|
|
Post by jason on Mar 5, 2011 15:27:40 GMT -8
 you want to stay but you know very well i want you goneNOT FIT TO FUCKIN’ TREAD THE GROUND THAT I’M WALKING ON
----------------------------------------------------------Jason couldn’t believe his luck. One week he was the life of the party, the person every man wanted to be and every woman wanted to fuck, and now here he was. ‘Here’ wasn't even interesting. Addison, Texas; had anyone outside a five mile radius of the tiny town ever even heard of it? He had to wonder. He raked a hand through his dark hair, slowing his jog to a brisk walk. The loose shirt he had thrown on this morning to go running was wet with sweat, and he took the hem of it and fanned it away from his torso absent-mindedly. The cool morning air rushed at his slick skin, and he shivered slightly, licking his chapped lips. It’d been a long time since he went running. In Chicago one had to be careful what they were doing out on the streets at five, or six in the morning. And of course, Jason had always been out partying himself into a stupor. He hadn’t had the time, or the want, to do such a simple thing. In this God forsaken town, however, there was nothing else for him to do. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed the sun was just starting to rise, and slowed his pace.
Checking his back pocket, he made sure he had brought his wallet with all his credit cards with him. He walked down the sidewalk, huffing only slightly from the exertion of the run, and pushed open the door to a little shop called the Sugar Shack. He’d rather have a vodka on the rocks right at the moment, but a coffee was going to have to do. Ignoring the fact that the place was almost empty, considering it was just past six thirty in the morning it shouldn’t be too unusual, he walked in.
He stared at the menu over the counter, tapping his fingers on his thighs when his phone rang. Pausing, he grimaced and looked down at his pocket in annoyance. Holding a finger up at the lady behind the counter, he grabbed his phone and walked off, answering it once he was out of range of any curious ears. “What,” he asked blandly into the phone, forgetting to check the caller ID but not particularly caring.
“Jason? This is Raven,” he heard and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
“What do you want? Shouldn’t you be out brown-nosing college professors?”
“You know Mom and Dad were right to send you to that fucked over little town. You’re such-”
“An ass? A bastard? A low-life that has no care for anyone else but himself?” he fired off, not particularly caring about what his older sister thought of him. Or anyone else for that matter. He heard silence on the other end, and he shrugged. Opening his mouth, he was getting ready to tell her that he didn’t need to be called every five minutes. He hadn’t burned anything down or gotten anyone pregnant yet, but she beat him to it.
“All of the above.”
He raised a brow, even if she couldn’t see it, wandering back over to the counter and chuckling to himself. “Thanks, sis. I can feel the adoration you have for me. But let’s save all cute talk and cut to the chase: what’re you calling me for? Especially at this time of the day,” he added just as she began to speak, cutting her off and grinning at the sharp exhale that he knew meant she was annoyed with him.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re probably crawling out of some virgin’s bed.”
“Good one, but she wouldn’t be a virgin if I was crawling out of her bed, Rav.”
He heard her disgusted sigh, and lowered the phone from his ear as she began lecturing him. Ordering a black coffee, he rocked back on his heels, glancing at his phone and the ticked off voice of his sister coming through it. He’d wait until she was done with her speech before even thinking about putting it back to his ear. Or better yet… He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket and taking his coffee. He paid and then made his way toward a booth, sliding in and taking a big gulp of coffee that burned his mouth. He ignored his phone as it vibrated again, grinning to himself and taking another sip of coffee.
jason rothschild • 761 words • for mikayla • thank you maroon 5 for the muse ♥ what an ass xD
|
|
|
|
Post by mikaylahunt on Mar 11, 2011 19:05:52 GMT -8
 Mikayla was beginning to regret last night’s activities, perhaps she should have listened to her parents for once and actually stayed home. But, when was the last time she actually listened to her parents? She had been given a free rein pretty much when it came to doing what she wanted over the past few years, and she had taken full advantage of that fact. Take last night for instance. It had been a party at a friend’s place, or going out to dinner with her parents. You could probably guess what won. She had gotten home at around three am (probably a reasonable time, considering her usual standards) for pretty much a three or so hour nap before she woke up again to head to the barn. Walking, right now, she didn’t trust herself to cycle or drive right then, she doubted she would even ride Gyro when she got there, lunging him seemed to be the safer option.
Approaching the Sugar Shack, her stomach growled in protest. She probably should eat, actually, and a coffee wouldn’t hurt either, it might help keep her going for a while longer until she could go home and crash again. And Gyro wasn’t going to go anywhere, he would still be at Crossfire no matter what time of the day she went. With that thought making up her mind, she stopped in her tracks and opened the shop door, the scent of coffee and baking hitting her with full force as the door swung open.
Being so early in the morning, the place was pretty deserted, except for a few fairly silent people scattered about the shop, the only one who really stood out was a dark haired boy, probably around her own age, if not the same age, having a fairly loud conversation with someone over the phone. Mikayla ignored it, for the most part, or at least tried to as she ordered a blueberry muffin and a coffee, she couldn’t make out what was being said, she could just hear the noise.
She collected and paid for her order after he had taken his, turning to find a seat and instead finding him sitting there with a grin on his face that seemed to indicate that he was immensely pleased with himself. “I’d wipe that grin off my face if I were you, people are going to think you’re up to something,” she said, tones rather nonchalant as she slid into the booth next to his, sitting so her back was facing him.
Mikayla really ought to know when to keep her mouth shut sometimes. Or perhaps she just liked getting on people’s nerves, who knew.
Tagged Jason
Words 446
Outfit Coming
Muse Grazed Knees - Snow Patrol
Notes *sneezes everywhere*
|
|
|
|
Post by jason on Mar 31, 2011 15:37:24 GMT -8
you want to stay but you know very well i want you goneNOT FIT TO FUCKIN’ TREAD THE GROUND THAT I’M WALKING ON
---------------------------------------------------------- His phone continued to vibrate in his pocket, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. Let Raven fume over it, he really didn’t give a rat’s ass. His sisters knew he didn’t, but they kept coming back with their smart remarks and criticism to see if they could get a reaction from him. They never did, but it never deterred them. Maybe they were related to him after all. Jason simply didn’t care about what other people thought of him. Maybe that seemed like a good quality, and perhaps in some people it was, but in Jason it just made him all the worse. The fact was that his own ego was too large meant that he had no room for anyone else’s opinions; good, bad, pretty or ugly.
He took another long sip of his coffee, ignoring how it burned his mouth and numbed his taste buds. He didn’t need to taste the coffee for it to work it’s magic. Although, he was already plenty awake from his run and that invigorating phone call from his sister. He chuckled to himself under his breath, leaning back in his booth as his phone finally quit vibrating. Taking it out, he looked down at the screen as it flashed up at him that he’d missed Raven Rothschild’s call six times. He raised his brows and pocketed the phone. Whatever it was she was calling him about was going to remain a mysterious because Jason—as we’ve already went over—didn’t particularly care. Setting his coffee on the table, he ran his slightly sweaty palms down his sweatpants and crossed a leg over his knee just as a girl entered his line of sight and started talking.
He blinked once, surprised, which was monumental in and of itself. Usually when a girl walked in the same room as him looking as good as she did, Jason never failed to notice. He had to smirk at her words to him, too. She was a smartass, as well. He watched her intently as she turned her back to him, sliding into a booth in front of him, but into the side that kept her from facing him. He grabbed his coffee, taking a long and slow sip, eyes trained on the back of her head for a moment. “Haven’t you heard, sweetheart? I’m always up to something,” he called over to her, making his voice loud enough for the employees as well as any and all customers in the little shop to look over.
Just like he wanted. But then he always got what he wanted. He was Jason fucking Rothschild. No one said no to him.
Grasping his coffee in a firmer grip, he bounced up from his seat with renewed energy, taking a few steps over to the girl and leaning against her table facing her. He raised his brows, checking her out obviously and taking another sip of his coffee before lowering it and speaking. “You got a name, or should I come up with one for you myself?” He grinned at her charmingly, flipping his hair away from his amused brown eyes. It should be a crime to be so energetic at this time in the morning, but Jason could at least claim that he was both a morning and an evening person. The time of the day had no bearing on his temper, only the people and situations around him did. Even if the current state of his life was about as bad as it could get in his eyes, he wasn’t going to let that stop him living it the way he wanted to. His parents be damned. Everyone be damned. He’d do what he want.
jason rothschild • 634 words • for mikayla • okay, so, it’s not half bad… I hope. if it sucks, blame jason. he doesn’t care anyway lmao
|
|
|
|
Post by mikaylahunt on Apr 13, 2011 6:03:34 GMT -8
Unlike Jason’s sisters, and his family in general, Mikayla’s parents didn’t really seem to care how their daughter behaved. Or they did, but didn’t want to say anything in fear that it would drive her away or some such other thing. Probably a mistake on their part, although compared to a lot of the people she associated with, Mikayla was pretty tame. She was just used to getting her own way now, and it made her stubborn as hell and gave her an attitude, a far cry from the shy kid she used to be growing up.
This was why they hadn’t said anything about her going partying last night, rather than spending time at home. Although, a lot of that was probably them knowing that even if they had mentioned it, she wouldn’t have taken any notice of it anyway. And when they did attempt to intervene, it was half hearted suggestions, not really a ruling. At least she was feeling more awake now, even if she had been thinking that staying home might have been the best idea. The girl could bounce back after a hard night’s activities, at least, and she did it with a vengeance.
She suppressed a bemused snort when he spoke back, noting exactly how loud he had raised his voice to speak back to her, clearly he wanted people listening in. “Oh, so you’re one of those then?” she answered, tearing a chunk of her muffin off and eating it, still not turning around to look at him. No, she wasn’t going to tell him what she was talking about yet, suspense was always fun. And she was just getting warmed up, too. It seemed that she was in one of those moods where she just wanted, she guessed, to play with someone, who cared who it was. One of those extra confident, full of attitude and snark moods. Actually, that described her most of the time, really.
She looked up from her breakfast just in time to see him lean against the table she was at, casually flipping his hair from his face as he asked for her name. And don’t think she didn’t notice him checking her out, it wasn’t like he was making it subtle. She leant back in her seat, raising an eyebrow, an amused look on her face. “I don’t know, what were you thinking of calling me? If I like it, you can keep calling me it,” she answered. Not in a defensive, get away from me sort of tone, she was more testing to see how he would react to it. That was Mikayla, pushing people’s boundaries, trying to figure how far she could push them before she pissed them off.
Tagged Jason
Words 455
Outfit Coming
Muse My Happy Ending - Avril Lavigne
Notes *dies* My muse sucks, majorly.
|
|
