#love bites 1992

[mourningmaybells]

fuck it. here it is

[fetch-theboltcutters]

fags. i just watched the most perfect beautiful incredible gay film of all time....... the camp volume is turned on high. the gay sex volume is turned on high. the vampirism volume is turned on HIGH. ITS SO RIDICULOUS IM IN LOVE

you also NEED to know that it was made by a group of gay porn stars. this isn't a porno, but you can tell that's where they're coming from and it's everything to me

[shapelytimber]

Am I making silly sketches of a niche gay vampire movie ? maybe

Love Bites (1992) is a corny ass speedrun of a gay romcom that has no rights to be as good and funny as it is-

Main pairing is Dracula and a Van hellsing/jonathan harker type guy but I could not resist the side characters jhiojhhjkf Manfield and Lesley have captured my fucking heart 

If you have 69 (nice) minutes to spare, go watch it it’s so fucking wholesome (but please be 18+, people be naked sometimes- no graphic sex scenes but a lot of nudity)

And since it’s free on the internet archive, here is the link ;)

[walkwithursus]

I vont to zuck your cock 🧛‍♂️

[quijicroix]

Ok maybe going as minor characters from a porn movie for Halloween was a bit too high consept for my friend group.

[romanceyourdemons]

it’s a pretty well-known phenomenon that you only get a couple seconds with your horror creature fully visible onscreen before it gets “chuckied,” a term coined by yours truly referring to the shift between the first and second acts of child’s play (1988) as the audience gets used to seeing the little chucky puppet moving around and consequently can no longer buy into the film’s serious slasher tone in the absence of the horror of the unknown. the tuunbaq in the terror and the dogomorph in alien 3 (1992) are also famous victims of chuckying—just like how lovecraftian horror usually falls flat on the screen, too much visibility and your scary, amorphous creature will become a very morphous puppet or cgi’d in picture. the easiest way to combat this is of course to keep the creature obscured for as much of the piece as possible; for instance, despite their oppressive presence throughout their respective works, the beast in over the garden wall is shown for less than six frames and the eponymous kaiju of cloverfield (2008) is never properly shown, allowing each to retain their mystery and danger. another route is to simply lean into the campiness of it, like the later child’s play franchise and alien resurrection (1997). in the case of the blob (1958) a mere satirical title sequence song is enough to completely transform a fairly standard creature feature into an enduring masterpiece of hokey fun. the third option to combat chuckying is for the horror creature to constantly transform—the thing (1982), the fly (1986), and aliens (1986) show their creatures in loving detail, but there is always something the audience hasn’t seen yet, something they don’t know to brace themselves for. it’s a fine line to walk, of course, but that’s the nature of the game when you want to turn the concept of the unknown into something knowable enough to bite you

[findafight]

Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

[thegothicalice]

I absolutely love your style and was wondering as a cinemaphile what obscure, off the wall horror movies would you suggest for the spooky season?

Uhhhh how about various levels of obscure from the 80s and 90s? (Not a complete lists because I’ve seen literally thousands of films and forget half of what I watch and use Letterboxd to keep track)

1999– Idle Hands, Don’t Look Under the Bed, Bats, Ravenous, In Dreams, Lighthouse, Stir of Echos, Audition, Kolobos

1998—The Last Broadcast, Devil in the Flesh, Whispering Corridors, Urban Legend, Shadowbuilder, The Eternal, The Quiet Family, Strangeland, Deep Rising, The Wisdom of Crocodiles, Tomie

1997– The Relic, The Ugly, Event Horizon, Cure, Wax Mask, Snow White: A Tale of Terror, Quicksilver Highway, Office Killer, The Night Flier

1996– From Dusk til Dawn, Little Witches, Uncle Sam, The Frighteners, The Dentist, Karmina, Thesis, Tromeo & Juliet,

1995– Blood & Donuts, Screamers, Tales from the Hood, The Demolitionist, Mushrooms, The Girl With the Hungry Eyes, The Day of the Beast, Serpent’s Lair, Rumpelstiltskin, Mute Witness, Evil Ed, Project: Metalbeast, Habit, The Addiction, Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight, Lord of Illusions

1994– Tammy & the T Rex, In the Mouth of Madness, Lurking Fear, Cemetery Man, Death Machine, Brainscan, Nadja

1993– Love Bites, Doppelgänger, Necronomicon, Body Bags, Ed & His Dead Mother, Dark Waters, Skinner, Jack Be Nimble, Ticks, Carnosaur, The Temp

1992– Death Becomes Her, The Vagrant, Tale of a Vampire, The Unnameable II, Innocent Blood, Dr Giggles, Auntie Lee’s Meat Pies, Aswang, Sleepwalkers, Netherworld, Split Second

1991– The Resurrected, The Boneyard, Body Parts, Popcorn, Subspecies, There’s Nothing Out There, Highway to Hell, The Runestone, Cast a Deadly Spell, Children of the Night

1990– Frankenhooker, Fear, Nightbreed, Lisa, Mom, Grim Prairie Tales, Shakma, Pale Blood, Baby Blood, Mirror Mirror, Hardware, Meridian, Def by Temptation, The Vampire Family, Reflecting Skin, Demonia

1989– Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat, Nightlife, I Madman, Dr. Caligari, The Black Cat, Paganini Horror, Phantom of the Mall: Eric’s Revenge, The Dead Pit, The Phantom of the Opera, Dead Calm, Intruder, The House of Usher

1988– Paperhouse, Spider Labyrinth, Spell Caster, Sorority Babes in the Slime-Bowl-O-Rama, Cellar Dweller, Pin, 976-EVIL, Brain Damage, Rejuvenatrix, Blood Relations, Party Line, The Unnamable, The Wicked

1987– Psychos in Love, Blood Rage, The Caller, Stagefright, Graveyard Shift, American Gothic, Street Trash, From a Whisper to a Scream, Blood Diner

1986– Spookies, Poison for the Fairies, Vamp, Gothic, Deadtime Stories, TerrorVision, Witchboard, Trick or Treat

1985– The Doctor and the Devils, Phenomena, The Stuff

1984– Decoder, The Company of Wolves, Monster Dog, Sole Survivor, Special Effects

1983– The Lift, Wilczyca (She Wolf), Eyes of Fire, House of Long Shadows, The Hunger, Angst, Curtains, Blood Beat, Mortuary, The Keep

1982– Ferat Vampire, Next of Kin, The Sender, Tenebre, One Dark Night, The Living Dead Girl, Superstition, Alone in the Dark, Parasite

1981– The Black Cat, Fear No Evil, Dead & Buried, Possession, Night School, The Monster Club, Allison’s Birthday, Frightmare, Ghost Story, The Funhouse, The Pit, Evilspeak, Strange Behavior, The Nesting

1980– Macabre, Fade to Black, The Ninth Configuration, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

These are all just what I’ve recorded on my personal Letterboxd since I started it in April of 2017, I’ve seen plenty more but tried to just pick possibly less-known stuff, some bad and some good.

[steviewashere]

Strawberry Jalapeño

Rating: General CW: Alcohol, References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Recreational Drinking, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington gets White Woman Margarita Drunk at Mexican Restaurants, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is saving the last bite for them."

💕—————💕

A new Mexican restaurant opens up a block away from their apartment in 1992. Taqueria Las Palomas. They make it part of their date night circle. Tuesday dates are for the queer bar ten minutes sideways. Wednesdays they’d go to the park on a picnic. Thursdays are for non-competitive bowling that Eddie somehow always turns competitive. And Friday nights, well they’re—

“Margarita nights,” Steve had given. His smirk the size of the moon. His eyes glistening in excitement. His body vibrating with it. “Nachos. And margaritas.” He’d done one of his cute little hand gestures. Nachos was his right hand jumping into the air. Margaritas was his left. Funny enough, those are also the assigned hands in which he consumes them at the restaurant.

Point is, it’s a popular date night activity.

And it’s Friday. And Steve is practically bouncing up and down the sidewalk. Drifting from Eddie’s side. Nearly skipping to the destination. Every once in a while, Eddie has to catch up to him, pull him back by his left palm, and hook their elbows together just to maintain the distance. But, somehow, Steve still gets to the restaurant’s door first.

And, somehow, Eddie never gets tired of it.

Five bucks gets them the nacho platter. Three bucks gets them bottomless margaritas. Which, technically, three bucks gets Steve bottomless margaritas. For two bucks less, Eddie settles for a single Miller. He’s got to get Steve back home, alright? Can’t do that if they’re both wasted. (Steve gets especially drunk and ditzy. Who knew he was such a lightweight in the face of greasy nachos and some fruity little drink?)

They share the plate of nachos. Eddie will sometimes get a small bean and cheese burrito. Sometimes he’ll do in for a couple of carne asada tacos. But, typically, it’s just the nachos. He’s got kind of a light appetite all the time anyway. Steve, on the other hand, will get nachos and a burrito (Depends on his overall mood which one he gets. Mad? The steak burrito. Horny? A breakfast burrito. Look, don’t ask Eddie. He doesn’t know why the eggs and potatoes seem to do it for Steve).

But, because of Steve’s heavier appetite, they tend to tear through the nachos pretty goddamn quick. Which, really, is a shame. Eddie really loves the nachos. He’d eat them all day if he could. That being said, however, he usually lets Steve get the last bite. Usually being the key word.

Tonight, though, the nachos go by pretty quick, as expected. Steve’s got his breakfast burrito halfway gobbled through. And Eddie’s leaned back in his sticky booth, Miller up to his lips, guzzling down some lukewarm beer. Steve’s worked his way through three margaritas, his lips stained a deep pink, and he’s not swaying exactly, but he’s definitely a little bit clumsier. His eyes are pointed down at the plate of nachos.

One chip with all the toppings, jalapeños included (Eddie’s personal hell).

Steve’s fingers twitch on the tacky plastic top of the table. His bottom lip is jutted out. And his eyebrows are creased slightly. He’s adorable.

“Eds,” he begins.

“Go ahead, babydoll. If you want it, you can eat it.” He thinks he gets his point across clearly. Sure, maybe his breath does something a little mournful at the last chip being whisked away from him. But, unfortunately, his stomach doesn’t do well with jalapeños. Never has. Most likely never will.

Steve reaches out his right hand, dutifully, and grabs the tortilla chip in his loose tipsy grip. He brings it up to eye level. Eyes crossing at the little slice of jalapeño. Eddie holds back a chuckle.

Well, he tries really hard. Has to snicker into his can of beer. Steve looks like some puppy noticing a butterfly on a flower for the first time. He might eat it. Might.

Then, oddly, Steve brings the chip back down. He takes his margarita hand. Plucks the jalapeño from the top of the chip, places it on his also pink stained tongue, and brings his eyes to stare at Eddie.

He momentarily looks away from Steve’s puppy dog eyes. From his magenta lips and rose petal pink cheeks and his glazed tipsy sheen to his eyes. Tries to hide how hungry he is, not for the nachos, but for Steve’s beautiful face.

“Ed…Eddie,” Steve is whispering, a slur slightly noticeable in his speech. His margarita palm flops onto the table, patting incessantly at the back of Eddie’s right. “Eddie, gotta—I gotta surprise for you.”

Eddie looks back at him and hums. “What’s up, sweetheart? Whatcha got for me?”

Steve holds out the chip. His fingers are loosely grasping it. It could fall at any moment, really. But he looks like he’s trying really hard to just raise it to Eddie’s face. “Made this,” he murmurs. “Took the spicy thing off.” He knows what it’s called. Eddie should probably cut him off from his margaritas in a second. “‘Ts for you, Eds.” And then he’s bringing it closer to Eddie’s face, so much so now he has to cross his eyes, and jams the softened edge to Eddie’s lips.

It really is the perfect chip. Cheese and guac and sour cream, steak and some of the pico de gallo. And, yeah, Steve took the jalapeño off just for him.

“Eds, you gotta open your mouth. Saved it—Made it for you.”

So, he does. Lets Steve feed it to him. Eddie wraps his hand around Steve’s wrist, steadying his hold. His thumb rubs over Steve’s pulse point, it’s fast and warm. And he looks back at Steve, his eyes dilated, yet full of love.

“Thank you, baby,” Eddie says through his mouthful. Steve’s face stretches with his syrupy smile. Gooey with something. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s cause I—Cause you were sad, Eds,” Steve conspires, leaning in—his hands spread wide and out on the table. “Was thinking of you ‘cause I like it when you’re happy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he feels the need to say again. “You made and continue to make me very happy.”

“I also love you. Was thinking about that, too,” Steve says.

Eddie snickers a little bit. Steve’s a sentimental drunk, he should’ve pointed out sooner. A very sentimental drunk. His eyes are shiny with tears and his face is wonderfully pink, there’s guac in the corner of his mouth, his breath smells like strawberries and jalapeño. And he’s probably the most beautiful and kind person Eddie’s ever come to know.

“Love you, too, sweetheart. Now, finish up your sex burrito,” Eddie teases a little. “Gotta get you home soon and take care of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve slurs back.

They won’t actually do anything, Eddie knows that. He’ll get Steve some water. And they’ll curl up on the couch and watch reruns of Golden Girls until Steve falls asleep over the length of Eddie’s torso. And he’ll slither out from underneath him, carry his heavy body to bed, and cuddle him with both arms. But in the morning, Eddie will make sure Steve knows just how loved he is.

For now, he just gazes. Lets himself become drunk on what it means to truly and irrevocably love somebody like Steve Harrington.

💕—————💕

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN (see full series list here)

1992

You stand in front of a gravestone, the cold winter air biting at your skin and making you sniffle. You glance at the small bouquet of flowers you've left at the foot of the stone: lilies.

In front of you, the grave of Lily and James Potter.

Most weekends during the year are spent at Hogwarts, walking the grounds, working, etc. But on Hogsmeade weekends you choose to visit different people. Alice and Frank, your parents, Lily and James.

You kiss the tips of your fingers and press it against the stone, silently wishing them peace and hoping that they didn't see you trip over Dubh yesterday and bang your head against your bedframe, causing you to go pester Madam Pomfrey for some ointment.

You leave, apparating to Hogsmeade and walking back to Hogwarts. You're a little cold as you walk, but delighting in the crunching of snow under your shoes, delicate snowflakes slowly falling to the ground.

Hogwarts in the winter is your absolute favourite. It's so beautiful, with the blanket of soft snow on the ground, snowflakes fluttering in the air, and the Black Lake still and frozen. Your favourite is the joy it brings the students — running outside, laughing, throwing snowballs at each other and making snowmen...it reminds you of your school days.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

1974

"Anyone up for a friendly snowball fight?" James asks the group, and you grin excitedly, glancing at Lily and Alice.

"Yes, definitely. I vote boys against girls!" You announce, eyeing the four boys suspiciously.

"What? That's not fair, they've got an extra person!" Alice protests, but you wave her off.

"And we'll still mop the floor with them. Let's go!" you take off at a run Alice and Lily quickly follow after you as they move away to set base.

The boys scamper away to a safe zone, Sirius and James building their lines of defense while Peter and Remus wave their wands to create snowballs, though Remus' are uniform and spherical and Peter's are looking much more ovally and tend to vary in size.

Alice rushes to fortify a wall, while you and Lily make your snowballs. You craft a particularly big one with your own two hands, intending to levitate it with your wand and hit Sirius square in the face.

Both teams duck below your makeshift bases, eyeing the opposition.

"Are you ready to start?" James calls loudly across the gap.

"Yup!" you yell back, two snowballs ready in your hand.

Chaos then ensues. Snowballs fly from every direction, and nearly every player gets pelted in the face by one at some point or another. You're determined to win over Sirius and you both eventually end up advancing out from the safety of your forts to attack the other. You levitate the large snowball you had made and throw it towards him with as much force as you can put behind your wand.

Sirius deftly dodges it, laughing as he does. You groan in frustration before getting hit with another snowball from the boy and you yelp, running towards him. You chase him around the grounds, caught between breathing and giggling as you desperately throw snowballs at him to no avail.

Curse his stupidly agile hips.

Once you're at arm's length from his back, you claw at the air closest to him and manage to trip him over, making him face-plant into the snow. You burst into laughter, looking down at his angry, snow-covered face as he looks back at you, and then, to your horror, he grabs your hand and tugs you down so you fall into the snow too.

"You idiot!"

"Hey, you're the one who ran after me, you mad woman!" Sirius retorts with a grin, snowflakes dancing over his sharp features.

"Listen, listen...don't hate the player, hate the game," you say, holding a finger up as you breathe out.

He scoffs, chuckling, "Yeah, yeah..." you lay on your backs on the soft snow, the winter sky already beginning to darken above you.

You sense Sirius turning his head to look at you, and you turn and smile at him, raising your eyebrows. "Take a picture, Sirius, it'll last longer."

Suddenly there's a loud click above you, and you move to see Bitsy, the house elf, standing over you with a camera. You and Sirius are well acquainted with Bitsy. She's always very chatty and loves it when you sneak into the kitchen.

You immediately sit up, Sirius following suit. "Bitsy?"

Bitsy grins, her big brown eyes scrunching up. "Picture!" she squeaks, eagerly handing you a moving photo, showing your interaction with Sirius mere moments ago.

"Bitsy, what are you — "

"Bitsy has found a camera, young mistress! Bitsy enjoys taking pictures! Look, look, see what Bitsy has taken!"

She pulls a tattered bag out from the back of her pillowcase dress, shoving it into your hands. There are many, many photos in the bag. Most are of the kitchen, the other house elves, a few of what looks like Bitsy's thumb, and of course, Bitsy herself. There are some other areas of the castle photographed, including one with a poor unknowing couple snogging in the background.

As you look closer, you recognise long, messy black hair, defined cheekbones and a chiselled jawline...

"Oh my — Sirius, you're in this!" you exclaim, laughing as you show him the photo. "Getting some action, are we?"

Sirius snatches the photo from you, bringing it closer to inspect and furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait, hold on, that is me..."

You burst into a fit of laughter and Sirius just scoffs, looking away from you haughtily. "Don't act like you're not jealous, love."

You roll your eyes, pushing him away from you. "Oh, fuck off. You wish."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

1992

"Happy Christmas!" You greet to those sitting at the table cheerfully on Christmas morning. The Great Hall is decorated beautifully with candles in the air, a large wreath on the door, the twelve Christmas trees up with twinkling lights and colourful baubles...it's wonderful. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe are also strung alone the corridors. Not long ago, you remember Sirius pulling you under every mistletoe he could find in the castle just as an excuse to kiss you during school.

Even Dubh is in the Christmas spirit, happily following you down to the Great Hall, occasionally playing with strings of tinsel and streamers. Christmas Day is one of the few days were the Great Hall is not as full of students as it usually is, so she tends to be more keen to follow you down. Professor McGonagall quite likes her.

Of course, there aren't many at the table today. There's yourself, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Filch, along with six students, Harry, Ron, and Hermione among them.

"Crackers!" Dumbledore says enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who takes it reluctantly and tugs. With a bang, the cracker flies apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Dumbledore swaps the witch's hat for his wizard's one at once. "Tuck in!" he advises the table, beaming around.

You help yourself to some turkey, hearing Snape click his tongue beside you disapprovingly at Dubh, who's currently holding herself up against his chair and looking up expectantly. "You could not keep your incessant pet in your chambers?"

You fake pout at the greasy man, tutting. "Aw, Severus, she likes you!"

Snape scoffs, shooing Dubh away with a wave of his hand.

The doors of the Great Hall open again, and Professor Trelawney enters, gliding towards you as though on wheels.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" says Dumbledore, standing up. You raise your eyebrows at her appearance, hardly expecting the all-wordly seer to bother herself with such a gathering. Or at least, that's what she tells you every year.

"I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster," she says in her mystical voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," says Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair — "

He draws a chair from mid-air with his wand, which revolves around for a few seconds before falling with a thud across from you between Sprout and McGonagall. Trelawney however, does not sit down; her enormous eyes moving around the table and she suddenly utters a weirdly soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sybill," says McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Trelawney hesitates, then lowers herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting someone to smack her clear across the face. You'd nearly want to for the time she told you your hair would be grey by the time you turn 35 and that you'd lose your hearing within the next year. She told you that the first year you started working here.

McGonagall pokes her spoon into the largest tureen. "Tripe, Sybill?"

Trelawney ignores her, instead looking around once more with wide eyes and saying, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore responds. You felt most disappointed when you had seen the full moon scheduled, hoping to at least be able to give Remus his Christmas present today. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" McGonagall says, eyebrows raised. You bite back a laugh, catching McGonagall's eye and giving her a small smile.

Trelawney gives her a cold look. "Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as to not make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," McGonagall says tartly and once again you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing. There was a reason she was your favourite teacher at school, and there's a reason she's your favourite colleague now.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him — "

"Perhaps it was because you don't foretell many positive things, Sybill. Last time you crystal-gazed for me you told me I was going to trip over my own shoes and land at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower," you chime in and Trelawney just wrinkles her nose at you.

"It has not happened yet! I see a great deal of pain in your future," she replies snippily. "You would do well to air on the side of caution."

You give her an exaggerated smile. "Thanks!"

"I doubt," Dumbledore says in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which puts an end to the conversation, "that our dear Astronomy Professor nor Professor Lupin are in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape replies.

"Good," Dumbledore says. "Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy goes furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and takes the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

The rest of Christmas dinner passes semi-normally, as you dive into a chat with Professor Sprout about Christmas traditions you had as children. Then, when most are finishing up and full to the brim with good food, Ron and Harry get up first from the table and Trelawney shrieks loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," says Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.

"I doubt it will make much difference," says McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

You nearly choke on your drink and can't help the laugh that escapes you. Professor Trelawney looks highly affronted.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Later that evening, you're sitting in your office, Dubh nestled in her bed, as you fill out the crossword at the back of the most recent edition of Astronomy's Articles.

There's a knock at your door and you toss the magazine on the desk, standing up and going to open it. Outside stands Professor McGonagall holding a long brown package.

"Minerva! Is everything alright?" You ask and she glances down at the package.

"May I come in?"

"Of course, of course..." You open the door wider for her to enter, gesturing for her to sit down as you take your seat behind your desk. She lays the package on your desk, looking at you through her horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Ms Granger approached me after dinner today, claiming Mr Potter had received this package this morning," she tells you and you nod.

"There was no card, no note, no message of any kind with it," she continues. "And I believe I may know who it was sent by."

"Who?"

She pulls back the paper, revealing a beautifully crafted broomstick, with an untouched handle and pristine bristles. Ingrained on the side is the word 'Firebolt'. It looks like it cost a fortune.

"I believe it was Sirius Black."

You look back at her incredulously. "Sirius? Why would Sirius send Harry a broomstick?"

"Perhaps it is jinxed? I'm going to bring it to Rolanda and Filius and see what they make of it," McGonagall responds.

You suck your lip, thinking intently as you look at the broomstick. "How would he even have bought this? There's no way he'd have been able to access his vault. Surely the goblins wouldn't be too keen on letting him into Gringotts?"

"You have no way of telling?"

You shake your head, shrugging. "Well, they do allow me to access it...but it has been so long since I last opened it that I wouldn't even notice if anything was gone. There is quite a lot of money in it."

McGonagall hums thoughtfully, sighing. "The goblins do not tend to abide by wizarding rules."

You nod. "I suppose you're right...but yes, get the broom checked. It's better to be safe than sorry."

McGonagall looks at you for a moment, as though reading your expression and you chuckle, waving her off. "I know what you're thinking...but we both know what happens to the minds of those who've spent time in Azkaban. Best to get it checked, just in case."

She nods wordlessly and you smile cheerily at her, moving to grab a teapot and two cups. "Tea, Minerva?"

She smiles. "Yes, that would be lovely. I do believe we have quite a lot to catch up on."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter eight here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated! ♡

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Lots of violence against wood. Reader is a messed up assassin and is proud of her work. So much childhood trauma just hanging out in the background. Reader dresses up like a lumberjack.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the love you showed for the first chapter of this fic! All the likes, reblogs, and comments helped keep my muse alive as I wrote the second chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you want to be added to the tag list then let me know, and I'll add you when I post chapter three. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff

Chapter Two: Flower In A Hailstorm

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992 

Your black backpack bounced lightly against your back as you followed a couple paces behind your brother and sister. The morning was bright and warm. The neighborhood was a quiet bustle of activity. Garages opening. Cars pulling out of driveways to begin another commute to work. Other kids trickled out of quiet homes on their way to school. 

When you had walked two blocks, your brother swung his navy blue backpack around until it hung off his shoulder in front of him. He unzipped his bag and looked at your older sister. His hand disappeared into his bag. 

“Do you think Sadie will go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked your sister.

Your sister shrugged. “Depends. Is she desperate?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny,” your brother said as your sister smirked. He pulled out a shiny, wrapped foil of pop tarts. “I’m serious. Do you know if anyone else has asked her?” He opened the foil and pulled out one pop tart. He turned and handed it out towards you. You smiled and hurried to catch up to them. You took the pop tart and immediately bit into it. The sweet taste of blueberry jam and hard surgery icing filled your mouth. 

Your brother pulled the second pop tart out of the foil, broke it in half, and handed one piece to your sister. 

She took her half. “How would I know?” She took a bite of her piece of pop tart. 

“Because you’re in the same History class,” your brother replied.

“That doesn’t mean I talk to her,” your sister said before taking another bite. 

You ate your blueberry pop tart while listening to your siblings talk about Sadie and the Homecoming dance. You didn’t chime in with any advice. You didn’t know who Sadie was. Most likely a girl in high school like your siblings. But it was fun to listen to them discuss the likelihood of your brother getting a date with this girl. By the time you reached your school, your sister had settled on the theory that Sadie would most likely agree to the date if every other boy in the school dropped dead. 

Your siblings wished you a successful day before you parted ways. You walked your usual route into your school and through the busy hallways. Clusters of students clung to the long, noisy hallways. Their stares were all too familiar. Strange looks. Hushed questions that weren’t so quiet that you couldn’t overhear. No kid dared to leave their pack of friends to go near you. Despite the plain, ordinary clothes you wore, you also wore the stories of your father. 

He was the random, misplaced red thread in a blanket of black. He stood opposed to the currents of the town. His beliefs were rooted securely in what many brushed aside as fantasies. He kept himself fairly busy within the confines of your home, but whenever fate drew him into the public an odd story would follow. One neighbor once saw your father out in a field, attempting to contact aliens. Another found him in their yard digging a hole to a secret bunker. There were countless stories, and they followed you wherever you went. You were his, and so, you must be strange too. It didn’t help that you rarely ever acted like the other kids. It was not intentional. If you could understand how to act like them, you would. But you didn’t. So every day you spent in this school, you spent it alone. Surrounded by strangers. Constantly feeling their judgmental stares digging into your back. Hearing the whispered rumors about you and your family. 

When you reached your classroom, you went over to your desk at the far back side of the room. Your desk was positioned an extra foot off to the left as if the group of desks had just decided to push yours just a bit further away. You put away your belongings into your desk, hung your backpack on the back of your chair, sat down, and waited for the school day to begin. 

You had your notebook open and you practiced your handwriting as the other students all filed in. Your whole family was in agreement that your handwriting was truly horrible. You needed to fix that, but you frowned at your latest attempts. All barely legible. Your disappointment lingered as the teacher called for the class’s attention. When you lifted your head up, every ounce of disappointment and every thought regarding your terrible handwriting vanished at the sight of her. 

The girl with the blue hair. 

“Class,” your teacher began. “This is Nat. She just moved here and will be joining our class. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” 

As the rest of the class released a chorus of hellos, you sat silently, transfixed. The first, loudest thought in your mind was a simple question: how did she have blue hair? It was so cool. It reminded you of one of the characters out of your sister’s books. The ones she would tell you about right before bed. The second thought was that she was pretty. You couldn’t come up with a good comparison or truly unravel that thought completely. You just knew when you looked at her that she was really pretty. You liked that. 

The teacher gestured to the empty desk closest to yours. Quietly, she crossed the length of the room and sat down at the empty desk. You watched as she pulled a notebook from her backpack before setting her bag down. Then, she looked over towards you. You felt your whole body tense up under her gaze. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to blurt out the loudest thought in your head, but your mouth stayed shut tight. 

“Hi.” Her greeting was soft and quiet. 

You blinked and your mouth opened. “Hi.” When you felt the first sting of awkward tension, you looked away and back down at your notebook. 

The morning creeped by rather uneventfully. Every so often you would look over at Nat who would be busy writing down notes like the rest of the class. You wondered if she recognized you from the other day. Whenever your attention was on your bad note taking, it would often break off and wonder about how to start a normal conversation with Nat. You had never been in such a weird position before. Wanting a connection instead of accepting the natural recoil. You hadn’t come up with any solid strategies by the time the lunch bell rang. 

You pulled your brown bagged lunch from your backpack and followed your class down to the cafeteria. You lost sight of Nat during the shuffling of students, so you took your seat at your usual spot at the end of one of the long, blue-gray cafeteria tables. You opened up your brown bag and pulled out your aluminum foil wrapped sandwich. It was the only thing your father had packed for you. You unwrapped the foil. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t see any meat, or cheese, or anything poking out from between the twin slices of white bread. In fact, there was nothing at all between the slices. Just two slices of bread sitting one on top of the other. 

You heard hushed giggles coming from further down the table. You looked over just as a few of your laughing classmates quickly looked away. Usually, this didn’t bother you. You were used to this. But you couldn’t deny the hurt starting to creep in. You wanted to say something. Do something. Anything to let out–

Someone sat down next to you. Whatever had started to build inside you washed away at the sight of her again. She started to open up her own bag, but stopped when she noticed the two slices of bread posing as a sandwich. 

Her green eyes shifted to you. “Is that your lunch?”

“Uh,” was the first word out of your mouth before you looked down at the bread slices and then back up to Nat. “Yes. It’s my sandwich.” 

“Where’s all the stuff in between?” she asked. 

“I think my father forgot it,” you answered. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was already cut in half. “Here.” She offered one half of her sandwich to you. 

You looked from her, to the offered half, and then back to her. “Are you sure?” When she nodded, you took it. You immediately took a big bite. The creamy taste of peanut butter brought a smile to your lips. “Thanks.”

Nat smiled and took a bite of her half of the sandwich. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed your second bite. “Y/N.” 

“I think you live across the street from me,” Nat said. 

Your smile grew tenfold and you nodded. 

This seemed to amuse her as she chewed on another bite of her sandwich. “I remember you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “I like your hair.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled. 

Your conversation carried through your lunch. It was the first time your lunch had been more than just daydreaming between bites of food. You found yourself eagerly engaged in the bits and pieces that Nat shared about herself. You noticed that whenever you shared anything about yourself, she listened attentively without any judgment. You liked the sound of her voice. Whatever connection you had found felt strange and weird. But warm. And happy. 

When lunch was over, you both walked back to class together. You were sad when you took your seats at your desks and returned to your lessons. You already missed this new piece of your life. You just wanted to sit and keep talking to Nat. You strangely got your wish when your teacher instructed the class to pair up for a project. As the rest of the class paired up like normal, Nat looked over towards you. 

“Want to be partners?” she asked. 

When you nodded, she maneuvered her desk to sit a bit closer to yours. Now both of your desks sat further away from the others. You had never conceived that such a day like this would come to pass. Yet here it was, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Somewhere Else – 2010

The burn of the cold mountain air is the only chill you feel as you lift the axe above your head. The muscles in your back protest for the umpteenth time. It’s only been a week since the Amsterham job, and your body is still recovering from the aftermath. Being thrown across a lobby into a pillar wasn’t particularly fun. It wasn’t the worst abuse your body has been through. Barely a fraction of it. But it still sucked. 

You bring the axe down onto the log in front of you. The sharp, curved blade cuts deep into the wood. The smell of pine needles carries on the wind as you yank the axe free from the log. Your bright red plaid shirt clings to your sweaty skin. Your hair is tied back in a messy, low ponytail as you lift the axe back into the air. Dark green cargo pants with the ends tucked into tan boots covers your legs. 

You hadn’t intended to dress up like a lumberjack. You had thrown on your clothes after waking up with a sore back, stared at yourself in the mirror, and wondered what she was doing right now. You had slipped out of Amsterdam without issue. The media had covered the incident with varying degrees of accuracy. There were mentions of charred remains, but no mention of you. Or her. The two days it had taken you to travel to this little piece of woodland paradise had been spent looking over your shoulder. Waiting for her to catch up with you. 

The disappointment you felt upon reaching this place in one piece was a real mood killer. The fun was over, and now you were just left with yourself. You needed to do something. So, here you were with an axe in hand chopping up firewood. But your thoughts still linger on her. You wonder if she’ll ever find you here. You certainly hadn’t left any clues behind. 

Your axe swings back down into the log, and it breaks cleanly in half. You set your axe down upon the grass and toss the chopped wood onto a growing pile off to your right. Then, you grab another log and place it squarely on the stump. Your hands find your axe again. You can’t decide if you liked her blue hair more than the red. You know that you loved when she was on top of you. You raise your axe. Regret weaves into your thoughts. You should have enjoyed it more. What if you never see her again? You bury your axe deep into the log. 

“You have outdone yourself again.” 

Finally. You were wondering when he’d show up. 

You look over towards your father. He steps down from the cabin’s back deck. His thick black hair is combed back and peppered with white strands. Sunlight bounces off a pair of thin, brown wire frame glasses that covers his eyes. He buries his hands into the pockets of a heavy, amber colored jacket as he casually walks towards you. The denim blue jeans he wears bears a few grass stains and dried mud mares his gray loafers.

You yank your axe free and smile. “I made the front page.” 

Your father returns your smile with one of his own, yet it is small and his steel gray eyes remain cold. “I saw. Apparently a shooting between rival criminals turned into a deadly explosion. All dead. The hotel won’t reopen until late next year due to the large hole in their building.” 

A small laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “That is giving them too much credit.”

Your father’s brow furrows. “Who?”

“The men you told me to kill,” you answer as your attention returns to the log in front of you. “They were not rival criminals. They were rich men who wanted more. They reached too far, and I made them go boom.” You raise your axe up and quickly bring it down onto the log. It splits in half. “Except for Tyler.” You look over at your father. “I shot him in the head.” 

“What was so special about Tyler?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Nothing. Just felt like it.” 

Your father lets out a sigh and turns away from you. He takes a few steps away. His hand lifts up, and he runs his fingers through his hair. You set your axe down and toss the newly split wood towards the steadily growing pile of new firewood. You start to reach for another log, but your father turns back around and returns.  

“This job was important.” 

It is your turn to sigh as your interest in splitting the next log vanishes. You knew this was coming. The conversation was always the same whenever one of your jobs ended in a mess. You can’t help the way your eyes instinctively roll. Your father steps closer. 

“These clients are important.”

“It was boring,” you lift your axe up and rest it against your shoulder. 

“I do not care how boring it was, Y/N.”

“Of course you don’t.” Any trace of your earlier amusement is gone. “You did not have to do any of the work. I did. I had to spend four days with an arrogant stranger who smelled like cheap cologne and even cheaper bourbon.” Your father shakes his head and turns away from you, but you are far from through with your rant. “All that money, and he is a cheapskate. Did you know that the first thing he made me do was beat up his driver because he wore the wrong tie? And there was no backup. Who doesn’t have backup?”

Your father turns back to face you. “Are you done?”

“No,” you reply. “I wanted to kill him then. After the first twenty minutes. But no. The important clients don’t want to tackle their problems one at a time. They want everything all at once.” 

“They wanted this job to be subtle.”

“I do not understand why you are upset with me because your clients had unreal expectations,” you reply. 

Your father frowns. “Because I trained you to be better than this.”

You don’t have a clever response for that. You turn and start to make your way towards the cabin. 

“They are also upset that you left one of them alive,” your father says after a moment. 

You stop as you reach the cabin’s back deck. You look back over towards your father. “Then their information is bad. All the targets are dead. It will probably take awhile to identify all the bodies. Shifting through the rubble from the charred limbs takes time.” You set your axe down and lean it against the side of the wooden cabin. 

“They’ve already identified all the bodies,” your father says as he follows you towards the cabin’s back deck. “The targets, their hired security, the SHIELD team.” His voice goes cold around the last three words. 

You stare at your axe. You knew he was going to find out eventually. There was always a report after every one of your jobs. He knew of all your successes and all your weaknesses. It still doesn’t stop you from feeling that first hint of fear. Rooted in so many memories. Your gaze returns to your father. The frown he wears looks so natural upon his face. 

“I did not know that they would be involved,” you say. 

“None of us did,” your father replies. “Why did you leave one of them alive?” 

You feel the fear more keenly now. It’s like he’s reaching out for your favorite toy. You know what he’ll do when he gets it. But it’s yours, and he doesn’t get to touch it. 

“I didn’t–”

“Y/N!” 

You jump slightly at the way your father’s voice explodes like the crack of a gunshot. 

“It’s her, Dad.” 

Your voice is small as confusion softens the hard lines of your father’s face. It’s as if you are back in Ohio seeing the girl with blue hair for the first time. It had stolen the breath from your lungs the first time you saw her. So loudly different from the peaceful town tapestry. You thought you and your siblings were the only ones who stood apart. But then she entered your life.  

“It’s Nat,” you say when your father’s confusion persists. 

And just like that, his confusion falls away and his eyes widen. 

“The Russian spy?” 

A small smile curls your lips. “I didn’t get a chance to ask if that was true.”

“Oh no.” Your father’s hand runs through his hair again before shaking his head. “This is not good.”

“Dad.” You step towards him. “This is wonderful. I thought my only friend had been murdered.”

“That’s because you will believe anything your oaf of a brother tells you,” your father replies. “That girl was a spy. That whole family was built out of secrets and lies. Allowing you to form an attachment with her was a mistake. She was a distraction for you then, and she remains a distraction now.” 

“She did not distract me,” you lie. “I completed the job. Is it now against the rules to socialize with old friends?”

“If she is working with SHIELD then she is your enemy,” the familiar coldness of your father’s voice returns sharply. “She threatens our reputation with our clients.”

“How?” you ask. “She did not stop me from killing my targets. She did not stop me from escaping. She did not follow me here.” Each and every one of those facts were crushing disappointments. “Your reputation remains intact. Nothing will change. I will complete the jobs you give me to the best of my ability. What does it matter if I talk to her? She will not stop me.”

You wait for your father’s argument, yet he says nothing. The look he gives you is familiar. He is studying. Assessing. It reminds you of the countless grueling training sessions in the basement of your home in Ohio. You would be sprawled out on the floor, staring up at him, covered in sweat and sucking in lungfuls of air. Desperate for the training to stop. 

Finally, your father lets out a sigh and digs his hand back into his coat pocket. He withdraws a square, white envelope and extends it out towards you. “Your next job. Straightforward. I expect clean results.” 

You smile and reach for the envelope. But before you can grab it, your father pulls it away. 

“She cannot be a distraction, Y/N.”

Your smile falters. You want to point out that you already explained why she wasn’t. You want to stress that she’ll never be able to stop you from completing your jobs. What happened in Amsterdam was the result of a really long, awful job. You want to say all this, but you don’t. You wish that you were ignorant of the reason. But you know why. Because you aren’t certain what would have happened if that explosion hadn’t happened. If it had just been you and Nat. 

But, you nod, and your father hands over the envelope. You take it.

[mourningmaybells]

less than a week and i've already gotten homophobic comments (now deleted by me) on my youtube video. lmao. cranky because love bites 1988 is superior to love bites 1993 (<- only real vamp deep divers will suffer knowing what i mean)

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡��𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 05 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 8,2k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I sighed, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as I sensed a kind of understanding forming between the three of us, albeit slowly; Dave and James were like two sides of the same coin, always had been, brothers of fire and anger even before all their pain had driven them apart. Was it such a shocker that they'd both end up falling for the same woman? Was it such a surprise that I'd end up loving them both? Maybe we always knew it would eventually lead to this.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, threesome, mxfxm sex, dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, unprotected sex, oral sex, drug issues mentioned, alcoholism, drinking

✦ a/n: Hey, everyone! So, this chapter turned out a bit longer too, but I couldn't wrap up the fic without throwing in this smut scene at least once. Honestly, it's one of my favorites in the whole story! Oh, and in case you haven't noticed - yeah, Leanne's husband is Joe Sinclair. He popped up in some earlier chapters as Lea's friend who had that cool beach house where they celebrated Cliff's birthday and where James first kissed Nore at Lea's birthday party. Next part's gonna be the finale, and I swear we're finally getting a happy ending after all the drama lol Thanks for sticking around and reading, feedback is appreciated! ❤

April 6, 1992

Dave and I came back from our weekend getaway even more head over heels for each other, if that was even possible. Now that our feelings were out in the open, any walls between us just crumbled away, leaving us with one undeniable truth: I was crazy about him, and he felt the same way about me. Life had never felt so simple. 

Life had also never felt so damn complicated; come Monday, things took an unexpected turn when Lars unexpectedly dropped by. He showed up at my place bright and early, his usual chill vibe replaced with a hint of worry that had me wondering what was up.

"Hey, Lars. Come on in, I was just munching on some breakfast," I gestured for him to enter, stepping aside. He gave a somewhat tense smile and took a seat at the kitchen table, setting his backpack down. "Hungry? I've got pancakes, orange juice, some fresh sliced watermelon..."

"Just water, thanks. I grabbed a bite earlier," he replied, flashing a quick smile when he noticed my concern.

"If you're all fueled up, what's with the serious face?" I inquired. "Something happened?"

"Actually..." he trailed off. I plopped down at the table, sliding a glass of water his way and pouring myself some juice, giving him a curious glance. "You catch the news today?"

"News?" I furrowed my brow, and Lars let out a sigh, seeming resigned. He unzipped his backpack, pulling out a magazine and passing it over to me. I blinked at him, puzzled, before focusing on the publication.

What I saw left me gaping in disbelief.

The magazine was one of those gossip rags, the kind I never bought because I had never been interested in such stuff. If I didn't expect Lars to read this kind of thing, I certainly didn't expect to see myself on the cover. The photo showed a painfully familiar scene; Dave and I getting off at the airport together the night before, him with an arm around my waist, pulling me close as he whispered something in my ear and I smiled. We both looked happy; happy and at peace, like I hadn't felt in a long time.

The photo didn't take up the whole cover; there was some other Hollywood gossip splashed across it that I barely paid attention to as I zeroed in on the caption beneath my picture with Dave.

SHE’S GOT A TYPE? Get the lowdown on Nore Burton and her new metalhead boyfriend, snapped in LA yesterday, on page 30.

I hurriedly flipped through the magazine, landing on the page mentioned and scanning through it, feeling my face flush hotter with every word.

Lately, there's been a buzz among Hollywood bigwigs and celebs about a fresh face on the scene: Eleanore Burton (27), aka Nore Burton. The actress, with a theater background and gearing up for her small-screen debut, turned heads by snagging the lead in Pacific Coast Television's (PCT) latest romance series, sharing the screen with some seasoned industry pros.

What's not widely known is that the actress is actually cousins with late Metallica bassist, Cliff Burton. And then there's the rollercoaster romance between her and the band's frontman and guitarist, James Hetfield (28). They've been on and off since way before they hit the big time, dabbling with other flings whenever they hit a rough patch.

But what really caught our eye was spotting the actress getting cozy with a new flame: Dave Mustaine (30), infamous for his sharp tongue and ongoing feud with Metallica after getting kicked out of the band in '83. A trusted source confided that they were actually together for a few months earlier that same year, but things fizzled out shortly after Metallica dropped their debut album, Kill 'em All.

It's anyone's guess how James Hetfield feels about his sweetheart's new fling. How's he gonna take the news that she's back in touch with an old flame he's not too keen on? We tried reaching out to Hetfield via Metallica's reps, but no word back yet as of press time.

"They went after him?" I shouted, eyebrows raised, looking at Lars in shock. "Lars, I had no clue about this pic! I..." I shook my head, too stunned to finish.

"Yeah, welcome to the club, babe," Lars quipped, snatching the magazine from me. "Just wait till you need bodyguards for your Bloomingdale's run. Fame's got its downsides, no doubt." He glanced up, frowning. "When were you planning to spill the beans about getting back with Mustaine?"

"I was going to, I swear," I said, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks. Lars just huffed, giving me an incredulous look. I couldn't blame him for being peeved; maybe I should've looped them in sooner. But I didn’t expect my personal life would become front-page news like that. "Seriously, Lars. Dave and I just reconnected last month, but everything happened so fast..."

"And what about James? Did he get the memo, or did he find out through the grapevine?"

"He knows Dave and I crossed paths again. But..." I paused, feeling a lump form in my throat, my voice trailing off as memories of James' silent treatment flooded back. "He's been avoiding me for weeks. I've called, but no answer. It's like I'm invisible to him," I finished in a mumble, blinking back a lone tear rolling down my cheek.

Lars gazed at me for a beat, then let out a sigh, opening his arms for a hug. I blinked back tears, feeling them well up despite my efforts, and eased myself into his embrace.

"You know you could've spilled this to us, me and Kirk," he said softly. "You could've mentioned James was giving you the silent treatment again. We would've had your back."

"I didn't want to be a burden," I murmured, and he scoffed.

"You're not a burden. We're family; we look out for each other, got it?"

"Thanks," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion, as I stepped back. I straightened up, brushing my hair back and sniffing, wiping away the tears that had slipped down my cheeks. "I... I'll give him a call. And if he doesn't pick up, I'll swing by his place after today's shoot. We gotta talk things out; it ain't cool for him to shut himself off like this."

"You want me to come along?" Lars offered, rising from his seat, and I shook my head no. I'd rather handle this on my own. "Okay; I got some stuff to sort out myself. We're hitting the road soon for a tour, won't be back till August for Lea's wedding. If James pops up, I'll call you, alright? And let him know you're looking to chat."

"Sure thing, Lars," I smiled softly as he clasped my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Appreciate it."

As expected, I couldn't get hold of James; every call went straight to voicemail. I got swept back into my daily grind, a hectic day of non-stop shooting. Word about me and Dave must've spread like wildfire; some colleagues offered sympathetic words, but I also caught plenty of curious looks and hushed chatter whenever I was on set during the day.

I left the studio totally beat; all I craved was getting home, hitting the shower, and crashing out. But, sticking to my morning promise, I made my way to James' place. I stood at the door, debating whether to ring the bell. After a moment, I went for it, but got no response. I fidgeted nervously, wondering if I'd picked a lousy time to drop by; I wasn't even sure he'd be home. I hit the bell again and waited. Just when I was about to bail, James finally swung open the door.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I could tell he wasn't okay; his disheveled hair, creased forehead, and bloodshot eyes gave away recent drinking. He just stood there, staring at me, before stepping aside silently to let me in. I winced at the sight of his living room, a mess that brought back memories of our wild party days back when we were younger; empty beer bottles littered the floor, clothes tossed haphazardly on the couch, and a stack of pizza boxes sitting on the corner table.

"You showed up," James muttered hoarsely, and I turned to him. He gazed at me, a mix of pain and bitterness flashing in his blue eyes, sending a wave of discomfort through me. "Finally remembered I'm alive? Or did your boyfriend not want you around today?"

"James..." I started, my tone a mix of caution and desperation. I wasn't looking for a fight. All I wanted was to talk things out with him. He snorted before heading to the kitchen, and I trailed after him. I watched with worry as he opened the fridge, reaching for a beer. "I... I don't think booze is the answer right now."

"Thanks for the tip, but I'll pass," he smirked, sarcastically. "What brings you here, Nore? Suddenly worried about my feelings now that the whole world knows you're with someone else?"

"James, that's not fair," I said, my voice choking up. "I've been trying to reach out to you for weeks. You've been ignoring my calls, you didn't answer any of my voicemails, and now I'm the one who doesn't care?"

He shot me an annoyed look but stayed silent. I sighed, blinking away the forming tears as I looked away from him, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat. Maybe coming after him wasn't such a great idea after all.

"Lars mentioned you're hitting the road soon. How are you planning to handle that if you're in this state?" I questioned weakly, and he just rolled his eyes.

"And what's it to you?"

"I do care about you, James. Even if you can't see it," I answered, my voice dropping, feeling the weight of his anger. Whenever James got like this, I felt lost, like a ship tossed at sea, struggling to find solid ground but always drifting. It was like he was slipping further away, and I couldn't reel him back in. I couldn't handle it — his distance or the hurt it caused.

"Why'd you go back to him, Nore?" he questioned suddenly, his voice now filled with anguish. "Wasn't I good enough for you?"

"James, please," I implored, taking a step forward, but he shook his head, backing away. "Come on. You know I care about you..."

"Don't say that while I have to watch you happy with him," James snapped. "Really, Nore? Fucking Mustaine? I can handle you seeing other people when we're not good, but did it have to be him ? The one person I know I can't measure up to?"

"James," I begged, my voice catching. "I didn't plan for this. But I can't ignore how I feel. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us. But you don't have to push me away. Please, let me help..."

" Stop it ," he interrupted, his voice sharp and icy. I flinched, holding back tears, feeling a pang of sadness as I watched James' expression turn hostile. "I told you not to come crying to me, didn't I? I don't want to fucking see you, I don't want to hear about your life. I don't know why you still think I give a shit," he snarled, his words laced with venomous anger.

I gaped at him, stunned, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I watched the realization of what he'd just said sinking in, the hostility melting into regret in his blue eyes. He reached out, but it was too late; the damage was done, my heart shattered, and I knew I couldn't stand to be near James for another second right then, no matter how hard I tried.

As he came closer, I swatted his hand away, tears streaming down my face. I backed off quick, just needing to get away, to put as much space between my pain and James' rising temper as I could, even if that meant widening the gap between us even more.

I got home feeling totally crushed, tears still streaking down my cheeks as I flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, and caught sight of the blinking light on the phone, telling me I had messages waiting. I grabbed the phone and held it up to my ear, tapping the button to listen to the voicemails. A faint smile crept onto my face as Dave's voice came through.

Hey, babe. How's it going? Just saw that article they threw out about us. Give me a call, alright?

I let out a sigh. Even though I was feeling pretty down, I knew chatting with Dave would lift my spirits, so I quickly dialed up his number.

"Hey."

"Hi, Dave," I said, trying to put on a smile even though my voice was still a bit wobbly.

"Hey, sweetheart. You alright?" Dave asked, sounding all worried. Of course he'd pick up on my mood instantly; nobody read me like Dave did.

"I..." I let out a sigh; I didn't wanna stress him out, but I also couldn't keep everything that went down with James from him. "No, I'm not," I confessed. "I... I went to see James, Dave. He's not in a good place... We had a huge fight, he said some nasty stuff, and I..."

"It's because of that stupid article, right?" he said, his voice tense. I agreed, and he let out a sigh. "Hey, wanna swing by my place? I don't want you to be alone if you're feeling this bummed out. I'll whip up some dinner for us."

"Wait, you actually know how to cook?" I asked, my genuine curiosity distracting me from my sadness for a moment, and he chuckled softly.

"I'm getting there. Can't survive on fast food forever, you know. But I can always order in if you're not convinced by my culinary skills," he said, and I giggled.

"No need. I'm game to try your cooking. I'll just change and head over there, then."

I showed up at Dave's home not long after, carrying a backpack slung over my shoulder packed with all the stuff I figured I'd need for the next day. When he swung the door open, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

"Hey," he chuckled softly, running his fingers through my hair. I glanced up, standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He grinned, his hands cradling my face gently. "C'mon, let's head inside."

I smiled softly when I stepped into Dave's place and noticed the living room, dimly lit and cozy, lit up with just a small lamp while some soft tunes played in the background. Not the usual heavy metal songs I was used to enjoying with him, but instead, a nice, slow piano melody. The dining table was all set with red candles flickering, some spaghetti bolognese, and a bottle of red wine.

Dave snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder, swaying along to the music. I couldn't help but let out a soft giggle. I turned around to wrap my arms around his neck; he slid his hands down to my waist, giving me a light kiss on the lips before resting his forehead against mine.

"A candlelit dinner and some music? You're pulling out all the stops this time, Mustaine," I remarked, and he grinned.

"Just wait 'til you see what I've got planned for after we go to bed."

"You didn't go all out with rose petals and stuff, did you?" I teased, and he chuckled, giving me a tight hug and a light kiss on the lips.

"I'd do anything to see you smile. You know that, right?" he asked, softly.

How could I feel anything but pure joy hearing that? Having Dave back in my life felt like a dream, one that just kept getting sweeter by the day. I could see it in his eyes he meant it, despite all the mess with James, despite all the baggage from my past. He loved me, plain and simple. What more could I ask for? 

Instead of answering, I simply leaned in and planted another kiss on his lips.

August 15, 1992

The next few months flew by in a blur. Between my jam-packed schedule and all my commitments, things slowly started shifting. Dave and I made it official, letting everyone know we were back on, and sure, at first, it caused a bit of a stir with the gossip mags and our circle of friends. But soon enough, the novelty wore off, and we got our privacy back.

The moments I spent with him were just something else; every day, our bond got stronger, and I couldn't get enough of Dave - his smile, the feel of his skin on mine, the taste of his kiss, and how his eyes softened whenever they locked with mine.

Dave kept fighting to stay clear of falling back into addiction, even though some days were really tough on him. I did what I could to support him, even if I knew deep down that I couldn't fix everything. But Dave always made sure to let me know that just having me around made things a whole lot easier.

Having him around definitely helped ease my load too; getting back with Dave kind of lifted some of the heaviness I'd been carrying around for the past few years. Sure, I knew I'd always have to deal with the sadness that came with losing Cliff. But the pain of having lost Dave in the past bit by bit was slowly being replaced by love - real, deep love that filled up my chest almost entirely.

Almost entirely, except for the part that still hurt because of my messed-up relationship with James. We'd been in this complicated dance for a few years now, but lately, he'd been more distant than ever. I mean, I get it, being a big-time artist, time works a bit differently, right? It wasn’t unusual for us to go ages without seeing each other when the band was out on their never-ending tours, but usually, we'd at least keep some kind of contact going.

But lately, it felt like he was going out of his way to steer clear of me, and honestly, I wasn't really feeling the urge to patch things up after the nasty stuff he'd flung my way last time we talked. I'd still give Lars and Kirk quick calls to check in on them every now and then, but I made sure to steer clear of bringing up James, and they didn't mention him either.

I figured I'd bump into him sooner or later. I mean, with Leanne's wedding creeping up, it was bound to happen. Lea and Joe had settled on tying the knot down in New Orleans and had snagged a whole hotel to fit everyone in. I caught up with them the day before the big party, when they swung by to greet us at the airport and give us a ride to the hotel.

The moment I laid eyes on Lea, a huge smile spread across my face; she was just like I remembered her, with her dark locks and sparkly eyes, but I couldn't help but do a double-take at the little bump showing she was expecting. As for Lea, she didn't seem at all shocked to see Dave tagging along with me for the event. Despite the miles between us, Leanne and I always made sure to keep each other in the loop about what was going on in our lives.

"You’re pregnant? " I blurted out, all wide-eyed and grinning as she pulled me into a hug. She laughed.

"Yeah, I am! Joe and I were just as shocked, believe me. I'm at 19 weeks... Oh, sorry, that's like 4 months, right? I didn't spill the beans sooner 'cause I wanted to tell you face-to-face."

"Wow, Lea. That's amazing news, congrats!" I gushed, beaming at her, and she beamed right back.

Man, I was beyond thrilled for her. Even though Leanne and I hadn't been as close lately, I still saw her as one of my ride-or-die besties, and I knew she felt the same way. Losing Cliff had changed a lot of stuff, but it didn't touch the bond we had. Seeing her all glowing and living her best life, well, it warmed my heart more than words could say.

Dave and I tagged along with Leanne to the airport parking lot, and there was Joe, leaning against the car, waiting for us. His face lit up with a smile when he spotted us. While Leanne hadn't changed much, Joe was a whole new dude compared to the long-haired blondie I knew back in my San Francisco days. These days, he kept his hair super short, almost buzzed, and sported a full beard. But that friendly grin of his was still exactly the same.

"Hey, Nore, Dave! Been ages!" he said, giving us a hug before unlocking the car. "How've you been? Pumped for the party?"

"I'm counting down the minutes," I grinned, and Leanne let out a soft chuckle. "But you two must be over the moon, right? Tomorrow's your big day!"

"Oh, you have no idea," Leanne said, all hyped up. "We've been waiting for this forever, and now that it's finally happening, it's like pinch-me-I'm-dreaming territory."

We pulled up at the hotel before we knew it. Dave and I gave Leanne and Joe a big thanks for the lift, then headed inside to check-in and crash for a bit. I mean, the next day was gonna be huge. Finally, we made it to our room, and I let out a sigh of relief, humming a little as I started unpacking. Dave glanced over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're looking pretty happy," he observed, moving in closer and resting a hand on my waist. I let out a soft chuckle as he planted a kiss on my cheek, his lips brushing lightly against my skin before meeting mine. "I love seeing you like this."

"Isn't it crazy that Lea's gonna have a baby? That's awesome," I remarked, grinning. Dave chuckled softly, pulling me into a hug before his lips found mine once more. I let out a contented sigh as he gently gripped my hips, drawing me closer.

"You ever thought about having one?" he murmured, his voice low and a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaned in close to my ear. I pulled back a bit, feeling a blush creep up on my cheeks as I looked at him, surprised. "We could have a little one someday. You know, down the road. Or two. Or ten ."

"How'd we jump from two to ten?" I giggled, and he let out a big laugh.

"Just throwing it out there. If you want, I’d love to have a future with you."

Those words from Dave kept swirling around in my head all night, even after we'd settled into bed. Ever since Cliff had passed, I'd been steering clear of making any big plans for the future. Losing him had hit me hard, wrecking any dreams I used to have. For a while, I’d just let life happen, rolling with the punches as they came. I was so, so terrified of hoping for anything and ending up crushed and broken again. But with Dave by my side, everything felt different, like the world was painted in brighter colors. Was it okay to start thinking about a future where we wouldn't ever have to be distant again? Was it okay to start thinking about a future with him?

A future with him. Just the thought made my stomach tie up in knots, all tangled up with the fear that it could all go south one day. But deep down, I knew I craved it with every fiber of my being.

Maybe I wasn't exactly brimming with courage right then, but one thing I knew for sure: for as long as I lived, I never wanted to be apart from Dave again.

August 16, 1992

Leanne's wedding ceremony was short and sweet, but emotional. I'll admit, I got a bit teary-eyed watching her stroll down that aisle, all choked up with happy tears but still beaming. On the downside, being a bridesmaid meant I couldn't shake the feeling of James' eyes on me the whole time. Him, Lars, and Kirk were all groomsmen at the wedding too.

James and I had crossed paths real quick at the hotel during breakfast, but it was like we were total strangers. Not a single word passed between us. Maybe I was being a bit stubborn, but after the nasty stuff he'd flung at me months back, I wasn't about to be the one to make the first move and patch things up.

The wedding’s reception kicked off pretty quickly, held at a beautiful historical mansion not far from our hotel. I snagged a seat at the table set aside for me, Dave, and a bunch of other folks while he headed off to grab some food. I glanced up with a grin when I noticed a familiar face plop down beside me.

"Hey, Kirk," I greeted, and he flashed me a warm smile.

"Hey, Nore! Finally tracked you down. So, I noticed Lea moved you to a different table... Is it 'cause you and James had a spat or 'cause your boyfriend's not our biggest fan?" he quipped, and I chuckled.

"Maybe a bit of both. But don't sweat it, Dave won't mind me hanging with you guys. As for James..." I let out a sigh. "How's he holding up?"

Kirk grimaced.

"The usual drill, ya know. Him and Lars got into it like three times on the tour... Lars keeps pushing him to hit up rehab, but James insists he’s good," he sighed, then flashed a grin. "Sorry 'bout the tiff you guys had. But he'll bounce back, trust me."

"I know. It's just frustrating when you wanna lend a hand but the other person isn’t having it," I admitted with a sigh, then glanced up as Dave strolled over with two plates of food. "Red alert, Dave's on the scene," I joked, and Kirk chuckled before standing up.

"I'll bail for now. Don't wanna ruffle your boyfriend's feathers too much. We'll chat later, Nore."

I flashed Kirk a smile as he headed off to join Lars and James at their table. Heat rushed to my cheeks when I sensed James looking my way, so I quickly turned my attention to Dave.

"Brought food," Dave grinned, sliding a plate in front of me before settling down beside me. "So, what was up with Hammett?"

"Just chatting. You know we haven’t seen each other in a while," I answered, a small smile playing on my lips. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, but didn't seem too bothered. "Jealous, much?" I teased.

"No need for jealousy, sweetheart. I know you're madly in love with me," he grinned, and I playfully nudged his arm, chuckling.

We wrapped up our meal, happily chatting the whole time. Once dinner was done, a sweet tune started playing, and I couldn't help but grin as I watched Leanne and Joe twirling around the dance floor. Leanne looked stunning in her fancy dress, her hair all dolled up with twinkling little gems. Joe looked like he was on cloud nine, beaming at her like she’d hung the moon. I felt Dave slide an arm around my waist, planting a soft kiss on my temple, and I melted into his embrace.

The party flowed like honey, with drinks pouring freely, mouthwatering meals, and catching up with old friends. Leanne had rounded up a bunch of folks from our San Francisco days, so mingling was easy. Dave and I bounced around, shooting the breeze with different faces, and as the booze kicked in, things got looser. I ended up deep in conversation with Lars at one point, while Dave snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. I couldn't help but chuckle at how unexpected and unlikely the moment felt.

The only person I hardly even crossed paths with was James. I mean, there was this one time when I was heading back from the bathroom and accidentally plowed right into him. He caught me, his hands gripping my shoulders tight, and I couldn't help but blush when I looked up and saw it was him. I took a step back, my face probably as red as a tomato, while he just stood there, all serious, not saying a word.

"What?" I snapped, my voice a bit sharper than I meant it to be. He just kept on staring at me, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but I wasn't in the mood to hash things out with him. I spun on my heel and headed back to Dave, who was busy grabbing us a couple of drinks at the bar.

“Hey, babe. You good?" Dave asked, passing me a glass filled with a drink. I took a sip and nodded, shooting a quick glance over at James, who was still eyeing me from afar. We locked eyes for a sec, both of us clearly ticked off, until Dave caught on and followed my gaze. He frowned, grabbing my hand. "C'mon, let's go somewhere else."

I tore my gaze away from James, ditching my drink on some random table as I trailed after Dave, feeling kinda intrigued. The way Dave's shoulders tensed up told me he wasn't exactly thrilled about the silent stare-down I just had with James.

He led me through the mansion's hall and out the back door, where we found ourselves in a huge, empty garden since most of the guests were still inside. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was up to, as he guided me to a secluded spot in the garden. My eyes widened in surprise when he pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me before planting a harsh kiss on my lips.

"What's the deal with you and James?" he growled, catching me off guard with the intensity in his voice.

"Dave, it’s nothing," I murmured, but he just grunted in response, kissing me again with a bit too much force, his tongue pushing into my mouth without any of the usual gentleness. I let out a little moan, taken aback, gripping onto his arms as his hold on my waist tightened.

"He's been eyeing you all night, and now you can't seem to take your eyes off him," he murmured, giving my lip a light nip as he backed me against the wall. He slid one knee between my legs and his hand rested lightly on my neck. "You gonna clue me in on why you're giving him all this attention?"

"He's just being a jerk. I'm not giving him the time of day, I... Oh!" I gasped when Dave spun me around, pressing my back against him and pulling me close, letting me feel his hard-on as he started kissing my neck. "Dave, hold on, you're drunk..."

"And what if I am? You are too," he grunted, but eased up on his hold a bit. His lips, however, kept on working their magic on my skin, planting soft kisses that sent shivers down my spine. "What's wrong? You wanna go back to him?"

"It's not that," I murmured, daring to turn to face him again. Dave looked at me, his eyes filled with turmoil as I gripped onto his arms, feeling my heart pounding and my cheeks heating up. "I want you, Dave," I declared, reaching up to his face and wiping away the lipstick that had smeared from my lips to his. He grunted, grabbing my wrist before pressing me back against the wall, his lips finding my neck once more as he nibbled and sucked gently. I let out a little moan, caught off guard, closing my eyes. "Dave..."

"If I make it crystal clear to everyone that you're mine, will that jerk finally back off?" he growled, nipping at my neck again in a way that I knew would leave a mark. I gasped, clutching onto his shirt and shutting my eyes. "You know I'm planning to fuck you stupid all night long, right?"

"Hmm... Dave, please..." I begged, not entirely sure if I wanted him to stop or to keep going. He grunted, but pulled back, leaving me with one last kiss on my neck before stepping away, his cheeks flushed and his gaze burning with intensity.

"We should head back," he suggested, his voice low and husky, his fingers intertwining with mine. I nodded, my heart still pounding, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through me at his touch.

We made our way back to the party; Dave and I ducked into the bathrooms to freshen up before rejoining the crowd. I blushed when I caught sight of myself in the mirror: flushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, hair slightly tousled, and two distinct red marks on my neck's smooth skin. I did my best to fix my hair and makeup, dabbing at the hickeys with cold water in a vain attempt to reduce the bruises that I knew would linger for days.

I headed to the bar, grabbing a glass of water to cool down. I glanced around, searching for Dave, but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn’t left the bathroom yet. I settled at a table with a sigh, my heart still fluttering a bit.

"Your guy's a bit possessive, huh?" a voice chimed in, and I glanced up to see James with that familiar smirk on his face, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and bitterness.

"After all this time, that's your opening line?" I shot back, my tone icy. He took a seat beside me, his gaze fixating on the marks on my neck. His fingers traced the edges of the redness softly, sending a shiver down my spine.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he muttered, "You love having him under your spell. And me too," he added, lifting his gaze to meet mine, his eyes flickering with anger and something else, a mix of emotions I couldn't quite pin down, but definitely edged with desire.

"You're not even gonna say sorry? Just gonna stay there spewing out this nonsense?" I shot back, aiming for hostility but only managing to sound wounded. He scoffed, leaning in closer, his lips pressing against the bruises, kissing and biting them softly before he murmured against my skin:

"I'm sorry." Then he straightened up, leaving me stunned, heart racing and face flushed as I watched him walk away without a backward glance.

After the party wrapped up, Dave and I hopped in a taxi back to the hotel. We were quiet on the ride, his fingertips tracing little circles on my inner thigh, sending shivers up my spine. Once we got to our room, I headed to the bathroom, flicking on the tap to start filling the bathtub while Dave took his clothes off. Leaning against the door frame, I watched him kick off his shoes, feeling the buzz from the drinks at the party making me even more eager to pick up where we’d left off with that kiss.

"Are you hopping in the bath with me?" I asked, shooting Dave a coy smile as he loosened his tie. He smiled back and walked over, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a soft kiss on my lips, while his hand fumbled for the zipper of my dress.

He paused when we heard knocks on the door. I frowned, wondering if it could be hotel staff or something. Dave sighed, annoyed, as the knocking continued.

"Better shut off the tap before we flood the room," he remarked, and I chuckled softly. "Let me handle this while you do it."

I headed into the bathroom, shutting off the tap as I listened to Dave dealing with whoever was at the door. I perked up, intrigued, when I heard a familiar voice followed by Dave's tense and irritated tone:

"You've got some guts showing up here, huh?"

I furrowed my brow, puzzled, and went back to the room, my jaw dropped in confusion when I spotted James at the door, locking eyes with Dave in a standoff.

"James?" I blurted out, taken aback, and both men turned to look at me, frustration and anger etched on both their faces. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He eyed me for a beat, tension thickening as Dave's gaze drilled into him. It was like mixing gasoline with a lit match; all of us were already worked up and intoxicated after a night of partying, and James clearly had some bones to pick with both Dave and me. James made a move to step into the room, but Dave cut him off, blocking the entrance with his arm.

"She asked you a fucking question," Dave growled, and James finally glanced at him, a sarcastic smirk creeping onto his lips.

"I came here to talk to her, not to you," James slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. Dave looked ready to snap, his free hand balling into a fist.

"Dave," I stepped in, grabbing his arm and easing it down. He turned to me, and I placed my hand on his chest. "It's alright. Let him in."

Dave sighed heavily but reluctantly moved aside, his face tight with tension, his eyes burning with anger and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're like her little lapdog, aren't you? Whatever she wants, you jump, just to keep her happy," James remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I shot him a disapproving look, furrowing my brow, but before I could respond, Dave interrupted with a growl:

"And what about you, huh? You're here to grovel for her forgiveness?" Dave stepped forward, confronting James with a challenging glare. I glanced nervously between them, reaching out to touch Dave's arm in a futile attempt to calm him, but he shrugged me off. "I see the way you look at her, Hetfield. You think I don't notice? You're pathetic."

"That's the crux of it, isn't it?" James snarled. "You and I, we're cut from the same cloth. We both crave her love, her attention, hoping we'll be the lucky one she picks in this messed-up game."

"Except she already chose me," Dave shot back. "Game over. And you know I don't like sharing what's mine."

"Maybe you guys should give it a shot," I blurted out, without really thinking, eager to diffuse the tension between them, but instantly regretting it. Dave and James both turned to look at me, wearing expressions of disbelief, while I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Um... I just meant..."

"Try sharing you?" Dave chuckled, as if what I’d said was totally nonsensical. I blushed when he gently lifted my chin with his hand, locking eyes with me as he leaned in close, his words a soft whisper, "You don't even know what you're asking for, do you, sweetheart?"

"I just don't want you guys fighting," I murmured, pleadingly. "Please, Dave. You know I care about both of you."

James chuckled, shifting our focus away from each other. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, he had that same intense look in his eyes as when we’d talked earlier — anger, jealousy, and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on at first, but then recognized: longing.

"You always play nice with everyone and it drives me fucking crazy," he remarked, moving closer and closing the door behind him. My heart raced as his hand trailed down my neck to collarbone, all while Dave kept a close eye on him. "There's no escaping this, Nore. Choosing one means hurting the other. And he's got a point." James shot a glance at Dave, who raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly great at sharing what's mine either. You know you can't have us both, right?"

"I know. But I don't wanna lose either of you," I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up as James came closer with a growl, planting his lips on mine. I gasped in surprise, and he seized the moment to slip his tongue into my mouth, his hands firm on my waist. I let out a soft moan as I felt Dave's lips on my neck, planting slow kisses until he reached my ear.

"You sure about this?" he questioned, and I nodded, shutting my eyes and yielding to James' kiss, eliciting a soft growl from him as I tangled my fingers in his hair. "Didn't know you were this greedy, babe," Dave murmured, but he didn't seem upset, more like amused.

Was this really happening? It was hard to wrap my head around it, hard to think straight as the lips of the two men I loved roamed over my mouth, my neck, my skin, igniting sensations that made my whole body tingle. Dave's fingers deftly unzipped my dress.

"Talk to me," James whispered in my ear, and I shut my eyes, my lips parting slightly as I exhaled, Dave still planting kisses on my neck as he eased down my dress. "Tell me you want this, I gotta hear it from you."

"Please, I want both of you," I breathed out, and Dave tightened his grip around my waist, pulling me snug against his body while James teased my earlobe.

I let out a sigh as Dave tilted my head, locking his lips with mine, our tongues moving together while James worked on unclasping my bra and took a nipple into his mouth, giving it a playful nip before leaving small hickeys all over my soft skin. I couldn't help but moan, the sensations overwhelming me. I was completely lost in the moment, swept away by the touch of both of them. It was beyond anything I'd ever dared to dream.

James backed off a bit, his hands resting gently on my hips while Dave went back to peppering my neck with kisses, his hardness pressed against my butt. I stole a glance at James, noticing his distant gaze and flushed cheeks as he watched me, his fingers tracing my cheek softly.

"How do you pull it off? You're still perfect even when you're messing with my head," James muttered, and Dave snarled softly, leaning his head on my shoulder, their eyes locking for a moment. James' expression was hard, revealing a blend of frustration and reluctant acceptance.

"Why do you think I'm crazy about her?" Dave murmured, his lips trailing from my neck up to my jawline in a slow, deliberate path.

I sighed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as I sensed a kind of understanding forming between the three of us, albeit slowly; Dave and James were like two sides of the same coin, always had been, brothers of fire and anger even before all their pain had driven them apart. Was it such a shocker that they'd both end up falling for the same woman? Was it such a surprise that I'd end up loving them both?

Maybe we always knew it would eventually lead to this. Maybe we’d all been waiting for this moment, a collision of stars, like waves crashing on the shore on a rainy day. It was dangerous, but exhilarating — so much so that I almost wished we wouldn't cross this line, because I knew I could never come back.

But, at least from now, it seemed good enough to be worth it.

James took a step back, loosening his shirt’s buttons and slipping it off gradually, working on undoing his pants next. I watched him, feeling a shiver run down my spine as Dave's hands caressed my breasts softly. I let out a sigh as James came closer, and reached out, my fingers tracing the edge of his underwear slowly. James grunted, grabbing my hand on his and pressing it against the outline of his erection.

"No way," Dave grunted, clutching my wrist tightly, while James arched an eyebrow. "She's mine first. You can watch," he declared, and James chuckled, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Dave wrapped his arm around my waist, pivoting me to face him, and planted a slow kiss on my lips as I unfastened his shirt.

"Is this your way of proving I'm yours?" I whispered, and he grunted against my lips. "By fucking me in front of him?"

Dave didn't say a word; he guided me to the bed, laying me down and sliding off my panties before undoing his pants and lowering them. James joined us on the bed, shedding his underwear and stretching out, placing my head on his thigh and tenderly running his fingers through my hair, his gaze fixed on my face as he caressed it. Dave finished stripping, then climbed on top of me; I shut my eyes, letting out a soft moan as he pushed into me and I felt him spread me open. James let out a low, rough sound, leisurely stroking my hair. When I looked at him, I saw he held his hard cock in his hand, jerking it softly.

I shifted my gaze to Dave, who kissed me slowly, his intense hazel eyes serious as he pushed into me. His lips moved against mine, his tongue intertwining with mine as he thrust forcefully. I let out soft moans against his mouth, tears brimming in my eyes from the pleasure of feeling him inside me.

"Dave…" I whispered, and he groaned, pulling me close, our gazes locking in a heated embrace.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, urging him to go deeper, gripping his hair tightly. James growled, tilting my face up and guiding his cock to my lips. I eagerly opened my mouth, taking him in, and he moaned softly. Dave kissed my neck, sucking on the tender skin, leaving even more bruises that sent shivers down my spine, but I didn't mind. In that moment, all I could focus on was the sensation of James and Dave, both of them, with me, together.

"Fuck," Dave whispered in my ear, his actions growing more fervent. "If I knew it felt this good to have you with an audience, I would've suggested it ages ago."

"If I knew you'd be into it, I would've brought it up sooner," I whispered back, stroking James' cock slowly with my hand and sighing when Dave started to massage my clit with his fingertips. I moaned, gripping him tightly, and he shut his eyes, thrusting into me with more vigor.

"You're almost there, aren't you?" Dave whispered, and I nodded, unable to form words. James gently brushed away the tears of ecstasy that welled in my eyes, his touch so tender it sent shivers down my spine. I took him back into my mouth, and he let out a soft groan, moving slowly as I continued to pleasure him.

I let out a long, satisfied moan, tightening around Dave as waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and breathless. Dave groaned, his face buried in my neck as he reached his own climax, his release flooding into me with a low grunt.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I pulled James out of my mouth, my lips meeting Dave’s as he shifted beside me. He brushed the hair away from my face, planting gentle kisses along my neck and shoulders as I took James back in my mouth, meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and satisfaction.

James tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding my movements as his hips rocked gently. His flushed face and parted lips revealed his arousal as I worked my tongue, eliciting soft sighs from him. Meanwhile, Dave's kisses grew more fervent, his hand trailing down to where my body was still slick with our fluids. His touch on my already overstimulated clit made me shiver, and I couldn't help but moan in response. James then bucked his hips forward with a moan, tightening his grip on my head, his release filling my mouth with a warmth that sent a thrill through me.

"Good girl," Dave murmured approvingly as James pulled away from my mouth, running a finger along my slightly swollen lips. I swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth and satisfaction. I turned to Dave, and he leaned in, planting slow kisses along my jawline. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, but Dave gently cupped my face, urging me to look at him. "Don't shut your eyes, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. "We're not done with you yet."

I nodded, feeling my cheeks flush and my heart beat faster as Dave shifted away and James pulled me onto his lap, my legs wrapping around his hips as I sensed him growing hard once more. Dave let out a sigh, positioning himself behind me, his hands firmly on my waist providing support as he nibbled on my earlobe. I closed my eyes, nestling my face into James' neck and wrapping my arms around it as Dave raised my hips, allowing James to enter me with deliberate slowness.

This was gonna be a long, long night.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet @decemberm0on

[noneorother]

Share your GOS2 bibliography with me

How crazy is it that season 2 has basically forced me to go back to university. I’ve done more reading and critical analysis and historical research than I have in years. I bite my thumb at you, Neil (affectionate).

And as I’m sure I’m not alone in this, I’d love to see your bibliography of all of the references or reading/watch lists. I’m sure to pick up a few good ones! I’ll go first.

Movies + TV Arrival - Denis Villeneuve Clue - Jonathan Lynn I Know Where I'm Going - Powell & Pressburger The Ball - Magnus Dennison and Katja Roberts Every Day - Michael Sucsy About Time - Richard Curtis The Red Shoes - Powell & Pressburger The Small Back Room - Powell & Pressburger The Tales of Hoffmann - Powell & Pressburger Stairway to Heaven - Powell & Pressburger Ill Met By Moonlight - Powell & Pressburger The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse - Steve Bendelack Monty Python's Life of Brian - Terry Jones Monty Python and the Holy Grail - Terry Gilliam & Terry Jones The Twilight zone (The Arrival) Boris Sagal The Twilight zone (The Hitch-Hiker) - Alvin Ganzer Staged (Seasons 1 and 2) - Simon Evans & Phin Glynn Books The Crow Road - Iain Banks The Bridge - Iain Banks The Scholars of Night - John M. Ford Symbols of Sacred Science - René Guénon Catch-22 - Joseph Heller A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens The Colour of Magic - Terry Pratchett Night Watch (Discworld) - Terry Pratchett Parlement of Foules - Geoffrey Chaucer The language of the birds - Farid ud-Din Attar Pride & Prejudice - Jane Austen Persuasion - Jane Austen Midnight Days - Neil Gaiman Negative Burn #11 - Neil Gaiman Chivalry - Neil Gaiman Other Les contes d'Hoffamann - opera, Jacques Offenbach Don Giovanni - opera, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart The Line, the Cross and the Curve - musical, Kate Bush The book of Enoch - Ethiopian Apocryphal trs. Rev. George Schodde, PhD

I'm sure there will be more... sigh. Spoiler alert: there are more! Donnie Darko - 2001, Richard Kelly Nothing Lasts Forever - 1984, Tom Schiller The Ghosts of Berkley Square - 1947, Vernon Sewell Brazil! - 1985, Terry Gilliam No Bed for Bacon - 1941, Caryl Brahms and S. J. Simon Don't, Mr Disraeli! - 1949, Caryl Brahms and S. J. Simon Murder Mysteries - Neil Gaiman The Man Who Was Thursday - 1908, GK Chesterton Small Gods - 1992, Terry Pratchett Ipomadon - Medieval - Trs. Richard Scott-Robinson

[walkwithursus]

Love Bites (1992) Fic

For the first time in three-hundred-and-forty-seven-years, Damian is awake to greet the dawn of a new day.

As he stands under the sun’s rays with Jake by his side, he can feel his cells waking up, thrumming with an abundance of energy. His lungs inflate, not just to draw in stale air for speech, but with purpose. There’s relief with each breath, satisfaction where there hasn’t been in a long time. Damian raises two fingers to his own throat and counts his pulse into the thousands. 

Jake doesn’t rush him. He drifts away from Damian’s side to retrieve splinters of coffin from the lawn, or to speak with Manfield and Lesley, but it’s never long before he slips back into Damian’s arms again as if he never left.  

As he basks in golden light, Damian ponders the mystery of his return to mortality. What was the catalyst?  Making love for the first time in centuries? Being beaten half-to-death by strangers? Jake’s love bite?

Damian doesn’t know and thinks he probably never will. And that’s okay. Some things in life are meant to remain unknown, and the how is not so important as the why and the what next. 

By the time they crawl into bed that night, Damian’s skin is sun-kissed and warm to the touch. To his surprise, his face and shoulders erupted with fawn-colored freckles while outside, and Jake catalogs them all with kisses. Damian’s mind races along with his heart as Jake undresses him, moving lower and lower down his body, until eventually Damian catches him by the shoulder and squeezes. 

“Wait. Before we do this, there’s something I must confess.”

Jake glances up at him, and his lips curl into an easy, carefree smile. “What is it?”

“Last night…” Damian has to take a deep breath before he can continue, mining his courage from deep inside himself. “Last night, before we made love, I hypnotized you. I forced you to tell me that you loved me, and I coerced you into my room and into my bed. I am…so sorry.”

Damian waits to see Jake’s expression collapse, for his jaw to drop open in horror and his eyes to glaze over with distrust, but no such thing happens. At most, a slight furrow appears between his brows, and he says, “But that doesn’t make any sense. How can it be hypnotism if I remember it?”

“Hypnotism doesn’t necessarily erase the memory of an event. It’s possible for a victim to recall the details with clarity, unless expressly instructed otherwise by the hypnotizer.”

“Oh. I see.” Slowly, Jake sits back on his knees on the bed between Damian’s legs. He bites his lip. “That was after I stripped for you, right? After you found my duffel bag? You started acting so distant all of the sudden. I knew something had changed.” Jake’s eyes drop to his hands, which he balls up into fists in his lap. 

Damian darts out a hand to rub his thumb anxiously back and forth across Jake’s knuckles. For a long moment he thinks he’s lost Jake for certain, that his dishonesty constituted too great a betrayal. Then Jake’s head snaps up and he says, “Wait! How could you have hypnotized me into something I already wanted?” 

Damian tilts his head to one side. “What do you mean?” 

“Last night I spilled beer on my pants and went into your room to find that robe to change into. I came out and took the rest of my clothes off in front of you, and that’s when you hypnotized me, right?” At Damian’s nod, Jake continues excitedly. “But that’s wrong! Don’t you see? I knew I was in love with you the moment I decided to spare your life. I knew I wanted to sleep with you the moment our eyes met. So really, you didn’t hypnotize me at all. I was already willing to do anything you asked of me. Anything and more. When you told me to tell you I loved you, I didn’t feel compelled to because of some supernatural influence. I told you because I meant it and I wanted you to know.”

Jake grips Damian’s hand tight, and Damian returns the squeeze ten-fold. “Do you mean that, Jake?” he asks, voice choked with emotion. 

“I do,” says Jake, and he crawls his way into Damian’s lap so that he can cradle Damian’s face in his hands. “I love you, Damian. I slept with you because I wanted to, not because you told me to. And I’m telling you I love you now because that’s how I really feel.” 

The kiss they share then is fiercely passionate. It comes as a surprise to Damian when his lungs begin to protest their lack of oxygen, and he pulls back reluctantly to gasp for breath against his beloved’s throat. 

“Thank you,” Damian whispers. “Thank you for telling me.” 

They make love again that night, and this time it’s different. There are no more secrets; no more walls between them. They are as emotionally vulnerable with each other now as they are physically, and it heightens the experience to new levels.

In the morning, when the sun comes up, Damian doesn’t rush to close the curtains. He lies there with his lover in his arms and greets the sunrise like an old friend.

[unknownperson246]

baeee can u do a fic w vince neil x reader where they r like best friends but he ends up falling for her <33 smut & fluff

Hiiii sorry it took so long but here it is!!! Enjoy 💋💋

Dinner Fun

words: 1,011

warnings: *smut* *fluff* *p in v* *dirty talk* *sex in a rush* *a bit of degradation*

Vince is staring at you with fondness in his eyes. He appreciates you being there and taking care of him after he left Motley Crue in 1992. It was a hard decision for him to make because he loved Nikki, Mick, and Tommy. He felt cherished and loved by you especially after you guys were just friends you guys did it one day and it felt amazing. One day you step outside of your house. You see Vince in his convertible. Vince steps out of his car and hands you a bouquet of white and red roses as a thank-you gift for taking care of him when he needed it the most.

“Hi Y/N I just wanted to thank you for everything you have done for me after the Motley fiasco”. 

The bouquet of red and white roses has a note attached.

“Hi Y/N I was wondering if you would want to go out on a date maybe sometime?” Vince asks on the note.

“Yes! Vince I would love to know what time you were thinking?” you ask excitedly. 

“Maybe around 6:00 pm this Tuesday at my place?” Vince asks y/n.

“That works great!” y/n says with a huge smile on her face she is blushing too.

*Tuesday arrives*

Earlier on Tuesday afternoon around 2:00, Vince is excited and he sets everything up. He puts unlit red candles on his fancy white dining table underneath the fancy diamond chandelier. He panics as he has no idea what to make for y/n and himself.

“What would y/n like?” Vince asks himself neurotically.

“Oh, I got it! She likes chicken. Maybe I can make us chicken parmesan with pasta and a glass of white wine.” he says excitedly. 

He quickly finishes preparing for dinner. He makes all the food around 5:30 and you arrive by 5:50.The doorbell goes off and Vince quickly makes his way to his front door.

“Hey Vince,” you say as you smile at him softly.

“Hi Y/N,” Vince says softly.

Vince immediately lets his arm out to your hand gently pulling you inside his massive mansion. It was huge. You had seen it before but it looked more amazing today as it was your first date with Vince. Vince offers you a beverage.

“Y/N what would you like to drink?” he asks.

“Do you have white wine or red wine?” you ask. 

He says he has both and pulls out both of your options in front of you. 

“Can I have red wine please?” You ask Vince softly.

“Sure, you can even have both if you want,” he says.

Now that you both have your beverages he pulls your chair out and he already has prepared both of your guy’s plates.

You seem tense and you have something on your mind and Vince does too but he is not sure if he wants to take that step because he is convinced you want to take it slow. He is accompanied by the thought of you wanting to take it nice and easy with him before you guys do it.

You guys want to do it so badly but you guys are nervous that one of you doesn't want to do it yet.

You guys take a few bites of your dinner and converse about what you guys want to do with your life now that Vince quit Motley Crue and now that you're in his life. You guys both can’t take it anymore you guys want to fuck each other so bad but you guys don't catch each other's hints. 

“Vince, I need to talk to you about something that has been on my mind for a long time. Remember when we did it last time ever since then I couldn't wait until we did it again. I need you Vince can we please” you wine to him?

Vince has been waiting eagerly for these words.

“I feel the same way darling lets head to my room upstairs and fuck till midnight,” he says excitedly.

You guys both abandon your plate of food on the dining table and you find your way upstairs to the bedroom. Neither of you guys wanted to waste time so he starts by kissing on your collarbone. He slips your dress off like he was desperate you were being risky when going over to his place for the date not sure if you guys were going to fuck you did have your underwear on. He starts to degrade you and starts to rub your clit when you had your underwear on. He could feel how wet you were.

“I see that you're wet for me my whore” he says in an alluring voice.

He unzips his pants and he does not waste time as he smacks his cock against your wet pussy that was throbbing for him. 

“Let me feel that tight pussy” he grunts

“It's all yours Vince” you moan as he says those sweet words.

He stops smacking his dick on your clit. He wants to tease you so he goes down to your pussy and he licks a stripe on your clit. He stops there and makes you more wet. He finally decides that it's enough and he flips you and your back is now facing him and he sticks the tip of his dick in your entrance. You want to cum just at that. He starts painfully slowly as he picks his pace up.

“Oh Vince” you moan loudly 

Your back starts to arch and he goes faster in your pussy. He goes faster and it's easy as he goes faster because it's slick from how wet your pussy was for him.

“Vince” you moan heavily.

Your pussy tightens around his dick.

  “cum for me my whore and ill cum for you”

You guys end up cumming together and he takes his final thrusts inside of you and he takes his cock out and says.

“Let's finish dinner princess”