#the fun thing about this is the authors are smart enough to pick the lyrics

[rotisseries]

anybody else noticed some ya authors have started titling their books with song lyrics🤨

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Prologue

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other. 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption.

But in this chapter - themes of a sexual nature.

Author’s note: Everything in bold italics is a flashback. Yay! This is the first part of my sugar daddy/sugar baby Maxwell Lord x f!reader Christmas fic. If you want to be tagged in future parts please let me know! Enjoy x

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - PROLOGUE - NEXT 

It was an exciting day for the staff at Black Gold Cooperative, and exciting days at Black Gold Cooperative were often hard to come by. Every year Maxwell Lord would begrudgingly allow his staff to take a few hours out of their work schedule to help decorate his main headquarters in time for Christmas. Christmas music boomed throughout each floor as everyone from secretaries, associates, chefs and cleaners would help each other engage in festive decorating. It was so much fun, everyone was beaming and laughing. The staff made sure to enjoy every second of it because they knew by tomorrow it would all be over.

Brittany, one of Maxwell Lord’s three assistants, had designated her input to the main lobby as she ushered in loggers who had cut down the forest’s biggest Christmas tree. They were pushing it into the lobby but struggling to get it through the double doored main entrance. Fern and pine cones nudged off the tree and rolled along the red carpet in the entryway.

“What are you just standing there for? Go help them!” she commanded the doorman, Andreas, with a roll of her eyes. The tall and strong built doorman walked over to the loggers and asked them if they needed any help.

Brittany turned around when she saw the dazzling yellow gold fairy lights strung delicately along the grand staircase. Her heart stopped when she saw the man of her dreams walk down them. Her very own prince Charming. Maxwell Lord was in a daze as he looked around the lobby of his company’s headquarters. Christmas lights sparkle and shine all around him, tinsel and banners strung up over paintings and portraits. Maxwell would never involve himself with the Christmas decorating but he did have a duty to check that it wasn’t overly tacky each year.

His dark blonde hair glistened golden under the fairylights that surrounded him, and he looked so incredibly smart in his light blue suit jacket, lilac shirt and royal purple tie with matching pocket square. Of course he looked just as smart every day but it was always special when he chose to wear colour instead of just chiaroscuro. Brittany caught on to Maxwell’s confused expression when his eyes locked onto the struggling loggers and his doorman pushing a Christmas tree through the double door.

“What’s going on over there?” Maxwell asked as his other assistant, Stephanie, who handed him his go-to black coffee. Brittany approached him with a wide smile.

“They’re struggling because we decided to get a bigger Christmas tree this year. They’ve spent the past half an hour trying to push it through the door.” Brittany explained, scrunching her nose up in dismay.

“And who’s idea was it to get a bigger Christmas tree?” Maxwell asked, folding his arms against his chest. The loggers had finally pushed it through and were now trying to position it just by the left of the grand staircase. Maxwell huffed out an annoyed sigh as he saw the mess of fern that had trailed in behind the tree.

“Andreas’ idea.” Brittany pointed at the exhausted doorman who was now covered in dirt from trying to move the Christmas tree. That was a lie. It had been Brittany’s idea to get a bigger tree. Stephanie narrowed her eyes and shook her head at her colleague.

Maxwell Lord sauntered away from his assistant’s and to the shop that was located just by the main reception help desk. He’d go there everyday and purchase the same bar of chocolate and chat up the lady who he had working behind the counter. 

Everyone continued with their decorating, humming the lyrics to Do They Know It’s Christmas by BandAid which had just been released that week. Seeing everyone so jolly lit a fire in Maxwell’s heart. It reminded him of his own childhood.

The only reason he kept up with the tradition of decorating Black Gold Cooperative for Christmas was because his father used to allow it too. And it was one of the only times of the year he got to spend with him. Maxwell remembered the way his father would lift him onto his shoulders and encourage Maxwell to put the star on the top of the tree. Once the young boy managed to do so, the whole of his father’s office would cheer and applaud for him. The pride was something that elated a young Maxwell and he loved the validation that he got from, not only his father’s inferiors, but most importantly, his own father.

Maxwell would accompany his father around the office and watch as he gave gifts to his employees. He was more than generous, handing things out such as expensive bottles of champagne and tickets to Santa’s grotto to those he knew had families.

“I want to go see Santa,” a young Maxwell wailed one year.

“And what could you possibly want to see Santa for?” Maxwell’s father laughed, pinching his son’s chubby cheeks. “You already have every single toy you could possibly want.”

Maxwell frowned, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling. “I want to meet Rudolph the red nosed reindeer.” the child admitted, folding his arms and puffing out his cheeks.

“I see.” Maxwell’s father chuckled before picking his son up and planting a kiss on his forehead. “You know daddy’s busy, but what if you ask mommy to take you?”

“Mommy never takes me anywhere.” Maxwell frowned sadly and his father nodded understandably, his arms tightening around his son as he hugged him. He knew his wife was an absent mother but there was so little he could do about it.

“Maybe next year, huh son? Would you like that? Daddy can try and get some time off work.” Maxwell nodded sadly as his father put him to the ground. “Now go to your playroom. I want you to finish writing your Christmas list so we can send it to Santa Claus.” His father encouraged. “Remember I want you to do your best cursive handwriting. Can you do that for me?”

Maxwell nodded happily before padding away to his playroom. Despite his father’s empty promises, he never got the chance to meet Santa Claus or speak to Rudolph the red nosed reindeer.  He never got to experience the same things as other children his age did.

"Mr Lord, I was thinking we position the Christmas tree here. Decorate it with black and gold baubles, of course— oh, and tinsel too. What do you think?" Brittany asked, interrupting her boss’ thoughts. She twirled her finger in the air, gesturing for the logger’s to rotate the tall pine tree into a slightly new position. "That's much better. Now, Amanda wanted an angel on the top, bit I was thinking a gold glittered star would be much more fitting-"

The star at the top of the tree. Just like his childhood. Maxwell shook away the painful memories. He held his hand out, in a motion that would connote ‘stop’. Brittany listened. "I don't care." Maxwell said, looking up at the tree and shaking his head. Brittany’s grip tightened around her clipboard as she followed her boss to the grand staircase.

"Right, of course. My bad sir. But I was thinking how nice it may be, for you to have a Christmas tree in your own office?"

"And what purpose will that serve?" Maxwell asked with half a sigh before taking a sip of his espresso. His face soured at the bitter taste and he threw the practically full cup into the trash. He had forgotten how fast his hot drinks would turn cold during the incoming winter period. "What the fuck does it take to get a decent coffee around here?" He muttered to himself, but loud enough for Stephanie to hear. Stephanie scowled. No matter what she just couldn’t make a nice coffee.

"It would look nice," Brittany beamed. "Festive."

"No." Maxwell replied, checking the time on his gold wristwatch. Slightly alarmed, he turned away from the lit up staircase and he began to approach the elevator, Brittany continuing to follow quickly behind him.

"Sir, don't you like Christmas?" Brittany asked her boss curiously.

"No." Maxwell repeated, his voice just as monotone as before. He really didn’t want to talk about this.

"But why not?"

"Brittany do I pay you to ask me questions?" Maxwell snapped, spinning around on his heel and grabbing his assistant by her chin. She looked up at her boss, fluttering her dark eyelashes which framed her emerald coloured eyes.

"No sir." She replied innocently, biting her lower lip. Maxwell smirked, his grip tightening on her.

"What do I pay you for?" he growled quietly, his face just inches away from hers.

"You pay me to look pretty and be there whenever you may need any assistance." Brittany remembered his exact words from the day he hired her.

"Good girl," Maxwell praised. "I don't appreciate all these questions from you. You want to put your mouth to good use? I suggest you shut up and head to my office. Undress yourself. I'll be five minutes."

Brittany nodded with an eager smile spread across her face and bolted up the grand staircase. Once Maxwell had shared a few polite sentiments and signed a few autographs from the loggers who had come in with the Christmas tree, he took the elevator to the 22nd floor of his office.

Amanda, who was manning the desk outside of Maxwell’s personal office, rolled her eyes as she noticed Maxwell following Brittany in there just minutes after. Knowing what they’d both be up to, she continued filing her nails - trying to get the perfect shape when her colleague, Stephanie, practically fell out of the elevator when the door slid open to the 22nd floor of Black Gold Cooperative’s headquarters.

In shock, Amanda dropped her nail file on the floor and her head bolted upright, gaze following a heaving and panting Stephanie. Stephanie ran to the desk, grabbing the corners so hard her knuckles turned white, panic spread across her face.

"Stephanie, what's wrong?" Amanda asked, tilting her head slightly.

"She's here." Stephanie was gasping for breath, fear prevailing in her ice blue eyes. Stephanie didn’t have to say who exactly had entered the premises because her tone said it all.

"That's impossible." Amanda scoffed, rolling her eyes and picking her nail file up.

"I saw her," Stephanie continued. "Downstairs. In the lobby. I was trying to make Mr Lord a new and improved espresso and she just threw her fur jacket on me - like I was some kind of coat rack. She'll be up here any second now. Where is Brittany?"

That’s when the fear dawned on Amanda.

Now also panicked, Amanda looked at the large double doors at the end of the room which led into Maxwell Lord's personal and private office. Stephanie's gaze followed and her ruby red lips parted into a perfect ’o’ shape. "She's not… is she?" Stephanie shook her head in disbelief. Amanda nodded her head, agreeing to Stephanie’s insinuation. "What the hell do we do?!"

"Oh no oh no," Amanda began pacing around in circles behind the desk. "They don't train you for this!" She exclaimed, holding her head in her hands. "I think we better go tell them that she's here before she walks in on them."

"Are you kidding me?" Stephanie gasped, placing a hand on her hip. "Fine. You go. I do not want to be the one who interrupts Maxwell Lord IV when he's in the middle of you-know-what." 

"He'll be grateful!" Amanda pointed out, urging Stephanie enter Maxwell's office. "Look, what sort of guy wants his mother to walk in on him going down on a random girl?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Mr Lord doesn't go down on any of us."

"He goes down on me." Amanda smiled proudly.

"You're lying." Stephanie tutted.

"Am not!" Amanda argued.

Neither of the girls noticed Mrs Maxine Lord walking straight past them and into her son’s office. She froze at the door and a wicked smirk planted across her lips when she saw a disheveled Brittany wipe her face with a silk handkerchief, provided courtesy from her boss. Maxwell’s brown eyes widened as he saw his mother standing there with her hand on hip. Brittany was practically shaking in fear as she discarded the handkerchief and tightened the ponytail in her hair.

“Mrs Lord!” Brittany exclaimed with a teary eyed but polite smile. “How unexpected it is to see you. Can I get you anything?”

“You can leave.” Maxine said bitterly. Brittany nodded and ran out the office. Maxwell zipped his pants up and slouched into his chair as his mother took a seat opposite him. “Do you want a lawsuit?” she asked her son with a frown.

“What are you talking about?” Maxwell sighed, taking a comb and fixing his dark blonde hair.

“You keep fucking your assistants. One of them will rat you out and try suing. I just know it.” Maxine shook her head, placing her Chanel purse on her lap. “And Maxwell, I don’t want the future heir of Black Gold Cooperative to be the child of some no good under qualified assistant. Heaven forbid.”

“Mother, why did you come here unannounced?” Maxwell sighed, wanting to change the subject immediately. Maxine composed herself before forcing a grin.

“I spoke to president Reagan,” she beamed. “He said we can host this year’s Christmas gala at the White House.”

“Okay?” Maxwell rolled his eyes and took out a stack of papers from underneath his desk and began flicking through the pages. He figured if he looked busy, then maybe his mother would leave him alone.

“Maureen will be there.” she cooed, snatching away the papers that were in her son’s hand.

“And?” Maxwell sighed again, frustration building up inside of him as he looked at his fingers, thinking her abrupt action had given him a paper cut.

“Oh come on Maxwell!” his mother exclaimed, annoyance prevalent in her voice. “Think about it. Your future child’s grandfather could be president Ronald Reagan! And Maureen is quite the natural beauty. I mean - before she had all that work done. It would truly be great for the business. Can you imagine the publicity?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Maxwell shouted and stood to his feet. “I am not interested in Maureen, nor will I be attending this ridiculous Christmas gala. Jesus Christ - I don’t even support Reagan.”

“Yes you will attend the gala Maxwell, because I say so.” Maxine raised her voice just as loudly as her son, asserting her authority. “I think you’re forgetting your roots. Your father founded the annual Black Gold Cooperative Christmas gala. Now imagine how he’d feel if he knew you had no interest in showing up.” Maxwell’s heart stung and he dropped his head in shame. She was right. He would be disappointed. “I will page you the details,” Maxine promised. “In the meanwhile - I want you to sort this dirty business you have going on with your assistants. You want a whore? You could at least pay them for being your whore.” she spat in disgrace.

Maxwell knew his mother didn’t mean her words and the last thing she would want is her son frolicking around with someone who he paid for sex and sex only. She wanted him to find a suitor who was just as wealthy and well respected as him. 

However it did strike him with an idea. What if he were to hire someone who could be there for him whenever he needed that release? His assistant’s were on thin ice and he understood that there was always the potential of an impending lawsuit. That would be more than damaging to his reputation.

He needed someone new. Someone who would be more than happy with satisfying his sexual desires. Someone he could easily come to a mutual agreement with him. He’d have his lawyer draft a contract. But it wouldn’t be easy. If it got out to the public - that Maxwell Lord was looking for a partner just to simply gratify his sexual needs - the tabloids would eat him up. Luckily, Maxwell Lord was cunning, scheming, and he had the perfect idea.

❆❆❆

Taglist: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-way

[anonymous0writer]

Dial Tones II JJ Maybank

Author: @anonymous0writer​

Warnings: Alcohol use. Some bad self image. All characters have been made 18+ and for this, I imagined them in college and living on their own.

Requested: Yes!

“Omg I would love it if you wrote for the obx cast! You are such a talented writer! And you are definitely not annoying anyone with the spamming. You are filling the void during this quarantine ❤️ could I also request a songfic for JJ x reader based off 3 AM by Halsey?”

A/N: I love Halsey, and these songfics are giving me life. Ugh, I love writing based off songs sm. Also, anon, you are an angel! <3

This is really sad, like super sad I was like shit, girl you need help when writing, and the reader has kinda a lot of issues, but I was going off the lyrics. 

Song lyrics look like this

Darling, I just left the bar And I've misplaced all my credit cards My self preservation and all of my reservations Are sitting and contemplatin' what to do with me, do with me

You stumble, blinded by the alcohol surging in your veins. Your hands dart out, catching your fall as you lean against the brick wall of the bar. The rough building material scratches at your hands. You take a deep breath, smiling like a fool due the one thing and one thing only. The heavy intake of sharp alcohol. Tomorrow you’d be in a world of hurt, but your brain was too muddled and everything seemed too light for you to worry about it.

At the back of your mind hung the memories and words you tried to push away so desperately. The words that made you tip the shot back a little farther. There was nothing in particular, but every relationship, every emotion hinged onto them were enough to make you want to pass out drunk. 

A sob rises in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision going blurry. The shapes of cars speeding past and the silhouettes of people blur, the edges bleeding like water to ink.

The pads of your fingers scrape against the brick, making them go raw as you stumble along the wall, fighting the sobs and the storm of feelings catching up to you. This was the exact thing you tried to hold back, but the laughs turned into cries so easily it was hard to tell which one was which.

Think I took it way too far And I'm stumbling drunk, getting in a car

You fumbled for the keys to your car, tears burning at the back of your eyes. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wince as the car’s light flashes and cut into the fog of your brain, searing through your thoughts. You took it too far this time. Drunk too much, drowned your storm of thoughts and feelings in the deeper pit. You had fallen off the edge too many times and here you were, fumbling to get the car door open just to sit in it and cry. 

Of course you took it too far. Isn’t that what you always did? 

My insecurities are hurting me Someone, please come and flirt with me I really need a mirror that'll come along and tell me that I'm fine

You glared, eyebrows slanting over your eyes. Nasty thoughts relating to your body or personality attacked, burning your skin as they hit. They were like mosquitoes, nasty and just there to feed. And of course, you could only stop a few until you gave up, waking up the next morning with the aftermath marring your skin. 

The mirror stared back at you, your twin glittering in the light. The girl was glaring back, equally mad about the way you looked. About the way your hips curved in the dress, and the way your stomach popped out, dress doing nothing to smooth over it.

You closed your eyes, feet curling into the carpet as you twisted around, refusing to continue searching for imperfections. You just needed to get to the club, see your friends and find a half drunk man to flirt with to forget the girl in the mirror. 

I do it every time I keep on hanging on the line Ignoring every warning sign Come on and make me feel alright again

“No, don’t do it,” Kiara shook her head, watching you with saddened eyes as your phone was clutched in your hand. His familiar name and face was waiting to be summoned as your finger hovered over the call button. 

Your jaw flickered as you debated. The few shots in your system said hell yes, the broken part of yourself asked to hear his words in a small voice as the sober you screamed not to. It wasn’t smart, that was sure, but you couldn't help the need to hear the gruffness of his voice when he woke up, or the softness of his voice when he was tired, or the smirk in his words as he eyed you. You felt the need to hear his voice and picture him as he talked to you, only for him to hang up too soon and a hollow feeling pooling in the cavity of your chest. 

You didn’t even process it as your finger pressed on the screen and the call was dialing, waiting on the edge of your seat to see if he’d even pick up. 

You ignored Kiara’s cry of protest and Sarah’s huff of pity. You didn’t want to see the look on their faces as he hung up and left you worse than before. You didn’t want to feel the way Sarah slid her arm over your shoulders and pulled you close. You didn’t want to hear the soft words from Kie’s mouth, telling you to move on and find another one. Because if you found someone else, they’d just do what every other man did. Love and leave. Love and leave. It was a vicious circle, but it was easier to fall back into the routine of drunk calling him instead of having your hope rise as you found another. So you ignored the warning signs. 

You snapped back as the dial tone rang into your ear, stark and buzzing. He let it run through.

'Cause it's 3am And I'm calling everybody that I know And here we go again While I'm running through the numbers in my phone

You were seated in your bed, hair messy and clothes in disarray from the constant tossing and turning as your brain wouldn’t turn off. So you restored into what you always did. Call. Phone in front of you, screen glaring its ugly light to illuminate your face. Hands shaking as they reached for the next number. Which you paid attention to. You’d always call, still in your thoughts or exhausted when you ran through the list of numbers. But you were always alert when your finger passed over his number. 

Your eyes stared so hard at the ten digits they swum across the screen. You blinked, eyelashes brushing against your pale cheeks. Your fingers reached for the call button, hands trembling like they always did this late. 

The pad of your finger touched the number. Your room swelled with the ring of the dial tone, and you held your breath. Hoping.

I need it digital 'Cause, baby, when it's physical I end up alone, end up alone

“Hello?” His voice broke through the calm of your room, making your eyes dart to the screen. He had picked up.

 “Hi,” Your voice rose and broke, the quiver of your hands seeping into your voice. 

“Y/N.” 

His voice sounded tired and disappointed. He wasn’t happy to see you calling- not like the way your heart rose when it showed he picked up. Your face fell, heart crashing into your stomach, the remainder of your barely intact heart falling to pieces, joining the graveyard of the others. You swallowed, emotions bubbling in you so fast it made you dizzy. 

“I’m sorry,” You words were whispered, barely carrying through the phone meeting his ear. “I’m so sorry.” 

By now you didn’t even know what you were apologizing for. Forcing him away? Calling him repeatedly? When you were drunk? When you were plagued with your own mind? For begin so easy to break? For giving him a broken heart? For not being able to love yourself no matter what anyone thought? For letting your thoughts kill you slowly? For scaring him off? No matter what it was, you were sorry.

“Stop.” He begged, and your glassy eyes snapped to the phone. Your trembling hands clenched the sheets. “Please stop. Don’t do this again.” 

Another ‘sorry’ escaped your lips. 

“Stop crying, Y/N. Pick yourself up. Move on. Take care of yourself and get help.” The familiar soothe of his words easing your mind and heart. Your thoughts dropped, recoiling away into the corners of your mind. Your lips parted but no words came spilling. 

“You need to help yourself. You have to stop throwing yourself into relationships when you’re so broken. Y/N, please.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed and you took in his words, letting them soak into your skin, soothing the burns of your destructive thoughts, holding up the broken parts of your heart and making you warm. The power of his voice was enough to allow you to sleep. But his voice faded and he hung up. The call ended, leaving you laying on your back, blankets surrounding you in a halo, eyes staring at your ceiling blankly. Breathes pulling and exiting your chest, making a soft hum in the dead quiet of your darkened room. 

Loving someone in the real light. Physically, mentally- that was hard. Digitally was easier, allowing you to have some distance. Phone calls and texts allowed you to not throw your shit on them. No matter what you did. No matter the calls or the hugs- you always ended up in your room, breathing shallow and wall the only thing entertaining. You always ended up alone.

Every night I wanna live in color through a white-blue screen I got a technicolor vision going vivid in my white-blue jeans I know it's complicated 'cause everyone that I've dated Says they hate it 'cause they don't know what to do with me, do with me

Nights were the best and worst. Early nights, where you danced your feet sore, sang your throat raw and drank your brain fuzzy. But late nights were the opposite. Staring the ceiling until your eyes unfocused, listening to the stuffy silence, the dial tone ringing in your ears along with the countless calls not taken.

But tonight was a good night. Kie and Sarah were with you, laughter and fun in higher doses than the alcohol. You three were crammed into the dance floor, the music so loud it was practically pulsing through the floor, making the vibrations shiver in your bones. 

The lights of the club were alive and bright, the colors flashing and moving to the beat of the music, casting shadows and lights across your skin. Red and blue and then purple danced across your body, chased by the slashes of orange and the dots of yellow. 

You loved living like this, the beat of the music in your bones, the colors of the lights flashing across your skin in wild patterns. When you danced with your best friends, laughter loud and smiles true bright. 

But you usually weren’t like this. You liked the calm of the take out sitting on your balcony and staring at the city. You were complicated and what you liked changed all the time. You would want to stay out all night for a second, and the next you’d want to curl up in bed and watch movies. Your mind flipped and switched constantly, confusing the boys in your life. You were complicated. And they hated it. Hated the way you changed your mind and were so broken. And they made sure you knew it. They didn’t know what to do with your changing mind and dark thoughts and broken heart. So they did what the last one did. Left.

I need it digital 'Cause baby when it's physical I end up alone

You smiled softly, your tears drying and the edges of your mouth tilting up. You sniffle and listen to the video over, hands easing in their constant shaking. You closed your eyes, listening to the hum of his laugh and the crinkle of his eyes as he grinned. You opened your eyes again, watching the clip with a bittersweet taste on your tongue.

The camera flipped and dropped as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you into his lap as you giggled. 

“JJ!” Your voice was high and bursting with joy. His face was lost into the crook of your neck, and when he looked up, his eyes found the camera. 

Your breath shortened at the light hitting his eyes and lighting up the cerulean color. His eyes were beautiful. 

The boy reached forward, “Are you taping me, baby?” You giggled and tried to wiggle out of his grip. 

You jumped up, and the boy pouted. “Where you goin’, pretty girl?”

“I have your gift!” You grinned, and the camera showed off JJ, his hair somewhat tamed and his lips tugging into a grin. 

The camera flashed as you quickly got the small, gray box. You shoved the small gift into his hands and urged him to open it. 

“Open it, J!” You urged, the camera still focused on him and his anticipated reaction. You held your breath as his quick hands worked on the ribbon. It came undone, falling to the floor as the boy eased the box open. 

In it lay a shark tooth necklace, carefully coiled. JJ’s grin widens, splitting across his face and you clap your hands, the camera shaking. 

“Do you like it?” You ask as his fingers undo the tight coil and play with the beads. His eyes flicker up to meet yours. 

“Of course. I love it.” He grins and loops the necklace around his neck. 

You close your eyes as the video continues, loud laughter and admiration from the blue eyed boy playing loudly. You soak in the loud laughter of a happier time. You wonder briefly if he still wears the necklace, or if he even still has it. You’d given it to him after he admitted how ‘badass a shark tooth would look’ around his neck. 

You open your eyes, a small tear trickling from your eye and making a small river down the plain of your cheek. Your eyes find the video, where it stops on JJ’s face, grin wide and teeth flashing, eyes lit by the sunlight and a new necklace worn proudly around his throat.

You stare at it, marveling over that time. 

He really was everything.

[mymindwide]

Madness

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 3464

Warning: jealousy, angst, feelings, smut with fingering, male receiving blowjob, riding and fluff. A little from everything.

Summary: You started out as part time lovers, but maybe one of you want more?

Author’s note: The inspiration behind this piece was a part of the lyrics of the song - Escape from LA by The Weeknd.

She pulled up to the studio Nobody's watching She closed the door and then she locked it For me, for me We had sex in the studio Nobody walked in I cut my verse and then she popped it For me, for me

...

She got Chrome Hearts hangin' from her neck And them shits going wild When she ride, she hold tight She gon' ride 'til sweat fall down her spine

My beautiful angel, my nr. 1 supporter, my partner in hoeing @littledrummerangie (aka @littledrummeraussie) asked me/convinced me to post this. If you’ll like it, thank her. Take care and enjoy your read.

*****

“Should we maybe test it together?” his eyes bored into yours leaving no doubt about his intentions.

“Lead the way, handsome…” came the immediate response from you, as you slithered your hand in his leaving no doubt for him about your consent.

The offering referred to the club’s renovated bathroom where the two of you locked yourself up.

That’s how it all started, how you ended up on the counter of the VIP club’s bathroom, your skirt rolled up to your waist, your panties pulled aside, being fucked by a handsome stranger you just met but immediately found a mutual point regarding why you visited the club in the first place.

None of you thought it could be more than a one night stand, but you officially became fuck buddies. Both of you went there to have fun and find someone who could possibly help release the tension and stress that slowly aggregated in you and couldn’t find a quick way out for lack of a partner. You thought you’d just “fallen in love” for that particular night but it was good enough for both of you that you changed numbers and agreed on that you have to repeat it sometime in the future. But your second quickie was followed by another and then another one…

Actually you were surprised how easily and smoothly you came to terms over what you two had – high-class sex, no strings attached. It is what it is, without complications. You enjoyed each other’s company and body and with that you took everything the other could offer. As it turned out on the day of your acquaintance in the club, both of your latest failed relationships taught you enough to not get involved in anything serious, at least for now, and this was good enough for the both of you. The only rule you insisted on was that there are no rules. You called or texted each other whenever you needed each other, but otherwise everyone could go on their separate way, and do whatever they wish with whoever they please.

Over the course of your ongoing fuck buddiness various locations provided a safe place for you to luxuriate your desires - sometimes he invited you to his home, sometimes it was you who had him up to your flat, but if you lost the fight against your eagerness, on several occasions you did it in his car as well – all in the name of mutual agreement of the friends with benefits state, except that you couldn’t even be called friends. You talked, of course, beside the sex, and you know little things about the other, but serious or deep things? Heaven-shattering big secrets? Not so much.

And this is exactly why you were so surprised by your own reaction at finding out that most likely your part time lover has someone else to have fun with. It’s been a pleasant Friday afternoon, you were spending your lunch-break sitting on the terrace of your favorite restaurant at noon having just finished with your lunch, when surfing through the daily news at the tabloid section you found paparazzi pictures of Ashton with a seemingly nice-looking girl while they’re having breakfast and coffee, smiling and laughing. You felt a strange grip in your heart - a painful reminder of something you tried to push back into the depths of your mind, something you didn’t want to acknowledge, something that you realized just recently yourself. That although according to your agreement you’d have had every opportunity and right to meet or date other men, you didn’t. You simply weren’t interested in anyone else, because he was completely enough for you. He takes good care of your physical needs; he is smart, handsome and has a sense of humor that just cannot be competed with. The long and short of it, he’s a decent guy you could imagine more with, if you weren’t so disappointed in your previous affairs or relationships. This was too good with Ashton to ruin it. You needed him in your life. But it looks like you are not enough. Again...

You haven’t seen him in a week cuz they started working in the studio on their upcoming material, so much you know. You missed him, which was already a warning sign for you about your possibly changing feelings, but for this particular reason you wanted to give him even more space than he already has based on your very open and sex oriented relationship. No calls, no texts, no requests for impromptu meetings. You lost all your concentration skills for the rest of the day and you thank god that you have a pretty silent afternoon in the office. Your mind had been clouded with questions like ‘why’ and ‘what can that girl give him that you can’t’? Thoughts and images of your encounters torture you that also can’t give you reassuring answers to your constantly popping up questions.

When you close your eyes you hear yourself chanting his name after your second or third orgasm he gave you…; you hear him praising God while you suck him off; you hear him whispering ‘how much I love fucking your tight little pussy’ in your ear while you’re on all fours in front of him; and you just love him doing exactly that. God, how much you love his dirty mouth, sometimes you think you could just get off simply by hearing him talking dirty, because he’s that good with his words… Sex works perfectly between you two and you understand each other on the little things you share with the other. The unanswered questions riled you up so much that a thought has planted itself in your mind. You’ll show him. If this is the last thing you two will do, you’ll show him what he’ll miss and beg back.

You drove home and picked out your sexiest short mini dress with a very nice cleavage that does justice to your breasts he loves oh so much. ‘They are wonderful, my angel’ Ash’s words echoes in your mind as the image of his lips closing on your hardened nipples runs in front of your mind’s eye. To the picture in your head a familiar ache would start to build in your core but your anger and desperation is stronger now. So the dress is on, lingerie is not… You spray on from his favorite perfume and get in your car again to drive a good twenty minutes to the studio they use and he showed you once.

It’s kinda late now when you arrive, you assume they are about to finish their day and it turns out you’re not wrong as you bump into the other three guys in front of a door that has a red flashing RECORDING sign above. Three very surprised pairs of eyes looked you up and down.

“Hey guys… Is Ashton here?” your eyes have scanned the hallway behind the three men.

“Sweetie, fans are not allowed here. How did you…?” a scruffy faced blond guy questioned you, who you know for a fact is called Michael.

“Oh, I’m not a fan,” you interrupt Mikey immediately, “I mean, I like your music, you are great and all, but I’m really just here to see Ash” you tried to remain as calm as possible seeing their confusion getting bigger.

You’re not surprised the slightest bit that they have no idea who you are. But you’ve been doing this for almost four months now and they are not suspecting anything? Now that amazes you. Ash is very clever at keeping things private, except when it comes to breakfast dates with pretty blond girls. This tiny fact just adds to your growing inner fury.

“Guys, are we gonna leave...” the door has opened and Ash’s words stuck in his throat the second he saw you standing in the hallway with his bandmates.

You can see the surprise in his eyes as he’s still taking your sight in, but you’re not the only one, the other three looked at him and then each other, possibly considering calling the security on you, but fortunately Ash could sense this and with finally opening his mouth he prevented further unwanted complications.

“Y/N…” at least those three worried eyes could see he knows your name, so probably you’re not a random stranger from the street.

“Can we talk?” your voice remained soft, but your eyes mirrored sadness and impatience and he could read that that second.

“It’s okay guys. See ya tomorrow.”

After a ‘Tomorrow’ a ‘See ya’ and a suspicious ‘I’ll call you later’ from each of them, they left you two there not taking the trouble to say a single word to you. If you weren’t in this stormy state of mind you’d let yourself be moved over the fact how cute is that these young adult men are worried about their brother.

The door has been closed behind you and you turned back to turn the lock shut making sure no one can disturb your rendezvous. You walked towards him without saying a word, your eyes refused to leave his, and you saw he probably would have liked to say or rather ask something but his eyes wandered on you - exactly the effect you wanted to go for with that dress.

Tiptoeing you cupped his cheeks in your hands and captured his lips with yours in a feverish manner, and his in response jump automatically onto your hips. Your hands don’t spend too much time on his face as they slide down his chest and reaching between you, you start to unbuckle his belt.

Ashton pulls away just enough to ask ‘What is going on’, which comes out rather breathy, and your hands halts for a second on his zipper while you answer a quick ‘I need you’ back to cut your conversation short, and seeing the desperation in your eyes he decides not to force it for now, just give himself in to whatever you’re about to do – which he has an idea for as your hand slide in his boxer and your warm palm wraps around his still limp member to free it.

No matter how worked up or angry you are, in its weird twisted way what you were about to do turned you on and holding his soft cock in your hand figuratively made your mouth water. You dropped yourself on your knees in front of him and pushed him in your mouth immediately, you wanted to enjoy his softness and that this way he still fits fully and perfectly in, which will change as soon as you’ll start sucking him, so you wanted to lengthen and luxuriate these moments a bit. Especially as this is probably your last opportunity to do this to him, to hear those beautiful and breathy moans. Because if your suspicion proves to be true, no matter what you agreed on at the beginning of your “relationship”, you have changed your mind, and don’t want to share him with anyone. Then that’s it for you, you’re ready to walk away.

You started with slow movements, just suck him in and pull him out as your lips brushing against his shaft until he hardened enough; then you let your tongue play along his velvety skin leaving open mouth kisses on his shaft while palming his balls for the better and quicker effect. When his tip started releasing his pre cum, you happily smeared it on his tip with the circular motions of your tongue while looking straight in his eyes receiving the same admiration and lust you’ve seen every single time you did this to him. The only difference had been that his hands are resting on the mixing desk grabbing onto its edge instead of being buried in your hair guiding your movements and praising your lips wrapping so perfectly around his cock. He really is a clever guy, and respects that for now you are in control, he most likely sees that you are in need of it, and he’ll do whatever you give permission for.

You made this blowjob sloppy for him to slick him up enough and reaching the desired condition you pulled him off of your mouth and standing up quickly you pushed him by his chest until he bumped the couch with the back of his legs and dropped down onto it. You straddled him but before lowering yourself on him he asked something for the first time during your studio invasion.

“Can I touch you?” his voice surprisingly insecure as his hands rested on your bare knees.

You looked him in the eye and just nodded, although for a quick moment you played with the thought of saying no just out of some sort of punishment.

His hands slithered up on your thighs; one reaching and grabbing your round butt, the other one slid between your legs to palm your pussy just to find out you have no panties on. A smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth but didn’t comment on the surprise, just stroked his fingers along your already wet lips making you even wetter as his fingertips circled your entrance. None of you saw what he was doing as the skirt part of your dress has covered both your lower half and his hands, and this just doubled your excitement feeling how skillful he is. By now he more or less knows your own body as well as you do.

Holding onto his shoulders you leaned your forehead against his as he expertly pushed two fingers inside you, starting fingering you slowly. His motions were sensual and you whined and writhed on his hand already regretting that you let him do this to you making you just more aroused, aching for feeling something bigger inside.  

You felt yourself close to cum on his fingers and that reminded you why you are here in the first place. A part of you wanted to go on to chase that first orgasm, but another part of you wanted to fuel your anger that feeds upon your betrayed heart, even if you’re perfectly aware that it’s not Ashton’s fault, he just grabbed the opportunity your agreement provided for him.

Reaching down you got hold of his hand and without explaining yourself, slowly pushed it away while your other hand let go of his shoulder as you slightly rose on your knees to reach behind you and take his cock in your hand, pump it a few times and finally position him right under your entrance. As you slowly and carefully sat yourself back on him, the incomparable feeling of his shaft stretching you engulfed you making you throw your head back with a half-suffocated whine torn out of your throat. He slipped his hands under your dress to grab onto your butt and a low ‘Fuck’ left his mouth when he felt how deep he is inside you as you went all the way down to make him bottom out.

“The way you take me…” escaped his lips and you just bit on your lower lip as you weren’t exactly in a chatty mood, but his compliments and praises always appealed to you.

Your hands found their support on the back of his biceps as you started fucking him with a quick and harsh zest, grinding your hips on his for getting the most friction you can just have. You were bouncing up and down on his cock and he watched your clothed breasts precisely follow the intensity of your movements, your hard nipples darting out the fabric of the dress, sweat fallen down your spine. You could see in the way he looked at your heaving chest that he’s fighting the urge to touch your tits, to get them out of the cruel imprisonment of your dress.

However your own completion wasn’t priority in this current situation yet you got closer and closer to it and listening to Ash’s groans and the way he was taking breath, he was close too and his voice always added to your own pleasure, it could singlehandedly push you over that particular edge. As your moans got louder and more frequent, your arms wrapped around his neck, your temple pushed against his, and you gave yourself in to the feeling; his hands on your butt and his own moans in your ear encouraged you to let go. As your walls started to squeeze around his thick cock, your climax washed over you; closing your eyes, one of your hands slid down to the side of his neck as your lips brushed against his ear. In that moment his fingertips pushed into the soft flesh of your butt, his lips captured your earlobe, teeth slightly scratching the skin as he released his cum inside of you followed by a faint groan.

Your hips slowed down to a full stop and you two spent a few moments in silence to catch your breaths, foreheads touching and only your heavy breathing could be heard in the soundproof room. You rose just enough to pull him out and sat back on his lap.

“Now would you tell me what this was really about?” his index finger reached under your chin to gently tilt your head in order for your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Do you… erm... Are you seeing someone? I mean besides me” you don’t know what he could hear out of your voice but it sounded sad and ashamed even for you.

“No” came the surprised but firm and peremptory response immediately.

“Ash… I know I have absolutely no right…”

“No, I’m not lying to you. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then who was that girl you had breakfast with at the Breakfast House this morning?” you left a few seconds time for him to react but he was just staring at you like someone who had been caught, so you continued. “By the way, she’s beautiful, really. And I know I have absolutely no ground to even ask this from you since we agreed on no rules. But… Fuck it, it’s all the same now. A few weeks ago I started just realizing that I think of you more often. I’ve been out and saw something and my first thought was that ‘Ash would like this’. I tried to coerce these thoughts because you and I both hurt enough, but I had to admit, at least to myself, that I want you. I want more of you… not just the sex” you shyly played with the bottom of his t-shirt, but as you looked back up at him, you could see his lips slowly forming into a smile.

“Are you jealous?”

“Maybe I am, yes” your eyes poured out lightnings seeing that reckless and smug smile spreading on his face.

“You know, you’re not wrong. She’s really beautiful, indeed. She grew out to be a gorgeous woman,” his smile just grew bigger as he saw your puzzled expression. “But she’s my sister, Y/N.”

“Lauren Rose?”

“She’s here to visit some friends, and it turned out I could be grateful that she found a few hours in her strict schedule to meet his older brother at all” he chuckled.

“I’m an idiot” you leaned your forehead against his collarbone.

“No you’re not” he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. This is the very first time you two did this. And weirdly it feels incredibly intimate now. “Actually… I have no idea how much longer I could have waited to confess the same feelings to you… feelings I also carried for weeks now.”

“Why- why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in awe as your thumb drew soft circles on his hand.

“You seemed so persistent on the no relationship thing that I thought if I bring this up, I’ll lose you. And that was the last thing I wanted to risk…” hearing this confession your hand reached out to caress his face and you leaned in to kiss him gently. “I didn’t want to lose this… whatever we have. What do we have, Y/N?”

“Each other, I guess” you smile at him. “So… can we give this… us a chance?

“I’d like it very much. And you know what else I’d like? To take you out on a date. A real date.”

“I’d be very much into that. After changing into something drier. And cleaner…” hearing that he kisses into your neck smiling.

“Are you free tonight?” he grinned.

“I don’t know… I’ll ask my boyfriend. He’s a famous rockstar, you know…” you cupped his face in your hands and immersed in a gentle kiss that meant a new beginning for both of you.

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

Malex week day seven: au day - I needed a few days before I felt good about posting this but here it is. I’d be happy to add on to this au so feel free to send prompts! I have plenty of ideas but not enough time to write them all right now.

Welcome to Roswell

Michael had never really felt welcomed anywhere. He certainly didn’t feel welcomed by the alien theme sign mocking him as he drove into the city limits. He hadn’t spent enough time here as a kid to form much of an opinion, but from everything he’s heard, he’s fairly certain he hates it already.

The drive from Albuquerque was full of doubt. Who’s to say Max and Isobel even still lived there. He’d spent the last ten years trying to call on the connection they’d once shared only to be met with silence. Who’s to say they’d even remember them.

Driving past that sign, everything changed. What came on as a ringing in his ears gradually faded to a gentle hum full of warmth and an anxious excitement as he continued down the streets littered with alien attractions. They were here and they could feel him too. They hadn’t forgotten.

Knowing it was a school day, Michael makes a list of things to accomplish before the reunion that would have to be postponed a few more hours. Now that he knows they’re here, he’ll need to find a job and a place to park his truck at night. If he can manage to squeeze in a shower somewhere, even better.

He drives around for almost an hour before finding the auto shop on the outskirts of town. It’s a small, run-down garage sat on a large yard full of beat-up cars and other miscellaneous parts. He thinks his truck might blend in nicely, the peeling red paint and rusted hubcaps sitting nicely amongst the other junk. First, he needs to convince them to give him a job.

He drives onto the dusty lot, parking behind an old jeep. His boots hit the ground for the first time since he’d left his foster parent’s house that morning, dirt wisping up around his heels and a dull ache running up his legs. A cursory look at the front office window shows no help wanted sign, so Michael prepares to lean into all of his charms. He doesn’t have many other skills outside of taking things apart and putting them back together so this place is pretty much his only shot.

The bell above the door gives a feeble ring as he enters. He takes an involuntary step back as a kid around his age brushes past him at the same time. The guy has black hair worn in short spikes and a nose piercing, not to mention the all black wardrobe despite the desert sun shining high over their heads. Michael thinks he even spots a bit of eyeliner as he passes. Even so, there is really no other way to describe him than pretty, and Michael can’t keep his eyes off of him as he gets into his jeep and tears out of there without even a glance backward.

Shaking his head, Michael turns back to finish entering the crowded space made narrower with the endless piles of invoices and precariously stacked boxes of car parts. A man looks up from the front desk, his greying hair falling onto the patch covering his right eye while the left scrutinizes Michael from head to toe.

“You Sanders?”

“Who’s askin’?” The man goes back to his paperwork but something in the gruff tone of his voice tells Michael he’s intrigued enough that he should continue.

“I’m looking for a job; wondered if you’re hiring.” With nowhere to sit, or even anything to really lean against, Michael shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

The man glances up again, eye narrowing as he thinks. “You got any experience? I don’t have time to be doing any teaching.”

Michael smiles, standing tall. “I built my truck out there,” he nods over his shoulder toward the glass door. “I know what I’m doing.”

The man, who Michael assumes is Sanders, moves quickly toward the door. Michael spins to follow, hurrying to pop the hood when he’s directed to do so, fidgeting again as Sanders assesses his work.

“Where’d you come from kid?” The hood slams under Sanders’ hands. “I’m the only yard around and I’ve never seen ya.”

“Albequerque.” Michael can appreciate that this is a man of few words.

“Hmm,” Sanders leans against the truck, his good eye looking him over again. “Your parents ok with you havin’ a job?”

“Wouldn’t know,” he challenges. “I aged out of the system today. I don’t have anyone to report to anymore.”

“And your first thought was to come on down to Roswell?” Anger settles into the lines of his face. “You’re not one of those alien fanatics are ya?”

Michael can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles up in his throat. “Definitely not. I’ve got friends here. Seemed as good a place as any.”

“Alright,” Sanders nods, straightens up, and heads back toward the door. “You start tomorrow.”

Startled, Michael swings around to face his retreating back. “Really? Thanks.”

Sanders waves a dismissive hand, the bell ringing as he opens the doors. “Yeah, yeah,” Michael hears as the door swings shut.

-:-

Alex pretends to listen as Mrs. Perez drones on about whatever author they’re covering right now. He knows he should care, knows he shouldn’t be mentally counting the days until his birthday when he can finally leave this town behind him. It doesn’t stop him from sitting despondently in the back of the classroom writing lyrics instead of notes in the margins of his worksheet.

“Mr. Evans,” Mrs. Perez says with such disappointment towards her star pupil that even Alex looks up. Max stands in the doorway looking genuinely sheepish. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Perez. I was picking up our new student from the front office.” Max steps inside as the room comes to life with the news of a new student. Small towns are nothing if not cliched after all.

Following Max is a guy with wild curls and a smile that does something to Alex’s gut. Alex stomps down on it as soon as it takes root. There is no time for fun stomach feelings when he is so close to bailing.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Guerin,” Mrs. Perez smiles; her kind, motherly face now welcoming. “Thank you, Mr. Evans, please take your seat. Mr. Guerin, come here.”

Max bumps his shoulder against Guerin’s in a friendly and familiar gesture that causes the whispers to grow louder as he moves to take his seat in the front row.

“Class,” Mrs. Perez calls, “class, please give Mr. Guerin your attention. Mr. Guerin, why don’t you tell us something about yourself.”

“Um, hi, I’m Michael,” he starts, eyes wide against the curious gaze of their peers. “I just moved here from Albuquerque.” An awkward silence settles over the room as Mrs. Perez unhelpfully nods for him to continue while the poor guy is clearly searching for more to say.

A smile crosses Michael’s face that has that funny feeling valiantly shoving against Alex’s resistance. “I’m really into physics and math but both of those APs were full so here I am.”

Alex smirks as the rest of the class, mostly the girls, laugh. The new guy is smart, funny, and cute; a combination that will ensure his popularity, and when his eyes meet Alex’s across the room and his smile only grows, Alex knows that all his plans for indifference and coasting by until graduation are no longer a viable option.

He is so screwed.

[finleyjayne]

Living a Lie: Chapter 2

Thank you for everyone who helped with this fic, including the fantastic @2smittinkittin​, the wonderful beta for this chapter, and @kittykatlow​, who is still forever supportive.

Summary: Penelope Grace Darling: the name you live by, the only name the world remembers. That doesn’t keep the memories of Y/N out of your head. All you ever wanted to do was create a better world. You thought you were doing that until some unexpected visitors to your hometown turn your world upside down. Can you leave your past behind you in order to keep your loved ones safe? Or will your fragmented memories keep you from the truth?

Pairings: Past Winter Soldier/Reader, Plus sized!Reader. Slow burn Bucky Barnes/ Reader.

Warnings: Dub/Noncon, Rape, Kidnapping, human trafficking (referenced), Underage Rape, Swearing, PTSD, Anxiety attacks, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Non-consenting drug use, underage Drug use, Violence, Domestic Violence, I’m trying to remember what else comes later in the series.

This is a Dark Fic if you don’t like it, Don’t Read It!

Chapter 1

Looking genuinely confused as you try to place the name with the context, your eyes flipping between the four people who were now staring at you. Three highly amused with your confusion and one completely flabbergasted. “Daisy calm down a bit? I am apparently missing something here, and you yelling is definitely not helping me piece it together.”

  At this, Clint bends over himself, clutching his sides as his laughter rips through his chest. What a sexy laugh? Even though it’s at my expense. Nat smirks a little longer than her usual quick flashes. Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, extends her hand, “Hello, My name is Wanda, but I’m usually more recognized by my superhero name: The Scarlet Witch. These are my teammates and friends, Natasha, or The Black Widow, and Clint, also known as Hawkeye. It’s very nice to meet you, Penelope. We definitely appreciate the help with the shoes.”

As her sentences click in your brain, your eyes grow as big as your glasses’ rims. Your jaw pops open, “Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, too?” You say with a nervous laugh, well, this is embarrassing. “Thank you for coming into our store. Daisy, don’t do anything stupid. I’m going to go grab my purse, and then I’m going to lunch.” you face still plastered with saucer-sized eyes as you slip through the curtains.

How could I not know who they were? I know I use Daisy and Bruce as my source of current events, but I should at least know the Avengers’ faces. You grab your purse, slinging it across your body before proceeding out the front door toward the little corner bakery. At least I didn’t act like a complete fool. Daisy is probably freaking out. I shouldn’t have left her alone with them, she’s going to eat them alive. Who am I kidding? They’ll be fine, they are the Avengers, they can handle an over-excited almost adult. 

Thankfully, lunch and the rest of your shift flew by without any other famous guests. Your nerves were on the fritz, though; it felt as if someone was watching you. No matter what you did, You just couldn’t relax. Every movement drew your attention. Every sound made you flinch. As Bruce came through the door, you burst at the seams with the need to make your escape. You threw a passing goodbye to your boss as you jogged to your car, not even sparing a moment to change the radio back to a public station. You were out of the parking lot and on the road in seconds, causing Gertrude to complain loudly. Fighting off the sharp edges of the panic that blistered your mind. Within two blocks, you were pulled over, hand clawing at your chest, sight wavering as you throw Gertrude into park. Before you can even think about counting the rails in the fence, your vision is black. 

“Пожалуйста, прекратите! [Please stop!]” The high-pitched scream echoes through the small, dark room. “Вам не нужно этого делать [You don’t need to do this].” a shock of pain courses over your back as a second resounding crack follows. 

“Тишина [SILENCE],” comes the cold order. “Вы говорите, когда я хочу, чтобы вы говорите! [You speak when I want you to speak!]” two more cracks and, after a second, two more blazing paths are scorching your skin. Confusion is mixed into the muddled neurons of your brain as you hear the metal door sliding open. 

Cautiously you lift your eyes, peering over your shoulder, only to be met by another crack that catches you across the cheek. With another bloodcurdling scream, you fall onto your freshly whipped back. Holding a cuffed hand to your sliced cheek, you meet the coldest pair of steel-blue eyes you have ever seen. “Этого достаточно. Они готовы к этому. [That’s enough. They are ready for it]” came the icy baritone through the black mask. 

    Your assailant scowls at the man. “Пациент не готов. [The subject is not ready]”

    The empty-eyed man ignores him as he steps closer to you. “Они готовы [they are ready],” he repeats. He reaches for your arm mechanically. It was as if he was only going through the motions without knowing what he was doing.

     You flinch from his extended right hand, cowering away. “Вам не нужно этого делать [You don’t need to do this].” comes the pleading voice that you realize is coming from you. 

     He continues forward, dragging you out of the room to the scream of the man you left behind. “Она не твоя [She is not yours]!”

     Sobbing into the steering wheel of your beloved clunker, you hold onto your thick sides. The black-rimmed, ice-filled eyes continue to hover in your peripheral as you come out of the onslaught of memories. It’s not real, I am in Utah, they are not here, he is not here. I am safe. Coulson promised I am safe. After eight more deep breaths, your thoughts are cut off by a peppy, upbeat melody sung by a flowy lyric-soprano. “I know you can hear this Penny, so pick up, or I’ll sing it higher.” As the melody repeats for the third time, you scramble to pick your phone up. 

    “Delilah, I hope you realize that the ringtone you made me is, in fact, the cruelest practical joke anyone has ever succeeded in pulling.” You snip the need to portray normalcy coming through in your irritation at one of your best friends. 

    “I loooove you too, darling.” came the cloying giggle from the other end of the line. “Taylor and I were just talking about the Stark expo that is opening tonight. Also, we haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Please save me from going to this thing without you. You can interpret Tay’s wild ramblings for me, and you can get out of that dungeon you call a bedroom for a night! It’ll be fun! Pleeeeeeeease~.” 

You can see the bright amber puppy-dog eyes she was giving you through the phone. There was no way she would let you off the hook if Taylor was dragging her to the Expo. Knowing Taylor, they had probably pre-ordered three VIP passes months ago and had been secretly geeking out since, waiting to haul us to their favorite displays and setting up the perfect itinerary. But also in their excitement, forgot to tell us about it until now.  

With a sigh, you throw your head back onto the headrest. “I’m going whether or not I want to, aren’t I?”

“You know us so well,” came Taylor’s dark-tenor chuckle through the speaker. 

“Well, I’m headed to my appointment up there right now. If you want to meet me at the east entrance of the Salt Palace afterward...” You resign, glancing at the radio clock in the dash. “I should be done by the time you get there, but I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” Delilah squeals, and Tay’s hums in contentment. 

“See you there,” they both reply. “Drive safe, Drive smart.”

“You too. I’d suggest taking Trax if you can. The parking is gonna be a nightmare. I can take y’all home when we’re done.”

“Sounds like a plan. See you there,” Tay calls through Lila’s squeals before hanging up.

Staring blankly through the window for a minute before turning on the radio and making your way back into heavy Utah traffic.  

An hour later, you pull into the large parking structure, running out of the car and into the blazing summer heat. Fucking Utah drivers. Unable to go a single day without causing some sort of preventable crash. Bursting into the large hospital, you clip your little identification tag before heading to the research lab where they run all their tests. Pulling your shoulders back as you scan your ID and pass the double doors that say: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

You follow the labyrinth of hallways to a small medical-exam room in the furthest corner of the buildings. X-rays, MRIs, and Photos were stuck to lightboards around the room. With a huff, you look away from the gruesome images, towards a devilishly-handsome blond clothed in SHIELD emblazoned shrubs and a University of Utah Hospital doctor’s coat. The modelesque picture on his ID not doing him justice. 

“Hello, Miss Darling, only ten minutes early. What happened, you get stuck in traffic?” His aggravatingly-nasal voice pierced through the sounds of him typing on his small laptop, reminding you just how much you dislike this man. 

“Yes, actually, Dr. Fenris. There were three crashes on I-15, and then there was a line of cars four miles long getting off for the Expo. I never realized that there was enough parking for that here.” I grit my teeth, plastering on my smile at his joke. 

“Well, I see no use dilly-dallying any further; if you’ll change into your gown and then sit on the exam table, we’ll start with that today, then we’ll head to the MRI and X-ray followed by your physical strength and endurance testing.” Dr. Fenris said as you grabbed the scratchy hospital gown off the end of the exam table and started changing. There is no use hiding your body, this man has seen every part of my it over the last four years since you’ve come back to the states. If you were honest with yourself, you would stop these useless exams. The longer they went, the worse you were being treated, and the more you get the feeling that something is wrong. It’s not like they were making any progress in making this “cure” that you are supposedly helping with. 

Gown on, you sit on the bed. Legs dangling off the floor slightly as you wait for Fenris to finish whatever he is typing. As he turns his attention to you with a smirk, a wicked glint enters his eye. “Look at that; just as predicted, your healing time has decreased since the last time you got an abrasion. This week we’re going to analyze how your platelets are going to react to different poisons.”

Looking at him cautiously, you move the slightest bit away from his seat.

“Oh silly, we are going to do it in the lab. Just a couple of vials of blood from you are needed. For now, at least.” He placates jovially, pulling out a tray of vials and a winged phlebotomy kit. 

You warily keep your eye on him as he comes around to the side of the table. Right as he’s about to stick you, a knock comes at the door. You look at the doctor surprised. He just gives a tight smile, showing a tight smile as he turns to the door, opening it. “Dr. Banner, I didn’t think you were going to come in today.” the jittery surprise made evident his cheerful mask. 

“I wasn’t planning on it. Then I noticed that the subject of your tests was going to be in today and couldn’t help but want to see her for myself.” responded the gentle-looking man with salt and pepper hair and black-rimmed, nerd glasses. “My name is Dr. Bruce Banner. I am here to check on the status of Dr. Fenris’ research.” 

“Hey,” you say with an awkward little wave, “I’m Penelope, but I guess you knew that already since I am his research,” you can’t help the self-deprecating chuckle and tight smile that follow Dr. Banner’s staring. “You just got to his favorite part. Fenris here was just about to stab me like Vlad the Impaler.” Your anxiety at Fenris’ obvious joy from your pain showing slightly.

Dr. Banner looked at you with complete horror. Turning to Dr. Fenris with a look of disgust. “I should hope not. It would be disappointing if this project were to stop. There is great potential for new knowledge and understanding here.”

Giggling slightly at the furious look Fenris throws you, your chest releases. “It was one time, Ms. Darling. And you healed before you even left the hospital.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t do it again, Dr. we-are-testing-your-platelets’-reaction-to-poisons-this-week. I feel like my cautiousness is well deserved, and I still hate needles,” you pout. “Now, if you’ll hurry up and stick me so we can get this over with. I’m supposed to be going to the Stark expo thingy. Gotta play the interpreter between my friends. Though, I’m pretty sure they are just using that excuse to get me to go with them.” 

Dr. Banner chuckled awkwardly as you turn to him, trying to ignore the deplorable doctor to your right. “Anyway, how hopeful are you for this research Dr. Banner? Are you going to the Expo? I hear that they will be talking about the new renewable resource cells Stark Industries is working on. I hope that they are planning on making them powerful enough to bring about an electric car. There are just too many oil refineries around here to be healthy. I personally would hop on that electric car bandwagon if there was one affordable and efficient.”

As you rambled, two large sterile culture bottles and six smaller tubes are filled with your blood. Dr. Banner keeps out of the way as Fenris goes about testing your reflexes and taking measurements of your leg, inspecting the other doctor’s work before Looking at the pictures, and medical imaging on the wall. “How long ago were these pictures taken?” He finally asks, pointing to the first set of photographs. Your leg was utterly ravaged, exposing the metal skeleton while the flesh looked like it was used as a cougar’s chew toy. 

“Four years.” I wince, remembering the carnage that Fury and Coulson had found me in. “Almost to the day.” 

“And this one?” gesturing to the next picture; muscle and tendon now in some sense of a sinewy leg. The skin overlying the fragile tissues without much scar tissue. 

“Two weeks later. The next is two weeks after that. I can tell you that growing pains are indeed worth all the crying that children do over them.” You joke, looking at the almost normal looking appendage in the picture, then at the more tone,d version currently attached to your body. 

“Can you feel it? When did it start?” You could tell that Banner’s questions were from a scientific fascination that made you smirk. He looked kind of like a little boy set loose in a candy store; intrigued, and full of genuine curiosity.

“I can’t really feel it, but my brain started to connect to it a few months after the initial accident. I am kinda glad I can’t feel it though. Getting back feeling all at once makes ‘pins and needles’ look like child’s play. Though according to Dr. Fenris, my body is apparently fully healed, and I could get the feeling back any second.” 

“Have you had today’s scans? Can I see them?”

“Not yet. That comes after the blood draw today, Then it’s time for some superhero training. Apparently, it’s not enough to take all my healing into account. I’m also being studied as a Superhuman… Fenris here likes to refer to me as a Supersoldier. I don’t really see how that fits since I never was technically a soldier-” 

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind me accompanying you, we can see what you can do. Who knows maybe by the end of today you’ll be vetted into the Avengers.”

“I don’t think that will be a possibility, Dr. Banner. I don’t think SHIELD is a big fan of my existence. I am only useful as a lab rat.”

The man looks to Fenris through the corner of his eye. “Is that right? I have a feeling many things about this research are going to be changing,” a deep undertone of discontent laced through the Dr.’s words. 

Throughout the next hour, more medical tests are done. By the time we are back into the little exam room, you are full of pent up energy. Now was your favorite part of these appointments. You get to actually use some of the ‘powers’ that You were given. You could set yourself free.

If you want more Winter Soldier fics, check out @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​. They have a great one called Breach.

Thank you all for reading.

Tags are open for this fic; I am also curious to see what you all think. Share your truth with me.

People I think will enjoy reading this: @star-spangled-beard-burn@angrythingstarlight​ @tossacoin2yourwitcher​ @navybrat817​ @nekoannie-chan​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @nsfwsebbie​ @jtargaryen18 @buckys-broody-muffin​ @nacho-bucky​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @buckybarney

[smolbeandrabbles]

Sweet Spot - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

Sway: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6  / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

All I Want For Christmas / When I See You Smile / Good Woman

@mandy23b​ @wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #mendotagsquad

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: Haha - So, this Midweek is my Sway Anniversary, and to celebrate this, I uhm... came up with an Anniversary fic for your Mendo Midweek-!! 😉

That’s literally all I wrote this for but I hope you can still enjoy it for what it is! 😁

Sweet Spot - Kim Petras ❤

Disclaimer: Bloodline characters not mine / All OCs are from Sway but you don’t necessarily have to know who they all are at all. / lyrics + gifs not mine!

Premise: Danny is always full of surprises - but it’s your anniversary today, and you wanna surprise him. If he doesn’t get too mad with you first!

Words: 2774

Warnings: Swearing / Drinking...sorta. / sexual connotations

____

See you dancin' like you wantin' my attention See you dancin', see you dancin' Now your body's movin' into my direction My direction, my direction

Baby, what you waiting for? You got the green light Don't you hold back no more Let's live our best life Everybody wants to leave here with somebody Everybody, everybody Time of night we start to dip into the candy Give it to me, give it to me

Baby, what you waiting for? You got the green light Don't you hold back no more Let's live our best life

So baby don't stop, don't stop We're getting to the sweet spot, sweet spot Baby it's a sure shot, sure shot We're getting to the sweet spot, sweet spot

I wanna with you, I wanna with you I wanna with you, I wanna with you 

---

Anniversaries weren’t supposed to start with fights; but yours did. You completely understood why, he wanted to spend the day together. It couldn’t happen; unfortunately the reason that Danny was able to spend all of today with you was also the reason that you were able to get away to execute on your plans, or rather, couldn’t stay with him. Danny had shut his restaurant – he could have taken the day off but no, he’d given everyone a break -  that was just the kind of man he was. You had other ideas. He didn’t like this; and whilst you didn’t really expect him to, you thought Danny might be a little more understanding than the argument you now found yourself in the middle of. “Baby, I’m sorry-!” “Are you kidding!? I’m taking the whole day off from work for this--! The restaurant is CLOSED for you!” for us you mean! But you held your tongue, Danny was hurt, but it really wasn’t your fault – as far as he knew! You tried your best, but placating him wasn’t working; “I know-! I know! And you’ve been excited all week but-” “Can’t you just tell them you can’t do it!” “Danny, if I could, then you know I would!” “This is fucking ridiculous! It’s a Saturday.” “At least it’s not travelling…!” That didn’t help things, and Danny scowled before dragging his cigarette packet off the kitchen table and slamming the balcony door closed behind him. What you had told him this morning was that work needed to pull you in on something. The truth? You were about to meet your parents, Nolan, Danny’s best friends (and coworkers!) Javi & Jason, and your best friends Amanda & Evie down at Viva Caputa and decorate for a ‘surprise’ anniversary party. Surprise only for Danny of course. But right now, you’d be lucky to get him out for it. You sighed gently and followed him outside; “Baby…” touching his shoulder delicately you rubbed soothing circles. When Danny didn’t turn to you, you pulled yourself into him. “Baby, I’m so sorry…” His breathing was deep and Danny took at least three drags of his cigarette before he spoke. “I know. I just can’t believe this is happening today.” “Danny, please look at me?” He turned, and gathered you in his arms, brushing your hair back from your face. He was trying his best not to look super pissed, but you supposed he wasn’t really angry with you. “I’m sorry, baby girl, it’s just… It’s not what I wanted.” “Me either, you know that. God, Danny, I wanna be here with you so bad…” You leant up, brushing your lips to his. He chuckled, deepening your kiss, tasting like smoke. “What if you skipped out?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping that he was joking with you. Danny’s smiled faded, “Right. Okay.” You held him closer running a hand through his tangle of curls, “Just stay here, relax, okay? God knows you deserve it. I’ll pick you up later and we’ll go out for dinner.” “At this place you won’t tell me about.” “Why ruin a good surprise?” You realised the double meaning of your sentence and grinned, “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.” He took a double meaning of his own from that; “OH, I’m assured it will be!” You kissed him once more, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” “Yeah, yeah! Go on! Leave me!” He might have put on a pout, but you were almost positive that he’d be sulking all day. As you waved goodbye part of you wanted to race back to Danny and tell him everything. You couldn’t. For this to work you couldn’t.   *** You’d hidden your dress of choice and a bunch of decorations in the car, and as you pulled into the parking lot everyone was already waiting for you. “Happy Anniversary!” “Oh no!!” You held your hands up, kissing Nolan gently on the cheek as he came over to help you remove the boxes, “Not when my man isn’t here, and NOT when he’s already pissed at me!” “For what!?” Javi raised an eyebrow “Well I’m at work, as far as he knows.” “That’s typically Danny.” Jason scoffed, “He’ll be fully in love by tonight!” “If he’s not, this Anniversary is gonna turn into a funeral-!” “Yours?” You narrowed your eyes at Jason and had half a mind to slap him, considering his amused little smile, instead just shoving a box into his arms; “No. YOURS!” *** Despite Danny not being here, you made sure to keep messaging him every spare moment you had. Danny wasn’t a texter, but keeping him up to date with what you were up to was important. You called him during your lunchbreak only, he seemed pretty fine – and didn’t complain once, which you thought was good of him. But Danny certainly wasn’t in high spirits; hopefully you could change all that quickly. It was a lot of fun, helping everyone else put up decorations. As you did so they all kept shouting random questions at you about your relationship, wanting you to tell stories and talk to your favourite memories. To which they all added running commentaries or their own anecdotes – either on things Danny had said about you when you weren’t around, or, if they’d been a part of any of the situations, their own personal take on it. Towards the end of your decorating Amanda paused and turned back to you, it dawned on her – much as it had your own mind – what exactly this was for, and yet your participation in it. “Wait, shouldn’t we have been doing this for you!?” You shrugged “No. I mean you could have! But, the amount of stupid surprise parties that Danny has thrown me in here?” You pointed around the room, “That all of you were all in on, I 100% need to throw him one this time! Even if it is for our anniversary…” Then you smiled, “Which uhm, reminds me, I guess I best be saying thank you!!”

On the other side of Miami, Danny Rayburn was growing more and more anxious. It was getting later; about the time you should really be getting home, or at least picking him up. Yet he’d heard nothing, not a text or a call. Danny was ready: nice shirt, smart pants, he even had a jacket. He wasn’t exactly sure where you were taking him, but he could guess that you’d like to sweep him across town and into a 5-star restaurant with views of the Pacific. Danny would roll his eyes and say you were paying too much, and you would smile and say he was worth every cent; and he wouldn’t be ungrateful, Danny would surely enjoy every second of your company. Even more so now he’d been bereft of you all day. Now he was pacing, and sure that you wouldn’t make it - at the rate things were going you definitely wouldn’t be on time! – he’d already had a few cigarettes to attempt to calm himself in vain, Danny didn’t dare have another. Alternating between staring at the door and the phone; which one would alert him first? Turned out it was his phone and as he scrambled to pick it up, Danny was disheartened to find it wasn’t even you on the other end of the line, but his head waiter, Javi: “Danny you need to get down to the restaurant there’s a problem.” If it didn’t sound so urgent Danny would have left a longer pause; what else could possibly go wrong today? He didn’t dare ask that question out loud. “You’re fucking with me right!? I’m waiting to go to my anniversary dinner, everything’s already ruined because my girl got dragged off to work. Now there’s something wrong at my restaurant!?” “Danny we need you!! We NEED you!” Javi did his best to sound panicked, “But she… she’s gotta be on her way back by now… I can’t just drive down to ya!” “Y/N left you for the day man, that’s on her! Just get down here!” Javi shot you an apologetic look but you waved him off. All he had to do was get your partner to his destination, it didn’t matter how. Heck, for leaving Danny all day you probably did deserve some slander. Hopefully it’d all be worth the pain. “Okay. Okay. Just, hold on!”  Danny cut the line, sighing, well this was just GREAT. He scribbled a little note to you, hardly believing that after you left him this morning he was now going to have to apologise for this. In the state he was in though, Danny never stopped to ask the question; If everyone was off for the evening, what was Javi doing at the restaurant in the first place? *** Danny couldn’t pull into his parking space fast enough, Javi’s car was the only other one here (you’d all moved yours into a parking garage to keep from ruining the surprise until the last second.) and yet the restaurant didn’t seem occupied at all. “What the hell?” Danny muttered to himself. Locking his car, he sprinted to Viva Caputa’s front door, wrenching it open as soon as he could get the key in. Stepping inside he peered around in the pitch darkness, reaching for the nearest light switch; “Javi, I swear to GOD-” Danny didn’t get a chance to flip them, as the lights were thrown up from the other end of the room. All your collective friends and your family standing there. “SURPRISE!!” Banners and balloons and streamers decorated nearly every surface, and the more culinary skilled of the little group had clearly been busy at home. He quickly noted signature dishes of both your mother’s and Jason’s. Danny’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He just stood in stunned silence and shook his head, before his hands came up to his face and his eyes settled on you. No longer in the clothes you’d left in this morning, you’d changed into a gorgeous dress, standing in the centre of the restaurant with a glass of champagne in your hand; “Happy Anniversary Danny!” His hands came away from his mouth; “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D PUT ME THROUGH A DAY OF HELL FOR THIS!!” Yet as he laughed and everyone joined in, Danny stepped quickly forwards, throwing his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace “THANK YOU!!!” “About time I threw you a surprise party, huh?” “Oh, baby girl…” He placed his forehead to yours, “You didn’t have to!” before kissing you to a room full of cheers. *** Nolan got the music going, a playlist you’d helped him put together, and the party started getting into full flow. Although Danny and yourself were the centre of attention, it was nice to lean back against him as he sat on a bar stool - arm around your waist and drink in his hand - and observe all your friends chatting amongst themselves and having a good time. “Sorry this isn’t the anniversary you expected.” He rubbed his hand over your hip and chuckled; “You don’t need to be sorry, I like this. Right here with the people most important to us...” Danny looked up to you with a smile; “As for this morning, you CAN take me to a 5-star restaurant to make up for it.” You shook your head at his cheekiness, but knew he probably deserved it, as you bent to kiss his forehead, “Okay, baby, it’s a deal!”

With the music up it was no surprise that eventually Danny took your hand and suggested you make your way to the middle of the cleared space. “If you’re gonna stand there in a good dress, and you and Nolan built a playlist, it’d be a shame to waste it!” You couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you out; “Just be careful, this isn’t a dancefloor in the middle of Little Havana.” “Oh, I think I’ll save that for back home.” You raised your eyebrows, with a small smirk at his suggestion; “That better be a promise, Danny Rayburn.” “Oh, you bet!”

You weren’t sure if shuffle wasn’t working, or the fact that Nolan was smirking and standing relatively close to the music player with Beth, Evie and Amanda had something to do with your realisation that it was slow song after slow song. Probably was your best guess – your friends would certainly love the opportunity to control the playlist. It didn’t matter to either of you; Danny held you strong, one hand in yours and one supporting your waist - everything about it respectful, perhaps even delicate. Danny cared about you more than anything and you knew that; his body close and tight, back sloping to fold into yours; head resting against your own as he spun you slowly around the floor. Every so often you’d catch his smirk as the lights glittered on your ‘D’ pendant - and that look on his face persisted as he continued to hold you. Sometimes you really did love that Danny made it so obvious, and you pushed up against him a little harder just to let him know you knew exactly what he was thinking about. As you did you Danny gave you a little look; ‘I’m trying to be proper here!’ And you laughed, ‘Yeah right!’

 Eventually others joined you, your parents, Jason and his wife, and you and Danny even persuaded Javi to stop making eyes at her from across the room, and go drag Amanda onto the dancefloor. When everyone’s eyes weren’t solely on the two of you, you were able to relax a bit; and his hands fell a little lower on your waist as you looped your arms around his neck. You still gave him your best ‘careful’ warning look, yet Danny’s little cheeky smile let you know that he’d heed your words, but only for a time. If he thought that he was going to get away with it, Danny was absolutely gonna get a little inappropriate tonight. It was your anniversary after all!

 You were in your own little world, that much was for sure. People were aware of what this meant, and let you have these quiet, private moments together - when all that mattered was each other. Danny grazed his lips to your forehead, and cheek before he chuckled: “You know maybe we aught to stop celebrating every special occasion here.” “You’re the one who doesn’t like taking big days off!” You were specifically referring to Valentine’s Day, but Danny’s look was sharp and you laughed, embarrassed. “Today is hardly the day to complain at me for that. Thank you for the surprise, all the same.” “You’re welcome, you deserve it... Happy Anniversary Danny!” He accepted your kiss with a sweet smile; “Happy Anniversary, baby girl...” You looked around at all your friends but none of them were paying attention, all in worlds of their own too; “Maybe we should make this tradition?” “Oh yeah, gone are the days of good meals out, it’s all about hanging at Viva Caputa!” Although his voice was purely sarcastic, Danny couldn’t help that little smile he flashed “Something like that...” You smiled back, kissing him gently again. Then Danny laughed; “I have to say though, considering your antics you’re lucky we got an anniversary at all-!” “Oh what, c’mon! Danny!” “You just wait until we get home, you’re in BIG trouble.” You weren’t sure you trusted the suggestive look on his face, and you tipped you head curiously. Danny however was under no illusions that you weren’t hopeful; “Good trouble?” “VERY good trouble.”

Danny pulled you into his body, and you locked your arms around his neck as he kissed you. That wasn’t a sweet ‘Happy Anniversary’ kiss, and his hands ran way lower than the respectful line of your waist as he kept you as near to him as possible. That only made you smirk into the kiss as he grazed his tongue over your bottom lip. The dancing had paused; and no wonder. You allowed him what he wanted, Danny hummed in approval as sweet and short became fiery, hungry and passionate. You were in half a mind to ask him to abruptly cut your own party and take you back home right now.

You wouldn’t; because this was just Danny’s way of teasing you. Merely a taste of what was in store when you closed your apartment door to the world tonight and the lights were off.

Very good trouble was damn right. And you couldn’t wait.

---

Thank you for reading *possibly* the most self indulgent thing I’ve ever written 😅

[bubble-tea-bunny]

sucker 

[billy batson x reader]

author’s note: this was such a fun movie. enjoy <3

word count: 2,223

It’s official. Billy Batson is a living cliche.

In his defense, he didn’t mean to be one (though who the hell would ever?) and it just sort of… happened. He couldn’t just control that rumbling in the pit of his stomach, that was most certainly not hunger but something else, something like (oh hell here we go again)… like butterflies, when Mary introduced you as her friend and the tutor she’d agreed to help him find because without going into a lot of detail his French grade isn’t looking too great. Well, not yet anyway. That’s why you came into the picture.

He’d been thoroughly caught off guard by how pretty you were, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Hard enough, it would seem, to turn him into a fucking poet because okay, yeah, sure, his French grade is questionable but his English grade is pretty good and he supposes he’s feeling that same surge of inspiration all those famous old writers did when they discovered the perfect muse. He could probably wax lyrical about the smile that seems to live on your face and has made a home alongside the rest of your soft features and he really needs to stop—

Frankly, it’s embarrassing, the way you make him feel. Teenaged boys having crushes is normal, it’s expected, it’s whatever, but he’s skeptical that an infatuation to this degree could be. When his English teacher assigns writing a poem as their homework one night, the first thoughts swirling through his head about what he could put on the paper involved you in some capacity. Of course, no matter what he wrote it wouldn’t be good since he doesn’t actually write poems, they’re not his thing, but his teacher might give him an A anyway because his rhymes and meter may be shit but the content is mushy and showcasing a range of feelings most don’t even think a teenaged boy can have but Billy can hear his teacher now, remarking that he didn’t peg Billy for such a romantic even though he’s not.

(Is it bad that you make him want to be?)

He doesn’t write about you. He thinks writing a poem about how much he likes you is going overboard, even for him. A walking, talking cliche has to have its limits too. Instead he writes about some stupid teen-angst bullshit that’s still textbook for a fourteen year old but it’s a cliche he’s more comfortable with putting out there. Besides, if you were the subject of his poem and his teacher tried to ask who he was writing about, he’d probably die right there. At least teenaged angst scrawled on a piece of notebook paper was enough to get an A and warranted no questions.

The only person he can’t hide it from is Freddy but that’s no surprise. Freddy figures it out by himself because he’s smart, sometimes too smart for his own good, and Billy doesn’t want to ask him why he’s staring at him like that so he doesn’t and all he says is Could you stop that? and Freddy says No because of course he does, and he plops down into his desk chair, the wheels rolling back slightly from his momentum.  

“You like her, don’t you?”

Billy drops his backpack down onto his bed, having brought it back up after studying with you in the dining room for the past hour, and plops down next to it. “What? No.”

Freddy hums and he is not at all convinced and Damn it, Billy, you need to find a place to put your heart that isn’t your fucking sleeve. “Really? ‘cuz you perk up whenever you see her and watch her like a lovesick puppy.”

“I do not,” Billy shoots back, wishing this conversation would end. But he’s made a wish to a bad genie because the exact opposite happens.

“Do too. Thought I could see a tail wagging.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s almost kind of cute.”

“Shut up!” Billy groans and lays back on his bed, and his hands are over his face to conceal his reddening cheeks. Since they’re both preoccupied with that, he has nothing with which to cover his ears and so he hears clearly the sound of Freddy’s laughter.

“You’re too easy to break, dude,” Freddy states as he calms down and regathers his breath, though he still huffs out the occasional chuckle.

Billy’s hands drop back down to his sides and he does his best to angle his head to look at Freddy. “You can’t tell anyone, and you definitely cannot tell Mary.” Because if Mary knows, then you will know, because you’re best friends and she tells you everything.

Freddy holds his hands up, palms out. “I won’t. Promise.”

Billy knows Freddy will keep his promise, so now, the only way you could possibly learn about his feelings is if he confessed them to you. Which, for the record, he doesn’t plan to do, and the only way it would come out is by total accident. He doesn’t count on it coming to that because he has a good grip on himself when you’re around, and he does not stare at you like a lovesick puppy that’s ridiculous.

… He doesn’t, right?

Even when he’s flying around the city looking for crime to thwart, you don’t leave his mind. He daydreams about saving you and sweeping you off your feet. He imagines how thankful you’d be as you look up at him with bright eyes and he’ll say it’s just another day but it wouldn’t be, no; it’d be very special because he’s saved someone special to him.

But he’s never run across you when he’s assumed his alter ego, but he’s not at all bummed because it means you’re safe, and that matters more. He’s content to leave his daydreams as just that, and he can pretend that it’s your cat he’s coaxing out of a tree to bring to safety, that you’re the one who’d seen him walk past and offered to buy him an ice cream cone from the nearby parlour as your treat, that he’s helping you cross the street.

Well, okay, no, that last one doesn’t really make sense because you wouldn’t need assistance crossing a street and the old lady whose arm is hooked around his for balance is at least four times your age.

When they’re safely on the other side, she thanks him, and at that same moment, Billy notices a dog farther down the block running at full speed, harness around its chest and leash dragging on the ground behind it. He quickly bids goodbye to the old lady then zooms toward the escaped pet, managing to catch up to it before it tries to step onto the busy road.

“Hey there,” he murmurs quietly, kneeling down to scratch its head and also to make sure it doesn’t try to get away again. He spots the tag on the collar and turns it so he can see the name: Lucky. He looks up and glances around for any sign of the owner, but as of yet, there is none. Had Lucky been too fast? Not fast enough for his owner to lose sight of him, surely.

As if on cue, someone comes rushing around the corner, and Billy’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s you. He clears his throat and tries to act casual as you approach, thoroughly out of breath. Needing a few seconds to gather his composure, he looks away to find the end of Lucky’s leash and picks it up.

“Thank you so much,” you force out between breaths. Your chest is heaving from how hard you’d been running, and who knows how far you’d gone? Or how far you might have left to go if Billy hadn’t been here?

Billy smiles and stands, handing you the leash. “It’s no problem.”

You take it, slipping the loop around your wrist. “I went to get coffee and tied his leash to a pole, but I guess I hadn’t done it up tight enough since, well…” You trail off and shrug, wordlessly referring to your current situation.

You’re briefly distracted when you feel Lucky’s nose nudging at your leg, and you glance down at him. His mouth is open, tongue hanging out, and he looks like he’s smiling and his tail is wagging so rapidly it’s a blur. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s just done, and it seems you can’t be mad at him when he’s staring up at you like that, for you sigh lightly and bend a bit at the knees to pet the fluffy canine behind the ears.

All the while, Billy is staring at you, then down at Lucky, then back again and is that what Freddy’s been talking about? That he watches you like that? Because Billy doesn’t think so. He doesn’t look like that at all—

You straighten up and turn to him and he grins automatically, feeling sheepish yet rather overjoyed to be the center of your attention and oh God Freddy is totally right. But he can’t choke now! He needs to be cool, needs to play it cool. He’s saved your dog and you’re watching him with the bright eyes he imagined you would have and he can’t ruin the moment.

“Well”—Think of something cool, Billy!—“it was lucky I got here just in time right?” He chuckles amusedly but on the inside he’s cringing, immediately regretting the decision to let that leave his mouth and you probably think he’s super lame but he won’t fault you for it because he thinks he’s super lame too.

However, it seems you share no such sentiments because you laugh, and as the sound graces his ears, Billy swears his heart does a flip. “Yeah, it was,” you agree with a nod.

Soon a silence settles between you and you’re simply watching each other, and honestly Billy’s okay with this because it’s an overcast day and the lighting is flattering on you and it’s day one all over again, the ton of bricks hitting him in the face because your eyes are gentle and your smile is charming and he is lovesick, he is, and you’re both what set the butterflies loose in the first place and the only thing that can get them to settle down.

“Um…” you interrupt the quiet, and Billy’s brows raise like he’s been broken from a trance as he waits for you to continue. “I should probably get going. My coffee is probably ready by now.” You point back over your shoulder and it looks like you aren’t pointing at anything, but he knows you’re talking about the cafe.

Billy grins, trying his best to hide his disappointment that his run-in with you is coming to an end already. “Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

You start taking a few steps backwards, lifting a hand to give a slight wave, smiling lopsidedly. “Thanks again.”

When you’ve twisted around, beginning to walk back the way you came, Billy doesn’t leave right away, merely watching you for some seconds and committing every detail of this encounter to memory: the weather and the street name and how sweet you’d been and he thinks he’s going to start dreaming of your smile but that’s not such a bad thing to dream of at all.

And so, with a small smile of his own, he takes a deep breath and turns his focus to the sky, prepared to set off and continue his route around the city. Just before his feet leave the concrete sidewalk, he hears a jingle, and it grows louder as whatever it belongs to gets closer to him. His eyes lower just in time to see that the jingle is from Lucky’s collar, and he’s running behind you as you come jogging back.

Billy opens his mouth, about to ask if something is wrong, but he doesn’t get the chance to. You don’t slow down the closer you get, coming right up to him so quickly he lifts his arms reflexively to steady you in case you actually do run into him. But you don’t, stopping right before you can do so and setting a hand on his shoulder to brace yourself as you tiptoe and kiss him on the cheek.

Your hand slips back down to your side and Billy’s eyes are wide like he can’t just believe what happened. He stares down at you, utterly speechless, but it seems you are too. At first your expression mimics his, eyes widened in shock, but then it melts away and you’re flashing a toothy grin up at him. Your cheeks warm and redden with a light blush and you divert your gaze, suddenly shy. Billy feels his chest tighten and he’s beginning to think he’s falling in love with you.

No words are exchanged as you make your leave a second time but they needn’t be. You look over your shoulder at him to give one last wave, and he returns the gesture. Once you and Lucky have disappeared around the corner, he takes off, feeling lighter than air and like the biggest, baddest monster could be thrown his way and he’d defeat it in a heartbeat because this is truly his lucky day.

[futurestrong]

Self Awareness and Self Love: ‘What about me?’

By Dr Kathryn Murray

Education specialist, Author, Public Speaker.

“What about me, it isn't fair I've had enough now I want my share Can't you see I wanna live But you just take more than you give”

The words of Australian singer Shannon Noll resonate with many of us. I remember thinking this when I found myself without a job, broke after having to sell my house, car and more. My life had turned upside down – I found myself in a desperate financial situation because I trusted someone! That trust meant I had to sell everything to pay off debt—and some of the debt wasn’t even mine! So, many, many times, I found the lyrics of this song running through my mind: “…it isn’t fair! I’ve had enough now I want my share!”

We humans commonly default to blaming difficult times on the actions of someone else. We believe that it’s all their fault. I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for them! Then we begin to beat ourselves up over what could or should have been. The self-recrimination tape plays: I should have known better. I should never have trusted him. I’m smarter than this.

Does any of this sound familiar?

There seems to be a common pattern that I’ve noticed in myself and in the process that my friends have gone through when “stuff” happens. It’s almost like a grieving process on our journey to a happier time.

In my experience, it went something like this:

1. Disbelief, fear and confusion. The acknowledgement of the situation coupled with the feeling that this is all a nightmare that I will wake up from. Such mixed feeling or disbelief and realisation. I must have misunderstood! How could he have done that? What does this mean for me and my future? How can I support my kids when I can’t support myself? I’m such a failure.

 2. Anger and betrayal.  A few swear words may or may not have been said! That feeling of getting even came over me. I felt determined not to be beaten. In this stage, I tried to remind myself: I am strong and can deal with anything. I have the whole universe working with me. That helped a little but didn’t change the reality.

3. Hurt and tears. I struggled to understand how someone could make such a negative impact on my life when I’m a nice person, and I’d never treat someone like I was being treated. I tried to understand his reasoning for the decisions he made and tried to identify my own part in this. In some ways, I didn’t want to face this and went into denial.  This can’t be happening to me!

4. Victim thoughts. This is where the Shannon Noll song came back on repeat: “It isn’t fair” along with the feelings of shame, foolishness, embarrassment, and disappointment for allowing this to happen. If I’m honest, there was probably a bit of self-destruction going on at this point. I couldn’t see that things would ever be better. I was always going to struggle, be poor, never trust anyone, and I never, ever wanted to date or have a partner again—ever! Poor me. It isn’t fair!

 5. Blaming and shaming. Then I started to throw blame in his direction, allocating him as 90% responsible for where I was in life! I felt as though I’d been taken advantage of and control over my life had been taken from me. Now, I was at the tricky part of my journey. I had to recognise the victim behaviours and the blame mentality that was leading me to think, choose, and make decisions from weakness, not strength. I was living in a deficit mindset, focusing on all that I lacked.

 Realisation of the implications of the situation. Reality and a sense of urgency set in as I watched my financial and emotional state get worse. I started to recognise the type of role model I was being for my children. Ok, get a grip. This is REAL! This is how things are now, so what am I going to do. I need to pick up what I can and move forward. Being angry isn’t helping to get back on my feet. I don’t want to be that angry, bitter, and twisted woman!

6. Knight in shining armour. Because I was in such a down state, I yearned for someone to save me, help me, fix things—it didn’t matter who. Maybe I’ll win some money… someone has to, right? Maybe a friend will sort out the legal issues for me. Subconsciously, I was thinking that if I just ignore this long enough then someone or something will happen and sort it out for me.

 7. Self-empowerment. It seemed to take a very long time to get to this point, but it was actually only months to get to this realisation. Guess what - No one came to rescue me and nothing happened! I didn’t win any money, and all the problems were still there. This realisation created a shift inside me. No one is going to fix my life for me. Time to take back my power! Yes! Then came the turn around that made be grow and get better and better within myself. I became a powerhouse!

I’ve always been spiritual, very self reflective, and self-aware. I realised that I had all the tools within me to deal with this situation and deal with it for the best possible outcome for all concerned. I was reminded of the statistics that our actions are based on 10% of what happens and 90% of how we respond.

I chose to use my brain to work out a solution, even though I was very fearful of how to move forward. I was frozen with fear some days. I had to face some unpleasant tasks, deal with people I’d rather avoid, speak my truth, be assertive, navigate financial and legal issues, and more. None of it was easy or fun. It made me anxious and nervous.

Slowly, though, I began to see just how strong I was. My women friends became my cheerleaders and sounding boards. I began to go to business networking events and met some amazing people who had also dealt with difficulty and risen above it. I began to do more public speaking gigs with different audiences, customising the topics so the messages related to them.

I began to see ME! I realised that I quite liked ME!

While dealing with a rollercoaster of emotions during the past few years, I hadn’t given myself time to enjoy life. I was too busy surviving, or so I thought, stuck in a victim mentality while I waited for someone to rescue me. When I look back, I think that I was really just hiding from the world and avoiding what I knew I must do to clear this situation. I continued to work and no one would have known about the internal struggles I had with myself, trying to deal with things I just didn’t want to, or didn’t think I should have to.

Falling in Love!

So, I decided to date. I was ready. I wanted to go out into the world. I thought that I still had a reasonable figure, still looked ok, had a lot to offer, enjoyed lots of activities, and I really love people and love to laugh. Unexpectedly, I met this amazing person. We went to the movies, out to dinner, camping, on picnics, and this summer we will go snorkelling and spend a lot of time at the beach. Just like I used to before the rollercoaster ride. The person I met is a lot like me. I feel appreciated, loved, wanted, respected, and I look forward to our dates. I don’t feel alone anymore. It’s wonderful. I’ve found love!

Who have I found? Well… I found ME! I’m dating myself!

I’m showering myself with self love and appreciation. I choose to use positive words when I describe myself. I find the best features of me and focus on that, even though I acknowledge all of my features. We all have them, don’t we – the bits we’d rather hide? And it’s what makes us real. I tell myself how smart I am. I share my knowledge and skills openly. I give gratitude every day for the little, wonderful things in my life, like the washing machine that washes my clothes, the candle that smells divine, the dog who is always happy to see me, the sun on my face, the coffee in my cup—the simple things. I give myself time, care, and consideration. But most of all, I give gratitude for me. I love me! I’m so glad that I have met me again because I’m pretty awesome!

That childhood game that we have all heard when plucking flower petals from the stalk—“loves me… loves me not?”—doesn’t apply to me anymore. Because I know I love me. The anger has gone. The thoughts and actions of the victim, blamer, and martyr sometimes surface again, but my love for myself generally keeps them under control.

I have found that my change of energy is drawing people to me. Clients seek me out, people smile at me in the street, people want to be around me—and I want to be around me! One day, I might date someone else, but right now I am very happy with my date, my constant companion—ME!

Does this self-awakening sound like a journey you also want to take? Do you love yourself? Feel free to use my story for your own inspiration. 😊  

Give me a call. I’d love to chat with you.

 If you want to know more, then I’d love to connect with you! Contact me through my website www.futurestrongeducation.com OR join me on our Facebook page – Future Strong Education.

Dr Kathryn Murray has worked with children and families for 35 years as a teacher, researcher and university lecturer. Kathy is the CEO of Future Strong Education supporting parents and children through workshops and speaking engagements.

[lamarkeu]

Celebrating National Boyfriend Day with

BF!GOT7

(Authors Note: In celebration of National Boyfriend Day today I wanted to write about BF!Got7. I tried to make this as gender inclusive as possible. I did really have to edit so if the wording seems off don’t be a afraid to pm me about it. Also I don’t own any of these gifs, all credits to original owners. Anyway hope you enjoy reading!)

Mark Tuan

Wouldn’t care much about at first, he thought it was a pretty pointless holiday. Like was Valentine’s Day not enough? It all just seems like a ploy to waste money on useless things.

He’d change his mind as soon as he saw all the amazing work you put into today’s celebration. Maybe this day wouldn’t be as bad as he first initially thought.

He’s not the type to be interested in the material things. Being fully aware you decided to fill the day with fun activities.

You two first stoped by JYP to pick up some clothes Mark left behind from practice. Afterwards you two went to the mall to buy some new winter clothes.

Of course you paid because it was Marks special day, but not without him whining about how you didn’t need to. He eventually gave up knowing he couldn’t win with you (very smart of him to do so :p )

After buying Mark a new winter coat, a pair of sweatpants, and some headphones, the two of you would head out for some spicy ramen at a near by home style restaurant.

“I have to be the luckiest man on Earth right now, not only do I get to hang out with my cute s/o but I also get to eat ramen?! By far the best day ever.” - Mark

Lim Jaebum

Honestly I can see JB not believing that it’s a holiday. He thought you made it up so he would chill for once his life maybe even us it as an excuse for you to pamper him all day.

As soon as he found out it was legit he took full advantage of the day. Since it was his day decided that instead of going out, you two would have a lazy day at home.

Your guys lazy day consisted of you two and your 5 kids (your cats) not getting out of bed. Eventually you do get up (ever so slowly) in order to make brunch.

You’d cook some of his favourite food like soondubujiggae (spicy tofu stew) with rice and a side of bean sprouts as hed happily be feeding the cats.

Afterwards you brought pulled out a gift box which had the subwoofer he’s been asking for forever. He literally gets so soft that you still remembered that he wanted it.

Showers you in kisses and thank you’d. Those kisses of course get a little more heated and let’s just say one thing lead to another and you two ended up back in bed ;)

“I loved the subwoofer you gave me, and the amazing food you prepared but I think like this gift a little more than those two combined.” -Jaebum

Jackson Wang

This kid would be the person that had the day prepared long before you did. If this holiday is about him then he’s gonna go all out with the different activities. Let’s just say he’d take you to some places you liked and then some.

You two would go for a nice couples hike after breakfast. The walk up was insane but as soon as you got to the top, you forgot all about the pain and took cute pictures you could post on Instagram.

He’d then take his new Audi and drive to his favourite organic bubble tea and board game shop where you guys had lunch and took more pictures.

After a couple battles of connect four Jackson excused him to use the rest room. Feeling bad for not being able to get him a legitimate gift, you thought of what treat you could buy him to eat.

You asked the cashier what would be the best dessert and ended up ordering a slice of vanilla cake with strawberries.

You kindly ask the cafe owners to write “Thank you for being an amazing boyfriend” on the plate and placed it right in front of his chair. As soon as he saw it he just couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you for being the best s/o ever Y/N, and for giving me the opportunity to be the best boyfriend ever.”- Jackson

(Side note: lmao yugyeom why are you like this 😂)

Park Jinyoung

Aside from being your boyfriend Jinyoung was basically your best friend. He knows all your secrets, your likes, you dislikes etc..

He helped not only emotionally but helped you financially, paying off your student debt and some of your family’s expenses.

You decided to take the opportunity of National Boyfriend day to thank Jinyoung for everything has done for you and what better way to celebrate the day by getting tickets to see Justin Timberlake in Hong Kong.

You two arrived in Hong Kong the day of the concert, dropped off your luggages at the hotel and hit up some of the shops to buy gifts for him as well as grab some dinner.

At the concert you and Jinyoung would be having the time of your lives. Jinyoung would be belting out the lyrics of Suit and Tie and pull out some interesting dance moves.

Of course his dad dance moves were to be expected though. One thing you didn’t expect on the other hand was for Jinyoung to drop down to his knees and propose on stage.

“ I know today was supposed to be about me, but I didn’t think I could wait any longer to make you mine forever.”- Jinyoung

(Side note: You are basically Mark in this Gif)

Choi Youngjae

You wanted to surprise Youngjae for his hard work on the latest album by taking a little couples trip to the great island of Hawaii. Life on the other hand, had other plans for the two of you.

Of course when you heard the news you were upset, but you decided that if you guys could go on vacation on national Boyfriend day why not bring the vacation to Youngjae.

While he was busy with JB and Jackson recording some new songs he wrote, you, BamBam, Jinyoung, Yugyeom, and Mark decorated the dance room in leis, a small kiddie pool with water, some fake palm trees and of course beach chairs

BamBam would print off a massive poster with a picture of the beach you two were supposed to visit and taped it to the mirrors.

You quickly shooed away the guys, turn the lights off. When Youngjae turns the lights on he is literally laughing and smiling so much you’re scared he’s gonna pull a muscle.

Once you and Youngjae settle into your matching beach chairs and sipped in some fresh coconut juice, each of the members would come in with food.

“This is the best thing ever Y/N, I’m so happy that I get to be the boyfriend of probably one of the smartest and sweetest people in the whole world.”- Youngjae

BamBam

Ironically enough your birthday happened to be the same week as National Boyfriend Day so it was a double celebration. BamBam personally did make a big deal out of it but, you did.

You wanted to find time to celebrate the day with him but your family had asked you to come home to celebrate your birthday. Though already close with your intermediate family, this would be the first time he’d meet your extended family.

Let’s be really there weren’t a small amount of them either. You’d walking into your aunts house for the party. The living room was tight pack with older family members insisting that you and BamBam eat first before heading to the basement to see your cousins.

Literally all your aunts wouldn’t stop talking about how nice of boyfriend BamBam was as he went to get your food and filled up your drink. Your uncles would joke about how skinny he was, asking BamBam if you feed him anything back in Korea.

Your cousins, especially your younger ones love him because of his endless energy (and screaming). Your youngest cousin even had openly admitted to wanting to take your boyfriend which caused BamBam to laugh.

After you guys left, you apologize for neglecting him, also for leaving him alone to fend himself from your cousins. You gave him your present, a new pair of ray bans with his name engraved on the side. He literally was blown away by the gift.

“I’m so happy I have an amazing girlfriend, with an big but, amazing family and not to mention, a cool new pair of shades. Best National Boyfriend day ever!”- BamBam

Yugyeom

Ever since you and Yugyeom dated he’s always wanted to take you to his favourite place on Earth, Everland for a day of fun.

Of course his busy schedule would never allow that, or at least so he thought. Luckily, National Boyfriend Day happened to be the same day your boss was retiring.

Your boss was very kind and nice so it took you by no surprise that his last project as your boss would be for you and the rest of your co-workers to take the rest of the day off.

Coincidentally, JYP decided to give GOT7 a day off for all the hard work they put into the new comeback. You two met at the JYP Building, and rush to the nearest bulletin train to everland.

After you payed for the two admission tickets (since it was technically Yugyeom day), Gyeom grabbed your hand and head to the nearest ride.

As you two walk out of the park during closing, yugyeom places a light kiss on your forehead as a thank you for the gift. You guys took a quick picture and continued your way back to the bullet train.

“Man, I thought we hit up all the concessions and rides. Oh well we can hit up the ones we haven’t seen the next we go, right Y/N?”- Yugyeom

[crownedbyluke]

Through the Wall (Part Six)

Premise: you live in the same complex as 5 Seconds of Summer and are neighbors with their lead singer, Luke. When Luke and his girlfriend start fighting, you take an approach of blasting his own music back at him to tune it out. When you finally meet Ashton at a coffee shop near your complex, there are sparks flying, but when happens when Luke starts to get jealous?

Word count: 1,900 (a little longer, but hey, it was necessary)

Ashton had finally gotten you to go on a date with him. After seeing Luke at the coffee shop, you decided it was time. Luke was clearly happier so you were hoping that meant things were okay between him and his girlfriend. Ashton told you to look nice and you were hoping that your white t-shirt, maroon skirt, and leather jacket would be good enough. When you opened the door, his mouth opened too. It made you laugh and reassured you that you had done the right thing with your outfit.

“You look absolutely stunning Y/N,” he said and looked you over again.

“Well thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said. He was in a red polka dot button up, black pants and a bomber jacket that you knew was Calum’s. His hair was still a curly mess, but he had tamed it a bit. Not to mention, the smile that was plastered all over his face just from seeing you.

“Thanks. You ready to go?” he asked. You nodded, grabbed your keys, and headed out. You passed Luke’s door and nearly stopped yourself from going at all, but you wanted to see if a date with Ashton would work. If you could be more than friends. Ashton opened the car door for you and closed it when you got in. You tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he had insisted. He took you to a nice restaurant in town. He made a reservation and that alone made you smile. It meant that he planned this out and put some real thought into what you would like.

You ordered some chicken dish you couldn’t pronounce, but it sounded good. Ashton ordered pasta, apparently trying to stay healthy for when tour started in a couple months. You had forgotten completely that they would be going on the road again. They had all been home for some time now that you didn’t even think about when they’d be gone again.

“Are you excited to get back out there?” you asked. You knew how much they all loved performing live. The way they talked about it made that clear. You couldn’t help but wonder if Ashton felt like he was missing a piece of himself when he wasn’t on stage.

“Yeah. I’ve missed seeing the fans. Plus, I can’t wait to play the new stuff for them. We start rehearsals next month,” he said and the way his eyes lit up just talking about it made you wish you could see him on stage.

“How long has is been since your last show?” you asked. You knew it was a couple months, but you also weren’t completely sure.

“Two months. I’ve been spending a lot of the off time thinking of new rhythms we could use or new lyrics. I think I use our group chat to just send the guys ideas I’m having instead of talking to them,” he said, his smile getting bigger from talking about his music.

“Have you ever been to one of our shows?” he asked clearly curious if you’ve ever seen him in action.

“Nope. I’m usually working so I always miss tickets going on sale,” you said with a shrug. You loved your job so making sacrifices like missing concerts didn’t bother you that much.

“I feel like this is stupid to ask, but what do you do?” he asked. He seemed genuinely interested. No guy had ever been interested to know about your work before. Ashton was making his mark on your brain for sure and you didn’t mind that.

“It’s not stupid at all Ash. I work for a publishing firm in the marketing department. I pitch to my boss ways to promote upcoming books and their marketing plans. The big presentation for the author is tomorrow. He’s our biggest client so my team and I have been swamped getting everything ready,” you said. Your eyes lit up just like Ashton’s did. He liked hearing you talk and watching your little mannerisms when you got excited about something. It made him like you that much more.

“Can you tell me who the big client is or is that a secret?” he asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“It’s as much a secret as when you make an album,” you teased. He seemed to be impressed with your answer and how you related it back to his own work so he wasn’t lost. Your food came and the first bites were to die for. Ashton paid and asked if you wanted to go for a walk once you were both done. He drove back to the complex and offered his arm after you were out of the car.

“I’m guessing we’re walking through the park?” you asked, taking his arm and following his lead.

“Damn, beautiful, hard working, and she’s smart,” he teased. You walked together in silence for a bit, enjoying each other’s company and the park around you. Ashton stopped walking by the fountain which caused you to stop and look at him.

“Ash?” you asked, his face was calm and from the view you had, he looked like a model. At least someone who could be in a magazine for that matter.

“Sorry. I’ve never seen it when it wasn’t running,” he said and gave you a small smile. You could tell he was thinking and from the way his fingers started tapping against his leg, you knew he needed to get back to his place.

“Let’s head back,” you suggested and turned towards the complex.

“We don’t-”

“You have a song in your head Ash. I won’t hold you back from it,” you said nodding again towards your building. He smiled at you, the big one that made you feel warm inside, and joined you. You stopped at your door and stood for a second. You had no idea if he was going to kiss you. You had already kissed, but you weren’t sure if Ashton wanted to kiss you again. Instead of waiting for him to make a move, you leaned towards him, placing a kiss on his cheek. He smiled and bounced off to go write whatever tune he had in his head.

You changed and went to lie in you bed. You were about to text Crystal about your date when the tapping started. Maybe Luke had something stuck in his head, but this was the fourth night he was tapping on the wall. You couldn’t keep this up anymore. You and Luke were adults after all, talking things out shouldn’t be that hard. You pulled yourself from bed and made your way to his door. You knocked and hoped that his girlfriend wouldn’t be the one answering the door. He opened it thank goodness and the look on his face told you the tapping was on purpose.

“Y/N, come on in,” he said and the smile you got almost made you forget you were every angry with him.

“Do you know why I’ve been so upset with you?” you asked before he could close the door.

“I was inconsiderate and rude when I showed up at your door,” he said and nodded his head. It made you think that Luke had been playing this out in his head for some time now.

“That’s part of it. Can you think of anything else that would cause me to be so incredibly angry with you Luke?” you pressed. You weren’t going to yell. You refused to yell at him the way his girlfriend did. He shook his head as if to say no.

“Luke, you lied to me,” you said, your voice cracking slightly on the words. You were getting upset just thinking of the memory. He sat on the couch next to you, not close enough to touch, but close enough that if you wanted to reach out for him, you could.

“Y/N, I-”

“Please let me finish. Luke, you looked me in the eye and told me you had feelings for me. You told me you weren’t back with her literally an hour before you showed up at my door. Why did you do that to me? To keep me from going out with Ash? To just mess with me because you can?” you asked. A couple tears had escaped and Luke wanted so badly to reach up and wipe them away.

“I wasn’t lying about how I feel about you. I didn’t lie about being broken up with her either. I did lie about getting back with her though,” Luke finally admitted. You looked at him in shock with a hint of anger in your eyes.

“Why did you-”

“It was killing me that I was keeping you from Ash. He’s my best friend and I never should have gotten in the way of his happiness, let alone your happiness.  I could tell that you were starting to like him and it was stupid, but I thought it was the only way to let you two be together,” he said and even though his intentions were good, something about it made you angry.

“That wasn’t your decision to make,” you said quietly. Luke looked at you, his eyes showing all his emotions and saying everything he wanted to say.

“I know and I’m sorry,” he said and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

“How was the date though?” he asked after the pause was too long for either of you to handle.

“It was good. Wait, how did you?”

“I had Petunia outside when you guys were walking to the park,” he said before you could finish your thought. His smile was on full display and it was the one you’d been missing. It made you laugh a little.

“He took me to dinner. We came back because he had music stuck in his head that he needed to get down,” you said. For some reason, your voice didn’t make it sound like you had a good time and Luke picked up on it right away.

“But you had fun right?” he asked, a hint of concern coming through.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess it just didn’t feel like a date really. We did all the date things, but it still felt like we were just friends hanging out,” you admitted. You hadn’t realized you felt that way until you were actually talking about it.

“Did he kiss you goodnight?” Luke asked unsure what you meant by all the date things.

“Um, no. I kissed his cheek before he went back to his place,” you said starting to play with the ring on your middle finger. It was your stupid nervous tick and every time it started, you wished you could stop it.

“Did you want him to kiss you?” Luke asked. He didn’t know why he was asking, maybe just holding out hope that you would say no.

“Kinda. We kissed once before, but that was different. It didn’t really feel like there was the right vibe for it, you know?” you asked and looked up at him. You hadn’t realized that you both had moved closer to each other. He just nodded in agreement. This was the vibe you were talking about. The one that made it feel like there were magnets pulling you closer to someone. The one that was telling you this was right. Luke moved first and gently placed his hand on your cheek. The tension was eating away at you and all you wanted was his lips on yours. He read your mind and connected your lips. It was like you were coming home and when Luke pulled you closer, you couldn’t think of anything else. Your brain was just Luke and how good it felt to finally have this moment with him.

AHHHHH! I’ve been dying to share this part with all of you and I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it! I can’t wait for you guys to read what’s coming.

Tag list: @thruheavenandhighwater @a-study-in-melapples @rosesforluke @fallengrimes @thebookamongmen

Part one, two, three, four, five.

[xuhoon]

paper roses

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

author’s note: its fluff, i will add links later :)

The night of your birthday, Minghao decided to take you to a nice restaurant close to the ocean. You sat outside and enjoyed the ocean waves before the sun dipped below them. It was a quiet evening, as you talked about anything and everything. As much as you two enjoyed your dinner, Minghao was itching to get home so he could give you his gifts.

You open the door to his apartment to find a glass vase full of paper roses on the dining room table. A pink ribbon tied them together

“These are for you. It’s a dozen origami roses. I folded sheets of paper with lyrics to the songs in my playlist for you. Yeah… I made you a playlist. These are twelve songs that make me think of you. Happy birthday, honey.”

“Minghao, they’re so well done. I couldn’t even come close to this perfection!”

“Thank you, I tried my best. You told me not to spoil you just yet, so I only spent money on our dinner. I wanted to be creative with your gift, while still showing the meaning. Did I do a good job?”

“Hao, you did wonderful. Thank you. I…” You began to tear up, choking on your words. “I don’t want to cry, but…” Hao laughed and wiped your tears away. “You mean so much to me. I can’t wait to listen to the playlist you made me. Can we listen to it together?”

“We can listen to it on the drive to your place.” He pulled you close, holding you for a long while before bending down to give you a kiss. “Happy Birthday, my darling girl.”

--

Instead of taking the bus to and from school, Hao now did all the driving. It took less time than the bus and you appreciated the kind gesture from your boy. You both had classes spread through the week, but Tuesday’s and Thursday’s were when you spent most time together. Some days you would attend dance class to watch your beau’s gorgeous sweat, other days you’d use the extra hours to study or watch YouTube videos. Occasionally, and this being rare, you’d cuddle up with a hoodie and sleep in the backseat of Hao’s car. He’ll crack the windows, kiss your forehead, and call you after dance when it was time to head over to class. The rest of October and November went on like this, with dates piling up every weekend.

Dates with Hao included the occasional cuddle session back at his apartment just like that first day. But, you also loved to go out together to malls for shopping where his fashionista side thrived, parks where you walked around hand in hand enjoying nature, and other fun date spots. Hao was also taking photography, so his most recent assignment was of you at the Aquarium with deep blue’s surrounding your silhouette. Hao asked you to be his girlfriend that day, as he fell deeper and deeper with his new muse. On November 7th, you two went to Disneyland to celebrate your combined birthdays.

You spent the night at Minghao and Junhui’s shared apartment more frequently than you’d like to admit. It felt so right to be there, even if it had only been a few months since you two started dating. Things were still pretty fresh and comfortable, so neither of you were complaining. As December finally arrived, snuggling in was more appropriate for the cold weather.

“Y/N!” Minghao yelled from the kitchen, “CAN YOU COME HERE?”

You got up and made your way to the sound of Minghao dropping things. “What up?”

“Can you grab the rice wine vinegar from the cabinet?” He struggled to hold all of the ingredients in his hand, refusing to put anything down.

“Hao, I can’t reach it.”

“Oh, you’re so cute and small honey,” finally putting down things, Minghao released the contents of his arms onto the counter letting everything roll wherever it wanted to.

Struggling to reach the rice wine vinegar, even on your tippy toes, you suddenly feel your feet leave the ground as Minghao snakes his arms around your waist to lift you up.

“You could’ve just grabbed it yourself. Or, alternatively, you could’ve put your ingredients down before accumulating too many in your hands causing you to drop the soy sauce. It broke, Hao. There’s broken glass on the floor. You also dropped the sesame seeds, thank fuck that’s plastic,” you kept going, “Junhui! Can you bring the broom?”

Instead of putting you down, Hao shifts his grip and swings you around to hold you princess style. Before you could protest, he says, “I’m protecting my princess from the glass she spoke about.”

“What’s all this for, anyway, sweetie?” Smiling sweetly, you notice Minghao has also pulled out other various ingredients that would be common in ramen.

Putting you down, Minghao says, “I wanted to make ramen for us, but I seem to have spilled the soy sauce. All of it. On the floor.”

“So, this is what you’ve been doing while I was writing?”

“What were you writing about anyways?” Hao bent down with some paper towels to clean the mess. As you handed him a damp one, he said, “I’m listening I promise; oh, thank you that’s probably smart to start with.”

“It’s a research paper on circumbinary star systems and their planets, but I more talked about its role in pop culture.”

“Babe, that’s really cool, can I read it?”

“Maybe after dinner. Do we need soy sauce?”

“Yes! Yes, to both of those.”

Junhui helped sweep up the broken glass into the trashcan and offered to drive to the store to buy more soy sauce while Minghao continued to cook dinner for the three of us.

“Y/n, why don’t you go with me? You can pick out ice cream for our movie tonight.”

“Have we decided on a movie to watch yet?” You responded with as the two of you walked out the door to Minghao’s car. “Okay, wait, Minghao lets you drive his car?”

“I think he trusts me more than himself to drive.” Junhui smirked and tossed the keys into the air, grabbing them before they fell back into his hand from gravity. “Come on! Hop in!”

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

mingHOE: babyyy~ be safe with jun and get ben n jerry’s strawberry cheesecake plss

(y/n/n)bunny: have you changed my contact name back from the monstrosity that (y/n/n)bunny is

mingHOE: not unless you change that overused joke and buy me ice cream, and I aint no hoe bb I am loyal to u and only u

(y/n/n)bunny: ok fine but you know that it’s my fave flavor too and I’ll be having most of it

(y/n/n)bunny changed mingHOE’s contact name to secretly a merman

(y/n/n)bunny: better?

secretly a merman: much ;)

(y/n/n)bunny: ok ur turn bb boy

secretly a merman: nope!! I love it, it’s as cute as uuuuu

(y/n/n)bunny: pick a damn movie, asshole

secretly a merman: :O not with that attitude young missy

“Jun, I’m leaving your roommate” You turn to the driver, straight-faced.

“Hahaha, you know he wouldn’t ever change something he’s so proud of. Plus, it sounds like ‘(Y/n/n)-Money’ your street name.”

“That is not my street name, I don’t have a street name!” You hold in giggles, “That makes it worse!”

“Why’d you change his name to ‘secretly a merman’ though?”

“At the aquarium, I swear he was about to transform if any water got on him. When we went to the pier he felt at peace with the waves and zoned out a bit. He likes the sea.”

Jun’s phone buzzed this time. “Can you check that? We’re almost at the market.”

frogboi: she’s so cute

“I don’t need to respond to him.” You smile softly as you slip Jun’s phone back into the cup holder.

junnieboi: Walkin into the market now. I know man. You should use this time to write in your planner before she comes back and you two fall asleep on the couch together, like last time. We’ll be home before you know it.

“Come on Jun! Let’s hurry home!” He puts his phone in his pocket and jogs to meet you inside.

As the two of you snake through the aisles while humming and singing Half Moon, you both laugh and chase after one another to see who gets to the items first. Jun, being athletic, won every time. Your out-of-shape ass was too slow, and you gave up halfway through, still laughing. On your way home, you blasted Monsta X’s new album, singing and laughing the whole way.

“Hao!” You called as Junhui opened the door for the two of you, “We’re home!”

As you turn to put the ice cream in the freezer, you noticed something different about Minghao. “Honey, where… where is your shirt?”

“I took it off when I went to write in my planner.”

“So, it’s your ripped light blue jeans, froggy socks, and your… apron.” You say, eyeing your boyfriend up and down.

“Those froggy socks are so punk, Minghao.” Jun adds.

“You bought them for me for my birthday!” Minghao pouts, and then shows them off.

“You bought Minghao… socks. Really cute frog socks, as if it wasn’t domestic enough.” You bent down to pet the shown off socks.

“Y/n, I promise we aren’t dating in disguise.” Jun leans against the counter.

“I never said that.” Looking up, you meet Minghao’s eyes and the three of you erupt into giggles.

“Dinner anyone?”

After dinner, you and the boys cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie with your bowls filled with ice cream. It was getting pretty late so Jun suggested that we pause the movie and finish it another night, because everyone was yawning frequently. Except, it took a minute for the boys to realize that you had already fallen asleep. Minghao carried you to bed, making you wake up, and you clung tighter to him. You both sleepily changed into pajamas and found your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your faces. As you climb into bed, you notice Hao’s planner out and open to read:

December 3rd: ramen night!! + ice cream and cuddles

[ravenstyx]

Heartbreak Grows in the Garden Chapter 3: The Crack Inside Your Fucking Heart is Me

Rated: M/A

Summary: She's a stunner and a taker She's amused; she's a faker and you like it that way. (This is the story of all the hearts Cana has left in pieces.

Also found HERE

Therapy days, surprisingly, were the best days. An hour of his time every Thursday. An hour in which she could watch him squirm and stare at her breasts inappropriately for a man in his position. She wore leather shorts today, though the days were getting colder, and a crop top that she knew he’d disapprove of for obvious reasons.

When she walked into his office, Cana felt his tension rise. He was easy to tease. High strung. Horny, in a word. Cana supposed that she was an instigator. Without her influence, though, he would exist in frustrated hell forever, dreaming about acting out his nasty, barely eighteen fantasies with girls that were obviously not his wife without any real-life experience to spice things up. She was doing him a favour.

Cana closed the door and took herself to the chair opposite his and sat. Mister Conbolt’s eyes lingered on her legs; his throat bobbed and Cana smiled.

“Miss Alberona.”

“Mister Conbolt.” He straightened in his chair, gaining strength from the title. Cana sought to put him on uneven ground again. “I think we know each other well enough by now, can I call you Macao? Mister just seems really formal.”

For all his caprices, Macao Conbolt liked to have boundaries, and here, without much effort, she’d reached his. “This is formal, Cana.” He realized his slip and flushed.

“See? You prefer it, too.” Cana settled back in her chair and stretched her legs out. “What are we talking about today, Macao?”

He looked like he was going to tell her Mister. He let it go, getting smart to the game or deciding that they could push it a little more. They weren’t doing anything too offside just yet. “We’ve been seeing each other enough that this could be a self-led session. Do you have anything you want to get off your chest?"

“Mm… I don’t know.”

“Anything at all, Cana. I’m here to listen.”

“I fucked a girl in a motel the other day. I didn’t really know her,” Cana said plainly. Mister Conbolt had been scratching something in the top of his notepad but his pen abruptly stopped. He didn’t look at her, though.

“I see.”

“That’s all the insight you have? I see?” she challenged. “I thought you’d be better at this than that.”

Mister Conbolt lifted his gaze. Whatever he’d been drumming up in his mind, it looked like he was choking on the thoughts, struggling to keep business and fantasy distinctly separate. "You had relations with a girl you didn’t know."

Cana sat forward and felt Mister Conbolt's eyes slide down her chest. "Do you want me to tell you about it?"

He adjusted his notebook in his lap and made a concise effort to meet her eyes. "Obviously, you want to talk about it."

Cana took inspiration from the torn look in Mister Conbolt’s eye. It wasn’t anything overtly lewd, just a feeling, really. She’d seen enough men look at her the same way to spot the subtle change in his demeanor. "I found her in a church. She was a good girl. At first. But when I took off her white lacy panties and got on my knees—"

"Cana," Mister Conbolt interjected. "Please."

She grinned. "I like it when you beg. Fuck. It makes me—"

"Enough,” he wheezed. “Tell me about it without the grizzly detail."

She settled back in her chair. "That's the most interesting part."

He abruptly changed the subject. "How is your job hunt coming?"

Cana drummed her fingers on her knees, displaced but not without grip. "Alright."

"Had any leads yet?"

"Macy's is hiring."

Mister Conbolt's look over his respectable square glasses was deadpan. "Macy's?"

"You like to go there, don't you?"

He snapped his notebook closed with such authority it made Cana jump. "What's been bothering you? Lay it out flat for me, Cana. Stop the games."

"Nothing's bothering me. My time at Fairy Hills is running short, I gotta get a job, I'm telling you about an opportunity and you're being a dick about it," she said and was surprised by the bite in her voice.

He hit the nail on the head with sharp accuracy. "You're leaving us in a few weeks."

Cana picked at her nails and pretended that she wasn’t avoiding his gaze. The black nail polish was chipped and thin. She'd have to grab some more off Mira.

"It’s scary, taking this step, but understand, you won't be totally on your own, Cana, you'll still have a caseworker assigned to you. You'll be set up in—"

"Fucking assisted housing. I get it. With all the other crack whores and baby mommas. I'll fit right in." She stood, angry and embarrassed, and turned her back on Mister Conbolt.

"Cana!"

She let the door slam.

Moonlight made diamond strands of Mira's hair and the wind set it to tangling. It smelled of cherry blossom shampoo and hairspray and Cana didn't hesitate to tame the wild locks. Mira barely looked at her, she was busy trying to figure out just exactly who she was. Tonight as they sat on Fairy Hills’ roof, she wore fishnets beneath her shorts and combat boots like Cana's, and a red and black top stenciled with roses and thorns. She puffed on a cigarette stolen from Mister Makarov's office and wallowed in the music pouring out of the headphones Cana deigned to share. She used to sing all of Marilyn Manson's lyrics with Cana. Now, she stared at the horizon and Cana could only imagine what she was thinking about. What a silly question. There was only one thing Mira ever thought about these days. Did this music actually make her feel better? Did she still find escape in lyrics and grungy guitars and when The Speed of Pain came on, did she understand? Did she think of Lisanna every time she heard, the crack inside your fucking heart is me? Mira always got a look on her face when that time came and Cana thought she was losing her.

"I got picked up by the cops again the other night," Cana said casually to break the silence and to remember that Mira was her confidant, her partner in crime, the one person in this big fucking world that didn’t make her feel claustrophobic when they were close. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Mira turned her head and the odd braid she’d ended with a neon bead and dyed fluorescent green knocked together. Yellow streetlight flicked against her many, many necklaces and her earrings, too. Six in her ear, one in her eyebrow, one in her nose, and her lip, too. “You did?”

“Yeah. They busted up this shitty party I went to with this chick, looking for coke or something.”

“Cana! Mister Dreyar said if you got arrested one more time, your spot was gone.”

“I know. Sometimes, I think Officer Fucking Do Good just likes to fuck with me. He let me go without calling Mister Dreyar and he paid for a cab ride back.”

Mira sighed. “You went to Coffin Ridge again?”

Her tone made Cana defensive. “It’s fun.”

“If you like crackheads.”

“They’re not all like that.”

Mira’s look could rival Mister Conbolt’s for dryness. “No? The last time we went, there was that douche with the tattoo that wanted to hook up.”

“And he was so high, he couldn’t get it going, I know.” Cana cackled, though the memory wasn’t half as good as she’d like it to be. It made her feel dirty. She’d showered twice the next day and the guy didn’t even get it in.

Mira was more honest about her opinion on the matter. “It was sad. You should be more careful.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m serious, Cana.” Mira looked at her completely and there was real worry in her darkly lined eyes. “You keep doing all this crazy shit and every night you go out, I just sit there and wonder if you’re going to come back.”

“If you came with me once in a while again, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Mira tongued her lip ring. “Elfman…”

“Is a big boy, he can handle himself,” Cana said shortly. She didn’t want to think about Elfman or talk about him or even exist in the same fucking world as him because she’d just remember him holding her around her middle and looking up at her completely guileless while he said, ‘I think I love you.’ It was just gross to think that he’d led himself down that delusional fucking path.

Cana took a deep breath in. And let it out. “You need to relax some, Mira.” She was relieved that she sounded like her old, playful self. “Get out and party and escape for a little bit. Let loose.”

Mira sighed and leaned back onto the gravel flat roof, saying neither yes nor no, which in the Language of Mira meant yes in Cana’s experience. To celebrate, Cana rooted through her pocket and took out a package of cigarettes she’d gotten the guy at the convenience store to give to her. A smile and a wink went a long, long way, sometimes. She didn’t take a cigarette from the tinfoil but a thin joint she’d rolled. Mira watched her through the fake lashes she’d stuck on that night. Cana sparked it up and passed Mira a toke without asking. Mira’s black lipstick was sticky and tasted familiar and as long as Cana didn’t think about how much that was okay, she wouldn’t get stuck on the details.

[ddproductionsw77]

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love (Pt. 2)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle, hints at side Lucaya and flirts with Zaya for fun.

Prompt from riarklespirfire: Part 2 of the Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love, a Riarkle enemies-to-friends-to-lovers AU

Author’s Note: I decided to keep on this one because I just loved it so much!!!! So, this is the official announcement that The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love will be a book instead of a one or two shot as originally planned. I actually already have the plot laid out and everything so…

Find it on FF.net or at Ao3 as well!

Riley Matthews was not his friend.

She really wasn’t.

Because Farkle Minkus could never be friends with someone like her.

She was just so fucking entitled, with her decent looks, social easy, and (admittedly) impressive intelligence, not to mention that having her father as one of their teachers did her attitude no favors either.

And that waltz she always seemed to have? The inherent skip in her step? It made his skin crawl.

Or rather, it usually did…

She was also astoundingly naive and so damn idealistic. No one had disillusioned her yet, explained to her that people actually weren’t always born good and sometimes bad shit just happens to people who don’t deserve it. Speaking to her was like talking to a child and Farkle didn’t have the patience for it. 

Growing up in his household, patience was definitely not a virtue.

Yet, he supposed that she wasn’t exactly his enemy anymore.

Something had changed in the last few weeks and even in his infinite stubbornness, Farkle had to admit that he might not exactly hate Riley Matthews anymore. No, he didn’t really mind her most of the time nowadays… Possibly even liked her a little bit here and there.

So, Riley Matthews was not his friend. But she wasn’t his enemy, either. She was something else. Something on the tip of Farkle’s tongue that he couldn’t quite recall but also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to dwell on long enough to come up with it.

Not that it was a big deal or anything.

Because it wasn’t.

It was Riley fucking Matthews and Farkle could never be friends with someone like her.

That was what was running through Farkle Minkus’ mind, at least, as his gaze followed the subject in question as she crossed the cafeteria with Maya Hart by her side.

“Pretty girl, huh?” Lucas spoke up, elbowing him in the ribs as he also watched the girls take their seats.

Farkle dropped his eyes to the apple in his hand. No way in hell was he going to eat it; it was practically mush, but he didn’t like his best friend’s gloating tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Is that all you see when you look at a girl? How pretty she is?”

Zay, sitting across from the duo, had turned incredibly conspicuously in his chair to see what the fuss was. “Uh, if I’m looking at Maya Hart? Yeah, man.” He took a bite of his own mushy apple, “She’s hot.”

“What else am I exactly supposed to look at? I don’t really know Maya.” Lucas countered, gearing up for a good, old fashion, Minkus-Friar debate.

“First of all, Maya Hart? Wasn’t looking at her.” Farkle shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

“And next, you don’t need to know someone personally to learn about them. Scientists observe.” He repeated, Lucas and Zay echoing along to the last sentence in annoyance from the number of times they’d heard it before.

Farkle pressed on, regardless. “They watch patterns, monitor behaviors, track consistencies. You see a hot blonde but I see someone who never leaves the side of her closest companion, who probably has a harder home life because she always takes extra at lunch, and who fails almost every written test but can answer most questions in a classroom discussion.”

“So basically, she’s loyal, little cynical, and averagely smart.” Sitting up with an eyebrow quirked in triumph, Farkle drummed his apple on the tabletop, “Lastly, and again, Maya Hart?”

“You know what?” Lucas challenged, trying to sound annoyed but the effect was lost to the amusement clear in his expression. “Fuck you, Farkle. Fuck you on two counts because seriously, how do you do that? And also because Maya Hart is hot, even you can’t deny that.”

Farkle chuckled, leaning over the table a bit with a casual shrug, “She’s okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Zay threw a hand up, “If you weren’t staring at Maya Hart than who-“

Again the boy spun in his chair and Farkle inwardly groaned, slouching back into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the tips of his ears were warming. Why would he be blushing? He had nothing to be embarrassed by.

Zay whirled back round, mouth agape and uneaten apple in plain sight. Charming. Really. 

“Wiley Maffhews?!” He exclaimed through the food.

Lucas cocked his head to the side, taking in the girl beside the ‘blonde beauty’, before turning to a glaring Farkle. “But you hate her?”

“Yeah, every time you see her, you start muttering about pie?” Zay suppled after swallowing.

“Pi.” Farkle corrected, instinctually, before hardening his gaze and giving both his friends scathing looks. “And I’m perfectly aware of how I feel about Riley Matthews, thanks.” He sighed, “She’s my chemistry partner, that’s all. And she may be getting to me… But just a bit!”

“Damn, you must really hate her. Usually you don’t admit when things bug you.” Lucas lightly punched Farkle’s shoulder, glancing between his friend and the brunette giggling across the cafeteria.

Zay nodded, “Yeah, you’re just an asshole about it.”

“Why am I friends with you guys, again?” The genius asked, eyeing both boys.

“See?” Zay gestured to Farkle’s whole being, “Like that!”

|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

“Matthews.”

“Minkus!”

Okay, did she really have to sound so excited to see him? It’s still just fucking chemistry. Farkle wondered even as something warm blossomed in his chest.

It has been a bad idea to talk to Riley about his parents, he had concluded the day after he’d done so. It was like she thought they had some connection now or something. He’d just been trying to prevent her from meddling in his life, not make her think they were somehow closer than before.

Because they weren’t.

“Guess what?” Riley asked, turning on her stool to face him.

Oh, and they were doing that thing now? Well okay…

“What?” Farkle answered to placate her, keeping his head down and flipping needlessly through his notebook.

Whatever hints he was trying to drop, honestly he wasn’t even sure, Riley definitely did not pick up on them. Her grin only seemed to widen, if possible, as she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Her grip was tight with enthusiasm and odd but not entirely unwelcome. Pin pricks seemed to rise up on his skin through the sleeve of his t-shirt under the pressure. His gaze came up to rest on her perfectly manicured fingertips, eyebrows drawn in confusion as she rambled on.

“Last night I got an email from Columbia confirming my enrollment! I am officially going to be a student at Columbia University in the fall!” She practically squealed at the end, those manicure nails digging into his arm.

Farkle rolled his eyes, biting back the smile trying to fight its way on to his face, “That’s generally what confirming an enrollment means, Matthews.”

“I know that, silly! I’m just so excited!” Riley snatched her hand back to clap and bounce in her seat. Without permission, a light chuckle slipped past Farkle’s lips as he watched her, practically feeling the excitement radiating from her.

God, she’s adorable.

Wait, what? No! No, she was not. Absolutely not!

Dropping his smile, Farkle turned back to glare at his own wiry handwriting sprawled across the pages of his notebook. As if those were the thoughts that offended him and not the ones still locked in his brain.

“I’m just shocked you managed at Ivy League, Matthews. I always pegged you for a community college or maybe NYU.” He grumbled.

Riley stopped bouncing, hands still raised mid-clap. Her grin, always so infectious and genuine, slipped away to be replaced by a much less contagious but equally genuine look of hurt. 

Slowly, she folded her hands in her lap and turned back to the front of the class right as Mr. Hudson came cruising into the room.

Farkle finally started to relax with her big, brown eyes off him when he heard her hiss, “You are such an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He countered, remaining expressionless.

The reply easily rolled off his tongue, but the guilt continued to roll around in his gut long after chemistry. The hurt on Riley’s face didn’t settle on his shoulder quite the way it normally did. There wasn’t any satisfaction in raining on her parade anymore…

Maybe she really was getting to him.

Farkle thumbed through his copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks as the subway soared through the underground. Music played in the background of his mind from the earbuds he’d popped in after leaving Abigail Adams. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to focus on the lyrics anymore than he could the words on the pages.

His eyes burned from tiredness but he’d already found that no amount of blinking would do him any good. This was a weariness deep within his bones. An exhaustion that took time to cultivate, layering and layering until it fit like a second skin.

Calling it quits, he hastily dog-eared the page he’d been on, earning a glare from the bookish girl a few seats down, and shoved the novel back into his bag.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he laid his head back against the cool glass of the window. Light flickered sporadically throughout the cart as the train barreled through the tunnel and Farkle fought to keep his eyes open and his mind awake. Falling asleep on the subway was a basic no-no to any New Yorker, but he was just so tired.

The cell phone in his pocket felt heavier than usual, it’s weight on his leg like a brick. The text he’d gotten as he boarded the subway had equal weight on his mind.

From Stuart Minkus: Your mother will be here when you get home. We’re having a family dinner. Play nice.

Play nice? What the hell did that even mean? 

Farkle wondered and drummed his thumb against his thigh. It wasn’t like he was ever not nice to his mother. He wasn’t even disrespectful, in his own opinion, that just wasn’t how she saw things.

Since the day he’d been born, Farkle had been Stuart Minkus’ son.

Not just biologically, because obviously, but in identity. Sure, his name was ridiculous but he wore it proudly because he shared it with his father, the man who’d built an empire.

His father was someone important who did important things. It was one of the first facts that Farkle knew with complete certainty, even when he was just a toddler teetering around the top floors of Minkus International. 

Sure, his father was almost always absence in his life but that came with being so important. Stuart had things to do, people to see.

Still, Farkle had spent most nights of his childhood staying up until dawn just to say a quick hello. Just to get a glance of what it was that his father gave everything to.

There was a need to please ingrained deep in his system, to earn his father’s approval.

That was not the case with Jennifer and it never had been.

Farkle had a running theory that his mother viewed him as a black hole. Before he was even eight, Farkle had learned that Everything, Farkle! You just ruin everything! and he’d learn it from his mother.

Apparently, she’d been a country club, homecoming queen with a trust fund and bright future all before she’d gotten knocked up on the second date — not that his parents would ever admit that but he could do the basic math of their September wedding and his April arrival.

He’d put the rest of the story together on his own over the years.

Barely ten minutes after the pregnancy test turned positive mom had been disowned by her family and frantically tacking ‘Minkus’ onto her last name with a precious, little parasite multiplying its cells in her uterus… Or at least that’s how she’d put it to one of her housewife friends one afternoon when she’d been drinking wine from a box and forgotten Farkle was coming home early from school to see the ophthalmologist.

Basically, Jennifer Bassett had been a massive star and the birth of her son marked the end of her life cycle. He was the black hole formed from her collapse. His existence had taken not only her life from her, but her potential, her opportunities, the very light in her soul. He’d absorbed them and destroyed them just like a black hole.

Farkle figured that was why the woman seemed to avoid him like the plague and treated him with nothing but resentment when she was around. Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t, these days Farkle couldn’t bring himself to care either way.

Love had never been something he’d craved anyway.

It was an illogical fallacy, after all. An unproven hypothesis for those too desperately lonely to be left to their own devices when facing the bleakness of life head on.

Fuck, he was so tired he was getting poetic. Never a good sign.

And he’d closed the door on his mommy and daddy issues long ago, so why was he dwelling on them again now all of the sudden? On the subway, of all places?

Probably because Riley fucking Matthews had come along and knocked on that damn door.

Farkle sat up straight and ran a hand down his face.

Whatever. It didn’t matter, he was going to have to face dinner with his parents either way. Awkward, suffocating, it was like playing a role he knew his mother and father preferred. It was easier having a successful, bright son after all than living in the gravitational pull of a black hole.

It was even worse than Farkle had thought it would be. And that was saying something.

The teenager threw himself down into his bed, groaning as he slowly relaxed. His whole body had been tense for the last hour and a half and even the relief ached. He reached up, tugging at his hair and thinking back over the events of the so-called ‘family dinner’.

It hadn’t been a family dinner, first of all.

Farkle had been bombarded by his father from the moment he’d stepped out of their private elevator and apparently Marty and Helen Coleman were having dinner with them. He’d barely suppressed an eye roll at the news because the Coleman’s were even more insufferable than Riley Matthews on a good day.

They were old Princeton friends of his father’s and Marty was on the board of admissions still. Farkle had been pulled aside by his father the first day he met Marty and told that 'they could use the leg up’ to get him accepted.

It had stung that his father didn’t think he could get into Princeton on merit and capability alone, that he thought Farkle needed connections and favors. But Farkle always did as his father told him. Even if it meant playing nice with a corporate asshole like Marty Coleman and his stuck-up wife.

As they sat to talk about Farkle’s 'promising future’, the boy took note that his mother was nowhere in sight. A part of him sighed in relief while a smaller piece twitched in annoyance. Wasn’t the point of the dinner that, for once, both she and Stuart were home?

Luckily however, Jennifer Bassett Minkus appeared just in time for the merlot. A small detail which didn’t really surprise her husband or son and went unnoticed by their guests. She easily fell into her well-rehearsed role of loving wife and doting mother, holding Stuart’s hand and even reaching over once to ruffle Farkle’s hair.

“Our baby boy sure is exceptional.” She grinned with teeth as white as her lies.

Farkle bit his cheek and faked a smile to the table top, playing with his hands. The tremble from his irritation was barely noticeable, he noted with sarcastic pride.

Helen laughed, one of those big ones that just came off as practiced. “Well, with such great influences, how could he not be?”

Ah, irony.

Farkle and irony were old buddies.

“So, Farkle, you still set on Princeton next fall?” Marty questioned, pushing the broccoli around his plate. Had Farkle tried to have pulled that, he’d have been snapped at to stop playing with his food… or, if his father had noticed, made to name all of the nutrients in each piece.

The teenager nodded, “Of course, sir. Princeton is the dream.”

“Just like his old man,” Stuart said, clapping his son on the back. “Farkle was officially named valedictorian about a week ago and his test scores are impeccable. Kid’s gonna give me a run for my money one of these days.”

And yet he could still 'use the leg up’… Sure.

Anyway, the dinner ended up feeling more like a job interview.

What were his goals?

His strengths? Weaknesses?

Where did he see himself in ten years?

His parents and the Coleman’s did realize he’d only been 18 for two weeks, right? Sure, in fucking middle school he’d thought he’d rule the world but things changed. He had realized quickly how easily someone could topple you from your high horse, how exhausting it was to be on point every second of every day, to never let it all in…

Really, all the dinner had done was remind Farkle Minkus of both just how uncertain his future really was and yet how little choice he had in it.

Farkle shot into an upright position on the edge of his mattress, bouncing one leg and drumming his cell phone against the thigh of the other. Suddenly, he felt incredibly restless and wired. Running a hand down his face, he thought about maybe texting Zay or calling Lucas, maybe even video chatting Smackle.

The problem was that he didn’t really want to do any of those things.

His legs twitched more sporadically and it felt like his skin was crawling.

What he wanted was to move.

Jumping up, he grabbed the jacket from the back of his desk chair and practically flew across the room to his door. Slipping down the hall to the private elevator, Farkle glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the muffled yelling from his parents.

Maybe he should tell him he was leaving; it was what most responsible teenagers did, right?

Without pausing in his stride, Farkle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor, not even seeing his mother or father before the doors slide closed.

He pulled at his hair as he moved through the lobby and waved to the doorman in passing before stepped out into the chilly night air of New York. A perk of being further north in the spring, Farkle thought.

He veered to the left, not really having any idea where he wanted to go or really caring as long as it was no longer the top floor of Minkus International.

When had his own home become so suffocating?

His ceiling was a planetarium and his bedroom alone was the size of some small apartments, he had more space than he knew what to do with. 

So, why did it feel like the residence was slowly running out of oxygen, filling more and more with carbon monoxide with each passing? The ratio was all off and it made his head feel dizzy even as it pounded.

Farkle didn’t know how long he was walking before he came to stand before Topanga’s, hands stuffed into his pockets. Somehow, in all of New York, he ended up at the cafe her family owned.

Standing at the railing, he could see the glowing ‘OPEN’ sign and, just behind it, Riley Matthews sitting at the corner booth and tucking cutlery into paper napkins.

She looked…nice and happy, Farkle guessed.

She was smiling warmly and nodding, glancing to the side now and then to say something to her mother behind the counter, that curly brown hair cascading over her shoulder each time. Her younger brother was on one of the cozy chairs, occasionally tossing an opinion over his shoulder to the women. They would both just roll their eyes, Riley’s chocolate ones always looking more amused than annoyed. And even Mr. Matthews was there, sitting across from his daughter and grading papers.

They looked like whatever it was his family always tried to look like.

Clenching the railing until it hurt a little, Farkle felt something cold and bitter in his chest.

Riley just had to have everything, didn’t she? The personality, the looks, the loving family, and the perfect grades. How exactly was he supposed to not hate her?

As he watched, Riley’s eyes flickered over her father’s shoulder and to the window, to him.

Her smile remained, only her eyebrows creasing together. They watched each other for a long moment and Farkle felt something completely different flicker to life in his chest. Something like fire, catching in his lungs and tightening his muscles until they too burned.

Riley’s gaze shifted back down and she slid from the booth, causing Farkle’s stomach to drop.

He was suddenly extremely aware that he’d just been standing there and watching her like a fucking stalker, and only after being a total dick to her just earlier that day. So, now he was going to have to face the music of that snappy voice and ‘resting bitch face’ as Zay deemed it.

Riley stopped to say something to her father, resting a hand on his shoulder, before bouncing over to the door. She grabbed a jacket and pulled it on as she pushed her away outside, stopping to stand a few feet from the door as it slowly shut behind her. She looked up at him, still on the stairs and still painfully gripping the railing.

“You look at little like your detoxing.” Riley said after a long moment of silence.

Farkle cocked his head to the side, “I might be feeling a little on edge.”

Her eyebrows drew closer together and she took another step forward, looking down at her boots, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

Why did she have to do that? Ask like that? Like she cared? Why, why, why on Earth would she care? She didn’t even want to breathe the same air as him a few weeks ago! He hated her, but so what, because she hated him, too, right?

So, why?

It was infuriating to him that there was no equation or textbook that he could turn to for the answers on Riley Matthews. With little to now options left, he just narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged, collapsing down to sit on the cement steps.

Riley bit the inside of her cheek and paused a second before moving to stand before him at the bottom of the stairs. Her hands were folded in front of her, those ever-smiling rosebud lips downcast to form a steady frown. Her eyes scanned over at him from up close and she shifted on her feet.

“Is…” She seemed to hesitate before powering on, “Is it your parents?”

Farkle’s hung head shot up, hand in his hair, looking bewildered. Maybe he didn’t give Riley Matthews enough credit because apparently she was much more preceptive than he’d ever thought.

It was all the answer Riley needed.

With a nod, she came to stand less than a foot from him, raising her eyebrows expectantly and nudging his knee with her hand, “Well, move over!”

Since he hated her, he probably should have just told her to fuck off but Farkle found himself sliding to make room for the girl instead. She positioned herself directly next to him on the step, their shoulders brushing from the narrowness of the railings.

Clapping her hands together, Riley turned her head to him and gave him a look, “Are we really going to do this who uncomfortable silence thing again? Just talk, Minkus! I’m only trying to help!”

“Yeah, but, why?” He asked before he could stop himself. He had to know, as a scientist he could only seek answers to life’s mysteries.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” She asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward.

“Well, Matthews, I thought I was ‘such an asshole’.”

The corners of Riley’s mouth flickered and she bit her lip, shaking her head, “And you are. But luckily for you, I am not.”

Farkle’s finally let his eyes roamed over her as she examined her hands closely.

Her every edge looked so soft, like a glow encased her and made it impossible for him to sharpen his focus when viewing her so directly. Like the sun… or maybe a quasar, what the scientific community agreed was the brightest point of light in the known universe.

“No, you’re not.” The second he said it, he wanted to club himself over the head.

Riley froze at his words.

What the utter fuck is wrong with you, Minkus?

He silently prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that she would just let it slip, let it go. He should have known better, though, because Riley Matthews didn’t let things go. She poked and prodded, meddled and schemed.

Slowly, she turned her head to him and leaned in closer, something Farkle would have thought impossible a moment before with how tightly they were already packed. But suddenly he couldn’t think at all because, goddamn, the girl was practically just inches from him and staring right into his soul, as if she truly believed he had one.

“Have you ever read Robert Frost?” Riley asked in a hushed tone, her open gaze flickering over his face before settling on his electric eyes. “Fire and Ice?”

Numbly, he shook his head, recalling somewhere in the back of his mind the cool, icy hatred he’d been encased in at seeing Riley with her perfect life and family and how quickly he’d thawed just under weight of her warm scrutiny.

She licked her lips and Farkle couldn’t help but just glance, just flicker, down to her mouth.

For some reason, the sight made it hard to swallow as he forced himself back to her eyes.

“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire,” She paused and maybe he was crazy but he thought she might have glanced down at his own lips before continuing, “I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice,”

Riley then wrenched her gaze from him, looking out at the little patio in front of Topanga’s while still whispering, only quicker, and playing with her hands, “I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.”

Smiling a little, she stood and turned to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest, one hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear as she watched her shuffling feet, “Maybe that’ll help you understand why, Farkle.”

And then Riley turned and slipped back inside of Topanga’s without another word to him.

Farkle followed her movements, watching as she seemed to melt right back into her family with ease and feeling even more restless and wired than he had when he’d set out.

Okay, wow! Like, soooo much sexual tension and I, like, wasn’t even planning on that! Like, holy shit! Fire and Ice is my favorite Robert Frost and I thought it was very appropriate for this pair… In this story, I’ve kind of established science as Farkle’s things, but english and literature is definitely Riley’s. I always head-canon Riley as a writer, to be honest, because of the Girl Meets 1961 and Rosie McGee being one.

[charoshane]

My Favorite Books of 2016

I read well over 100 books this year which I say not to brag (although, obviously, to brag a little) but to provide some perspective about the size of my field for consideration and to explain why there are so many titles. Most of these weren’t published in 2016 so you’re not going to see the same 10-15 that kept showing up on all the usual year-end lists. You’re welcome! Here we go:

THE UNFORGETTABLE 

Zippermouth by Laurie Weeks — Sweet, funny, propulsive. I adored it. 

Dark Pool Party by Hannah Black — No one’s brain works like hers.

Eros The Bittersweet by Anne Carson — Also read this year, and recommended, of course: Antigonick, Decreation, and Float, which I reviewed for The New Republic

Straw Dogs by John Gray — Invigorating and smart, albeit peppered with extreme declarations supported by little to no evidence. You have to be willing to put up with a voice that assumes complete authority without always earning it, i.e., a man’s. 

White Out by Michael W. Clune— If you were going to read only one book on this entire list, I’d probably urge you to make it this one. And I know, I know, he is a man, and I just took that dig at men! But truly, this is a masterpiece, and you know it has to be exceptional to override my reverse sexism. Hilarious, vivid, insightful, insert additional superlative here and additional superlative here and then just go read it.  (Gamelife, his subsequent book, is also very good, but it’s hard to write something perfect twice in a row. That’s more Anne Carson’s domain.)

10:04 by Ben Lerner — What can I say? Ben Lerner is a genius, this book is genius, 2016 was the year I could not deny that men actually wrote some things worth reading. I continue to almost shudder in admiration every time I think about this title. 

The Hatred of Poetry by Ben Lerner — I thought about its ideas a lot, and referenced it in the Float review linked above. Pick 10:04 over this if you’re only doing one, maybe, or start with this one instead because it’s short and direct (?)

The Gift by Barbara Browning — God bless @ruthcurry for giving me this book on election night. It was the only thing I could read over the following two days: gentle, loving, wise. I am so grateful to have had this book when I did. It has shades of 10:04, which I say just to compliment them both, not to imply it’s derivative. It doesn’t come out until spring of this year, but please give yourself the gift of reading it ASAP. (See what I did there?) 

Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson — I put off reading this for years—can you guess why—but once I started I could not stop. I usually went back and reread the stories that had come before, before I progressed to the next. Good albums are like that too; too arresting for you to get very far into them right away, because you keep replaying the opening track(s).

All The Lives I Want by Alana Massey — It’s no secret that I’m friends with this little dynamo and I understand why you'd be liberally salting this recommendation as a result. But I’d never recommend a book I didn’t think was worth reading. Life is too short to pretend bad things are good, even if the maker of that bad thing is my friend. I just can’t do it! So believe me when I say that although I already respected Alana’s daunting ability to turn a phrase, I was so impressed with this book. It’s relentlessly intelligent, and mischievous, full of verve and focus and conviction. It made me want to write, which is the highest compliment I can give. 

Loving Sabotage by Amélie Nothomb — I’d never heard of Amélie Nothomb until I came across this recommendation from @magicmolly but now I think I’ve read everything of her’s that’s available in English. (Loving Sabotage is the best but there are striking passages in all the others, too.)

The Vet’s Daughter and Our Spoons Came From Woolworth’s by Barbara Comyns —  They’re both surprising horror stories told by unsentimental but vulnerable female narrators. I loved them very much. 

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle — I picked this up a few times as a kid but I couldn’t find any sex in it, so I didn't bother giving it a proper read. Now that I have, I can say it is exceptional: delicate, lyrical, original. I cried, and then I cried again. I know it’s about a unicorn, but fuck you.  

Other books I recommend without reservation:

Private Citizens by Tony Tulathimutte 

The Man in the Ceiling by Jules Feiffer (I cried!)

The Millstone by Margaret Drabble (Truly the year I fell in love with British female novelists.)

Drawing Blood by Molly Crabapple (generous, beautiful, singular)

Problems by Jade Sharma

D.V. by Diana Vreeland

I Have Devoted My Life to the Clitoris by Elizabeth Hall

Little Labors by Rivka Galchen (Good enough to inspire me to read her first novel, Atmospheric Disturbances, which I’m glad to have read but perhaps should have been a short story instead of an entire book.)

Sleepless Nights by Elizabeth Hardwick (When I’m reading Hardwick, I am amazed by her, but her writing also tends to leave my brain immediately, like it’s a dissipating smoke.)

Orgasmic Bodies by Hannah Frith (Academic but not too dense, and packed with important ideas)

Intimacies by Adam Phillips and Leo Bernsani (another academic one, but all about anal sex. [Ok, not only anal.]) 

The Lost Daughter by (duh!) Elena Ferrante, whom I wrote about a little here, much to a certain Freddie DB’s disapproval  

Sempre Susan by Sigrid Nunez

Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day by Winifred Watson (Recommended to me ages ago by Mallory Ortberg so you know it’s good.)

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark (Related: I read Memento Mori and sort of hated it!) 

The Selfishness of Others by Kristen Dombek 

The Situation and the Story by Vivian Gornick (+ The End of the Novel of Love)

Investing Sex: Surrealist Discussions (I dunno, it’s kind of stupid because it’s mostly a bunch of young straight guys sitting around talking about women’s orgasms like the complete jackasses they are, but it’s also fun and reminded me of things I forget too often, like how fundamentally boring sex can be.)

You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine by Alexandra Kleeman (bizarre, assured, unsettling. I was dying to talk about it with someone during and after I read it but that loneliness is what I get for reading everything at the wrong time. And for having no friends.) 

The Vegetarian by Han Kang (HAUNTING. So haunting.)

The Bitch in the House (It’s rare for anthologies to be good, I think, because they invite such a compromise on quality of writing . But this one is!)

The Diary of a Teenage Girl by Phoebe Gloeckner (Also, A Girl’s Life and Other Stories, which is a rehash of a lot of what’s in Diary but I liked it anyway. You have to be prepared for true teenage diary writing though. Gloeckner has stresses it’s fiction but she also includes excerpts at the end from her real diary as a kid, and they appear almost verbatim in the book. It’s self-involved and repetitive and tedious in places—like diaries are supposed to be!—but I still found it worthwhile. )

Diary of an Emotional Idiot by Maggie Estep (And/or Soft Maniacs by the same.)

And obviously I loved everything @tigerbeepress released this year. I have a particular soft spot for my collaboration with @merrittk, and for Bad Drawings, which turned out more perfect than I could have imagined. 

[eekispyykes]

On Suicides and Celebrity Artists.

M Bench

I was watching a few youtube videos about the passing of Chris Cornell and Chester Bennington. Pretty certain it was a Foo Fighters Interview and then A Pearl Jam tribute singing Black was featured.. Those who we call pop musicians; some started with the desperation of being a band that made it. That's all they set themselves to being. It's not shallow unless you find out after making it big that the effort of being a band was also done in procrastination and avoidance of responsible destinations and messages. Responsible goals and social activism are roles of those who educated themselves about the matter. Some lyrics get hailed as 'so deep' when they were written in 12 seconds to put some sort of vocal over the riff.

 Some musicians started broken. They sing about being broken people. They title their albums " people=shit" . Some wear masks to obscure their identity but also complain the little kids in the front row don't want to look at their masked identity. Quite a complex conniption to want attention and not be seen. So I make my point; musicians aren't well in the head sometimes and its not only for being hayseeds from Iowa.

 The point was made that a super mega star bank account won't keep people from killing themselves. "They have problems just like everyone else." Yes they do. Consider Christina Grimmie for situational personalization of mockery. Celebrity musicians have stalkers all the time. That Grimmie was female was even more a draw for predator types. A particular stalker might take up way too much of a celebrity's time that the music business is no longer fun. Tactics of security become tiring and anxious. . Grimmie was fatally shot by a stalker on June 10th,2016. Consider another star is fed up with their stalker. They see the stalker in the crowd and they want that person to hurt. Artists will be apt to dramatize their inconvenience. Would you call a vengeance ploy of killing themselves onstage just to break the heart of the stalker to be also selfish? The fan can't keep their shit straight. I think vengeance is a good virtue on a one on one basis. Inconvenienced bystanders have to understand conflict is not an aberration .

 Artists have a preset to feel misunderstood and are misunderstood. I'm not explaining suicide for any generalized trend. Death and suicide should be seen as two different events by no intent of inadequate departure. Look at the trolls that tell artists they suck and they sold out. Fans don't get how too many among them feel ownership of a band. Teens especially feel like they are owed something from a band. I had this error of mind also. A band is not a corporation. Being a fan is not owning shares in a band. Similarly, being old enough to be news aware and objectively critical of a younger generation doesn't mean the right to bash them either.

 I can say I have a reason depression would be worthwhile when hearing older Generation X'rs and Boomers pick up the trash talk from radio jocks. " The younger generation with their Ipods and smart phones, how terrible and lazy!" Critics of younger generations are an example of the prepackaged divisive rhetoric that sects of American males spew verbatim. Sometimes I see it amongst military types. Other times its gear heads and still other times the Duck Dynasty reruns. Old hagmen that wonder around and just say provoking things to teens. Is it jealousy?, I don't know.

 What it is, is provocational and apathy. Apathetic people aren't good at talking about whats wrong with them. Surely they want to affect change for the worse without knowing themselves. Sit down and play a video game with your kids, spend time doing with what they're doing, parents. Maybe they'll notice their kids are being trained killers playing squad matches in counterstrike Global offensive. Mom hasn't yet managed a headshot.  The manifestation of death isn't only suicide. People might just be dying inside in more than one way all over the place.  Under the rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air.. a standardized anthem in preparation for war eventually rotted the American spirit inside out. Politics led people to war on each other as enemies of each others alternative facts.    

 An artist has a right to watch a new youtube video from an upstart musician and decide by one particular troll on a night of writers block was why 'going out on a high note is best". Career decisions happen by suicide. In the musicians consideration of their persona, they are owned by fans. If they can't write new music and can't write music to make continuing relevance, hasbeenism reminds them of their age. Hasbeenism keeps groupies from being as plentiful. Hasbeenism is accelerated by peoples attention shifting to the new sounds of the age.  Its certainly good to move on from music as long as the artist is ready to see themselves as something other than a performer and center of attention.

  Some teens and twenty somethings have moved on to exploit a bands type of genre as their excuse to punch random people in the audience. They call it crowd killing. Crowdkilling is not moshing and if you see a crowdkiller, by all means level them out. They are a criminal assailant by trait. The suicide topic and death are relevant. As a band, you are a business and the people of your reputation to assault nonmoshing fans is a problem child. Either a band is a good decision maker to eject the fan or their sense of scene is as mediocre as their  fretboard theory.

 Critics suggest music is ever getting worse. A characteristic of timbre has been said to be historically low. Timbre is how the totality of instruments co mingle on a recording to create authentic tertiary atmosphere in their sound. Some reason of this warmth is by the analog recording process. The bands tracks aren't only bouncing off their other bandmates but also the recording process itself.

 Imagine a new generation growing into a world of critics that keep reinforcing their nonsence that music is disappearing? That’s a suicidal inclination no later than age 12. These critics are wrong. Kids are native to Mp3s which naturally strip away excess frequencies. Todays audiophiles also have a three lane criticism of music. Music of the radio station friendly variety isn't the whole of the cultural sphere. Lets talk about it at focus. Its mixed to be DJ friendly and listeners of that music expect to hear it in the frame of a DJ setting. Audiophiles in general aren't just listeners but also amateur audio engineers and home party DJs.

 Our sounds are naked with digital recording for the better. Males voices and female voices are better trained. Sapiens are in want to hear themselves so vocals are naturally given their room to deliver deep or shallow or repetitive lyrics. They want to hear every note, every scream and the growl of phelgm in the back of a hardcore yellers throat. Clarity issues are the opposite of timbre. Music is moving away from it. On the mixing side, each instrument is being given its room in the mix for sake of remixes. Each mix is letting the instruments breathe. With only 4-5 people in a band, pop music shouldn't sound like symphonic timbres or asked to.

 In the later phases of a bands life, they might team up with an orchestra to justify their music as technically academic. Metallica did this on the S&M album. Led Zeppelin and many other bands have come around the circle to this result. Pop tries to claim its merits among academia uselessly. Who cares? Gentrification of puritan establishment oppositional pop culture is happening. Its depressing and if suicide can become contagious across that isle, maybe its worth it. You're life is worth more than fulfilled martyrdom though. Know that.. or if disagreeing fully, at least be sure your manifesto is well written. I might be alive if even to suffer the vast too many typos of my first book's first version. I wrote another book and feel better about this whole author thing.

 In the first world , the concept of celebrity is like a famous ideal of classism. It surpasses politicians by honesty. If a man cannot live honestly for himself, then why live? On that measure, the united states congress is only alive to be liars. My suspicion is Capitol Hill surely fears koolaid parties like being shown the sign of the cross and bursting to flames of their own dishonesty and malice. I cannot say an entertainer has moved on to a new level to kill themselves. Many more spheres exist for their adventure and rounding as people. It will be my long held belief is suicides among artists happen by two specific reasons: The oppressor they hate continues to be privileged to oppress in their viewpoint, or as honest people… they resent not knowing how to make change from their position of fame for the things they want to affect.

 On that second measure is a split between the courage of being an entertainer and being an orator/activist. Bands get on stage drunk and fucked up for a reason.. to get over stage fright. Outing your own political platforms is a much bigger task than being knocked on a three chord progression among peers. Sometimes leadership among entertainers becomes a revealed gamble and peer into a window of a frail esteem. Fans and people of generic ilk expect that famous is the best of ideals. Expectations are being made daily how great it is to be famous. Not even with the assistance of drug addiction does fame necessarily meet the hype it was given. Only a small percent of the groupies can make it in the backstage loin attention hours. Three STDs later, a band is surely fed up with some aspects of too much attention and too much more risk.

  Once the attention is a dull rash and the bank account can't be spend even so quickly for remaining in the zone of 'struggling new band' angst; fame loses its luster. Bands are often born in humble and under financed beginnings. It’s a part of the bands character.

Is it really selling out to buy the instruments you wanted? A Schecter Damien and Peavey 6505 cabinet is uptraded to a Fryette Pitbull with AAA figured Les Paul. The artist wants to hear their dream rig as recorded. The singer learns to sing and yells less. By these two factors a band will turn its tone to a legato sustained drone affect.

  A metal band will confront its success by sounding too over produced. Some genres are famous for being poor and fame is the sellout. No longer owned by the fans is made a  statement of abandonment for other than music itself. I blame some matters of depression on a difficultly with gender identity. When a bands material strays away from 'uber masculinity', self doubt can happen.  I don't challenge each member about their own masculinity or femininity or queerness for that matter.. but what the feedback loop outlined a band in reviews.

  The changes of material from Nevermind to In Utero cannot be ignored. The angst was gone. Perhaps with it a sense of being motivated. Making an enemy to confront will eventually be realized being a microphone for hate lyrics. Meanwhile, the political enemies were never too detailed or identified to make any significant statement in a song about topics in a deliberately preachy way.

  Celebrities have to chase their own famous persona. Imagine facing waking mornings being more nice than you want to be so a fan doesn't post a video of you. That's not honest. What if you find out your fans were assholes in other aspects of their life? Its not that an artist might be depressed that ends their life. Ask why? Are you good enough fans? Are the people good enough to receive them? Third parties fail in the United States because the majority of campaign donors; even small donors; are attention invested to those they've donated before. They don't want to give attention to objective wants since they've be sold prepackaged platforms with the entertainment values of a rivalry. Suicide is a manifestation of choosing not to be among the society. It’s a social criticism to wonder about. To stoke change and to ask what must be changed, that's what I inquire on celebrity suicides. Depression doesn't happen on its own. If the world is depressing, make it happier. Unable to know how to make it better leads to more depression. And then after awhile people stop wanting to be depressed by assured permanence.