says like Starbucks isn’t really expensive and a total treat to him normally.

“I like Starbucks,” he says in his own defense. “And the planet is dying, I’m not going to get a car when public transportation is fine,” he says.

“There are environmentally friendly options,” Tony points out and Peter wrinkles his nose.

“I swear to god if you mention Tesla like Elon Musk isn’t like that I will have to go through his Twitter feed to pull receipts on why he’s a shit bag who shouldn’t be supported,” he says and Tony laughs.

“Can’t say I care for Musk. Frankly I’m a little annoyed with people comparing us because first of all my name isn’t you know... fucking heinous. And also if I’m going to be compared to celebrities I always thought I was a bit more like Paris Hilton,” he says and Peter snorts.

“Totally misread but actually pretty nice and surprisingly passionate about the things you care about? Yeah, you guys are comparable,” he says.

“I meant that we’re hot but you know, that too,” Tony says. “But since you insist on mostly gorging yourself on pizza I took the liberty of making sure you’re taken care of and got you an apartment. Something closer to here and school so its less of a travel,” he murmurs.

Peter is grateful, really, but MJ, Liz, and Ned are about to be fucked for rent. “Um,” he says, unsure how to bring that up but Tony’s got a knowing look on his face.

“Want to go see it?” he asks and Peter doesn’t know how to back out so he just nods.

*

Peter almost shits when he sees the place because its fucking gorgeous but that’s more surprising is Liz, Ned, and MJ fighting over who gets the lemon chicken in the fridge. They all turn to face him and their eyes go wide, presumably, because Tony is standing there with his arm around Peter’s waist. “Um,” he says intelligently.

MJ drops the lemon chicken and Liz immediately snatches it off the ground, still safe in its container. Ned just looks stunned. “Your sugar daddy is Tony Stark?” he asks, voice going up.

He swears he can feel Tony’s anger even if he knows Tony isn’t showing it. “I didn’t tell them you were my sugar daddy! I don’t even know where they got that impression!” he says honestly.

Liz squints, “dude, you went from dirt poor and crying about money every other day to funding all our outings, buying us food all the time, and after like two months of avoiding giving us answers you told us you got a new job. It seemed pretty obvious that you’re a sugar baby. No judgement,” she throws out there.

“A job?” Tony asks and Peter lets out a squeak.

“You make money at jobs, I panicked!” he says in his defense.

“Why not just tell them the truth?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you wanted to deal with the press and stuff and I get that so I kept it to myself,” Peter says and Tony frowns.

“So... you haven’t said anything because you thought I didn’t want people to know?” he asks.

Peter shrugs, “more or less and I get it, its okay. People will probably say some really nasty things and I can see why you wouldn’t want to-” his words are cut off as Tony draws him in for a kiss. He goes, making a surprised noise but happily leaning into it.

“Baby I thought you didn’t want people to know and I couldn’t figure out why. God, we’re dumb,” he mumbles.

“Does this mean we get to live here now? Because now that I have seen how rich people live I don’t want to go back,” Ned says, earning a snort from Liz. She’s the only one of them that grew up not dirt poor so this probably isn’t that big of a step up for her.

“Obviously. If Peter wasn’t paying his portion of the rent something tells me you wouldn’t be able to afford the place you had,” Tony says and Peter relaxes.

“Oh thank god! I didn’t want to be rude and say no to this place but I wasn’t about to screw my friends over either,” he says, realizing too late that there must have been a reason for them being here. Then he frowns, “wait, how did you guys get here?” he asks.

“Subway,” Ned tells him and MJ rolls her eyes.

“There was a note on the table from a T.S with this address and we assumed it was for you and we all wanted to see what being a sugar baby would get us so we decided to snoop and hope we didn’t find you fucking some old as tits boomer,” MJ says bluntly.

“Also if this was a job its a damn lie that I wouldn’t want a job where I get to sleep with Tony Stark,” Liz tells him.

“I’m so glad I don’t need to feel guilty for the free stuff,” Ned says, hand pressed to his chest. “I was wondering if maybe you decided fuck it and were maxing out a line of credit or something.”

Peter nods. “Hm. Makes sense. So now I’m sexiling all of you because I don’t want to have to worry about being quiet. Get you lemon chicken and go,” Peter tells them.

Ned wrinkles his nose. “Gross, dude.”

MJ snorts, “like you wouldn’t sleep with Tony Stark. Not like that’s a hardship. We might as well pack our shit at home,” she points out.

“Uh huh, whatever you guys need to do. Now out so I can get fucked through my mattress,” he says, grabbing Tony’s hand and dragging him off through the kitchen before he pauses. “Wait, where’s my room?” he asks and Tony laughs.

“Follow me, baby. Glad you liked it,” he murmurs as he pulls Peter along.

[the-darklings]

—𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: “Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

notes: Never let it be said that I am not an absolute fool!!! This is set pre-movie so no spoilers for the film itself. 

‘black coffee’ drabbles: ... | 02 |

The coffee is good. 

That’s why he keeps coming in. The diner also has that typical, cosy American feel to it and is, in fact, one of the busiest in town. Certainly more busy than the Chinese place across the street he likes frequenting sometimes. 

Coming here has become an odd habit ever since the Chinese place had to be closed for the day due to a burst pipe in the kitchen. He’d been hungry, sleep-deprived, and trying to solve a case and with no other option than to go to the nearest open establishment to escape the harsh October rain.

He came in because he didn’t have much of a choice. He stayed and kept coming back because the coffee is good. 

He’s also become rather fond of his little booth at the back too. Sometimes he would come in and sit here for hours, pouring over reports and case notes, trying to connect all the little dots and make sure bastards that deserve to rot did exactly that. 

“The usual?”

He pauses, his hand lifting from the notes he was scribbling in his notebook to glance up at the source of the voice. Your face is familiar because he sees you around the diner often—practically every day, if he comes in that often which he often does, even if only for a takeaway.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to notice you. You bounce around the place with a smile and a warm greeting to everyone who steps through the door. Like somehow working endless shifts in this shitty diner that could be paying no more than the minimum wage was somehow the height of living.  

Fake.

That’s the first and logical conclusion that came to mind the first time he saw you. There is no way someone can be genuinely this happy and upbeat all day round and mean it. It’s like you’re dialled up to 200% at all times and it’s almost irritating but—

“I have one of those?” he questions slowly, squinting at you, “The usual?”

Your head tilts slightly and a faint smile lingers around the corners of your mouth, knowing and cheerful. From where you stand, it does look genuine but he still has his suspicions. People would do anything nowadays for a good tip. 

“You’ve been coming in daily for almost two weeks, detective,” you reply amiably, twisting the pen between your fingers. “Of course you do.”

His eyebrows jump slightly and he scoffs under his breath. “And that would be?”

Your feet shuffle—nervous?—and you stare at him for a beat of mutual silence. You haven’t missed the slightly condescending note in his voice then. Good. 

“Coffee: black, no sugar,” you say pleasantly, tapping your pen once against the notepad in your hand, and eyes moving towards the ceiling like you’re visualising the order. “For breakfast, you enjoy bacon and eggs. Though I do recommend our buttermilk pancakes. Joey adds magic into them, I swear. Lunch would be a cheeseburger and double fries. Oh, and for dinner, hmm, meatloaf which I didn’t take you to be the type.”

He’s not sure if he should be worried or pleasantly surprised. 

“Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

You laugh; a warm sound, pleasant too, if a bit too loud. Your grin stretches and you simply glance at your notebook, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess my coworkers would say yes,” you admit, a touch embarrassed. “I would say that anticipating customer needs and making them feel appreciated is a sign of good customer service.”

Huh. 

He wonders if it’s really as simple as that. But every time he comes in, he does notice how you flutter around the dining room, interacting and chatting with everyone who wants to have a conversation. You do try your hardest to make customers feel welcome. Even if it’s nothing more than a job, he can at least acknowledge the dedication you have for a position most people would consider inconsequential. 

“Coffee. Black,” he states after another moment of silence between you, having to fight back a smile at the way your eyes jump to him, amused. “And I’ll try those, uh, magical pancakes. Thanks.”

Your smile is of pure delight and you hurriedly scribble the order down—almost like him somehow taking your recommendation on board just made your entire day. 

“Comin’ right up, detective.”

. . .

The coffee is good.

He can’t help but think it again—both in genuine appreciation and delight. Most places that sell coffee in this town only sell some weak, washed-out shit that’s a piss poor substitute for caffeine. He might as well add some salt and cement and mix it with water for how good or effective it is.

But as he sips on the scalding content in his cup, he can’t help but sigh. He can almost feel the dull twinge against his temple lessen. Fuck, how long has it been since he slept? He should probably try and catch at least a few hours before Captain tears into him again—though that worry has lessened with each new case he closes. As long as he makes the department—and especially the Captain—look good, very little matters outside of that. 

He just wants to get to the new case and the case after that—not much else exists for him outside his work. He’s good at it. He likes it. What more could he ask for?    

“Hard case?”

His eyes lift and he sees you approaching his booth with a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes in hand. He’s not much for sweets but even he has to admit that the pancakes look rather good. 

“No,” he answers, lowering his cup slightly, “Not really.”

Not for me.

It goes unsaid but the way your mouth twitches slightly to the side tells him that you likely picked up on the unspoken meaning anyway. He regards you critically, accessing, as you lower the pancakes in front of him.

“You work too hard, detective,” you tell him, expression and voice empty of accusation or judgement. It’s simply a statement, and he even notes the slight, worried furrow of your brows. “You need to rest to be productive. Besides exhaustion can place your life in danger.”

He draws a deep breath, peering at you as he blinks a few times, squinting, “That’s rich coming from someone who I see here every day,” he points out mildly, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup with that slight edge of annoyance he can’t quite quell fully. “Today is your eight-day in a row.”

Your face creases with surprise—almost like someone noticing anything about you is somehow shocking, and perhaps it is; you are as invisible as you are seen in this place—and this time around your smile is softer, almost melancholy. 

“Well, we all gotta eat, right?” you ask, but he gets a sense that you’re not really looking for a reply so he keeps quiet, silently observing you because—perhaps—he is a touch more curious than usual. “Besides, I’m saving up. See, I really want to open my own place. Nothing big, just enough space for a kitchen and maybe ten customers—definitely something manageable. Somewhere where I can make fresh food, and stand back and watch people enjoy what I made for them. There would be kids and lots of sunlight and laughter. It would be warm. Someplace I can call my own. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it here—I mean I grew up in this town, so it goes without saying but…”

You trail off and the fond, dream-like tilt of your voice fades too. For a split second, he feels almost disoriented because for a moment he saw it too. You would greet all guests and know them all by their first names. You would be working every day but you would adore every moment of it. He could see you in a tiny kitchen, dancing around and creating to your heart’s content, putting all your positive energy into the simple art of creation. 

“Sorry,” you mutter weakly and clear your throat. “You’re busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this type of talk. But yeah, if you want a good thing, you have to be prepared to work hard for it. I will make it out of here one day.”

No, you won’t. 

It’s a cynical thought—and after hearing your dream he almost feels bad for thinking it—but he knows he’s right. If Huntington thought him anything is that life has a way of gobbling up dreamers like you and spitting them back out mangled and broken beyond repair. Time will pass, you will not leave: be it money, family, or whatever else is holding you back from going right this second. Eventually, you’ll be empty of hopes and dreams, living one day at a time in a cycle that’s like a noose around your throat. 

He should know. 

Your joy will grow into resentment, and your drive will sour into bitterness. All that’s left will be someone unhappy with their life and all they could have done with their wasted time. 

It’s a shame though. 

At this point, he can at least admit to himself that perhaps he was too hasty to assume you were playing pretend. Just an endless optimist. It will be a shame to see a fire like yours slowly dim with time. Because given time, you will wither like so many others have.

“Will I be getting a discount at this new place of yours?” he wonders idly, stabbing the fork into his golden pancakes as he takes another slow sip of coffee.

Your embarrassed expression eases, something warmer and happier taking its place, and you suit it a lot more than a frown. Some faces aren’t made for unhappiness. Tragedy and pain become rawer when reflected in them. That’s why happy people are always the hardest to deal with on cases—they don’t know how to hide their suffering the way others do. 

“That will depend entirely on how much sleep you get before coming in,” you say, something joking and teasing twisting your voice. “I would hate for those bags under your eyes to scare the little ones away.”   

His lips twitch into a surprisingly genuine smile around the rim of his cup, and he turns his head slightly as if considering your words.

“You should also smile more, detective,” you add, voice pleasant, thoughtful, “It suits you.”

His eyes lift to look at you but you’re already walking away, waving at random customers as you pass with few passing comments in between. 

His expression twitches and he blinks quickly a few times, but his gaze stays on you till you disappear behind the kitchen door.

. . .

an: anyway I love one stoic, broody detective and giving him someone happy and positive to deal with is so damn funny. hope you guys enjoyed it. this was a fun little exercise (especially writing from Loki’s POV oppose to Reader’s) so I hope you all liked it. might write another few parts for this because I had so much fun but we shall see since I still need to finish Unbecoming. thank you for reading! <33 

[vikingsarememes]

Pairing: Y/N x Ragnarssons

summary: you and your mother are visiting her best friend Aslaug in her country house as a Christmas tradition! you get reunited with your childhood friends; Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar, too many good memories and they’re definitely more dramatic than you remember

warnings: light bullying

word count: 2712

A/N: this is a little messy but hopefully it will lighten up your holidays! requests are pretty open so feel free to do that, but nothing smutty though, I personally believe I’ll suck at writing smut, oh and Merry Christmas!

Your mother and Aslaug Lothbrok had been friends ever since you could remember, you were raised with ِAslaug’s boys as one of them, you were treated as a family, your father died when you were an infant while Aslaug’s husband disappeared shortly after her youngest son was born, Christmas was a lonely time for both women, that’s why they made it a tradition to celebrate it together even though time sent each in a different path.

Every year, you’d speed a weekend at the Lothbrok’s country house, all the boys would fly and drop whatever they were doing and go there, and this year was no different.

You and mother arrived, knocked on the door, Aslaug was the one to open it, she immediately greeted you both with a hug “Elvi! My dearest friend, you are finally here! Y/N! Look at you! You grew into becoming such a lovely woman! Come in, your rooms are ready if you want to rest and the boys are already here” she announced after both of you entered the house, Aslaug was ridiculously rich, and the country house showed that well. 

Aslaug and your mother instantly ignored your existence and headed to the kitchen to catch up with each other, while you put your bags aside then headed to the living room, where you could hear loud screams, laughter, and noises, once you set a foot in the room, it went soundless, the four boys looked at you as if they saw a ghost, “uh… Hi?” you said uncertain of their reaction. 

“Y/N?” Ubbe asked confused, perhaps a year could change someone more than they think “of course it’s Y/N! Who else could make us go quiet like that” Hvitserk rolled his eyes and got up, he walked to you and hugged you “it’s been so long! We almost forgot you existed” he chuckled and his brothers followed, hugging you one after another, welcoming you among them “excuse us for not recognizing you, last year you had glasses on and braces!” Ubbe clarified and you rolled your eyes “thank you for reminding me Ubbe” you scoffed.

You sat down on one of the empty couches “so… Y/N tell us! How’s New York treating you?” Ivar asked curiously “very well, I’m a photographer for TIMES magazine now, and things are great, I love the city, it’s not as beautiful as it is here, not as calm but it has its own beauty, you guys should visit me there someday! I’ll take you to my favorite spots and introduce you to amazing people!” you beamed “any boys we should beat?” Sigurd grinned “No, unless you count my colleague Karan, he’s an asshole, but other than that, I’m as single as I could ever be” you explained, Ivar laughed, while his brothers looked at each other as if they just heard that they were nominated for an award.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

Aslaug called you in as her and your mother prepared a table, it was time for dinner, the five of you took your usual seats, the ones that were decided ever since you were children, Aslaug and your mother excelled themselves this year; turkey, pumpkin pie, ham, a feast made for ten at least, you wondered how you’d finish all the food but then Hvitserk started eating.

Small talks filled the air, mostly your mother asking about the boys’ life now, Ubbe’s been married to a woman named Margrethe, she ran away and returned after many months but he divorced her, Hvitserk had been the same player he is, Sigurd was discreet, no one knew what’s new with him, and Ivar moved out of his mother’s house and he’s seeing a physician to treat his ongoing condition, he can walk now, with the use of crutches, of course, last time you saw him he used a wheelchair.

“And this woman, she knocked on my door in the middle of the night and stripped! She said she wanted to get back at her ex! I closed the door and went back to eating the chicken legs on the bed!” Hvitserk exclaimed the others laughed, Aslaug and your mother seemed more interested in whispering between the two of them.

“It’s so unlike you to refuse a woman brother!” Ivar noted as he picked a piece of turkey meat in his fork and ate it “I love women, yes, but no one can interrupt my binge eating after midnight on a weekend! It’s the holy laws of my household, besides, there will be next times, don’t worry about me, I’m quite charming” he smirked and sipped some wine.

“Excuse Ivar, he’s nineteen and hadn’t gotten laid yet, he doesn’t possibly understand pussies can be replaced” Sigurd mocked, everyone but Ivar laughed and with that, you knew it wasn’t a dinner anymore, it was a warzone “I doubt you know more than I do Sigurd” Ivar responded, he was angry you could tell, even if he hid it well behind a calm tone and a fake smile.

“I know my dick works, can you say the same?” Sigurd replied, seeming offended by Ivar “Jesus Christ Sigurd! Enough! we’re trying to eat!” Ubbe finally said and their little conversation died like that, an awkward silence fell upon the table, besides the whispers of your mothers of course.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

The five of you decided to sit and watch a movie, like the good old days when you used to be children, it was night and you were bored, after all, Hvitserk brought a popcorn bowl for everyone, Sigurd took responsibility for the drinks, while Ivar set up the movies mode on the television while you and Ubbe brought the blankets and pillows for everyone.

“We are not watching Ready or Not Ivar! It’s Christmas! We will watch a Christmas movie!” Ubbe bickered, “just because its Christmas doesn’t mean we have to watch some romantic bullshit with tacky writing!” Ivar protested “I thought we were watching a comedy” Hvitserk pouted, “we agreed we’ll watch a musical!” Sigurd said annoyed. 

With that everyone started arguing and screaming at each other, as much as you love these boys, you hated it when that happens, you took a deep breath then whistled, grabbing everyone’s attention “we’ll watch the lion king, and that’s final, it has horror aka Scar, Comedy aka Timon and Bomba, Romance Simba and Nala, and of course amazing music!” you listed and didn’t wait for anyone to complain, one thing you remember clearly about the boys, they’d leave their differences aside for a good Disney Classical gem.

No one said anything during the film, all of you were so concentrated, and even though you saw the movie thousands of times, you all cried at the sad parts, laughed at the funny parts, and awed at the lovely parts, Hvitserk finished his popcorn before the end of the first half, he then started stealing from everyone else’s, you ended up sharing yours with him since you couldn’t really finish it by your own, it only made him last for another thirty minutes.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

After the movie was over, and the crying had stopped, you all decided to revive an old Christmas ritual of yours, which is playing spin the bottle, thanks to Hvitserk you already had an empty bottle to spin, the five of you sat in a circle, and Ubbe span it first.

The bottle’s neck stopped on Sigurd and the bottom on Ubbe, Ubbe was to ask, and if the person didn’t want to answer they must drink a shot of vodka that was already prepared by you, Ubbe snickered a little “Sigurd, my little brother! What should I ask you?” he said thinking, even though part of you suspected he already had something in mind “Sigurd when will you bring us a man to the house?” Ubbe asked with a wicked smirk, rumors have it, Sigurd was gay but no one can confirm it “why? You’re not man yourself you need a manlier man?” Sigurd replied playing dumb “he’s asking whether you are gay or not” Ivar jumped, Sigurd rolled his eyes and took a shot.

Next, it was you and Hvitserk, your turn to ask him “how is it even possible that you don’t get fat? You eat so much!” you said “is this a question or a personal assault?” he frowned “a question man! I need your diet tips” you answered “well, I move a lot usually, not now but back in my place it’s not rare to see me running around the house screaming at three in the morning, I just move a lot, also sex helps lose weight” he shrugged.

Later it was Sigurd and Ivar “how come you’re a spoiled brat at the age of nineteen?” Sigurd asked him, mainly to piss him off “because mother was disappointed enough by the time I was born and she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t end up an annoying turd like you” he replied with a grin on his face that declares he won this round of sarcasm.

“Ubbe, tell us, who’s the mysterious woman you’ve been texting whenever you had a chance?” Hvitserk asked when it was his turn to ask a question “oh, it’s no mysterious woman, it’s Torvi, we are sending dog memes to each other” he responded “Bjorn’s Torvi?” you asked shocked, almost as shocked as everyone, the four of you exchanged a look, Ubbe looked at you all confused, letting a what but no one answered.

And for the final spin, it was Ivar’s turn to ask you a question “Y/N, tell us, now that you are a lovely grown woman, which one of us would you rather date if you have a chance?” he asked with a prying look on his face “well Ivar, you are mean, Hvitserk’s head on the cloud all the time, Sigurd is basically a bully, Ubbe is too old for me, so that leaves me with no one unless you guys have a secret ideal brother?” you grinned, the four boys were left speechless.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

You all agreed to ditch the rooms and have a sleepover in front of the TV, you agreed on watching Lilo and Stitch’s two movies until you fall asleep, Sigurd and Ivar went upstairs to their rooms to grab few things, Ivar hated the stairs, you know that cause he kept cursing with every few steps he took, you also heard the sound of something falling but no one really paid any attention.

Later, the blue-eyed rascal returned, holding a blanket and another pillow, with a big grin on his face “why are you smiling?” you asked as you were the first to notice something was up, “what? Can’t I be happy for a change?” he replied, he can of course, but you were familiar with this mischievous smile too well “no, not really, what’s up?” 

“I just saw Sigurd roll down the stairs” he chuckled, his brothers looked at him as if it was the most normal thing ever, Ubbe quickly got up and went to check on Sigurd while Hvitserk just sighed and focused on the screen instead. 

“You bastard! What’s wrong with you? I told you to hold me!” a shouting, angry, injured Sigurd stormed in “I can’t, I’m nothing but a useless cripple remember?” Ivar said giving him the most innocent look ever while Sigurd glared at him non stop. 

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

You were the first to wake up, you went to the kitchen and prepared coffee for yourself and everyone else, Ivar followed next, the two of you sat and ate your breakfast together, it was quite nice, Ivar was a nice guy when his brothers weren’t around.

“So… tell me about the physical therapy, is it actually working?” you asked, he nodded “yes, it’s extreme though, I thought I’ve experienced all kind of pain but apparently I’m wrong, nothing is more painful than taking your first step, I could hear my bones cracking, that’s why the physician had to give me those braces and stings attaching my bones together” he explained, Ivar was okay to tell you about this kind of things, he trusted you enough to know he’s in pain.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” you said comforting “it’s alright, I can walk now and It’s not as painful as it used to be, I’m almost numb in the legs anyways unless I try to use them”  he shrugged, Sigurd woke up next, he came to the kitchen and poured himself coffee in his mug, he took few sips “numb in the leg you say?” he snickered and spilled the rest of his coffee on Ivar’s leg, Ivar didn’t say much but you knew this hurt from his facial expressions even though he was hiding it well.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you shouted and ran to Ivar, helping him get up “what? He feels nothing! He said it himself!” Sigurd bickered “you can be such an asshole sometimes” you muttered and then you took Ivar to the downstairs bathroom, helping him clean up.

The skin was red from the heat, you reached for the first aid box in the mirrored cabin and treated his burn “I’m okay Y/N, you can stop worrying” he mumbled, you rolled your eyes “you’re welcome” you said sarcastically.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

You spent the whole day playing video games, or watching the Lothbroks play video games, or fight over video games,  all but Ubbe who was deep in his phone, after a while, Hvitserk decided he’d lay his head on your lap and play sims on his phone instead, so it was only Ivar and Sigurd and you knew this would escalate sooner than it should.

“Would you play with my hair? I’ll share my stash with you” Hvitserk suggested, you nodded and started playing with his blond braids, he enjoyed it, then you decided it would be for the best to ignore Ivar and Sigurd this time, and get involved with the elder brothers.

“Why didn’t Bjorn and Torvi come?” you finally asked  Ubbe, he shrugged, “Torvi says Assa is sick, that’s why they can’t make it on the road, Bjorn thinks it’s best to skip and go to Lagartha’s this year instead, it’s closer” you were really looking forward to meeting Bjorn, you weren’t very close but he was eye candy, you had a crush on him growing up.

Nothing serious but you simply liked looking at him, Ubbe knew, he’d always teased you about it, but this time he didn’t, he knew you’d tease him about Torvi if he does.

֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎

“For christ’s sake, Hvitserk slow down on eating! This is no manners!” Aslaug shouted in the middle of the lunch after her son ate his second plate “I’m hungry” he protested, “maybe if you ate slower, you wouldn’t be this hungry!” she argued “oh come on Aslaug! Let the poor boy eat, he’s a developing boy!” your mother giggled “he’s twenty-five, he passed the level of being a developing boy instead he’s a food monster!” the two women laughed.

Hvitserk brushed them off and moved to the dessert instead, your mother’s famous krumkake, one that no one could resist or hate.

Ivar and Sigurd exchanged hateful glances every now and then, but they didn’t say a word to each other.

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You and your mother decided to leave in the evening, your brother, Havard was visiting tomorrow with his wife and two children, so you had to be home to prepare a meal and gifts, your mother and Aslaug spent what seemed like forever saying goodbyes, the uber driver hated you both for the delay.

The brothers said their farewells, already missing you, you invited them to your photography exhibition next month, you thought it would be a good idea for them to see your city, especially since they thought New York was nothing more than trash, they all promised to come.

You both got into the car and the man drove you to the airport “It was good seeing them no?” your mother asked, you were looking through the window, you wanted to stay there longer but your stupid brother had to ruin this for you “it was” you mumbled.

tags: @youbloodymadgenius