#drunk dial

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

You know many of these prompt list are haddotin but I think it would be a crime not have drunk dial with them (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

Thank you @dimdiamond for the suggestion! I think you were right, winning the poll or not, Drunk Dial Haddotin definitely needed to be a priority. 😉

Sorry about the delay! I still have 5 from the polls that I want to get through even if I have to bleed into October a bit to get it done!

Drunk Dial: Character A is obsessed with Character B and gets black-out drunk to deal with it. Someone should definitely have taken away their phone.

Remember, I’m utilizing this prompt list. I probably won’t hit all, but I am trying to get to the highest voted ones in my polls. Trying to use different ships, but feel free to shoot me an ask or DM if there’s a specific ship you would like to see for any of the prompts.

Breaking the Rules

Ship: Haddotin

Rating: M (just to be safe, probably T is fine)

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1388

When Nestor’s job revolved around being near his employer almost twenty-four hours a day, he had to make certain ground rules for himself early in his career. One of those being not to get overly involved in his employer’s personal life. It was important to have a cordial, friendly relationship, but beyond that he shouldn’t be the one instructing them on how to live their life. That rule went out the window the moment he met Master Haddock. 

It wasn’t immediate, this meaningful friendship. In fact, Nestor had been the one to offer his services to make up for his horrible error in judgment of his previous employers. Both Haddock and his friend, Tintin, were quick to wave off his apologies not faulting him at all. The guilt still lingered as Nestor went above and beyond his station to make up for his wrongs. Advising Haddock on what was expected of the master of this particular manor. Helping him to pick out fancy clothing, getting him involved in horseback riding, or tickets for performances at the nearest opera house. 

Then Master Tintin came around with another of his mysteries, and any interest Captain Haddock had in fancier living went out the window. Nestor had thought perhaps that was another of his mistakes, getting Haddock to be something he wasn’t when one unexpected night he was invited to drink and smoke with the captain. Captain Haddock had opened up about his drinking problems and how they had been exploited by his treacherous first mate. How he would be either dead or a drunken slob still if it hadn’t been for Tintin, and it was at that moment that Nestor realized two things. 

The first being that despite his hesitation to believe them, Tintin and Haddock had absolutely forgiven Nestor from the first moment the truth about the matter came out. The second realization was a bit harder to absorb because it violated his rule about getting involved in his master’s personal life. However, it was quite obvious to him that Haddock’s regard towards Tintin was quite a bit more than friendly. Dare he say it, Haddock loved the young man. Of course, he kept it closely guarded as it certainly wasn’t his business to get in the middle of it. He noticed little looks, little touches, and hidden smiles that definitely suggested the feeling was mutual. In fact, when Master Tintin let his lease run out so he could move into Marlinspike, Nestor thought for sure that would be the end of the matter. Instead, it somehow got worse.

Nestor wasn’t entirely sure what Master Tintin’s intentions of this arrangement was, but he could see the young man’s frustration mounting every day. There were several times where it danced on the tip of his tongue to tell Haddock that his obliviousness was going to blow up in his face. Still, Nestor stayed in his lane, going back to his rule of not getting involved. Even if these two were starting to make him ever question why that would be a good idea to begin with. Luckily for Nestor, Tintin was too much of a man of action to sit back quietly and watch this go on for too much longer. 

Standing out in the front hall, polishing and dusting the picture frames, Nestor was in the perfect position to hear the tension over the last several months come to a head as shouting carried from the masters’ study.

“Neptune above, Tintin! What exactly is your problem lately?!”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Certainly nothing you would bother noticing!”

“Thundering typhoons! You could drive a man to drink!” 

“It’s not like it would be the first time.”

Silence settled awkwardly in the manor, even making Nestor wince at Tintin’s words. Rather than make his apologies, the ginger marched out the room and down the stairs. His brows pinched, but his eyes shining brightly.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Haddock demanded from the top of the stairs, his words lacking any kind of bite.

“Drinking.” Tintin answered before slamming the front door.

Nestor and Haddock were both left standing there, stunned by the statement as Tintin hardly ever indulged. Heaving a heavy sigh, Haddock stuffed his hands in his pockets, bending his head so his hat hid his expression. 

“Nestor, I’m retiring for the evening, but…can you stay up and see that he makes it home?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Nestor waited until Haddock had completely disappeared from view before slumping against the wall. He was definitely regretting his rule now. He hadn’t quite realized it, but somewhere along the way Haddock and Tintin had come to be his friends. And he hated seeing his friends in such pain. Perhaps…perhaps he should say something to Tintin once he returned.

Continuing on with his chores, Nestor waited and he waited and he waited. Running out of things to do around the house, he settled in the parlor with a book listening intently for the front door. That was why the phone ringing quite suddenly startled him so bad. Who could possibly be calling this late?

“Haddock residence.” Nestor greeted, stifling a yawn.

“Archieee? I’m sooooo sorry!” A slurred voice sobbed into the receiver.

“M-Master Tintin?” Nestor balked in surprise.

“I never should have brought up your drinking, and why would I? Drink is…FFFUN! I don’t want to fffight! I want to love you and make love to you and you make love to me. I want you to…”

After that, the graphic descriptions of all the sexual encounters Tintin wanted had annoyed and flustered Nestor enough to force his hand. He set the phone down on the table, Tintin none the wiser, as he marched upstairs and woke Haddock from his sleep.

“Blistering barnacles, Nestor! Why in the world would you…?”

Haddock’s protests were cut short as he placed the phone against the captain’s ear. Under other circumstances, Nestor might be amused by the deep vermillion shade Haddock managed to turn listening to the drunken ramblings of his younger friend. However, exhaustion weighed heavily on him, and he couldn’t even muster the energy for it.

“Tell him you’re coming to get him.” Nestor ordered with his arms crossed.

Haddock blinked at him as if forgetting Nestor was even there. Carefully, he cleared his voice and shifted his feet to hide the uncomfortable bulge forming between his legs.

“Tintin, lad, what pub are you at?” Haddock asked softly.

There was a pause on the other end before more rambling came through having Haddock scrub his hand over his face.

“Tintin, Tintin! Listen, I’m going to come pick you up. Just…stay there and for the love of everything good, don’t drink anymore.”

Haddock hung up probably more aggressively than he needed to before running his hands over his face. As soon as he opened his eyes again, Nestor was there, holding out the keys to the car. The captain furrowed his brows, muttering under his breath as he swiped the keys out of Nestor’s hands.

“If I may, Sir?” Nestor stopped him before he could step a foot out the open door. 

Haddock turned his head over his shoulder, indicating he was listening.

“While…evocative, Master Tintin may be right now, I don’t believe his feelings are disingenuous. I just thought you might keep that in mind.”

Haddock hesitated a moment longer before leaving without a word. Well, Nestor couldn’t very well go to bed now. And besides, his last request from Haddock was that he stayed up to make sure Master Tintin returned. So Nestor returned to his book, trying to keep from flinching to the window at every outside noise, wondering if they had returned. FInally, lights appeared in the drive. Abandoning his book, Nestor crept towards the window, trying to remain as discreet as he could. Hushed voices rose from the drive, until the darkened silhouettes pressed together in a sweet kiss. 

Nestor drew the curtains closed with a satisfied smile. If ever he was going to break his rule, he was glad it was this time. He was also rather grateful as he began to shut off lights, that his room was on the opposite end of the house. Just in case Haddock ended up following through with even a tenth of Master Tintin’s suggestions.

[hazeltailofficial]

HOLIDAY FLASHBACK

Too Faced Starry-Eyed Liquid Eyeliner in Drunk Dial

@hazeltailofficial / hazeltail on youtube / hazeltailofficial on tiktok / hazeltailofficial on ig

[quotestomorals]

I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone.

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hello! I'm looking for a fic where either of them drunk dial the other, if anyone knows of something like this pleaaseeee

I've been trying to find some funny drunk dialing, but can't coe up with a fic that's funny and drunk. There are these! But can people suggest?

Drunk Blaine by AngelicKat445

I love me a drunk Blaine! 

Not quite a drunk phone call, but:

My Heart, It Pounds Yeah, You Got Me @nineofhearts4

 Kurt gets drunk and records a TikTok entitled “Guys I Had A Crush On In High School”, in which he talks about, rates, and shows pictures of his various crushes—embarrassing, unrequited, and otherwise—thinking he set it to friends only or private. When he wakes up the next day, he has a flood of notifications that prove otherwise, a hangover, and a text from Blaine Anderson. The longest part of Kurt’s now viral video.

These are sad, rather than funny. ~ Jen

Drunk Dial by mishdapperson

Klaine post-TBU. I drabbled. I couldn't stop myself. The feelings were too much.

~~~~~

3 Am by @izwardsoup @special-bc-ur-part-of-it

 He’s a mess. God, he’s a fucking mess. Kurt didn’t expect to find himself literally stumbling out of a bar at 3 a.m. but here he was. Drunk and lonely and sad under a streetlight on a New York City sidewalk outside of a bar at 3 a.m. How did he let himself get here?

[jenbunny-star]

Why do guys from my past always text or call me when they’re drunk? lol. Even my ex from like 6 years ago still tries to call. I thought 2024 would be the year he stops, but naw he made his mark this year already.😆

[orionsgirl7lovegoodravenclaw]

@jegulusposts @johnnyslittlemonster

[recursive360]

👆📲

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[gotweim]

I bet you're in a bar

It's always the same old song

That Johnny Walker Red

By now it's almost gone

But baby, I won't be there

To catch you when you fall

I bet you're in bar

'Cause I'm always your last call

✨,❤️&✌🏼

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

���Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

can i say somthing abt steve releasing and finding surprising success with a folks-y personal album that catches the attention of much more famous rockstar!eddie's team who, when people start to realize steve the breakout indy singer and the all but ignored, previously top-of-the-world eddie went to the same high school (at the same time, no less; 'remember? he got held back a couple times in senior year' the reddit threads say), arrange for the two to collab on a re-release/extended version of one of steve's songs?

the one about all the shit he went through without his parents being any wiser, not caring to check up on him after the first time (his now father in all but paper) chief hopper picked him up following one too many drinks at another one too many house parties (and not that steve wanted them to, not after his mother's scathing comments about 'the man he was supposed to be', and 'what are we going to do with you's ran out after the first time.).

the one about how hopper asked if he was a danger to himself and 'son, why do you do this to yourself?', realizing shortly after that the harringtons really didn't care about their son (the son in the drunk tank who kept promising 'she'll call me back, promise.').

the song that to the surprise of everyone, was the one of harrington's songs eddie related to the most. he has been 'young drunk and alone' in the backseat of hopper's cruiser many a time himself, and during one of the many times King Steve was caught too; eddie trying to loosen his cuffs beside the younger man while hopper carted them both across town, falling in love with the same man when he drifted asleep on eddie's shoulder along the way.

the song that he similarly connected to via his own absent parent that could give less of a shit about him if he did get picked up by hawkins' finest, whether on his own or as a result of one of al's hare-brained schemes, a father who similarly wouldn't pick up the phone if eddie needed him thank fuck he had wayne though.

the song that from what it sounds like, he and steve both tried hard to defend their parents for a while before they gave up..

so he agreed, mixed his signature fast-paced vocals into Steve's song (which steve gave him the reigns over, saying 'surprise me munson.'), and stays away via a littany of excuses the first time they were supposed to listen to the final track together.

he can't escape for long though, as his own manager and best friend traitor chrissy gives steve eddie's address and his doorbell rings soon after.

[justaz]

arthur has always been suspicious of the tavern excuse for merlin’s absences, but he has no proof on the contrary and when confronted merlin either tells him outlandish tales of near death experiences that have no chance of being remotely truthful or he admits to and apologizes for slacking on his duties to get drunk. one day, he decides enough is enough and he and all the knights go to the tavern with merlin and arthur casually brings up merlin’s history in the tavern and says he could probably beat gwaine in a drinking contest. merlin tries to divert the discussion away from the idea but arthur is determined. they receive a round of drinks and arthur pushes a pint of ale into merlin’s hands with a look of challenge. merlin’s options are to either commit to the lie to hide his secret or admit to the lie and risk exposing his magic. he takes the former. merlin gives lancelot a Look and then slams back the pint of ale with a minor bit of gagging and pauses to breath. gwaine already finished his pint thirty seconds ago but its entertaining to watch merlin so he doesn’t say anything.

merlin (built like a twig, rarely drinks, lightweight) is proper sloshed. arthur is almost vindicated but he needs merlin to admit it. he orders two more pints and gives one to gwaine and the second to merlin, instigating the competition further despite the fact that gwaine won already. merlin grimaces and tries to do the same thing again but only gets a few gulps in before he folds. he slams the mug down and gives arthur a kicked puppy look before admitting and apologizing for lying. arthur is Vindicated. merlin is still wasted.

the nights wears on and merlin feels the effect of the ale more and more every minute that passes. he sits between arthur and lancelot and feels almost unbearably warm but that could be bc of the alcohol in his system, or the crowded tavern. merlin looks around and watches the people that pass their table by while the knights talk and joke and laugh amongst themselves. merlin feels relaxed and excitable now, his worries seem to have melted away and he cant seem to remember why he was always so stressed and worn down before. he sees a game of [insert game here] (i was gonna say darts but google says that game hasn’t been invented in canon time so ill leave it up to interpretation) going on and climbs over lancelot to join in.

the knights watch with amusement and anticipate merlin’s clumsy attempts at [whatever]. oddly enough tho, merlin is a fucking god at [game]. a small crowd gathers and betting pools form and then challengers approach and put money on the line to go against merlin and merlin absolutely demolishes them all. honestly if arthur didn’t know any better, he’d think merlin was using magic to win bc there was no way his bumbling fool of a servant was that good at…anything.

the challengers take their defeat with honor and grace. the audience is a huge fan of merlin and they keep buying him drinks but he just sends them to the table for the other’s to drink. many people come up to him and flirt, maybe motivated by all the money he won that night or maybe just bc he’s merlin, and when merlin responds to them he’s………..he’s a real good fucking flirt? like could put gwaine to shame and he’s rejecting them???? how can someone come across so flirtatiously while turning down offers to take various beautiful people to bed??

arthur was already itching to intervene when people were flirting with merlin but he seemed to have a handle on it so he let it slide, but then people started touching merlin and arthur’s hand had drifted to his hip where his sword was usually sheathed. however, again, merlin was very skilled at escaping the situations with little to no conflict and he came back to the table with his winnings. the knights cheer for him and order more drinks with his money which merlin is too inebriated to notice and truthfully doesn’t really care about. his eyes are on arthur and if arthur thought watching merlin flirt from afar was bad then having him up close in his personal space, hands brushing against his arms and dark eyelashes fluttering softly against his pale skin, breathing his name into the space between them and licking his full pink lips was absolute torture and the worst and best agony he couldn’t even dream up.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Damian has learned many things since joining the family. He's found joy in Gotham even fighting Rouges and stopping crime he's made more happy memories here than he did while in the league.

Although he will always love his mother and be grateful for everything she has taught him many of those skills have been retired and he can't say he's partically angry about it.

What he's truly enjoyed most is his family Father and Richard, even Todd when he cooks and lets him sketch the alley cats that frequent his terrace.

'So Baby Bat guessing you weren't invited to the brother meeting tonight".

-

The pencil rolls hitting the floor. Jason was half paying attention more focused on the pasta he's stirring.

"I don't understand, what do you mean by that Todd"

Now Jason knows he's not exactly kept up to date on all the family's lovely adventures. But he can't place why Damian's voice is shaking.

Or why his little brother seems so hurt a part of him wants to scoop him up and wrestle his problems back to wherever hell they came from. But something stops him.

"I figured you were here cause of Dickbird and Timmy aren't you" he says carefully.

" Why would Drake and Richard have anything to do with my presence here." He spits, pausing.

"Are they together, Richard said he had something important to do and why would that be with Drake."

"Shit Dami sorry I must have made a mistake on the day it's the 16th not the 23rd my bad. The thing with Timmy is next week photography or something."

"Idiotic as ever Todd I will go back to my drawing now."

Jason would feel more offended at the blatant dismissal if he hasn't just lied.

Because Baby Brothers shouldn't be told that they aren't Dickie birds little Robin always.

That Dick is taking Tim on their weekly getaway to gone only knows where. That always seems to end with blood and death.

That their eldest brother is more fucked up then all of them combined and that only one is trusted enough to see what that means.

That as kind as Dick and even Tim can be they aren't always like that. There angry, vengeful, sadistic little shits that burn as much as they warm.

How's do you explain to the kid who's thinks the sun shines out of someone's ass that they are off galivanting with the favorite brother.

That the kid got off lucky for trying to kill the golden apple.

You don't.

You make food and watch him sketch the cat who's seen almost as many fights at Jason himself.

Ingnore your own twisted jealousy and pretend you wouldn't cut off your own arm if replacement asked.

Because only one Bat is unaware of who's the deadlist of who is lurking in the shadows weaving.

It's not Jason's place and more importantly he can't destroy the very pedestal that Jason still worships.

"Come on Dami, stop bugging the fucking cat and come eat."

Who's he to explain about the brothers who would put each other above all others even their own.

How do you explain that if you weren't practically the son of the last flying Grayson you would be another hidden name on a list more guarded than Bruce's emotions and that you would be rotting six feet under dead at the hands of your beloved Richard.

[hazeltailofficial]

HOLIDAY FLASHBACK

Too Faced Starry-Eyed Liquid Eyeliner in Drunk Dial

hazeltail on youtube / hazeltailofficial on tiktok / hazeltailofficial on ig / @hazeltailofficial

[aceshighaceslow]

I beg you, sir, just let me call

I'll give you my blood alcohol

I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell

I'll change my faith, I'll praise the flag

Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back

"Son, are you a danger to yourself?"

Fuck that sir, just let me call

I'll give you my blood alcohol

I'll rot with all the burnouts in the cell

I'll change my faith, I'll kiss the badge

Let's wait, I swear she'll call me back

"Son, why do you do this to yourself?”

[we-are-inevitable]

a big win for the noah kahan girlies (a big loss for my emotional state for the next three to five business days)

[jenbunny-star]

Hahahaha. This guy has a girlfriend. Why? Why do dudes do this? I’m not interested in generating bad karma. I’m good. Please go home to your girlfriend and make love to her. 🤣