#even though it’s not a party until you have ten beers and vodka shots and get into a huge fight

[sammysmaddy]

The Kiss (Demon!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Being a demon, Dean has gotten almost everything he's ever wanted, but he still hasn't reached the end of his bucket list. That all changes when he spots someone out of the ordinary at a bachelorette party.

Pairing(s): Demon!Dean x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: Noncon, p in v, oral sex (male receiving), kissing, angst, degradation, loss of virginity, painful sex, crying, creampie, slight breeding kink, slight size kink, biting, choking, there's one slap, this is some serious stuff...

W/C: 5,200+

A/N: This is very dark and heavy, please do not read if you don't like this kind of stuff and/or can't handle it. I haven't written a one shot in forever. Very excited for this ❤️ Sorry if your name is Melissa or Karen, you'll see why 🤣

Masterlist

There were many perks involved with being a demon. Dean could eat whatever he wanted, even though he never really felt hungry. Sleeping was an option, not an obligation. He could get any girl he wanted to with his newfound confidence and lack of fucks. In particular, Dean loved that he could drink as much as he wanted without feeling too drunk.

The girls were great at first, sweet if he wanted them to be, aggressive if he pleased, but he had gotten to a point where it all just felt the same. Not that 'the same' was bad, sex was amazing no matter how often Dean chose to partake, it had just begun to feel redundant. They could get him off, but nothing about them was special. Dean supposed that having to work to get a girl to suck him off and the high of cumming in their mouths was the thing he missed most about being human. Now, he didn't have to try.

Of course, that didn't mean that he would stop seeking another desperate whore every night. He contemplated waiting a day or two, enjoying other perks of being a demon, like eradicating worthless monsters, but little Dean disagreed. It's almost as if Dean had become addicted to tight little holes and wet mouths- sometimes he just wished that he had to put in a little effort and use his charm.

It was only eleven before a group of particularly loud party girls rolled into the bar that Dean was sitting at. He had been working on his tenth beer and began to chug the rest, maybe the noise wouldn't be so bothersome if his buzz got stronger. He eyed all of them, getting a few suggestive looks from two of the girls- both the type of girl he could easily see himself buried in later that night- and eventually, when the bride-to-be walked in wearing a sash, he found out that it was a bachelorette party. Surely they were bar hopping, or at the very least they had pregamed a bit before entering the bar, Dean could practically smell the alcohol on their breaths ten feet away.

Dean watched as they stumbled toward a vacant table, admiring all the different shapes, sizes, and colors of the women and deciding in his head which one he'd like to take home the most. There was a curvy blonde that he could easily imagine burying himself between her thighs, but he could see the dazzling diamond ring from a mile away. Maybe she was special enough, he couldn't resist a cheating woman begging for his cock. There was a petite brunette, but along with the size came the easily getting drunk. If she weren't passed out in the next twenty minutes, Dean would be surprised.

Then there was the girl who hadn't even looked in his direction. She was gorgeous no doubt, but she was out of place. She was much younger than the rest of the girls pushing thirty, maybe still in her teens, and she didn't seem exactly thrilled to be there. Dean watched as the bartender brought the girls eight shots of pungent, cheap vodka, but she didn't even reach to grab one before they were all gone. Sober and young sounded exactly like the challenge Dean desperately needed.

Dean couldn't interject into their party if he wanted her, he needed to wait until she was alone or at least a little less surrounded. So, he waited, and as hard as he tried to think of a game plan- nothing came. He let an hour turn into two and last call was imminent. The petite brunette had proved her worth, still downing shots like there was no tomorrow, but Dean had already made up his mind on who he wanted. The truth was, he was having fun thinking about all of the ways he could ruin her.

Every time he turned his head, there'd be a few girls from the party that would giggle in his direction. He'd smirk back in true gentleman's fashion and hear the way they squealed when he turned his head, but he didn't have the attention of the one girl he wanted. She sat there, staring at the other girls, occasionally laughing at their drunkness, but for the most part, she played on her phone. He wondered if she had a sweet little high school boyfriend who couldn't tell an elbow apart from a clit, leaving her unsatisfied every time, oh the things he'd show her. Dean wanted to devour every part of her, he could taste how sweet she'd be on the tip of his tongue.

Dean watched the clock as it hit 1:15 am and cursed at himself for not having a plan yet. He was on his fifteenth beer now, still not even close to feeling the buzz he needed in order to get up and pursue her. He wasn't like this, not since he's become a demon at least, that's how he knows that she's perfect for the taking. As much as Dean hated when Sam would try to pry some humanity out of him, he quite enjoyed the way that she did. For once being a little like the old Dean didn't bother him so much.

"Excuse me, sir?" Dean hadn't been paying attention but the quiet little voice brought his focus back to the room. He was pleasantly surprised to see the young girl standing next to him with wide eyes, maybe he wouldn't need to think of a game plan.

"Well, hello sweetheart," Dean smirked and he saw the way her cheeks heated up, something about her was intoxicating as he felt his buzz get a tiny bit stronger.

"I have a bit of a strange request," She added on with a small smile following. Dean would do anything if it meant that she'd be on her knees later, he was ready for whatever task she had in mind. He nodded his head curiously and she continued, "After a few minutes of talking can you kiss me?" She asked cautiously and Dean immediately coughed back a scoff. He was surprised by her somewhat confident demeanor, he really hadn't expected her to be so upfront. "I know how silly it sounds, but my sister says I'm not allowed in the cab ride to the hotel unless it happens."

"She'd really do that to you?" Dean chuckled, sipping on his beer as he watched her blush deepen. She nodded her head softly and Dean cocked his head to the side. "I guess I can make that happen. What's in it for me?"

"Um, I don't know. I don't have any money or anything," She said quietly, looking down at her feet. Dean bit back a smirk, noticing that he'd made her a little less confident than before.

"Well, let's start with your name. Take a seat," Dean said and she nodded her head before pulling out a bar stool and sitting next to him. "I'm Dean, it's nice to meet you." He smirked, portraying the gentleman that he used to be- someone that he thought this pretty little thing might like.

"I'm Melissa," She suggested anxiously, biting her lip afterward, and Dean squinted his eyes.

"Try again, sweetheart," Dean scoffed and she looked shocked that he had picked up on the lie.

"Karen?" She said as if it were a question. Dean told her 'nope', popping the 'p', and waited for a real answer. She looked down at her nails, fidgeting with her fingers before sighing and looking back up at him. "Y/N."

"There it is," Dean practically pat her on the back, chuckling at her attempt of being discreet. She only blushed more. "Why'd your sister send you over here?"

"She thinks that I don't get enough... you know what. She means it to be sweet but she's kind of drunk," Y/N answered shyly and Dean grinned at the way she can hardly look him in the eye. It had only been a few seconds of conversation but he had already broken up her high and mighty disguise, he supposed it was more fun this way.

"I get it, I'd do the same to my little brother," Dean chuckled at the thought of Sammy, how he used to have to push him to talk to girls. "Which one's your sister?"

"She's the girl in the sash, getting married tomorrow," She sighed and Dean watched how all of the girls simultaneously looked away as he looked in their direction.

"Don't seem very excited for her, why's that?" Dean raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. She's got practically every feature that Dean's looking for tonight, she's beautiful.

"Uh, I don't know," Y/N shrugged her shoulders, giving him a small and unconvincing smile.

"Come on, you can tell me. I'm just a stranger," Dean pried. He doesn't care much for the small talk but he knew that she was not going to be easy to take home, he needed for her to trust him.

"Her fiancé is kind of creepy. He's old and crusty and doesn't keep his hands to himself," Y/N chuckled and Dean smiled at the sound of her laugh. "But I'd never tell her that. She's finally happy, hasn't been since her last big break up."

"You could act a little more happy for her, you know?" Dean said and she nodded her head knowingly. He flagged down the bartender and ordered himself another beer. "And, uh, something fruity for the lady."

"I don't serve minors, you know that, Dean," Bill sighed and Dean gave him a look, but he didn't budge. Dean sighed, fishing for his wallet in his pocket, and slid over a twenty. "How about a margarita?" Bill smiled as if his last comment were useless and Dean nodded his head.

"Dean, I can't drink that," Y/N whispered a few seconds later when she was brought a cup larger than the palm of her hand.

"Yes, you can. I insist, already paid for it," Dean shot her a wink but her eyes were wide like she was bound to get in trouble.

"I'm only eighteen, it's illegal," She said, eying the lime margarita before looking back up at him.

"Live a little, sweetheart. It's only one drink," Dean chuckled and she nodded her head cautiously before picking the glass up, taking the smallest sip Dean's ever seen. "You're not getting your kiss until that thing's gone, need to loosen you up a bit so you don't go stiff on me."

"I've never drank before," She twisted her face after taking a few big gulps, no doubt obtaining a brain freeze. If she's not drank before, Dean wondered what else she hasn't done, the possibilities were endless.

"Did you want to come over here?" Dean asked, his stomach bubbling to know the answer.

"I already told you, my sister made me do it," She chuckled, wiping her mouth after taking a rather large sip of her drink.

"I know that," Dean scoffed and she sent him a small and nervous smile. "I meant before that, did you want to come talk to me? Come on, boost my ego." Dean smirked and she blushed yet again.

"I don't really like talking to strangers," Y/N said quietly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Apparently I know more than your sister now, that doesn't make us strangers anymore," Dean raised his eyebrow and she rolled her eyes playfully.

"I'm not that kind of girl," She commented and Dean nodded his head, he already knew that- hopefully, this drink does some kind of magic.

"Did you at least find me attractive?" Dean chuckled and she laughed along with him.

"I, uh, of course I did," She blushed like she had just told her deepest darkest secret.

"Well, I find you very attractive," He commented slyly and Y/N got visibly shy while looking down at her lap. Dean could tell that she was flustered, so he still had to find a way to make her want him.

"I think it's been long enough," Y/N cleared her throat, looking back up at him. She raised her eyebrows and Dean knew what she was suggesting, but he wanted to make her work for it as much as he was going to have to work for her. "The kiss?"

"Oh, right," Dean feigned ignorance, laughing lowly. She was biting her lip as she went quiet, Dean could tell that she was nervous and that only made his smirk deepen. "Are you sure?" He asked her and she nodded her head silently. "Just relax, sweetheart. I'm not gonna bite unless you want me to." Dean chuckled and threw her a wink as he stood from his seat.

Y/N looked up at him as he hovered above her, grabbing her face in between his large hands. Her skin was soft and warm and Dean stared into her eyes longer than usual for effect, hoping that she believed in all of that 'feeling a spark' bullshit during a first kiss.

Dean watched as she worried her bottom lip in anticipation, looking like a doe in the headlights. Y/N let go of her plump lip and Dean lowered his face onto hers, feeling as her cheeks got hotter underneath his grip.

He went soft and slow at first, letting her melt in his hands for a few seconds, and questioned whether she even wanted it to last any longer. Dean didn't care much though, he wanted to kiss every part of her, so he slid his tongue in through the small part in her lips. She tensed for a second before relaxing, allowing Dean free access to her mouth. He kissed her deeper and felt the way she whimpered into his mouth, beginning to kiss him back.

Dean felt her small hands on his waist and expected her to pull him in closer, but she pushed him back and broke the kiss. He was disappointed but not exactly surprised, he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, blushing as she looks back up at him.

"No problem, sweetheart," Dean chuckled, moving some hair out of her face before placing it behind her ear. "You didn't need an audience to kiss me."

"What?" She tilted her head, furrowing her eyebrows. Dean nodded his head toward the messy, empty table that her sister and her friends were once sitting at. "Oh my god!" She stood up abruptly but didn't go anywhere. "Those assholes!"

"Come on, it's last call anyway, I'll drive you home," Dean offered and she snapped back to look at him.

"I, um, thank you, but I think I'll just call a cab," Y/N blushed and gave Dean a small smile.

"With what money? Spent my last twenty on buying your underage drink and I know you don't have any yourself," Dean said, damn well knowing he has got at least a hundred in cash in his front pocket- she didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to make you go out of your way, I should call my sister," She smiled softly and before Dean could say anything, she turned away and pulled out her phone. Dean watched as it rang and rang, "Damnit!" She huffed out and Dean could hear her sister's voicemail greeting.

"It's not a big deal, Y/N. I love driving my car anyway," Dean shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, hoping to god that she didn't have any more fight in her. Dean had had his fun, found his special person, he was now ready for the main event.

"I don't even know where the hotel is anyway," She sighed, frowning as she bit down on her bottom lip.

"You got a friend you can stay with? Family live around here?" Dean asked and she shook her head 'no', looking more anxious and worried by the second. "Well, the bar is closing and you have to have a place to call home for the night," Dean and Y/N watched as half of the bar lights shut off and the rest of the drunk regulars huddled out of the front door, she nodded her head knowingly. "I got a place ten minutes away, got a couch you can stay on for the night."

"Are you sure?" Y/N asked with big watery eyes like she was a frightened kid in a supermarket who couldn't find their mommy. "I don't want to cause you any trouble."

"It's alright, sweetheart. Rather you with me than out by yourself at night," Dean said and she nodded her head.

Dean placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the bar, and smirked to himself as he opened her passenger door for her. She climbed in and Dean walked to the driver's side, letting himself in, hearing the purr of the Impala as he turned the car on.

Dean began to drive, his 'place' being another shitty motel room, and she continued to stay completely silent. He knew that he could take her right now in the Impala, screw her brains out until she begged him to stop, but something tells him she wouldn't go for it unless it was in a proper bed.

Dean tested the waters, placing his hand on her thigh, and while she didn't complain, Dean could tell that she was uncomfortable. He sighed to himself, pulling his hand away, and surprisingly didn't feel awkward like he normally would if he were human. He didn't want to scare her away until he could get her into the safety of the motel room. Anything after that, Dean didn't care how uncomfortable she was, his cock was practically spraining behind his jeans.

They pulled into the motel parking lot and Dean looked over, noticing that Y/N was much more uneasy than she was before she got in the car. He could smell the fear of the unknown radiating off of her like perfume and Dean couldn't wait to dive into it.

Dean kept his gentleman act up, opening her car door for her, holding her hand as she stepped out onto the concrete, and he led her hand-in-hand to room 106. He used the key to open the shitty door, leading her into an even shittier interior, and closed it behind her. Dean walked to the refrigerator, leaving her looking around the room and hugging herself.

"Want a beer?" Dean asked her, pulling out a fresh one. She shook her head 'no' but Dean had figured just as much as he popped the cap off, swigging the bitter liquid down his throat.

"I thought there was a couch," Y/N spoke up timidly like she was scared to speak in Dean's presence.

"Sweetheart, you can't possibly be that dumb, can you?" Dean chuckled, flashing obsidian eyes at her, leaving her looking absolutely horrified. She backed up slowly as Dean stepped forward, placing his beer on a nearby counter. Her back hit the door with a loud thump, and Dean boxed her in, placing both hands on either side of her body. "Look at all I've done for you, Y/N. Drove you home, gave you a kiss, now it's my turn."

"I'll scream," She warned, shaking her head as her eyes watered. She was awfully quiet, like she was internally cursing at herself for being so naive.

"Oh, I expect you to," Dean chuckled deeply and she sucked in a deep breath before Dean pressed his body into hers. He could feel as his rock hard cock pressed into her lower stomach, feeling nowhere near the amount of relief that he needed.

"Please don't do this," Her voice cracked as she plead softly, turning her head to the side as Dean lowered his face.

"Baby, at this point you should be on your knees thanking me," Dean pressed a soft kiss onto her bare neck. She shuddered under his touch and Dean was surprised that she hadn't fulfilled her threat of screaming, he'll just have to fuck the fear out of her. "You gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna thank me with that pretty little mouth?" Dean asked, trailing wet and sloppy kisses all on her neck and collarbones.

"No," Y/N answered quietly and Dean chuckled to himself, using his hands to push her jacket down her shoulders. She squirmed and Dean had to work a bit to rid her completely of the jacket.

"Yes you are," Dean countered and she looked up with wide eyes, shaking her head 'no'. She looked like she wanted to scream and run, but she knew she couldn't go anywhere and Dean suspected that she didn't know what to do. This was exactly the challenge he needed for tonight. "So pretty, baby." Dean cooed as he wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't call me that," She huffed out angrily, swatting his hand away. She used her hands to push against his chest but Dean didn't relent, using his own to begin undoing the button on his jeans.

"I'll call you whatever I damn well please. You don't know who I am," Dean angrily grasped her throat after she dug her fingernails into his chest. He chuckled as he watched her struggle for air, gasping and turning a bright shade of red. Dean knew he wasn't really blocking her airway and began to fully undo his jeans while keeping a tight grip on her. The jeans slid down his legs and he pushed down his boxers hastily, his cock springing out and slapping against his abdomen. "On your knees."

"No, I don't want to," Y/N coughed out as he let go of her throat. "Please, Dean. Don't make me do this." She cried, looking up, but she was still oblivious that whatever humanity she was looking for wasn't there anymore.

"I didn't fucking ask, did I?" Dean grunted, annoyed that he'd gone untouched for this long. He gathered her hair at the base of her head, using it to force her down onto her knees. She whimpered when her knees hit the carpet, looking down at the ground, and began to sob. Dean used his grip on her hair to lift her head up, watching as her lips trembled as she looked up at him. "Fucking suck," Dean ordered but she shook her head, squinting her eyes shut.

Y/N cried out loudly when Dean stroke her face with the palm of his hand, grabbing her chin and digging his fingers into the hollows of her cheeks as he brought his cock closer to her lips.

"Open your mouth." Her eyes remained closed as she continued to shake her head 'no'.

Dean pressed the head of his weeping cock into her tightly shut lips. He let go of his hold in her hair, knowing that the hand on her face is enough, and pinched her nose shut with his fingers.

"Gonna need to breathe soon, sweetheart. Why don't you make this easy for yourself?" Dean grunted as she used all of her force to push against his thighs. She was stubborn and Dean had never had a fight like her, but he knew that it was going to be a new addiction after tonight.

After a few seconds, she opened her mouth to breathe and Dean slid himself in her mouth. "Such a good fucking girl. Wasn't so hard was it?" Dean groaned, feeling the way he slid down her wet and warm mouth. "No biting. This could get much worse for you, sweetheart." She didn't answer in anything but a whimper.

She gagged when he hit the back of her throat and Dean could feel the hum of her crying around his length. He held her head in between his hands, wiggling his hips as he felt his cock slide deeper down her throat. She was hitting his thighs and scratching and Dean supposed that she needed to breathe, but he kept pushing until he felt her nose hit the soft skin above his cock.

"I don't fucking care if you pass out, sweetheart. You were made to suck my cock, do you understand?" Dean grunted, tilting his head back as he felt her attempt to swallow him down. He stayed like that for a few seconds before relenting and she coughed, wheezing as she attempted to catch her breath. Dean let all of his hold over her go, letting her recuperate somewhat before grabbing her by the arms and making her stand.

"You ever seen a cock this big?" Dean smirked, grabbing her throat with one hand and stroking himself in the other. She shook her head 'no' and he chuckled as the tears continued spilling down her cheeks. Dean knew what he was blessed with and he was not surprised by her answer, it was part of the reason girls always wanted him to call back, but he never did. "Take your clothes off." Dean stepped back, jerking himself in his hand as he watched her tremble.

"No," Y/N stayed stubborn, hugging herself and it only made Dean's smirk deepen.

His cock was painfully hard and as much as he was enjoying the fight, he needed to be inside her as quick as he could. Dean grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around so that she landed flat on her back on the springy mattress. He took his shirt off and tossed it to the middle of nowhere before he mounted her, his weight making her unable to move her legs, and pinned her hands above her head.

"I'll get what I fucking want, sweetheart. One way or another," Dean grunted as he used one hand to keep both of her wrists in place.

He grabbed a knife off of the nightstand, using the blade to cut her shirt clean down the middle. She squirmed and wriggled underneath him, whimpering as Dean's grip on her wrists tightened. He used the knife to cut the middle of her bra, revealing perfect breasts for Dean to admire. Dean knew he could take a few punches and hits as he let go of her wrists, undoing her jeans, and climbing off of her before pulling them down her legs along with her panties. Her jeans took her shoes off on the way down and the pile landed on the floor with a thump.

Y/N closed her legs shut tightly and Dean didn't bother with her socks, grabbing her neck with one hand. Her hands gripped his wrist as he pulled her to sit upright, pushing the remnants of her clothes off of her body. Dean let go of her neck and pinned her legs to the mattress. Dean practically salivated at the sight of her glistening pussy and although he knew that she wasn't really aroused on purpose, he was happy that he wouldn't have to pull out the lube.

"Please don't. Please, Dean, please," Y/N cried out shakily, pushing against his wrists weakly.

"Why not, sweetheart? Don't think you can take a cock this big?" Dean chuckled as he lined himself with her entrance. He pinned one leg up, letting go of the other as he slid the head of his cock through her wet slit.

"I can't, Dean. I don't want to," Y/N sobbed, squirming when Dean brushes over her clit. She pushed against Dean's abdomen, but she was much weaker than she was before and Dean was too determined for her to stop him. "Please, Dean, I'm a virgin." Dean tuned in when he thought that the night just couldn't get any better.

"Baby, that only makes me harder," Dean faked sympathy as she continued to look petrified of him. He watched her face screw as he finally pushed into her, groaning in sync as he slid into her warm hole.

"You're so fucking tight," Dean choked on a moan as he bottomed out inside of her.

Dean picked up the pace as soon as he could move freely, loving the way that she cried out and grasped the sheets underneath her tightly. She didn't try to fight him, she just tensed up and took the pain. Dean grunted loudly over the sound of skin on skin, moaning every time he felt the head of his cock swipe against her cervix.

He let go of her leg and pulled out abruptly, roughly turning her over on her stomach. Y/N attempted to get up by pushing her hands against the mattress but Dean kept her flat by placing a heavy hand on the middle of her back. He used his knees to spread her legs apart, pushing himself in again.

"That's it, baby. Take it like the good girl I know you are," Dean grunted. He wanted to fuck her as hard as he could, but he went slower this time, getting closer with the sounds of her grunts every time he bottomed inside of her. She tried to wiggle away and she managed to scoot herself up a couple of inches, but it only made her cunt tighter and Dean's climax more immediate.

Dean grabbed her by the hips, pulling her to the edge of the bed where he could fuck her more properly. She grabbed the comforters underneath her, not bothering to fight Dean off, and he began to chase his release by fucking her faster again. He could feel her legs squirming around his, the little noises that she was making were like music to his ears.

"You on birth control, sweetheart?" Dean grunted, feeling like he could cum at any second, but, of course, she didn't answer. "If not, you'll always have something to remember me by." He felt his pace getting more erratic, going slower to savor the way she feels around him. "Fuck, Y/N," Dean groaned as he doubled over her, lying flat against her back.

He fucked into her slowly, cumming in her contracting walls, and bit into her shoulder blade lightly as he continued to fuck his release into her. She was completely still underneath him and Dean relished the feeling of his cum mixing with her arousal, soaking his cock's entirety.

"So fucking tight." Dean practically cried, his cock feeling completely drained and extremely sensitive. After he had enough, he stayed inside of her, panting as he placed all of his weight on her. She had gone completely silent other than the occasional whimper and Dean was ready to pass out while he was still inside of her. "Glad you chose to kiss me. No one would have fucked you this good."

SPN Taglist <3

@hobby27​

[spectracully]

busy boy.

pairing : fratboy!jaemin x sororitygirl!reader warnings : drinking, mentions of drugs, a bit suggestive (but pls note that this isn’t smut), cursing, mentions of divorce genre : fluff, angst, college!au word count : 2.5k

summary : inspired by chloe x halle - busy boy. basically playing around with the local campus playboy, na jaemin for months is not the best thing, not the worst thing either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You face yourself in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the white sink. You saw him, right there. Dancing in the middle of the frat house’s living room with a girl in his arms. Na Jaemin, the boy you’ve been talking with for 3 months now, who recently just texted you “are you up?” on 9.15, and when you replied to him that you’re actually at his frat house, attending the party that Jaehyun hosts, he just texted you back one hour later by saying he’s with his family.

You’re malfunctioning right now, still dazed, don’t know whether it's because of the alcohol, the weed Lucas gave you, or it’s just you- believing his cheap lies. Cause when you think about it, who the fuck leaves the campus, go home and spend time with family in finals month? Yeah, you’re the one who’s dumb here, actually believing his lies. But who blames you for believing in the first place, anyway? You and your sorority sisters have arrived here since 8.30 anyway, an hour and half is long enough to get you lightheaded from the shots you take.

You glanced at your watch, it’s only 11.28 pm. About an hour since you read his text, and practically 34 minutes after you literally saw him. Facepalming yourself, you close the toilet seat and sit above it. It’s not even right in the middle of the night, but it has been a wild ride for you. It’s kinda frustrating when you are the one who actually started this game, you knew Jaemin is hell of a playboy on campus, yet you decided to get some taste of it just because he’s being a real gentleman with sweet words to you. Yeri was actually furious when she saw Jaemin dropped you off at the sorority house a few weeks ago, she warned you that you should dump him before you’re too attached, but you won’t listen. There it is, the fruit of not listening to Yeri’s 40 minutes lecture of how you should avoid men like Jaemin, Lucas, Yuta, Ten, Johnny and Jaehyun in your love life, big disappointment.

Finally catching your breath, you decided that it is time you get back outside, and actually do something about it, rather than being all somber and gloomy. Jaehyun threw a goddamn frat party in the middle of finals month to relax the fellow students’ mind, not for you to dwell on your sadness, in the bathroom. It’s embarrassing. And a disgrace for your sorority.

You head out, spotting Lucas who’s leaning by the counter with Hendery and Jungwoo. They’re probably hitting more blunt and having some existential crisis over a potato chip wrapping. You continue to scan across the house, only to catch a sight of Joy busy making out with Sungjae on the couch. Or Yeri, who’s currently twerking to Doja Cat’s song, totally shitfaced. You sighed, your friends are either high, shitfaced, or sucking a boy’s face out. You really wanna continue your search for your other sisters, but then suddenly a light brown haired boy appears in front of you.

“Hey, y/n, you alright? You look like you’ve been through 4 divorces.” he asks as he stares at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I just went through a fucking divorce. With your homeboy.” you answer him absentmindedly, pointing to the black haired boy who is wearing a black-white patterned wool sweater and a red shirt underneath, along with his slate-grey suit pants and a silver necklace. The boy in the topic is currently talking with the girl you saw earlier, being all smiley and shit.

Mark just laughs lightly as he sips his beer, “Oh him? Yeah he’s quite a busy boy. Probably went through countless divorces with half of the campus.” you chuckle at him, he knows what you’re talking about. All these girls never even had a proper official relationship with Jaemin, including you, but always ended up getting a nasty ass divorce without any reason. You know that, but you did not expect that you’d hang on up until now.

“You wanna do something about it?” Mark asks, nudging your elbow. He’s in a helpful mood now, probably because he is still not completely shitfaced or high. You glance at him, giving him a questioned look.

“Well.. I mean I would do it, but what? Kissing you in front of him so that he’ll get jealous? No, Mark. You know that his head is made out of a fucking rock, right?” You answer him, seizing his beer and take a big ass gulp.

“Hey, that’s my beer- What? Kiss you? Gross, dude. If you are looking for that guy, might as well run to Lucas or Jungwoo.” he lifts his eyebrows, slightly engrossed. You laugh at him, he’s a funny guy when he reacts to your silly jokes.

“Do I look like I wanna give you a kiss, Mark? No offense, but I don’t like crackly lipped boys.” you tease him, now he’s pouting and starts touching his lips, “Is it too crackly though? You have a lipbalm or something?” he asks

You continue to laugh while fishing the watermelon lipbalm out from your black leather jacket and pass it to him. He muttered a small thanks. You set the beer aside to the table then face him once more.

“Anyways, what should I do?” you eye him, who is now done applying the lipbalm.

“Drop your drink to the girl or something? Make sure he notices you dude.” he suggests, shrugging his shoulder.

“You’re dumb, Mark. It’ll cause a fucking catfight in the middle of party.” you deadpanned.

“Oh yeah, you have a point.” he swept his hair to the side, glancing at the whole party situation. That’s when you get the idea. Scratch kissing other boys in front of him, it’s probably the right time to call him the fuck out, you already have alcohol running in your system anyways, might as well go all out tonight, since everybody else also seems like already intoxicated by the liquors.

You lightly brush your hair, stretching your neck and praying to god that he’ll forgive you for what you are about to do. “Toodles, Mark. I’ll think a way when I get drunk, soon enough.” you wave him a goodbye, heading to the dining table to get a bottle of vodka, it’s half empty though, considering you’re being pessimistic tonight.

You chug the bottle with no mercy, wishing it’ll bring you straight to intoxication. You start to feel it kicking in, when you finish the last drop of the vodka. Banging the bottle to the nearby table, you make your way to Jaemin, who is currently sitting on the staircase by himself, checking his phone.

“Ooh, busy boy, aren’t you?” you ask him, not giving anymore fucks. He looks up to you, who is currently squinting at him, face reddening from the alcohol heat. He stares at you, biting his lip.

“Y/n. You’re drunk.” he says lightly as he stands up, tucking strands of your hair to the back of your ear. You squirm from his action. As much as you want to punch him in the face for playing with your emotions, you really miss his touch.

“I am not! Jaemiiiiin, why did you lie to meeeee?” you whine loudly to him on purpose, placing his hand on your face, pouting. Your plan worked, a few people turned their heads to you and Jaemin. He just sighs and snorts, smelling the strong liquor scent that slipped out of your lips. You can feel Yeri is probably trying to kill you with her glare, you know how much she hates Jaemin.

“Listen, baby, what are you trying to pull?” Jaemin whispers close to your ear. You’re not that sure whether it’s because of the loud music blasting in the whole house, or it’s just Jaemin’s voice. Whatever it is, your ears are tingling, sending funny sensations down to your spine.

Jaemin is pissed, you know it damn well from his tone, stern and strong. Oh yes, you love it so much, pissing him off, probably you’ll start humiliating him more and more in his own frat home, because that’s what he deserves for playing with you, and some other random girls.

“Don’t baby me, Jaemin! You said you were with your family, and then I saw you with some random girl!” you shout. At this point, you don’t really care about what others think of you, because they can clearly see you’re being drunk and probably will shrug it off. If that’s what it takes to call Jaemin out in a huge crowd, then you’ll take it. You have nothing to lose, anyway, they’ll agree with you, they all know Jaemin is a big flirt.

And there it is, the anger and humiliation fills Jaemin up. He pulls your wrists, practically dragging you upstairs. You liked it, don’t know why, it’s just fun, making him mad when it’s actually you, who should’ve been mad in the first place. He rushes you to get into his shared bedroom with Jeno and Renjun. Amused, you quickly sit on his bed, acting like you’re dumb.

He shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms. “What’s this all about, baby?”

You snort, “I think you know, Jaemin. You’ve been messing around me for 2 months- or what, I actually lost count because you’re such a busy boy.”

He widen his eyes, “I don’t-”

“Oh shut up, are you surprised that I actually last longer than all your pretty girls?” you stand up, you can’t contain the anger anymore.

“Listen, baby, I-”

“I said, don’t baby me when you do that to probably other 7 girls!” you shout, glaring at him, who is currently freezing on his space.

He sighs and sweeps his hair in frustration, licking his lips. “Will you listen to me first, at least?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms while glancing at his study desk. Nicely decorated, and you can see his family photograph neatly placed in a small frame. You noticed that he’s quite a reader too, judging from his book collection compared to Jeno and Renjun.

“First, I gotta admit, you last longer than other girls, yes. And second, it’s because I want to keep you-” he starts, taking a seat next to you,

You scoffed, “Keep me? You think I’m some kind of puppy that follows you around, Jaemin? You’re being such a dick right now! Do you think that I’m just some kind of wh-”

“Can you not interrupt me, baby? I’m talking.” he growls, placing his hand to your thigh. You can feel your cheeks heat up from his actions. Jaemin, being Jaemin, can sense that you’re actually flustered, he lightly squeeze your thigh, just to see your cheeks redden even more. God, he’s such a flirt.

“But first, I got to be honest with you, I was torn between ghosting you or continuing. That explains the lie a lot.” he clears his throat, looking into your eyes. You’re not giving him a reaction (except the fact that you’re already as red as a fucking cooked lobster from his hand placement), just like he said, don’t interrupt him.

“I mean- after all those messing around, I grow tired of it. I-I don’t even want to flirt anymore, I want to be comforted.. Those girls, those people.. They know I’m not serious and they do the same, y/n. We just kinda.. Have a good time and dipped.”

You’re still sitting in silence, eyes fixed on Jaemin, who now looks flustered. This is not Jaemin at all, he’s usually cocky, cheeky, and flirty, just exactly like a few seconds ago. He usually throws wink here and there, but now he actually looks… vulnerable.

“I was surprised you’re still holding on for like 3 months.. Those girls won’t even last for 2 days, y/n. It’ll end up me ghosting them or vice versa, no one ever had a second date with me. But you, you can’t seem to give up when I’m not replying, don’t you?” he chuckles as he looks at you softly,

You giggle at him a little, “Yes. I’m THAT dumb, Jaemin.” you admit to him. In reality, you know it, you know when he’s not replying, he’s probably with some other girls. But you are being deadass, you just don’t know what possessed you, you just keep on texting him like it’s nothing.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I was actually scared that you’ll dump me when I develop actual feelings to you.. Or worse, what if I break your heart after we have something? I mean, if I have to, I’d break it now, so the pain is not too harsh. That’s why I keep on lying to you, and maybe, not replying to your messages.”

At first, you feel bad from hearing him speak truthfully. But after he opened his mouth again, you can feel the anger slowly rising again through your veins. He is very very selfish and self-centered. Is this how he show his true color? A man with a big ego? That’s it?

You tilted your head, “Fuck you. Really. Then why did you start the conversation, Jaemin? You could’ve told me how you felt and we’re set. But I can see-”

He shakes his head, interrupting your words, “I-I told you, y/n. I’m very torn between wanting to pursue you, or letting you go. That’s why I often not replying right after I texted you. I’m sorry, I really do.”

You’re angry. You’re sad. But you’re confused that you’re a little happy too, hearing him speak from the bottom of his heart. But that’s very selfish of him, doing those acts to you. He could’ve told you what he actually feels way earlier than this, so you can make sure what are you two doing, instead of playing pointless games of ghosting and chasing around again.

“I see. You’re so fucking selfish, Jaemin. We talked for months and this is all I got? Am I not worth of your explanation from the start? I know you wouldn’t do anything if I hadn’t drag your ass in the middle of the fucking party!” you stand up, you can no longer hide your disappointment to him, tears start rolling down your face.

His heart breaks a little, watching bundle of tears fall from your eyes. He is the heartbreaker, but those girls were never crying when he ghosted them after they had fun, those girls would catch another boys and forget about Jaemin right away. This is Jaemin’s first ever experience, seeing a girl crying because of what he did.

He knows that he’s an asshole for playing fire, but now he feels like he is THE asshole. He broke your heart right on, and it breaks his heart right back.

You sigh deeply, trying to catch a breath after a few sobs. “Don’t fucking find me. Have fun with your girls.” you look at his eyes with full of anger and hate. With heavy steps, you walk to the door, thinking about things you’re about to do once you get downstairs, probably joining Lucas and the gang, stoning yourself out, so you don’t have to think about Jaemin and his stupid beautiful face.

Just when you try to reach the door knob, you can feel Jaemin is grabbing onto your hand.

“Y/n, I am truly sorry.. After what you did earlier, I realized that I’m a big fucking loser. I can’t even admit my feelings. When you call me out earlier, I just wanna dissolve into thin air. I can’t handle the shame of being such a dick, I should’ve told you what I feel instead of making uncertain decisions.”

You turn to him, seeing his eyes glimmering, probably because of the tears pooling up. You’re hurt, you want to push him away as far as possible, you want to see him suffer. Hell, you just want him to extinct. But seeing him like this, you can’t lie to your own feelings, you like him. You really do. But just like your sorority sisters taught you, yourself comes first, not those stupid silly boys who just fuck around.

“Goodbye, Jaemin.” you say to him, holding back more tears coming in.

Just when you’re getting ready to reach the doorknob for the second time, he pulls you into his arms. You want to let go of him, but he’s strong, and you- actually wanting this for so long. You hate him, but you have feelings for him. You can’t help but stay on his embrace.

And then... There it is, the feels. It comes back, the way you hide yourself from Yeri whenever you pick up his calls, or maybe the late night drive to nearby McDonalds, or maybe flirting through the notes you pass during class, or maybe the first kiss you shared with him in front of your sorority house, and ended up being scolded by Yeri and Joy. 

You realized that it was a stupid crush with the stupid playboy Na Jaemin, but you enjoyed your time with him. You remembered how he likes to send you goodnight selfies, or maybe the way he pouts a lot when driving. Those 3 months of on-and-off-unofficial-relationships with him, is actually making you feel things.

“Y/n, I know I don’t deserve you, but really.. This time, I mean it. I promise, I won’t mess around. Please, I know I’ve been such a dick, but if you just give me one more chance, y/n..  But I completely understand, if you hate me, and you probably want to slam me to death, and I will allow you-”

You look up to him and grabbed his face, crashing his lips into yours. He tastes like cherry soda, with a hint of cigarettes. He seems like enjoying the kiss, he cupped your cheeks as he deepened the kiss. You can feel his hands travel around your body, only to land in your hips.

You want to trust him this time. He promised you. He meant it. He will take care of you. And you trust him, this time. 

“Alright, busy boy. I do want to slam you, though... But remember, just because you’re so damn fine, I won’t even think twice to dump your ass if you act up.” you warn him.

The tears you shed just bloomed into giggles and smiles. The inconsistency between the 3 months before finally disappeared, and reborn again into a new promise.

He nods. “Believe me baby, you’re the one who wants to be slammed right now.” he teases you, glancing to his bed. You can feel your cheeks reddening again, you lightly hit him, and he laughs. He’s a cheeky boy.

“Busy boy, huh?” he giggles, “Your busy boy.”

The anger within you is released now. No more chasing around like a fool, no more getting late replies from Jaemin, no more nights of hoping that he’d reply, because he’s only busy for you now.

[moonlit-jeno]

valentine (m.)

pairing: reader x jung jaehyun x johnny seo x kim jungwoo x kim doyoung

genre/warnings: explicit sexual content | fivesome | mentions of drinking | absolute filth

words: 3.8k

summary: a series of unfortunate events leaves the five of you alone on a day meant to be spent together

“You’re back early.” Doyoung comments, glancing up from his phone to watch you storm into your apartment. He’s in the same spot on the couch that he was in when you left.

You throw your purse onto the counter, angrily stripping your coat off. “Yeah. The guy blew me off. Can you believe that?” You walk into your room and peel your dress off of you, trading it for a comfy pair of sweats. The lingerie stays on, though. It makes you feel cute. When you come back into the living room, Doyoung hands you a beer and pats the space next to him. “He didn’t even text me until I’d been waiting for fifteen minutes.” “Yeah well, he’s a fucking asshole.” Doyoung says it like he’s stating the obvious. You guess he is. “But hey, at least you can spend some quality room with your roommate who isn’t an asshole!” You raise your eyebrows. “Yay.” There isn’t an ounce of emotion in your voice.

Doyoung glares at you but he can’t be too annoyed. He hands you the TV remote. “You choose. My ex changed the password on my Netflix account and won’t let me log back in, so. That’s not an option.”

“You’re kidding. Do you want me to go to her house?” You normally leech off of Doyoung’s Netflix account, so this is a direct attack to you.

He snorts. “I’ll think about it.” It’s an hour later and you’ve flipped through every station the TV has to offer, finding nothing but shitty made-for-tv romance movies and game shows. You give up watching and pick up your phone, checking social media. An array of happy couples assault you and you groan, switching apps. It isn’t any better.

“Valentine’s day is stupid.” Doyoung groans, clearly in a similar state of boredom. 

“Amen.” You click your phone off and let your head fall back against the couch, finding the ceiling more appealing than the endless Snapchat stories. 

“Definitely the worst holiday.” You think about it for a moment. “Hey, no. Think about all the candy they’ll have on sale tomorrow.” His agreement is interrupted by a knock and you exchange a glance with him. “Did you invite someone over?” He shakes his head.

You swing the door open to reveal Johnny and Jaehyun. Johnny’s holding a cake and smiling broadly. Jaehyun looks dead inside.

“Hey?” You greet them, slightly confused as to why they’re at your apartment. Doyoung doesn’t look like he has any idea either. “What’s up?” “Well, we were going to go out to dinner for Jae’s birthday but the restaurant lost our reservation and everywhere else was beyond crowded.” Johnny’s laugh is almost apologetic. “I knew Doyoung was staying in, but I thought you had a date.” His eyes roam over your figure, clearly taking in the combination of your loose sweats and stained sweatshirt. “Yeah, I had a date. He blew me off.”

Both boys grimace. “Shit. Want me to kill him?” You step back to let them in, laughing lightly. “Nah, that’s alright. Come on in, we can sit in our misery together.” Johnny and Jaehyun smile and shuffle in, though Jaehyun’s looks a little forced. “I can’t promise you a gourmet dinner, but we do have frozen pizzas and ice cream.” Jaehyun laughs. “Sounds pretty gourmet to me. I’m gonna use the bathroom, if that’s alright.” The three of you watch him walk away before Johnny turns to you and Doyoung.

“Sorry to barge in, but he always gets so lonely on his birthday, and I wanted to cheer him up. I don’t think that him seeing all the couples out tonight really helped.” Johnny sighs. 

You grimace. “Oh god, yeah.” 

“You know you’re always welcome over.” Doyoung shrugs. “Not like you were interrupting anything.” He walks away to turn the oven on, pulling out the pizza. “It should take twenty minutes? Not really sure. Our oven’s kind of broken.” Johnny laughs. “No problem. Can I set this down somewhere?” He raises the cake in question and you motion to your counter. “Are we feeling wine or vodka tonight?” Jaehyun makes his return at the exact moment you ask the question. 

“Definitely vodka.” He responds, already pulling the glasses out of your cupboard. You snicker. It certainly is that kind of night.

Johnny’s phone chimes and he checks it, snorting. “Seems like a bad night for all of us. Ten just abandoned Jungwoo for a date.” “Tell him to come over.” Doyoung says. “We’ll have a party of our own.”

Jungwoo shows up 30 minutes later, equipped with bags of takeout and a pout on his face. You don’t have enough chairs for everyone so you eat it on the couch, squished between the arm rest and Jungwoo. “We were supposed to go clubbing.” He whines, stripping his jacket off. “I even put on my expensive cologne.” “Rough. Who’s he out on a date with, anyway?” He shoves half the container of noodles into his mouth. “Someone on Tinder! Can you believe that he abandoned me for a Tinder match?”

“Unbelievable.” Jaehyun pats his back while the rest of you nod solemnly. Johnny pours the rest of you shots.

“Fuck Valentine’s day.” He raises his glass in a toast before tossing it back, grimacing slightly. A chorus of ‘fuck Valentine’s day’ sounds around the room as you follow suit.

You’re all tipsy by the time you move onto cake, singing a very dramatic version of happy birthday to Jaehyun. He giggles his way through it, dimples making an appearance as he blows the candles out..

“What’d you wish for?” You demand, leaning forward. Jaehyun winks at you and holds a finger to his lips. “Can’t tell you or it won’t come true.” You pout. He pinches your cheeks.

Johnny takes charge of cutting the cake while Doyoung runs to the kitchen, returning with a can of whipped cream and some ice cream. Jungwoo looks down at the slice Johnny gives him, and then back up at Johnny with raised eyebrows. He shoves the whole piece into his mouth in one go. Johnny gives him a significantly larger second piece.

“You know what the most devastating part of tonight is?” Jungwoo asks, spooning ice cream onto his cake. “I’m not even going to get laid. That’s like, the one thing I was hoping for.” “Hey, that’s what I wished for!” Jaehyun exclaims. His head rests heavily on Johnny’s shoulder and Johnny laughs, patting his back.

“I thought you said that you couldn’t tell us or it wouldn’t come true.” You chime in.

Jaehyun shrugs. “Not like it’s gonna come true anyways.” “I’m pretty sure that’s what we were all wishing for.” Doyoung chimes in.

Johnny raises his forkful of cake. “I’ll toast to that.” “Same.” You respond, trying to remember the last time you had sex, then trying to remember the last time you had good sex. Then you pause. “Wait. You’re all hot as fuck, how are you not getting laid?” They all shrug. Jaehyun grins, dimples on full display. “Aww, you think we’re hot. Would you sleep with us?” Maybe it’s the alcohol that has you nodding, maybe not. You’ve always been shameless, especially in front of people you’re comfortable with. “Yeah? Like I said, you all hot as fuck.” “You’re pretty hot too, y/n.” Johnny says. “I don’t know how Doyoung can live with you and not be sexually frustrated as fuck.” Jungwoo giggles. “He is, though.” Doyoung smacks the younger and Jungwoo squeaks, still laughing. You shoot Doyoung a questioning look and he just shrugs. 

The five of you continue eating, finishing the cake and chatting mindlessly. “Y/n,” Jungwoo is suddenly way too close, using his hand to tilt your chin up. “You have a little something…” He uses his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth at the same time that you flick your tongue out to lick at the stray whipped cream. The result is Jungwoo’s thumb sliding past your lips, and for whatever reason, your brain tells you to suck on the digit. And you do.

Jungwoo watches with wide eyes as you close your lips around his thumb, using your tongue to tease the tip of it as you suck. A soft moan leaves him, his eyes groaning wide. He swallows thickly.

“Oh, baby.” Jungwoo groans, sliding his thumb out of your mouth and replacing it with his lips. You all but melt into the kiss, pressing forward into him, sliding your hand into his hair to pull him closer.

You get so lost in the kiss that you forget about the rest of the people grouped around the couch. It isn’t until Jungwoo starts kissing down your neck and you let your head fall to the side that you notice. 

Jaehyun and Doyoung are watching you with slack jaws, eyes locked on the blissed out expression you wear, ears straining to catch the noises you make. Johnny looks unaffected, watching with something dark in his eyes. 

You try to pull away but Jungwoo growls, something so startling for the normally soft spoken man. He slides his hand up your thigh, pulling you over to straddle his waist. There’s a sharp gasp as you rock your hips down on instinct, feeling the shape of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. 

“Seems a little selfish of you to ignore the birthday boy.” You and Jungwoo make out for a bit longer before Johnny speaks up. You turn your head to find Johnny standing in front of you, his hand on Jaehyun’s lower back to push him forward. “Why don’t you give him his present?” You bite your lips and turn yourself around on Jungwoo’s lap, sitting so that your back is to his chest. “What do you want?” Jaehyun seems to debate the question, glazed eyes roaming over your figure. “I want...” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he swallows thickly. “I want to taste you.” “What the birthday boy wants.” You shrug, trying and failing to seem unaffected. In reality your panties are soaked and you’re beyond excited to have Jaehyun’s face between your thighs. 

He wastes no time sliding your pajama pants off, revealing your bare legs and your panty clad core. You’d forgotten about the lacy lingerie set you’d slipped on earlier until Jaehyun snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin.

“Oh shit,” Jaehyun moans, sliding his hand up your bare legs. “You're so soft.” Doyoung laughs despite himself. “Guess that’s where all the hot water went.” You open your mouth to respond but get cut off as Jungwoo pulls your sweatshirt over your head. Similar swears echo around the room. “Fuck baby, who is this for?” 

Jungwoo pinches your nipple over the fabric of your bra and your back arches, pushing your chest further into his touch. You moan softly, letting your eyes flutter closed. “Me, bitch. I deserve to feel sexy.”

“Fuck yeah, you do.” Johnny groans at the same time Doyoung chimes in with a “Look even sexier.”

You squirm as Jaehyun attaches his lips to your ankle, kissing his way up your leg until he’s at your thigh. The ticklish feeling has you squirming but you’re held in place by Jaehyun’s large palms. 

A hand slides into your hair and you whine, looking up to find Doyoung staring at you with dark eyes. “Can you make me feel good, princess?” You nod, leaning forward to mouth at the bulge in his boxers and he swears, struggling to tug the fabric off with one hand. A second pair of hands land on Doyoung’s hips and the man jumps, looking back to find Johnny there. “You look like you need some help.” Is all he whispers as he slides Doyoung boxers down.

Doyoung looks ready to argue but you’re sinking your mouth down around him before he can, just sucking at the tip. He’s bitter on your tongue, but not unpleasant. It’s certainly worth it to be able to watch his eyelids fluttering closed, low moans leaving him.

A whine leaves you as Jungwoo continues to play with your chest, pinching at your nipples over the lace of your bra until there are tears in your eyes. His dick is hard against your ass and you rut back against him, drawing a sweet moan from him as he tugs harshly at your nipples. You cry out but the sound is muffled around Doyoung’s cock.

Jaehyun chooses that moment to attach his mouth to your center, kissing and sucking at your core through your panties. A whine leaves you as you buck up against his mouth, trying to get more. You go to pull off of Doyoung but then there’s another set of hands in your hair, forcing you down until Doyoung’s cock hits the back of your throat. 

“Oh baby, you can do better than that, can’t you?” It’s Johnny, guiding your pace from where he stands behind Doyoung. His eyes are heavy as he watches you blow his friend, and you catch the subtle movement of his hips as he grinds against Doyoung. 

You let out a muffled noise of agreement, sucking harshly on Doyoung’s cock. He fills your mouth up nicely, your lips having to stretch a little to fit him, but not too much. Tears well up in your eyes as you take him deeper into your throat, gagging lightly. 

There’s a tearing sound as Jaehyun rips your panties off of your body, wasting no time before diving into your core. His nose bumps your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, his hands sliding up to grip at the back of your thighs as he tries to pull you even closer to his face. You cry out at the pleasure coursing through your veins, squirming as your mind runs a million miles an hour, trying desperately to process the situation. Jungwoo’s hands massaging your tits, Doyoung’s cock deep in your throat, Jaehyun eating you out like you’re his last meal. 

You force your heavy lids open and make eye contact with Johnny. He’s watching you with fire in his eyes and it’s the last you register before you’re coming, yanking your mouth off of Doyoung’s cock and biting into the skin of his thigh. Your legs try desperately to close around Jaehyun’s head but neither him nor Jungwoo let up, working you through your high until you’re a sobbing mess. It’s only then that Jaehyun pulls away from you, though Doyoung doesn’t seem to have the same reservations. You’ve only just caught your breath when he slides his cock back between your lips, fucking into your mouth, once, twice before he’s shooting his come down your throat.

It’s quiet for a minute as you catch your breath, sagging back into Jungwoo. Jaehyun’s still between your legs, though he’s resting his head against your thigh. Your eye catches movement and you lean forward to watch Jaehyun jerk his cock desperately, hips bucking up into his hand. 

You literally just came but already your body is heating back up. Suddenly you need to have all of them, need them to fuck you until you can’t even move, until they’re imprinted in your body. You run your hand through Jaehyun’s hair, tugging at the strands to make him look up at you.

“Let me take care of you now.” Jaehyun nods, blinking slowly, and then it’s a race to get to the bed. You all crowd into Doyoung’s room because he’s the one with the bigger bed, and suddenly he’s forgiven for all the times he's forgotten to do the dishes.

“God, I want to fuck you.” Jungwoo moans, clambering onto the bed. A whimper leaves you as you think about having him in your pussy, but then you look over to Jaehyun and your mouth goes dry at how desperate he looks. He has his hand shoved down the front of his pants and he’s grinding against his palm, jaw slack as he pleasures himself. 

“Mhmm, me too. Jaehyun’s first though.” You pant out, trying to help Jungwoo out of his skinny jeans. Jungwoo whines impatiently. “You have two holes though. Why can’t we just share?” You vaguely hear Johnny laugh over the white noise in your brain. The idea of having both of them fuck you at once has you feeling much too hot, and you cringe as you feel more wetness drip out of you. “You seem to like that idea.” Johnny comments, stroking your side softly. You whine. 

“But what about you?” You realize that he hasn’t been touched yet and you move your hand to cup him over his boxers. He hisses. 

His voice is strangled as he gently bats your hand away, moving off the bed. Doyoung takes his place. “I’m okay with watching, for now. I’ll get my turn later.” You nod, turning to Jaehyun. “Jae, baby, do you want to fuck my pussy? Or my ass?” Jaehyun’s hips stutter where he’s still grinding against his hand and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Fuck, you can’t just ask me that.” He groans, pausing his movements to strip his clothes off. “God, can I fuck your ass?”

You grin, nodding. Doyoung ghosts his thumb over your ass and you jolt, moaning at the touch. “Johnny, condoms.” You wave your hand in the general direction of your nightstand and he gets the hint, throwing a handful of condoms and a bottle of lube at you. 

Doyoung wastes no time in sliding one of his long fingers into your ass. The stretch has you hissing but he pays you no mind, starting a gentle rhythm and smoothing his hand down your side. Jungwoo rolls a condom on and hisses as he strokes himself, head falling back at the relief. 

“Wait,” You pause Doyoung, crawling over to Jungwoo. “Wanna ride him while you finger me.

Jungwoo strokes your hips as you straddle him, sinking down onto his cock slowly. His face screws up in pleasure and he lets out a moan, the sound so pretty that it has you clenching around him. He moves to undo your bra, letting your breasts fall free so that he can bury his face between them. His hands cup them perfectly and he massages them, turning his head to leave kisses on the skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Jungwoo moans, the words muffled by your chest. You hum in agreement, swiveling your hips to feel the thickness of his cock, how nicely he presses against your walls.

Doyoung fucks two, then three fingers into your ass, turning you into a moaning mess as you fuck yourself onto both Jungwoo’s cock and Doyoung’s fingers. You already feel so full, but you know it’s about to get so much better.

“Jaehyun.” You moan, turning you head to find the man. “Jaehyun, come on, want you in me.” He nods, reaching for a condom, but Johnny beats him to it. You watch with a slack jaw as Johnny rolls the condom onto Jaehyun, pouring lube onto his cock. Johnny strokes Jaehyun just a little too slowly to be considered comforting, and Jaehyun’s face contorts as he tries to fuck up into the others grip.

Johnny lets go and pats his hip. “I think Y/N’s tight ass is going to feel a lot better than my hand.”

Jaehyun sits up, flustered, and moves to replace Doyoung. You whine at the loss of the man’s fingers, though you cut yourself off with a gasp as Jaehyun presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole.

Jungwoo kisses you through the discomfort as Jaehyun slides his cock into your tight hole, stretching your body beyond anything you’ve ever felt. You can’t stop moaning and you feel like you can’t breathe, desperately trying to gasp for air. Jungwoo eventually pulls away to let you rest your forehead against his, his hand moving down to find your clit. You jolt against him and whine, molten lava filling your insides.

Jaehyun lets out an almost feral groan when he bottoms out, panting heavily. “You feel so good.” Jaehyun swears. “So fucking tight, baby. Have you ever let anyone fuck your ass before?” “Yeah, but I-” He starts moving and your voice dies, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Jungwoo fucks up into your pussy, his head falling back.

“But?” He asks sweetly, encouraging you to finish. It’s almost impossible with how they’re touching you, though. Jungwoo must know it.

“But I’ve never had two guys at once.” You whimper, giving up trying to hold yourself up and letting them manhandle you. “I feel so full.”

They build up a rhythm, tearing you apart piece by piece until you’re a mindless, moaning mess. You swear you’ve never felt this good. All your nerves seem to be set on fire, and it seems like there’s a knot building in your stomach as your climax grows closer.

Doyoung once again finds comfort in your mouth, his hips bucking up as you suck him off. You moan at how full you feel, being surrounded by three guys while a fourth one watches. It’s absolute heaven.

“Jungwoo.” Johnny calls out. “Ten just texted you. His Tinder date was a flop.” “Shouldn’t have abandoned me.” Jungwoo calls back. “Though with how tonight’s going, I’m not sure I can be mad.”

Jaehyun pulls his mouth from your neck and you whine at the loss of heat, squirming as he blows cool air over the area. “Send him a picture of us. Show him what he’s missing out on.” You make the neediest noise you’ve ever made in your life at the suggestion, and all three men swear. The vibrations travel up Doyoung’s cock and he fucks up into your mouth, choking you. “Yeah? You all okay with that?” A chorus of yes’s go around the room, though Doyoung doesn’t let you pull off of him. “Y/N? You good with that?” “You should’ve felt how fucking tight she got when you said that, she’s more than okay with it.” Jaehyun pants out. 

Doyoung briefly lets go of you when Johnny says “I need to hear her say it.” You cough for a minute before yelling out a “please, yes” and taking Doyoung’s cock back into your mouth.

There’s a click as Johnny takes the picture and you clench again, sending Jaehyun and Jungwoo into a frenzy. Jungwoo groans and dips his head down to mouth at your breasts, sucking hickies into the delicate skin, taking your nipple between his lips. Jaehyun pulls his hand back to land a slap on your ass, leaving his hand there to knead at the flesh. 

Doyoung moans out that he’s coming and you swallow his come for the second time that night, panting as he lets you rest your head on his thigh. A phone chimes repeatedly and Johnny laughs, turning the ringer off. “Looks like Ten liked our picture.” The thought of someone else seeing you like this, wanting to be in this situation, fills your mind and you tip over the edge, vision whiting out as you moan wantonly. You claw at Jungwoo’s shoulders as you try desperately to ground yourself, sandwiched between the two men.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” Jaehyun groans, hips snapping against your ass sloppily. You whine, clenching around him repeatedly, the oversensitivity too much. Jungwoo pays no mind to the fact that you’ve just come, continuing to fuck up into you. “Fuckkk,” Jaehyun pulls out of you quickly and you hiss at the loss. Wet warmth hits your lower back, your ass, and the top of your thighs and Jaehyun curses loudly before collapsing on the mattress with a satisfied moan.

Jungwoo comes soon after with his mouth on one of your breasts, his hand on the other. You bounce on top of him to help him draw it out for as long as possible, going until he’s throwing his head back and crying out from the sensitivity.

Johnny’s the only one who hasn’t come yet. He sits next to the bed in Doyoung’s desk chair, stroking his cock slowly, almost lazily. It’s thick and long and looks delicious. You want it in your mouth. 

He smirks, clearly catching your hungry gaze. “Aww, baby still wants more?” His voice is taunting but you don’t even care, just nodding obediently.

You roll onto your back and spread your legs, giving easy access to the man. Johnny just shakes his head. “Turn over. Want you on your hands and knees.” He wastes no time sliding into your dripping core, starting a brutal rhythm right from the start. You cry out and try to keep yourself up but Johnny shoves your chest to the mattress, pulling your hips higher so that he can get deeper. His body is draped over yours, his chest flush to your back. You can’t physically get any closer.

“Such a fucking cockslut.” Johnny hisses into your ear, voice low and delicious. “Letting four different guys fuck you, come on you. Bet you wish there were more.” You whine and make some sort of noise of agreement. “Ten’s probably jerking off to that picture I sent him. Does that make you happy?” Johnny nips at your earlobe and slides his hand down to rub at your clit. “Or are you upset? You probably rather that he was here, probably want his cock in your mouth too.” Another whine leaves you and Johnny pinches your clit. You thrash, the feeling too much. Your orgasm is rushing to the surface, electricity shooting through your body as the knot grows tighter and tighter. “What was that?” “I want it! Fuck, I want his cock in my mouth.” You moan, eyes rolling shut. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, ‘m gonna come.”

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, hissing filthy words in your ear as your vision blacks out, registering nothing but how fucking good you feel. You clamp down around his thick cock and he groans, pulling out and ripping the condom off, jerking himself off all over your lower back.

Jungwoo crawls closer and kisses you, gently helping you come down. You’re shaking in your post-orgasmic bliss, lifting an arm to pull him closer. Jaehyun presses in from the other side, stroking your hair and peppering kisses all over your forehead.

You flinch when a damp cloth lands on your back and you turn to find Johnny smiling apologetically, cleaning the come off of your skin. “Sorry, I’ll try to make this quick.” A hiss leaves you as he wipes between your legs, squirming at the discomfort. Jungwoo swipes a finger through your folds and you hiss, biting his lip harshly. He giggles.

The five of you redress, both Jungwoo and Jaehyun stealing one of Doyoung’s shirts. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering where Jaehyun’s shirt went, but then you realize that it’s his shirt that he’s tugging over your head. The fabric is warm and smells amazing. You want to sink into it.

“Do you need anything?” Doyoung asks, rubbing his hand up your thigh. “You were amazing, by the way. It wasn’t too much, was it?” You shake your head. “No, it was perfect. I wouldn’t mind a piece of cake, though.”

Doyoung leaves to get the cake, complaining when he comes back and finds there’s no room for him.

("It’s my bed!”

“Okay, and? That’s also your chair.”

“Yeah, and this is my fist about to go into your face”)

It’s 1 AM when you check the time and it’s certainly much too late for them to go home so you tell them to stay, letting them arrange themselves among the couch and the guest bed.

“Doyoung?” You ask, hesitating by the door. Your bed is big and warm and empty right now, but that’s not what you want. Not after what you just experienced. It’s too empty. “Doyoung, do you think I could stay with you tonight?”

He seems surprised by your question but he nods, shifting over to give you room. “Of course. But you're the big spoon tonight.” You snort. “That’s good with me.”

The two of you arrange yourselves comfortably, and it’s so painfully nice that you could cry. You can’t even remember the last time you cuddled someone like this. “Hey Y/N? Happy Valentine’s day.” “Happy Valentine’s day. I guess it isn’t the worst holiday after all.”

[guysunderwearstories]

Story #12

Tyler took a giant gulp of the cheap vodka that had been lying on the table. He had never been very good at taking shots, but know matter how slowly he drank it he never got less drunk than those who could down the same wretched liquid in less than a millisecond.

He and Seth, unbeknownst to the both of them, had been enrolled in the same class. They were in different discussion sections, and Seth (quite the scholar) never bothered to show up to the main lecture; he had scheduled shifts at the pizzeria at that time. However, the two had decided to study for the final together, and though neither had any hopes of doing well, it was over and it was time to celebrate with some binge drinking.

Tyler had hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, as he hadn talked to Seth about literally nothing but ENG 230 since he pantsed him at a party to reveal some superhero briefs.

But sitting in the attic, drinking with Seth’s housemates who also finished their finals, the topic didn’t seem to be coming up. In fact, Seth was giving off the impression it never happened. Whether it was out of his embarrassment or the fact that he literally didn’t care, Tyler had no idea. And he had no way of knowing, until a conversation took an unexpected turn.

“I got obsessed with this cereal.” Seth’s housemate had drank about eight beers that night but had literally no signs of a beer belly. Named Franklin, he had was well over six feet tall and had the stubble of a guy who didn’t care about his appearance and the face and body of a guy who didn’t need to with how amazing they all were. “I must have had about eight boxes in one night.”

“Eight boxers? That seems like a normal amount.” Seth and Franklin’s housemate Carlos joined the living room from the bathroom. Tyler had met Carlos once before, when he and Seth were testing out ways to pants Tyler’s housemate Aaron (a plan that went horribly awry). Carlos had lost his pair of particularly short shorts to a bunjee cord caper, but insisted he normally wore boxers.

“Boxes, you idiot.” Their housemate Nate laughed. Well over six feet tall and with a gangly build that would make the Slenderman green with envy, Nate made up for his abnormal stature with a face that would envy Ryan Gosling’s and hair that would put Harry Styles’ to shame. “I don’t think I know any guys that would wear actual boxers.”

“I think everyone wears boxer briefs at this point. At least everyone our age.” Franklin was pouring himself some more liquid courage from a rum bottle but clearly didn’t need it. To prove his point he unbuckled his jeans and lowered them to halfway down his thighs. He was wearing a pair of navy blue Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs.

“Same here, bro.” Nate pulled down his pants, but all the way down to his knees. Contrary to his claim of wearing boxer briefs, he actually had on a pair of red American Eagle trunks. Around the crotch area and the bottom of the legs they had white piping. Despite their shortness (and to be frank, their tightness), Nate showed as little embarrassment as Franklin did. Apparently the two guys had drank more than Tyler realized.

“And we know Carlos wears briefs, from that wild story Seth told us.” Franklin grinned.

“Shut up, it was one time.” Carlos looked frustrated. He got up to grab another beer from the 30 rack he brought and Nate gave a playful tug on his shorts to reveal a white brief clad ass before Carlos pulled them up in embarrassment.

“What about you guys?” Franklin wasn’t asking them to embarrass them, but out of genuine curiosity. Was it possible that Seth’s housemates didn’t know about his superhero briefs?

“I wear trunks,” Tyler answered. He was half telling the truth. Although Tyler wore trunks nine out of every ten days, this one particular day he was wearing a pair of briefs, a fact he kept a secret. The only time he had been exposed in them was by Seth, which he hoped he would keep a secret. After all, even though he had exposed Seth’s briefs at a party, he hadn’t told any of his housemates. And if Tyler had learned anything, it was your own best friends that would never let you forget your tighter pairs of underwear.

“I wear boxers, so I guess that proves your little theory wrong.” Seth nonchalantly took another sip from his lemonade and vodka concoction. Now Tyler was confused. Even when had seen Seth in non-brief (and non-childish) underwear, they had been tighter than the boxers Seth was now claiming to wear. And he knew as Seth’s friend, this could be his way to pay him back for pulling down his pants in front of a crowd: not reveal his little secret. But as Seth stood there, confidently claiming loose boxers as his underwear as choice, Tyler found himself missing the embarrassed Seth, the one lying on the ground covering up his love for Batman with his hands. He wanted to see that Seth again.

“You sure you wear boxers, man?” Tyler took a sip of vodka from a shot he had poured himself but not yet downed. That was a way to seem nonchalant, wasn’t it?

“I do? Do you need to me prove it?” Seth seemed too calm. What was going on?

“Yea dudes, we both took off our pants.” Although Franklin had pulled up his pants, Nate’s pants had fallen from his knees to his ankles. “We can even get Carlos to do it again if you need the confidence boost.” Carlos had stood up again for another beer. How much did this guy need to drink? Nate gave his pants a firm tug, this time exposing a large portion of his right leg; a small slither of it was covered in white fabric, but not much more.

“C’mon, guys.” Carlos was not a fan of what had become commonplace in Tyler’s house by this point.

Tyler though about it. What he was wearing didn’t leave a ton to the imagination, but he knew Seth’s childish underwear was a lot worse. Wasn’t a little embarrassment among people he barely knew worth Seth, the incomparable Seth, being mortified in front of people who could tease him every day? Tyler took a deep breath. He yanked his khakis to his ankles to reveal some mint green Hanes briefs that left little to his imagination. Though Carlos had nothing to scoff at, Nate and Franklin guffawed.

“What are you, eighty?” Franklin howled.

“Hey, grandpa!” Nate got out between hysterical laughter.

But Tyler knew his embarrassment wouldn’t last long. He looked at Seth.

Seth made direct eye contact and dropped trou. In fact, he one-upped Tyler and kicked his pants to the other side of the room. To Tyler’s shock, he was indeed wearing a pair of blue plaid boxers. The other guys didn’t really have any jokes.

“I don’t know man, boxer briefs might look better.” Nate slipped his pants up to his waist and buckled them.

“I’m fine with these.” After Seth said that, Nate, Franklin, and Carlos shrugged and returned to their celebratory drinking. Tyler, realizing his pants were still down, pulled them up. Everyone had seen enough of his green briefs.

Seth walked over to where he kicked his pants, and bent over to pick them up. As he bent, Tyler was shocked to see under his boxers he had visible brief lines. Seth noticed him looking. He gave a mischievous smirk and Tyler went quiet. There would eventually come a much better time to expose what underpants Seth really liked to wear.

[publickoccurances]

Headcanon: Companions on a night out with Sole at The Third Rail (romanced and just friends).

Cait: Cait spends the night doing shot after shot, between each she’ll have a pint of whatever is on tap. Usually some musky beer that is no ones business to be drinking. But it’s cheap and gets you pissed so why the hell not! She acts as Sole’s wingman, trying to get her buddy laid any opportunity she gets. Hell she might even get herself some action. Though that opportunity goes straight out the window as she’s being escorted out by Ham and ten guys from the Neighbourhood Watch. All because she broke some guys hand after he grabbed her arse? Sole tries to sweet talk Ham into letting Cait back in but when that fails ‘Fuck it! Screw ya shitty boozer! Come on Sole, I know a party we can crash!’ And of course, this so called party will be in fact crashing into some random persons hotel room and inviting the rest of the guests in for a drink/drug fuelled night.

Cait (romanced): Now Cait sometimes misses the single life when her and Sole find their way inside The Third Rail of an evening. But all it takes is a few drinks and to find herself staring at that perky arse of theirs and she’s game for the night. She’ll spend the night having a good few drinks, laughing as Sole tries to keep up with her. She had always warned them that you should never try and keep up with an Irish. It never works. But she always stops them before they take it too far. Because how are they gonna have their fun in the alley at the end of the night if Sole can’t even stand up?

Codsworth: Ah yes, The Third Rail. Not Codsworth’s place of choice. Yes he’d much prefer they spend the evening at somewhere with... well somewhere a little bit cleaner perhaps? But Sir/Mum wish to spend the evening socialising in this... quaint?... bar. Then Codsworth would certainly try his best to be positive! Though, the comments from Whitechapel Charlie were not helping. Somehow being called as soft as buttered scone does somewhat dampen ones spirits.

Curie (for the sake of it Synths can get drunk): Curie was always up for experiencing different human social interactions. A very popular one seemed to be going to an establishment and consuming a beverage which was actually poison to the human body? So she shall try! It doesn’t take many drinks for the buzz of the alcohol to go to her head. And before anyone knew it she was prancing around the place befriending the many drifters that were dotted about. Even offering some free medical advise if she liked them well enough! Of course Sole had to keep a close eye on her. They would feel extremely guilty if anything were to happen to Curie while drunk. Though in the moment Curie didn’t quite understand why her friend was trying to stop her from dancing on top of the table?

Curie (romanced): It was a different story when Curie had her loved one to keep an eye on while in this rowdy establishment. She would stick to non-alcoholic beverages for the evening. She just wanted to make sure Sole was safe and well. Though it did make her giggle at how affectionate Sole would get after a few drinks. She couldn’t complain about the gentle kisses pressed to her cheek, nor the sweet nothings whispered in her ear. No, she was quite smitten on her tipsy lover. But no sex while under the influence of alcohol, she would stick to her guns with that. She was far too responsible.

Danse: The Paladin was not one for letting himself loosen up. Not even for an evening. So when his good friend drags him into The Third Rail he is none to impressed with the state of the place, nor the people in it. He sticks strictly to water for the evening. Keeps interaction with the patrons to a minimum. Though he can’t help but be ever so slightly mesmerised by Magnolia as she sings her set for the night. Now she was quality entertainment. And easy on the eyes. But despite the encouragement from Sole, he would stick to his seat and not approach her. But the thought would cross his mind more than once.

Danse (romanced): It would take many days of Sole pestering him before Danse would agree to a night out in The Third Rail. When there he is extremely defensive of Sole, shooting a look that could kill at any patron he thinks may be showing any kind of interest in his lover. Half way through the night it would become too hard for him to hide his jealously anymore. So he would take Sole firmly by the hand and march them back to wherever it is they have decided to spend the night. And Sole of course knew this was exactly how the night would end, that’s why they made a point of being a bit flirtatious with strangers. They loved how it would wind up Danse, and how it would result in their cheek pressed firmly against the mattress more than a few times for the remainder of the night.

Deacon: Deacon was no stranger to The Third Rail. Oh yes. He’d spent many a good night in this place. It was definitely a good thing that a few of the regular patrons were no longer able to recognise him. Though it didn’t stop him from trying to seduce them all over again. What? It was in his nature! Part of who he was! Or that’s what he was trying to tell the disgruntled ex-lover who actually did see past his disguise this time. He walks back over to Sole, stupid grin on his lips despite the fact he’d just been splashed with a glass of vodka. “Yeah. Maybe we should head somewhere with fewer people that have seen little Deacon.” He’d joke. However, maybe it would be best if they hit another joint for the night.

Deacon (romanced): Oh a night with Deacon would end up a blur. The amount of times he would suggest body shots was terrible. But the amount of times Sole agreed to do them was even worse. Eventually Ham would have to kick the two of them out for essentially being naked in the middle of the bar. Not that it bothered Deacon, because he swiped a bottle of whiskey on the way out and he intended on them drinking it, even if they did end up on the curb for the night.

Hancock: Of course the Mayor of Goodneighbour would know The Third Rail well. He and Whitechapel Charlie were good ‘mates’ at this point. Which meant free drinks for Hancock. Which meant free drinks for everyone because he was the mayor of this damn town! Fuelled by a mixture of drinks and chems Hancock would keep the party going until the sun rises. And by the time the sun did rise, he was far too gone to realise and so the party would carry on right into the next evening. It wouldn’t be until he finally passed out of exhaustion that the party would end. And god damm, where the hell did he leave his hat???

Hancock (romanced): Goodneigbour was his town. So as far as he was concerned, The Third Rail was Hancock’s fine establishment. And that meant it was Soles fine establishment. So when he ordered everyone to leave so he and Sole could have the dance floor to themselves for Magnolias set, that meant everybody would leave. And the couple would spend the night being surprisingly tender, dancing slowly to the music.

Macready: Macready had spent so much time in this damn bar he was over it. Every night out he had there Sole would be pulling him off some cocky Gunner who had come in running their mouth. Whitechapel Charlie wasn’t exactly a fan of the Gunners himself, so he never called Ham down to break up the fights. In fact he would sneak Macready a free drink for the entertainment. To which Macready would tilt his hat and let out an accomplished sign. Ah yes, what a life.

Macready (romanced): Macready is a bit more easy going when out drinking with his lover. Though sometimes when he looks at Sole (usually after a few glasses of whiskey) he’ll tear up ever so slightly. Though he would never say it, it’s because Sole has the same eyes as Lucy. Kind eyes. Eyes filled with hope. And damn did it make him emotional. But this moment of weakness never lasted long, he’d usually excuse himself for a cigarette when it gets too intense.

Nick (again for the sake of it Synths can get drunk): It had been a long time since Nick had allowed himself to have some fun. Work as a private eye was demanding. And god did he know it. He was still as mysterious as ever when he had a scotch in his hand. Swirling the liquid around the glass ever so slightly as his eyes scanned the room, hat tilted. Life was good right now, quiet. He liked it when things were quiet.

Nick (romanced): Now Ol’ Nicky wasn’t one for public displays of affection usually. But when the clock struck midnight and there were a few glasses of scotch in the system, how could he not admire his lover? Nick was smooth in the way he spoke to Sole, poetic almost. He liked to keep up his mysterious detective bravado even with his love. Though Sole saw straight through it. And when Sole stole his fedora at the end of the night, Nick just lets them. Hell, that’s love right there surely?

Piper: Piper loved The Third Rail. It was the easiest place to get people to talk for the paper. A few drinks made everyone loose lipped. Including herself. It took three or four vodkas mixed with Nuka Cola for Piper to be stumbling over her words as she tried to compliment Magnolia. God damn it, why couldn’t she just ask her if she wanted a drink?? Every single time she came in here she tried, and every single time she bottled it at the last minute. But all the embarrassment was forgotten when she’d look over and see her best buddy Blue challenging a local to a drinking competition. Well she had to watch this. ‘I’m gonna put twenty caps on the other guy!’ She’d shout as she walked over. ‘Sorry Blue... but look at the size of him. I reckon he can handle his liquor better than you’.

Piper (romanced): Piper really was one for letting herself go all out when on a night out with her Blue. She knew she didn’t have to worry. Blue would keep her safe, and she’d make sure they were safe. And god she just loved the way they looked as they danced to the music playing. Damn it they just looked so good in that dumb vault suit. She’d of course join her lover in the dancing. And drunken dancing always resulted in drunken kissing, which always resulted in drunken touching, which always resulted in them stumbling back into their hotel room for the night. She loved the way her back would hit the mattress as Blue would kiss all over her. It was the best way to end the night for sure.

Preston: Preston was more of a sophisticated drinker. Being a Minuteman was a 24/7 job. Despite whether he wanted to or not, he knew very well that he couldn’t get wasted every time Sole convinced him to accompany them at The Third Rail. He’d always limit himself to a glass of wine, keeping an eye on his friend. Preston would always make sure to wonder up the stairs every half hour and check in with Ham to make sure no flares had been set off in close proximity. To which Ham would always reply ‘we’re in Goodneighbour pal, you really think these folks are gonna be asking for help from you lot?’

Preston (romanced): God damn a drunken Sole would stress Preston out. He found himself repeating ‘drink water for the love of all that is holy’ at least five times an hour. But despite how fed he sounded, he actually quite enjoyed looking after his drunken lover. After all, it made him feel rather manly when he’d have to carry Sole to bed at the end of the night. And he always knew he could have his fun when the hangover would hit Sole the next morning, he thoroughly enjoyed teasing his hungover lover.

[thesmokingguns]

Wendy and the Lost Boys Chapter 8

It was the week of Valentines Day and it marked two months since Nikki had seen Sasha. She hadn’t come to any of their shows or slept at the apartment. He hadn’t seen her at any of her favorite spots that he had been casually dropping by. There was no reason why he should go looking for her; if he saw her he didn’t know what he would even say to her. He couldn’t just say he was sorry because they had decided they were exclusive. Even though he had technically done nothing wrong he was feeling bad for his actions.

They had a few shows on the 12, 13 and 14th at the Whisky coming up and Nikki wanted to call and invite her to one. He could use a stupid excuse like the band wanted to see her or that they had a new song to play. If he could just lure her back out maybe when he saw her things wouldn’t be awkward or weird. He was standing in front of the payphone willing himself to make the call. He dialed her sorority house and when he got the busy signal cursed. What did he expect trying to call a house of girls the week of Valentine’s Day?

“Why are you on the payphone?” He turned to see Tommy looking at him, “Is Lita still at the apartment?” The drummer rolled his eyes when Nikki nodded to confirm this, “Get her to leave before band practice. She’s been stuck to your side for two months without leaving. Everyone wants time to just rehearse without her butting in.” For Tommy to say something meant that everyone was getting fed up.

“She’s just trying-“

“I don’t care if she’s trying to suck all our dicks and give us hundred dollar bills after. Get her out of the apartment for a couple hours so we can practice.” Tommy interrupted before moving to jump into his van and take off. Band practice was in an hour so he needed to figure out how to get her out before everyone was there.

The door to her room burst open and she glared seeing Tommy standing there. . Sasha had been avoiding him, only seeing him when he showed up for Sunday dinners at home. So him showing up like this wasn’t something that was completely out of character. She could see him still holding the keys to his van which meant he wanted to go somewhere and she didn’t exactly trust him to keep her away from the self prescribed segregation she had given herself to get over Nikki.

“No and get out.” She said flipping through her magazine, she wasn’t going to go along with whatever stupid plan he had. Tommy was moving closer and she watched him pick up her leather jacket and her purse. She shut her magazine now looking around for something that she could defend herself with. “What are you doing?” She asked  as he moved towards her. She screamed, slamming a pillow into his head trying to jump off the bed but slipping and falling half on her face. Tommy took her fall as a great excuse to scoop up the girl and toss her over his shoulder. She tried to point a Ked towards his balls, kicking at him.

“Play nice.” he warned, spinning around the room and then tossing her down. “I want you to come to band practice.” He watched the way that she looked at him, wondering if he was actually being serious. “Nikki is going to get Lita out of the apartment.” He stopped when he saw her eyebrows fold together.

“Is she living with you?” Tommy had said too much and he wanted to back pedal. This was absolutely not what he had wanted to happen. From him not answering she knew what that meant. Her eyes widened slightly, “Are they dating, Tommy? Like is she his girlfriend?” Everything in her wanted him to say no and to laugh it off. She wanted him to say she just hung around the apartment and that Nikki didn’t date but he just looked down trying to take a long time to find and light a cigarette.

“You know how Nikki is-“

“Yeah I do know how he is.” She snapped this at a Tommy and he could see she was upset. This anger had settled on her face with tears threatening to fall out of her eyes, “I want to punch him in the face.” She admitted as she started pacing around the room. “Why am I not good enough for him but she is? He told me a bunch of times he doesn’t date people. I guess it just means that I’m not good enough.” She had stopped and was looking in the mirror at herself.

“Nikki is just an asshole. You know nothing lasts with him. And you always talk about Len at home so I thought you were moving on from whatever you had with Sixx.” She turned to him giving Tommy a look.

“Don’t bring Len into this. That whole situation is complicated and you have a big mouth. And you’re trying to take the pressure off of me being mad at Nikki.” She added pointing a finger at him in warning. Sasha walked over, flopping on the bed next to Tommy. They both laid down looking up at the ceiling. “Do you think there is something wrong with me? Is that why I can’t be in a normal relationship where someone loves me?” She asked. Tommy reached out grabbing her hand.

“Nikki doesn’t love anybody. I don’t even think he really likes himself. I think Lita just walked into his life and he’s waiting for her to decide to walk out because he doesn’t know what else to do. It has nothing to do with who you are. You’re smart and beautiful. But sometimes you forget you’re only 18. You have a minimum of ten years before you should get married. Maybe you should just have fun. Forget Nikki, Forget Len. Just have fun.” She rolled her eyes at him. She was a serious person and that’s what was fun to her.

“I can’t forget Len and I’ve avoided Sixx for two months so I’m doing great there.” She knew avoiding Nikki wouldn’t fix anything but staying away from him meant she didn’t make any mistakes. Like kissing his stupid face or punching it. Both emotions seemed to be appropriate for him.

“Come to band practice.” Tommy asked. “Like forget about Sixx and just come and hang out with everyone. You can get drunk on the couch and throw beer cans at us like when we first started.” He knew she wasn’t going to come and the way she rolled over onto her stomach made him sigh, “Just stop by one day and stop letting Sixx ruin the Strip for you.” He warned, getting off the bed. Sasha shot him a look and he was gone. And all the problems were still there.

It was June 1st when she finally got the courage to finally show up at the house. The only reason she found herself at the house was because she had moved home for the summer and didn’t want to be home. So it was close to one in the morning when she was crawling through the window to a packed apartment, trying to take in everything that was going on.

Her eyes scanned trying to see where everyone was and just trying to get to Tommy’s room where she would lock herself until he tried to get in. She saw Vince being pulled into the bathroom by some random girl, Mick was in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of vodka with his back to her, Tommy was sitting next to someone talking excitedly with a mountain of cocaine in front of him, and Nikki was nowhere to be found. Not having eyes on the bassist left her unsettled. She kept her head down as she slid past people turning the door knob to Tommy’s room and pushing the door open. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the room was empty.

“Bedrooms are off limits.” A voice made her turn and she saw Lita was standing there, hands on her hips. She didn’t seem to recognize who Sasha was and for some reason that made her even angrier. She threw the backpack she had filled onto the bed and just slammed the door turning the lock and tucking a chair under it. She heard the smacking of a hand, “HEY. YOU NEED TO GET OUT.” Sasha lit a cigarette, knowing that her hope of staying out of sight until the morning was out. There was the sound of knocking and the door knob was shaking.

“HEY, open up.” It was Tommy’s voice now and she knew this was her chance to stay hidden. She opened the door a crack grabbing his arm and yanking him inside and slamming herself against the door so no one saw her as she locked it, “Listen babe, I can’t just let you-Sasha!” He couldn’t believe she was in his room.

“I need to stay here because I didn’t figure out my summer apartment so I’m living at home.” She ranted. Tommy just waved her off.

“If you’re here, you need to party. No hiding in this room. We’re all talking about Canada. You need to come with us.” He was already pulling her out of the bedroom back to the party. Sasha knew this was going to happen so she had dressed up a little in a skin tight short dress in white.

“Canada, what the-“ she was cut off as they entered the room again and she saw him. He was laughing leaning against the wall by the window. Nikki looked up when Tommy was rushing back into the living room and his smile faltered seeing Sasha there. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she was pulled into the couch, her eyes snapping away from the intense look the bassist was giving her. The feeling of her stomach doing flips made her feel sick and she wished she had just called Len instead of showing up at the house. It had been half a year and still just a Nikki looking at her made her forget how to breathe. She drank the beer pressed into her hand and tried not to turn and look again the green eyes she could feel staring into her.

Since Tommy had pulled her out of the bedroom Nikki couldn’t stop watching her. She was beautiful in that white dress, standing out among all the black shirts and leather jackets. Even in the chaos he could hear her laughter. Thank God Lita was there keeping him anchored or he’d go over and say something to her that would probably ruin his whole Nikki Sixx persona. She was practically holding a band meeting towards the end me of the night. The guys all huddled up with her heads bent as she explained something.

“Nikki, come here.” Vince called out. He watched the way she looked up at his name, the long eyelashes dancing to keep her gaze off him. He untangled himself from Lita watching the dirty look she shot over to the table.  “Sasha figured out how to do your publicity stunt in Canada.” He looked up at her, cocking an eyebrow at her. She looked at Nikki, her heart aching thinking of everything. She tore her eyes away from them standing up and smirking.

“I’ll talk to your manager tomorrow. But I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, kids.” He was jealous of the way she smiled at the other guys ignoring him big he also knew that she still must have felt something if she was leaving from him being so close. When she had slipped into Tommy’s room he heard Vince sigh.

“She is still pissed at you.” Vince pointed out making Nikki glare at him, “Wait until she finds out you’re moving out with Lita when we get back from Canada. She’s going to be thrilled.” He was so thankful for all his bandmates' support and understanding in the situation. They really did such a good job of making everything easier.

“Isn’t your wife pregnant at home?” Nikki asked making the singer glare at him, “Angel isn’t mad at me. Everything happened months ago and we never even had sex so it’s not a big deal.” He had given them too much information.

“Wait you didn’t even bone and you’ve both been moping around for six months?” Tommy asked, his mouth partly open. A hand of Nikki’s shoulder stopped the conversation as they all looked up at Lita.

“Who didn’t bone?” The guys all were silent and Nikki knew he had to get them out of them. He stayed silent moving to step outside of the apartment. He needed a second to collect his thoughts. He sat down in the chair that was outside to figure things out. There had never been a time where seeing a girl had absolutely consumed him like it had with seeing Sasha. He didn’t know why the time between them didn’t help. He still wanted to be around her and touch her; how did she get even more attractive in the time they were apart?

“Do you have a cigarette?” The voice brought Nikki out of his thoughts and he noticed the sun was starting to rise. Sasha was outside in her keds, shorts and a tshirt. Nikki realized he must have fallen asleep on the plastic chair. He handed her the pack, watching her light up the cigarette and sigh out a breath. “Tommy said I could come to Canada for your tour but I figured I’d ask you if it was okay first. I don’t want to step on any toes.” He could smell her shampoo and a new perfume. She looked at him and he realized he was supposed to respond.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyebrows furrowed together confused and then realization settled on her features. “I don’t even know what happened. I was thinking about you and then I was home with her and she just hasn’t left.” Nikki always articulated so now that he wasn’t being his cool calm self he was feeling off kilter.

“So I take it as it’s fine if I come on tour. Thanks.” She flicked her cigarette off the balcony and shook Tommy’s van keys at him. “You need to drive me to meet with your manager.” She threw the keys at him and he smirked feeling a little better knowing she would be back around them.

“RUN.” Tommy screamed pulling Sasha down the hallway. They skidded around a corner, the police hot on their trail. They ripped the door open to the stairs and he shoved her into the hallway before taking off in another direction. Sasha ran up the two flights of stairs and down the hallway slamming her fist on the door to Mick's room. When he didn’t answer she moved to Vince’s room.

“OPEN THE DOOR YOU ASSHOLE.” She gave it a kick and saw the door next to his open and Nikki stick his head out. She could hear footsteps and dove inside, shutting the door behind her and taking a deep breath. There was the sound of running and she bit her lip to keep in the laughter.

“What did you do?” He asked watching how she threw herself into the bed. She was obviously shitfaced or fucked up on something. Which seemed to be how things were going for the last week. Since she had showed up at the apartment she had been making moves for them and staying constantly fucked up. It had gotten so bad Nikki had asked Tommy what happened but no one knew.

“Tommy and I did mescaline.” She giggled at this and Nikki tried not to smile at how happy she seemed to reveal this. “And we were walking around and this dude came towards us and he was getting big and small like an accordion.” She started giggling again, kicking off her shoes. “So I told Tommy and he threw a plate at the guy. And we started throwing stuff at all these people chasing us around the halls.” She was wiggling out of her shorts and he had no idea what the fuck she was doing. “But we ran out of room service and the police came. So we had to run.” That’s how she had ended up here. She pulled off her shirt and he groaned seeing she was now just in her white underwear. “I’m tired from all that rubbing.” She said with a yawn, “Cmon, I’m probably going to have to bail Tommy out of jail in a few hours and I want to sleep.” She was laying in his bed, telling him to come in there with her but Nikki gave her the space and just let her fall into her sleep. As much as he wanted everything to be okay with her he knew she was going through something and trying to hide with the band. He just needed to find out what was going on with her.

The sun was hitting her back, warm and comforting, dragging her out of the deep sleep that she had fallen into. Sasha felt like she had been running around all night and that she had been hit with a sledgehammer. She groaned burying herself deeper in the pillow that smelled oddly like- She sat straight up the covers falling off her as she looked around the room. It was at least empty so there would be no awkward moment where she would have to talk to Nikki. The phone rang and since she was afraid that it would be Tommy calling from jail she reached out to answer it.

“Is this Nikki’s room?” a voice on the other line asked when she said hello. Sasha yawned, looking around and confirming that it was. She needed to get dressed and shower before going and finding everyone, “Why are you in my boyfriend's room?” she opened her mouth pulling the receiver away from her ear. Of course Lita was calling at 9am to check in Nikki when he was on tour. That was a sign of how much she trusted the bassist but also it was fair seeing who he was.

“Oh no, no no no. I did not sleep with Nikki. I did a bunch of drugs with Tommy, ran from the cops and ended up in his room to hide from them. I wouldnt have sex with Nikki well he is dating you.” She wanted to establish this understanding so maybe they could be friends. She got along fine with Vince’s wife and Beth knew she wasn’t a threat. Sasha watched as the door to the room opened and the woman's boyfriend walked in holding a tray with coffee and breakfast on it. He stopped seeing her sitting on the edge of the bed topless on the phone. She held out her hand signaling the coffee not seeing to notice that her tits were out. Nikki smirked giving her the cup of coffee watching the way she gave him a big smile.

“Are you on the phone with your boyfriend? Does he know that you spent the night in my bed?” he was trying to tease her thinking that it would be funny to get her in trouble but she just turned white. A pillow went flying towards him and all he did was smile. He didn’t care who got in trouble because of what he was saying. She also realized he didn’t know it was Lita on the phone and not Len.

“What the fuck did he just say?” the woman on the other line asked now getting mad about everything. There was no getting her to like Sasha now. Any idea that they could be friends and things could be nice when she hung out with the band was flying out the window because of SIxx’s big stupid mouth., “BUT HIM ON THE FUCKING PHONE YOU BITCH.” Sasha held out the phone giving Nikki a look like he was an absolute idiot. Now he had gotten them both in trouble from him being a moron

“It’s your girlfriend, Sixx. And now she knows I spent the night naked in your bed.” she said it loud enough that the woman would hear. That smile that she had blossoming across her face thinking that she was doing something to get him in trouble. Instead of taking the phone and talking to her Nikki just hung it up. Watching how her face fell realizIng that he wasn’t going to get into trouble like she had wanted for him.

“Don’t answer the hotel room phone, Angel. That’s just asking for trouble.” he threw her a shirt from the chair watching the way she smirked as she pulled it on, taking a sip of the hot coffee. The phone rang and she looked at it. “Tommy is sleeping off a very bad hangover in the room so there is no reason to answer that phone.” he watched her drink down her coffee, not talking to him for a second.

“Thanks for letting me crash here last night. Sorry that I answered the phone.” Nikki shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t going to let her get arrested, “Can we talk about something and you can’t make it weird?” she asked after a few minutes of them eating in silence. He looked up at her wondering what would be weird of her to ask.

“I’m not going to get weird from a question, angel.” as he said this his heart started to race and he had to lick his lips as he felt like his mouth was starting to go dry from the nerves building in his stomach. Sasha sat on the bed, her hands wrapped around the ceramic cup wearing one of the Motley Crue shirts he had taken. He always imagined a life like this, a girl in his bed wearing his band stuff but seeing that it was Sasha there was something different. It was like at this  moment he was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing with exactly who he wanted to be with. All the ideas he had of letting her sow her wild oats were gone and NIkki wanted to be selfish and just have her. She could grow up with him and he’d show her everything that she would need or want  to experience.

“It’s about Len.” she gulped and her eyes flashed down at what was probably lukewarm coffee back up to look at  him, “And I think it’s about you too.” she made eye contact again with him. Sasha needed to ask him about why he didn’t want her and the awkwardness from the conversation was already weighing heavy, “Is there something about me that makes it so that guys don’t want me?” his eyebrows furrowed in. “I mean, Len and I got into this big fight because-” she paused as a pink blush warmed her cheeks and her hand went to touch her neck. He hadn’t seen her so uncomfortable before and didn’t like how uncomfortable she was getting talking about this. There was a knock on the door making them both look up.

“Nikki, it’s me. We need to have a band meeting now. I have everyone with me.” Sasha audibly groaned hearing the manager's voice. Of course there would be a full band meeting when she was just starting to talk to him again.She was on the bed in just his shirt too, awesome, she thought as she watch Nikki open up the door and all the band coming in. Mick saw her first and just shook his head at her, Tommy gave her a confused look but sat next to her on the bed taking her half a cup of coffee, and when Vince came in he started clapping.

“FINALLY!” he cheered smacking Nikki on the back like he was proud of him. He moved over trying to ruffle her hair but getting smacked in the arm before he could touch her.

“Sit down, Vince.” She muttered, not even bothering to correct them. Sasha got up ready to leave but Tommy pulled her down to sit with them just giving her a slight shake of the head as they all turned to look at the band manager.

“Tonight will be the last show of the tour. We will fly back to LA in the morning. I bought tickets for all the band members.” He gave a pointed look to Sasha to let her know she would be on her own for airfare, “We’ve lost money so far and pretty much all the bullshit you’ve guys have done has cost us more money than we have made. So that’s that.” She looked over to where Nikki was, a shattered look on his face as he was trying to process what this guy was saying to them. All the guys had this look of dejection on their face at this. “But when you get back to LA Elektra wants you to start working on your next record.” They all sort of peaked up at this information.

Everyone sat around talking for a little while about everything before one by one they all left Nikki’s room. Sasha was still on his bed, her head resting on her knees as she looked over at the bassist. He had switched coffee out for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s by now. He looked over at her, the way her blonde hair was shining in the sunlight and how the dark t shirt clashed with the white linen of the bed. They stared at each other for a second before he was moving over to her, his hand finding its way into the silken maze of her hair and he was tugging her to him. Sasha could feel her heart beating as he inched their heads together, his forehead resting against hers.

“I just want to feel better about everything.” He muttered. She was wrapping herself around him, easing him out of his misery with soft touches on his face, her hand on the skin below his shirt. Sasha laid him in the bed beside her, wrapping him up in her body and pressing kisses on his face. Her hands in his hair as she held his head to her chest and comforted him.

“It’s okay, Sixx. You have a whole new album to write about me.” She teased softly, feeling his smile. Nikki’s hands were creeping up the back of her shirt and she remembered what it felt like to be touched and feel on fire. He could feel the way she shifted closer to him and smirked.

“It would be easy to write an album about you, angel.” Shifting her and watching the way she sighed out her hands in his hair, “I’ve missed this.” He admitted, watching the way she was smiling in his arms. It was easy when they weren’t mad at each other.

“It’s nice to feel tired and want to sleep.” She joked, but she was yawning and he knew she was going to fall asleep. Nikki adjusted her in his arms watching the soft smile she had. It was going to be hard to go back to LA and regular life; If she was around he couldn’t just have his life with Lita. Plus Sasha had Len, even if she was being strange about the whole thing.  There were so many questions without any answers.

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {5}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Dinner at the Archeron’s, part 1.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper 

Azriel sat on a bench in the middle of the courtroom. 

Mila was with Rhysand, out for breakfast, before he had to go into work.

It had been a long week. After Amarantha had shown up at his apartment after being released from the hospital, she enlightened him that she would have a hearing, and was not expecting good news. 

You fucking overdosed, again. Mila found you, couldn’t wake you up, and went to your neighbor’s house...A four year old! Azriel had spat at her. You have fucking drugs in a house with a toddler! It’s not your fucking four year old’s responsibility to save your ass.

Amarantha hadn’t said anything back. She simply nodded, and brushed it off.

They’re going to send me to jail, Az. To prison. For a long time. Amarantha almost seemed guilty at that, but the haunted look in her eyes didn’t last long. She was shaky, jittery, unnerved. Her mind wasn’t really there. Her mind was still on whatever it was she was recovering from. 

Now, he watched as Amarantha sat before the judge. 

He didn’t feel guilty, felt no remorse, as she was charged.

Possession. Distribution. 

When I get out, she’s going to be a young adult, at the least, Amarantha had told him as they sat around his kitchen table, four days earlier. Believe it or not, Azriel, I do love my daughter.

Azriel shook his head, but had nothing left to say. 

I want you to take her, Az. Care for her. I have told them as much, social services, through my lawyer. That you are her only relative, and that she’s close to you.

She was selfish, cruel, and Azriel had been forced to put up with way too much of her shit over the years.

But he couldn’t have Mila going into a home. 

“Twenty years in the Velaris state prison,” the judge said, at last. “You will be detained straight from here. Mercifully, I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your family.” 

The judge dismissed the courtroom, and a pair of burly cops followed Amarantha to where Azriel stood. 

“You didn’t bring my daughter?” she asked, brows raised.

“As someone who just lost twenty years of their life, you don’t seem too bothered,” Azriel muttered. “And, no, I didn’t think she should have to watch her mother be dragged away. Again.” 

Amarantha shook her head. “At least bring her to visit me?” 

Azriel didn’t respond. “I have to go meet with cps and make sure Mila isn’t thrown into the system.”

Like we were. 

Much to Amarantha’s protests, Azriel turned his back to her and walked out of the courtroom. He didn’t know why he hated Amarantha more: because she was a selfish bitch, or because she reminded Azriel of his mother.

It was an addiction. Azriel understood that. It was called an addiction for a reason, it was hard to shake, hard to stop, hard to get rid of. But, it still pissed him off. It all pissed him off, unbearably. 

Azriel had been eleven when he got home from school and found his mother, unconscious on their living room floor, again. Only that time, she hadn’t woken up. After that day, he was forced into the foster care system, tossed around from home to home and eventually placed with a couple, and Amarantha, none who could care less about him. 

All because of that damned, selfish addiction his mother had.

That Amarantha had. 

His meeting with cps hadn’t lasted long. Amarantha had told them about him, she was honest about that. Perhaps in some way she did care about Mila, even if she didn’t show it.

They did a background check on him. The only thing they found was a few speeding tickets and that one time he spent the night in jail, at seventeen, because he’d had too much vodka at a party. 

“Look,” Azriel said, once they said they had heard enough and would give him a call. “I love my niece. And she needs me. She knows me, she trusts me, she’s stayed with me for half her life. You can’t put her into foster care. I was in foster care, it’s...you can’t put her into foster care.”

The woman behind the desk smiled softly at Azriel. “I’m just the interviewer, but I will pass the case along, and they will give you a call soon, I promise. You’re Mila’s only relative, aside from your foster parents, but they don’t wish to have a part. You have no criminal record. You have your own home. I see no reason why they would not leave Mila in your care. When they do call, and they approve of her staying with you, there will be paperwork to fill out. We will have you back in the office at that time. Until then...comfort that child. She just had her mother taken away.”

Again, Azriel added, silently, for the hundredth time that morning. 

“Thank you,” he said, attempting a smile as he stood and left the office. 

Azriel made it to his truck and shut himself inside. His eyes closed in the silence. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. Repeat once, twice, three times.

He had to go get Mila from Rhys so that he could go to work. Azriel had to get to work himself, work on the garage at the Archeron’s. 

All he wanted to do, though, was sit in silence for a minute. Five minutes. Ten. 

Fuck addictions.

Fuck substance abuse.

Fuck it all. 

Azriel leaned his head back against the truck seat and ran his hands through his hair. He thought of his mother, then realized he could barely remember what she looked like. He remembered the dark hair, like his, the hazel eyes….he could also remember she always had dark shadows beneath her distant eyes, that she was way too thin. He remembered the way her hands shook.  

He couldn’t remember what she looked like when she smiled. 

Azriel put his car in reverse and left the courthouse.

He kept the radio off. 

~~~~~

“You’ll be there tonight, right?”

Nesta had said yes every day since Elain asked at the beginning of the week. “Yes. Seven?”

“Six, I thought we could have drinks while dinner is being made,” Elain beamed. “Oh, Nesta, I’m so excited. So is dad. Feyre’s bringing Rhys along. Oh! Is Tomas excited? We can’t wait to meet him.”

Nesta froze. Tomas. She had completely forgotten. “Oh, I-”

“You’ve never brought a boy home,” Elain continued. “I mean, this is monumental! He must really be special.”

“About that-”

“I hope he likes chicken. He does like chicken, right? I mean, everyone likes chicken. What’s his drink choice? Bourbon? Rum? Or, is he just a beer kind of man?”

“Elain-”

“Oh, I’m so happy, Nesta. This house deserves a little party. For once, it won’t just be me and dad.” Elain sighed. It was the first time Nesta had heard her become excited in quite some time. “I’ve got to run to the store. I’ll see you at six, right?”

Nesta’s eyes shut. “Right.”

“Okay, bye!” Elain beamed, hanging up.

Nesta was left sitting in her apartment, groaning. “Fuck!”

Tomas had left. To go where? Nesta had no idea. He hadn’t called, but he texted a few days before saying he was leaving town. Even if he had been in town, the chances of him going to a family dinner were slim. He wasn’t the family dinner type.

Nesta dug through her purse for a cigarette, but the box was empty. She had to make a drug store run before she completely lost her shit. 

There was one on the corner that she made it to in five minutes, and after fueling the tobacco industry, which even she didn’t happily endorse, she was walking back home, a cigarette between her lips. 

“Do you ever have a good day?”

Nesta twirled around.

Cassian was walking toward her, sweating, his dog on a leash. 

“You look pissed,” he went on, “literally at all times.”

“And you have a way of sneaking up on me when I don’t want you to,” Nesta drawled. “Which is always.”

Cassian chuckled. “Well, whatever it is today, hope it gets better. The drink offer still stands. Come over if you wanna get hammered.” 

A thought entered Nesta’s mind, but she quickly pushed it away. No. She would not become desperate. She would go to dinner, alone, and tell Elain and her father that there was no Tomas, not anymore, that even Nesta drove away a worthless bastard like Tomas Mandray. 

She would endure their disappointment and answer all the questions they had. She would absorb their sympathetic glances and be told, Don’t worry, a man will come along some day by her father, just as he did when she was in high school. 

The thought made her want to vomit.

“You’re free tonight, then?” Nesta blurted.

Cassian stopped midway up the stairs, on the landing. He turned around, brows raised. “Coming for a drink?”

“Eh - no. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner,” she grounded out, attempting to sound pleasant, but fully realizing she was not. 

Cassian blinked. “Dinner? With you?”

Nesta nodded, slowly.

She needed a shot.

Or two.

Cassian grinned, hazel eyes glowing. “Yeah. Alright. That sounds...interesting enough for a Friday night.”

Nesta scowled. “Be ready at five-thirty.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he nodded, turned back around, and walked his dog up the stairs. 

Nesta had a feeling she should go back to the drug store and get a bottle of tequila.

Which is exactly what she did.

She would need it.

~~~~~

“Mor and Amren will both be here tomorrow afternoon,” Feyre called from the bathroom, where she had just finished drying her hair and was applying her makeup. “We should all go out tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand agreed, his voice quiet from his bedroom. “We should.”

“Have you heard anything else from Az?”

“No,” Rhysand said, and she could hear him sigh. “I can’t believe Amarantha….what a bitch.”

Rhysand had his own reasons for hating Amarantha, on top of her putting Mila in harm’s way. They had dated for a little while the summer after high school, even though Amarantha was a few years older than them. She was a bitch then, too. Amarantha moved on from Rhysand fairly quickly, her drug problem got significantly worse, and then she got pregnant. 

“Poor Mila,” Feyre agreed, putting on a pale, pink lipstick. “At least she’s got Az.”

Rhysand agreed and met her in the threshold of the bathroom. He looked impressed, eyeing the gray sundress she wore. It reached halfway down her thighs, the fit loose, but hung low enough across her breasts to catch an eye. 

“You look nice,” he smiled.

She shook her head, unable to stop a smile of her own. “You say that like I hardly wear anything cute, ever.”

When Rhysand didn’t answer, she punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed, and that tingly sensation filled Feyre to her very core. It had been happening more within the last week. She would catch Rhysand, watch him when he wasn’t aware, and find him attractive, want to run her fingers through his hair, across his skin. She would lay awake at night, pleasuring herself, and it would be his body, that chest covered in ink, that she would picture. 

And he had no idea.

And she would keep it that way. 

“I do prefer you in your scrubs and sweatshirts, yes,” Rhysand grinned, eyes mischievous. “But, the dress looks good.” 

“Thanks for coming with me,” Feyre said, zipping everything back up into her makeup bag. “My dad always liked you.”

Rhysand nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, humor fading. “Of course.” 

Feyre pushed past him, her shoulder brushing along his arm, as she hurried into her room. “Should I wear sandals?”

“I assume they’ll come off the minute we walk through the front door, so does it really matter?” Rhysand asked, following her and dropping himself onto the side of her mattress. 

“Yes,” Feyre said. “It does.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Fine. Yes, sandals.” 

“Brown or white?”

Rhysand pretended to think about it for a long time. Too long. 

“You are the worst at helping a woman get ready,” Feyre laughed, bending down to observe the shoes in the bottom of her closet.

Rhysand snickered, but he didn’t deny it. His eyes lingered as he watched her bend over. “Wear the black ones.”

Feyre gave him an intrigued glance before pulling on her black sandals and looking at herself in the floor length mirror. 

She turned to Rhysand, brows raised. “Good enough to impress my father, whom I haven’t spoken to in months?” 

“Well,” Rhysand began, eyes soft, “I think you look beautiful. Who cares what he thinks.” 

“You’re too nice to me.” Feyre meant it as a joke, but her voice came out quiet. She had a feeling her cheeks were turning pink, but she hoped that they weren’t, or that he didn’t notice.

He was watching her, his gaze unwavering. 

And then he sucked in a breath, stood, and smiled. “Well, ready? We should get going.”

Feyre nodded, that feeling still flying about wildly in the pit of her stomach. “Ready.”

“Alright. Let me get my shoes and my wallet.” 

He left, and Feyre finally let out the breath she felt she’d been holding.

The way he was looking at her…

She didn’t think she was imagining it anymore. 

~~~~~

Elain had a long list of things to do that day and she had managed to get through them all. Now, she was at her final stop, a flower stand outside of the grocery store. Her reusable bag was tossed over her shoulder, full of goods that would make up their feast. Now, she needed to arrange a beautiful centerpiece. 

“A dozen tulips,” she smiled, once the owner had asked what she would like. “Pink and white, please.”

He nodded and gathered a bundle before wrapping them up and handing them over. Elain paid, thanked him for the beautiful flowers, and stepped to walk away.

“Lain!”

Elain spun around, smiling at Mila, who was running toward her, Azriel close behind. 

“I didn’t see you today,” she said, wrapping her arms around Elain’s legs. “I missed you!”

Elain had spent every day for the last week playing games with Mila while Azriel worked. She was a great kid - kind, funny, polite. Elain enjoyed her time with the little one.

“I’m sorry I was gone. I had a lot of errands to run today. My sisters are coming over for dinner tonight. It’s a big dinner.”

“Ah, Rhys mentioned that,” Azriel said, taking Mila’s hand to keep her from straying on the busy sidewalk. “We weren’t there too long, today, anyway. Had some stuff to get done this morning, unfortunately. Took longer than expected.”

Elain nodded. That may have been the most he’d said to her at one time. Azriel was distant, she noticed, not having to speak unless spoken to. He hadn’t said a word to her all throughout high school; but, then again, she hadn’t spoken to him either.

They were from two different circles, two different worlds. 

“Well, I hope everything is okay,” Elain replied, quietly.

“I like your flowers,” Mila’s little voice popped up, before Azriel could respond. “They’re sooo pretty.”

Elain smiled and knelt down so that she met Mila at eye level. “Which ones do you like better? Pink or white?”

“Pink!” Mila said, then stuck out her foot. “They match my shoes.”

Elain laughed, softly, as she nodded. “You’re right, they do.” She pulled a pink tulip from the bouquet and handed it to Mila. “Bring this home with you and put it in a nice big cup of water. Make sure it gets sunlight, too.”

Mila’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms around Elain’s neck, who laughed and patted her back, trying not to lose her balance.

“I will,” Mila promised, smiling at the flower, her flower.

Elain stood back up to find Azriel watching her, curiously.

“Well,” Elain began, cheeks heating. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?” 

Azriel nodded.

“Okay,” Elain breathed. She turned back to Mila. “Bye, Mila.”

“Bye, Lain,” she smiled.

As she turned to walk away, Azriel called out, “Elain?”

She turned around.

He was rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the flower. And for watching her, too.”

Elain nodded. “You’re welcome.”

She walked away, wondering if he was watching her walk away, but too nervous to look back and find out. 

On the walk home, her mind wandered. She wondered what their story was, why Mila was staying with her uncle. They seemed to have a strong bond. She wondered what had happened to Mila’s parents. 

Azriel didn’t seem like a horrible person, either, no matter how intense he seemed to be around her. She remembered the first conversation they had, when he told her that he remembered her from high school, and what he remembered her for. Cheerleader. Valedictorian. She was perfect, goody-goody Elain Archeron, top of the totem pole. 

Oh, how far she had fallen on that totem pole. 

She wondered what Azriel thought of when he looked at her, wondered if he truly got to know her what he would think of her, then. But she wanted to know him, wanted to dig inside of his mind. He was mysterious, a notorious rebel - at least, he had been. She didn’t think much had changed since high school. He was still mysterious, still unreadable. 

And utterly handsome. 

Elain got home and started marinating the chicken before finding one of her mother’s old vases and setting the flowers inside with water. She set it in the middle of the table, took a step back, and smiled.

Even with one pink tulip less, it was breath-taking. 

~~~~~

Nesta pounded on his door at five-thirty. 

When a second passed and he didn’t answer, she pounded on it, again.

“Hold the fuck on!” he shouted, then she could hear his heavy footsteps.

The door swung open and she rolled her eyes. He’d yet to put on a shirt, but he was wearing jeans and his boots. His hair was tied back and his eyes were amused.

“In a hurry?” he asked.

“Yes, we have to be at my dad’s in half an hour,” she muttered.

He lifted a brow. “Already meeting your dad, am I?” 

As he went to grab his shirt off the couch, Nesta sighed, “Look. I’m not….on the best terms with my family right now, and my sister has been going through a shit time. She was excited about me bringing my boyfriend, but he bailed a few days ago. I couldn’t tell her that I’d be coming alone, because that would just open a huge can of disappointment, which is basically what I’m known for in my family. So, I asked you to come along and take his place.”

Cassian watched her while the words poured out as he buttoned up his shirt. “I see. So...I’m your boyfriend, then?”

“Pretend,” Nesta added. “Obviously.” 

Cassian tilted his head. “And here I was, thinking you had finally come around and wanted to spend time with me.”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t come if you don’t want to. You know what? This was a mistake-”

She turned to leave but Cassian beat her to the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms, and grinned. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come. I’m great with parents.”

“What?” Nesta asked, exasperated.

His grin grew. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come.”

Nesta shook her head. “I’m not saying that.”

The dark barked from the corner, sensing her tone from where he laid on his bed.

“Down, Bryaxis,” Cassian ordered, eyes still on Nesta’s. “Say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll please you,” Nesta snapped. “And I don’t want to please you.” 

“Fine, then I’ll stay here, me and Bryaxis will have a drink or two…”

He stepped away from the door and opened it up, gesturing for Nesta to leave. She wanted to slap him in the face, punch him in the balls, but all she managed to do was stomp toward the door, eyes narrowed.

And then she imagined Elain’s disappointment and her father’s endless string of sympathetic questions.

She stopped at the threshold and looked at Cassian, seething. “I want you to come,” she whispered. 

“What?” Cassian asked, pointing to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

“I hate you,” she mumbled.

“Hmmm?” Cassian crooned. 

“I want you to come,” she said, over-pronouncing each word. “So grab your fucking keys.”

Cassian’s hand flew to cover his chest, right over his heart. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Fuck off,” she mumbled, before exiting his apartment, her middle finger raised high in the air.

Cassian’s laughter just pissed her off more. 

They got into his truck and he drove, the radio on a random rock-station. The sun was bright, although it would be going down soon. 

“So, if I’m playing the part of your lover, I should probably know a little bit about you.”

Nesta sighed. “Fine. What do you think is important to know?” 

“What did you do after high school?” he asked, eyes still on the road. 

“Worked,” Nesta said.

And when she didn’t say anything more, Cassian looked her way. “Mind telling me where?” 

“Odd and end jobs, mostly. The last few years I was a bartender, but I got fired this week.”

Cassian was quiet. Then, he said, “Sorry to hear that.”

Nesta shrugged and looked out the window. 

“What do you like to do for fun?” Cassian asked, hoping to take on a lighter tone. 

“Read,” Nesta said. “Drink.”

“Together?” Cassian asked, brow raised.

Nesta snorted. “Everything is better when you drink.”

“Agreed,” Cassian smiled. 

“I prefer we keep my current lack of employment a secret for the night,” Nesta mumbled. She didn’t want to give her father any fuel. 

“I can do that,” Cassian agreed. “Anything else I should know? How did we meet?” 

“At the bar,” Nesta suggested.

“At the bar?” Cassian asked. “How romantic.”

“Trust me, no one will be surprised,” Nesta said, under her breath. “Up here, first house on the right.”

Cassian pulled into the driveway and parked behind Rhysand’s car. 

It was going to be an interesting night. 

~~~~~

Elain was a natural planner, she was completely in her element.

Feyre caught her eye every now and then and smiled. It had been a long time since they all were under the same roof.

The front door opened and Nesta stepped inside.

She wasn’t alone.

“Cass?” Rhysand asked, looking back and forth between him and Nesta. “The hell are you doing here?”

Cassian smiled, arm flung around Nesta’s shoulder. She tensed, but quickly relaxed. No one could say anything more before Elain hurried in, carrying a tray of cut fruit. 

“Hi! You must be Tomas,” she smiled. “I’m Elain.”

Feyre opened her mouth to say something, but when she did, she came up speechless.

“You can call me Cassian,” he said, smiling in that charming way of his. “Tomas is my middle name, and Nesta prefers it. Apparently, Cassian is a shit name.”

Elain blinked. “Oh, well, nice to meet you, Cassian.” 

“You, too,” he said, before walking into the room and taking a seat by Feyre. 

As Elain went to finish up dinner, Feyre turned to face him. “What the fuck?”

“Long story,” he muttered. “Play along and I’ll fill you in later.”

Feyre had met Tomas before and she was perfectly aware that he and Cassian were two very, very different people. She also knew that her sister didn’t know Cassian that well, so asking him to come was her being desperate.

Feyre had never known Nesta to be desperate.

Nesta sat, too, although she didn’t acknowledge Feyre. Feyre didn’t care, didn’t think anything of it. Her and Nesta had hardly talked in years. 

Her eldest sister stayed quiet while the others chatted and ate Elain’s fruit platter. Half an hour passed before Elain appeared, once more, and invited everyone into the dining room. 

“Where’s dad?” Nesta asked, the first words she had spoken.

Elain’s smile faltered as they all took a seat. “I’m not sure. He said he would be here-”

The front door burst open, and through the opening of the dining room, they could see Isaac stumbling inside.

His brown eyes were wide when he looked up and met everyone’s stares. “I’m-I’m sorry I’m l-late.”

Feyre’s shoulders fell as she looked over to Elain. 

He was trashed. 

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted at the sight of their father, clearly disheveled, clearly drunk. “Dad, it’s family dinner night, remember?” 

“I know, I know, yes,” he said, hurrying into the dining room and taking a seat. “I-I said I’d be here. This looks delicious, Elain, you did wonderful.”

Elain cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Well, let’s dig in, then.”

Feyre loaded her plate with chicken and vegetables, looking around the table as she did so. Rhysand had moved closer to her, as if sensing her discomfort. Nesta was staring at her plate, empty. Elain was picking at a pile of broccoli. And Cassian didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

“You must be Nesta’s boyfriend,” Isaac said, looking at Cassian. “What was your name?”

“Cassian,” he provided.

Isaac shook his head. “N-No, I don’t think so.”

Cassian took a bite of corn. “Pretty sure my name’s Cassian.” 

Isaac looked confused, but he shook it off. “Nesta, I-I’m glad you came. I-I didn’t think you w-would.” 

Nesta’s mouth tightened.

The table fell into silence as everyone picked at their food. 

“What have you been up to?” Isaac asked, looking at Nesta, then to Feyre. “What have any of you been up to? I don’t hear from either of you anymore.”

“Just work,” Feyre said, so Nesta wouldn’t have to. “I broke up with Tamlin a while back. I’m living with Rhys in the city.” 

Isaac looked at Rhysand, eyes wide as if just realizing he was there. “Finally a couple, are you? That’s-That’s great. I always kn-knew you two would end up tog-g-gether.” 

Rhysand paused, but continued eating a second later.

“Just friends, dad,” Feyre said. 

Isaac scoffed. “Whatever you say. We all know w-what’s really going on.”

“Dad,” Elain breathed. “Could you not?”

“And what about you, hmm?” Isaac said, eyes on Nesta. His fork had a piece of chicken stabbed on the end, but he wasn’t eating it. “Are you living with this...Cassian?”

“No,” Nesta answered, shortly. 

“Still scared of commitment?” Isaac asked, leaning over the table on his fist. “She always had trouble with that. Never trusted anyone, pissed off at the world.” 

Nesta said nothing.

Her plate was still empty. 

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Cassian assured him. 

Feyre was still looking at Nesta, on the way she concentrated on the white porcelain disk in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time they were all together, especially in the same room as their father. Nesta and her father never gotten along, but it had really gone down hill after their mother passed.

“Still making drinks for a living?” Isaac asked, as if Cassian hadn’t said a word. “That’s what I hear you do. M-make drinks.”

Nesta didn’t answer.

“You always get so angry that I’m not there for you,” Isaac slurred. “But here I am, as-asking about your life, and you’ve got nothing to say?”

Nesta slowly looked at her dad. “You’re drunk.” 

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I am not.”

Feyre shook her head, and just as she was about to speak, Nesta beat her to it.

“You really think we don’t know when you’re intoxicated?” Nesta laughed, humorlessly. “We’re not children. And we’ve seen you drunk plenty of times. Elain tried to prepare this nice dinner and then you come in here acting like a teenager who snuck into his dad’s liquor cabinet!”

Isaac shook his head, finally setting his fork down. 

Elain looked like she was about to cry. 

“You c-can’t talk to me that w-way,” Isaac said, voice quiet. “I am your father.” 

“Dad-” Feyre began, but Nesta held up a hand, cutting her off.

“I am a grown ass woman,” Nesta said, with a deadly calm. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Me?” Isaac asked, brows shooting up into his hairline. He looked to Cassian. “Run now, son. This one is going nowhere with her life.”

“Please,” Elain breathed. “Stop.”

Rhysand had his hand on Feyre’s knee under the table to keep it from shaking.

“I think you should go up to bed, dad,” Feyre said, lifting her chin. “Sleep it off.” 

“No,” Nesta said. “Let him say what he has to say. Drunks always tell the truth.” 

Isaac stood and wavered on his feet. “Your mother...good thing she didn’t wait to see how you turned out.”

Elain gasped, and Isaac turned to leave.

But as he did, he fell to the ground, out cold against the hardwood. 

The room was met with silence. 

“Help me get him upstairs,” Feyre mumbled.

Rhysand nodded. 

Elain was in tears.

Nesta was fuming. 

Cassian was sitting in his chair, perfectly still. 

Feyre grabbed her father’s legs as Rhysand lifted him up from under his arms. As they carried him up the stairs to his bedroom, Feyre felt like she was in high school all over again.

Family fights.

Taking care of her drunk, passed out dad.

Isaac telling Nesta that their mother would be ashamed. 

Yeah.

Just like high school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[princess-of-riviaa]

Vices chapter 2: Liar

Chapter 1: First Time

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Chapter Summary: Ransom promised your friendship wouldn’t change after what happened between you two. He lied.

Series Summary: A friendship with Ransom Drysdale is one thing; a relationship with him is another. Is your love for each other strong enough to keep you together? Or will nothing be able to keep you from ending in tragedy?

Author’s Note: This chapter is really long. I apologize beforehand. I just got seriously carried away with dark! Ransom dominating the bedroom the plot :)

Warning(s): alcohol use, handjob, dom! Ransom, spanking, choking

Word Count: 4.2k

The vodka burned as you swallowed it. You resisted the urge to spit it out or gag, knowing you would be grateful in ten minutes when it finally kicked in. This was your fifth shot for the night, and seeing as how you didn’t drink often (and never drank hard liquor) you knew your world was about to be spinning.

You’d been waiting for Friday night all week, just for this. Well, you hadn’t been waiting all week. On Sunday and Monday you’d still been hopeful Ransom would stop by or at least call. By Tuesday you were hoping for just a text--something from him to let you know that he was still staying true to his word. This isn’t a regular hook up, he’d told you, he’d promised you. And you’d been stupid enough to believe him.

You poured another shot at the counter and tossed it back before you could think twice.

“Someone’s had a long week,” Eli, Ransom’s frenemy for all intents and purposes, said as he came up behind you.

You didn’t even give him a second glance as you reached for the bottle of vodka. He pulled it out of your reach, though.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “How much have you had to drink? Four shots?”

You hiccuped. “S-six.”

“Yeah, you’re done for the night.” He took the red solo cup from your hands and tossed it in the trash.

“Since when do you care about my--” hiccup “--wellbeing?”

“Since this is my house, and I’m not about to let you puke your guts up all over my carpet,” he said, closing the distance between you. “And because I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, and I’m pretty sure your just tipsy enough to say yes to a dance with me.”

Eli was just as much of a pig as Ransom was. That was why they hated each other, actually--they made it hard for the other person to screw over the same girls, especially once the girls they wanted to fuck over often saw the two of them at the same parties. Girls were typically smart enough not to fall for their tricks twice.

You wanted nothing to do with Eli. It didn’t matter that just six days ago you’d given into Ransom. You haven’t wanted anything to do with Eli since you met him. You were a friend of Ransom’s, and therefore Eli was your enemy too.

You opened your mouth to turn Eli down when a familiar blue sweater caught your eye. Ransom entered the back of the kitchen. He scanned the room for more alcohol and his eyes locked on yours. He froze. For a second he looked like he was going to leave--still intent on avoiding you apparently--but then he noticed Eli and the lack of distance between him and you. Ransom’s eyes turned to slits as he made his way over to you two.

But you grabbed Eli’s hand and pulled him towards the living room, where partygoers had made a makeshift dance floor in front of the TV. The couches were pushed up against the wall to make room for the girls moving sloppily to their own beat, beer and liquor spilling from the cups in their hands. Girls danced sexily against each other. A few ground their hips against a guy, whom you recognized as Eli’s brother, Elliot. Music poured out of speakers from the corner, the bass loud enough to make the ground shake. This was the kind of party that would have been shut down by the cops two hours in--if Eli’s family weren’t as rich as the Drysdales. The neighbors didn’t complain when they knew Eli’s family could destroy them.

You found an empty spot and began dancing with Eli. You kept a few good inches between you two. Eli made a grab for your hips but you shoved his hands away. He couldn’t take advantage of you just because you were tipsy and well on your way to getting drunk.

“You said we were going to dance together,” Eli shouted in your ear to be heard over the music. He was clearly annoyed that you’d swatted his hands away.

“I didn’t say anything,” you corrected, your speech slurred. “I just grabbed you and ran.”

Your body began to feel heavier with each pounding of the bass. The music and everything else grew muffled, like you were underwater, and you couldn’t get your eyes to focus. The alcohol was kicking in--fast.

Eli reached for your hips again. This time you didn’t push him away. His hands were soft on your skin. The maroon crop top you wore fell inches above your belly button and your low-cut jeans did little to cover the skin around your waist. Eli ran his hands along your skin now and you moved closer to him. You couldn’t remember why you’d pushed him away just seconds ago. His hands were making your body tingle, making you feel as good as--

“Ransom,” you moaned as Eli kissed your neck, pulling you tight against him.

“It’s Eli, silly.” He laughed like you two were playing a game.

A voice in the back of your head screamed. You didn’t want this. Not with Eli. You wanted Ransom. But you couldn’t control your body anymore. You couldn’t even open your mouth to tell Eli to stop touching you. You began to panic. He was going to take advantage of you, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it--

You stepped back from him. “No,” was the only thing you were able to get out. Your body continued swaying to the music, disconnected from the panic in your brain.

Eli pulled you against him again. “You want this, baby. I can make you feel so fucking good.” He kissed you--hard.

You raised your hands to his chest, trying to push him back, but your muscles were weak. Your legs shook beneath you, barely able to hold yourself up. “Stop it,” you slurred against his mouth.

He tugged on your hips, pulling you all the way against him, and you felt his hard-on through his jeans. You whimpered. He was going to take advantage of--

“She said stop it, you perv!” Ransom’s voice.

Eli let go of you and you stumbled back. The living room spun around you as you watched Ransom come out of nowhere and punch Eli right in the nose. Eli cried out but your focus was on Ransom. He winced and shook out the stinging in his hand. His eyes landed on you and took you in. You didn’t realize you were still swaying to the music until he wrapped an arm around you. You rested your weight against him. His body was warm and strong and solid, the only thing not spinning in the entire room.

“Ransom,” you sobbed.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured you.

Eli cursed something at Ransom as he led you up the stairs, but Ransom ignored him. He had to use most of his strength to keep you from falling over or tripping up the stairs, but he finally got you in an empty room. He helped you sit down on a bed pressed against the back wall. The world was still spinning.

“I’ll be right back,” he said once you were seated. “Don’t move.”

Before you’d even processed his absence, he came back. A red solo cup was in his hands.

“I don’t want to drink anymore,” you said, letting out a sad moan. Drinking always turned you into a blubbering mess.

“It’s water,” he explained before he brought the cup to your lips.

The water was cold and refreshing. It tasted like heaven in your mouth but your body was too heavy and tired to drink much more of it.

“Drink the rest,” Ransom coaxed, “and then you can sleep.”

“I have to get home,” you insisted.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. “Just drink.”

You swallowed down the rest of the water. Ransom set the empty cup down somewhere, you didn’t know where, and took a seat next to you. You rested your head on his shoulder. He ran a soothing hand down your back.

“My head hurts,” you moaned.

Ransom reached over and took your ponytail out. You couldn’t tell if he was gentle or not; your body was too numb to process his touch. Ransom ran his hand through your hair as it cascaded down your back and around your shoulders. When he was done you rested your head on his shoulder again. His sweater was soft against your cheek.

“I don’t like you hanging around Eli,” Ransom spat.

You sobbed but no tears fell. “I’m sorry.” You threw your arms around his neck, loving having him close again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighed as he ran a hand up and down your back. “We’ll talk more about it when you can think clearly.”

You struggled to adjust yourself but finally threw your legs over Ransom’s. You were practically sitting on his lap as you dug your face into his chest. You waited for him to push you away--Ransom didn’t cuddle. He only pulled you closer to him. He laid back on the bed, your legs tangling together, and you closed your eyes. You could hear his heartbeat just below your ear, the steady rhythm finally soothing you to sleep.

...

It was either the pounding in your head or the bright light that woke you up. You opened your eyes to find yourself in a huge, warm bed. The sheets were silky-smooth against your skin, the pillows perfectly fluffed under your head. You recognized these red sheets and the duvet on top of it. You were in Ransom’s bed.

You sat up with a groan and only then noticed you weren’t alone in the room. Ransom walked towards you with a glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets in his hand. You took them from him silently.

“How much do you remember from last night?” His tone was cold. He was pissed at you.

Everything. You remembered everything, though you wished you couldn’t remember a single thing. The thought of Eli’s hands on you... You shuddered at just the thought. “Enough.”

“Why the hell did you go near Eli?” Ransom spat. He was probably speaking at a normal volume but it sounded like he was shouting.

Your head continued to pound so violently that your stomach knotted. “Probably the same reason you’ve been ghosting me for a week.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You would have rolled your eyes at him but didn’t have the strength. “Don’t act like an idiot, Ransom. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He crossed his arms, his biceps bulging over his chest. He still wore the same sweater from last night. Had he even slept? You noted his right hand. It was completely swollen and bruised from punching Eli last night. “I’m not the idiot here.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“You know Eli just wants to fuck with every pair of tits he sees,” Ransom pointed out. “You shouldn’t have gone anywhere near him.”

“I think my first mistake was going anywhere near you,” you retorted before burying your head in his pillow. You ignored how the smell of him on the sheets made heat spread through your body.

“Shut up. Eli and I are not the same.”

You looked at him sideways. “Really? Because you’ll call the girl after?”

He clenched his jaw.

“You and Eli are made from the same cloth.”

Ransom took a step towards you and the anger that flashed over his face scared you. “Eli would have hurt you, Y/N. You were drunk off your face and he would have taken advantage of you if I hadn’t been there.”

You swallowed. He was right. That’s what scared you. You’d been so scared last night as Eli tried to have his way with you and you hadn’t been able to fight back. Ransom was the only one at the party who would have even batted an eye; not because he’s the only one that cares about you, but because he’s the only one not scared enough of Eli to let him get away with everything.

“You’re so stupid, Y/N.”

“And you’re an asshole. And a liar.”

“What the hell did I lie about?”

“You said things wouldn’t change between us. I made you promise me we’d still be friends after we had sex, that you wouldn’t toss me aside like you do with every other girl. You broke your promise, Ransom.”

“Friends?!” He spat the word like it was a disease. “You think I want to be friends with you anymore?”

It would have hurt less if he had hurt you. You looked away from him as you began to tear up. Why had you ever cared about this asshole when he so clearly didn’t care about you?

“I never wanted to be friends with you,” he went on, “but now I won’t be. I refuse to be.”

Your body shook in a silent sob. Here was your best friend saying he didn’t want you in his life.

“Don’t cry and act like you’d be fine with us still being friends.”

“I shouldn’t!” you yelled at him, not caring if he saw you crying. “I shouldn’t want to be friends with you. You’re a heartless jerk! But I-I-I do, and I don’t know why, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I want to be your friend.”

He took a seat beside you and suddenly his face was inches from yours. You refused to look him in the eyes as he said, “You don’t want to be friends, Y/N.” His voice was softer now but the words were still a slap to the face.

“And why the hell is that?” you sobbed, glaring into his blue eyes.

“Because you want me to fuck you again just as I badly as I want to,” he said, “and last time I checked, friends don’t do that.”

Oh.

Oh.

You sniffed. “So what, now you just want me to be your stupid fucktoy?”

“No.” He grabbed your chin and wiped a tear on your cheek. “But I do want to fuck you again. And again. And again--until you can’t walk.”

You tried to ignore the way your breath caught in your throat.

He leaned into you. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he leaned towards your neck, brushing his nose against the skin just below your ear. Your body leaned into him and he placed his hand on your hip. You willed yourself not to sigh in pleasure.

“I want to make you cum just from sucking on your tits,” he whispered and--oh my god your toes curled at the thought. “I want to hear you beg for me. I want to see you lose control and come undone underneath me. I want to bury my cock deep inside of you again.”

A whimper escaped you and he kissed your neck, moving down to your collarbone. His touch was featherlight but enough to make you wet nonetheless.

“That’s why I haven’t gone near you,” Ransom admitted. “I knew the next time I saw you I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I’d have to have you right then and there, screw whoever was around. But I forced myself to stay away.”

“Why?” Your voice was a breathy shake and your face burned in embarrassment.

“Because I didn’t know if you were ready to have me again,” he confessed. And, in a rare, rare moment of vulnerability he added, “I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

You pulled away from him and looked him in the eye. Lust made his pupils widen, his eyes almost completely black. You had no doubt you looked just as fucked. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you crawled onto his lap and rested your heat against the bulge in his sweatpants.

“You couldn’t fuck it up,” you whispered before pushing him back.

He lied down on the bed, letting you move above him. Your legs locked around his hips and you began to grind against his erection already straining against his pants. Your mouth latched onto the hollow of his throat, sucking gently, teasingly, as your hands found their way under his sweater and your softly dug your nails down his chest, not enough to hurt but enough to make him shiver. His dick jumped, pressing even tighter against your clothed core.

That was around the time you realized you were wearing a t-shirt and panties--and nothing else. And the shirt--it was Ransom’s. Which meant he had undressed you last night to get you into his clothes. The thought made your stomach knot as heat spread through your core, making you drip.

You gave his skin a playful nip on his neck. He let out a sinful moan. A string of curses followed right after. If you weren’t turned on yet, that sound alone would have done you in. A moan escaped you right after, the lust and anticipation coursing through you already becoming too much.

“You like that, baby? You like hearing me moan?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Your hands moved down his chest and found their way inside his sweatpants, inside his underwear, and around his cock. Precum leaked onto your hand as you began to jerk him off, your mouth never leaving his throat.

“I like hearing you moan for me,” you clarified in between gentle kisses and rough nips.

Your hand moved faster around him and you relished every sigh and gasp he made. It was impossible to tell what you liked better--him on top of you, his mouth between your legs, or you on top of him and your hands and mouth making him lose control. Within no time his hips were bucking up into your hand. He was close. His cock twitched in your hands, growing even harder.

“My turn,” he growled, and a second later you were on your back and Ransom was on top of you. His eyes were completely dark, his lust-filled pupils nearly swallowing up all of his irises. The look he gave you--like he was a predator preparing to devour his prey--made you breathless.

He helped you out of his shirt before tossing it to the floor. Your panties followed a second later. Ransom took a minute just to stare at your naked body lying beneath him, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. You no longer bothered to cover yourself for him. After what had happened a week ago, after he’d worshipped your body with his hands and mouth, you no longer felt the need to hide in front of him. You wanted him to have all of you. You’d let him take anything he wanted.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered before he began kneading your breasts, watching your face as he pinched your nipples.

Your mouth fell open at his touch, a string of gasps and moans falling from you before you could think to stop them. You clenched the sheets beneath you.

“I love how easy it is to get you moaning for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

His words--his fucking voice--was enough to make you whine. You wanted him inside of you.

“Turn over,” Ransom said.

You opened your eyes--you hadn’t even realized you’d closed them in the midst of your rising pleasure--and looked up at him. The look he gave you didn’t hold any room for questioning. So you flipped onto your stomach. This position was unnerving; you couldn’t see Ransom from here, couldn’t anticipate what he was going to do next. You could hear him moving above you but didn’t know what was going on until you saw his sweater, sweatpants, and underwear get tossed over the bed.

Forgetting yourself, you turned back around, wanting to bask in the beauty that was Ransom’s naked body. Your eyes met his eyes and a second later his hand was around your throat, pushing you back onto your stomach. Your face was buried into the sheets, so the slap took you to surprise. The sting on your ass registered immediately. You cried out--half in pain, half in surprise--and jumped. But a second later, pleasure took the place of the pain and your entire body caught on fire. Your pussy clenched around nothing. You hadn’t expected that to feel so... “good” wasn’t even the word for it. Blissful--heavenly--fucking sinful. Your cry of pain quickly morphed into a moan of pleasure. You were suddenly grateful your face was shoved into the sheets, which had swallowed most of your gasp.

“I told you to fucking turn around,” Ransom spat. The anger in his voice should have made you nervous--a normal, sane person would’ve gotten nervous at the threat in his tone--but oh my god, if that sound didn’t make you drip. “You don’t listen, you get a slap.”

You’d never been more tempted to not listen to someone more in your life.

“Spread your legs,” he barked.

You moved to comply, then hesitated. You hid your playful smirk in the sheets as you stayed still and blatantly ignored him.

“I told you to move, baby,” he growled.

Still, you did nothing, and a second later you were rewarded with a sharp slap to your other asscheek. You moaned into the sheets and ground your hips into the mattress uncontrollably.

“Hmm, I think you enjoy that too much,” he realized. “Am I gonna have to give you a different punishment, baby?”

You shook your head frantically. His two slaps alone were already making you drip onto the mattress. This was easily your favorite punishment.

“Then spread your fucking legs,” he ordered.

This time, you listened. As much as you wanted to get spanked again, you also wanted him inside of you. He ran the tip of his cock between your slick folds. You were soaking wet for him.

“Yeah, you definitely like getting spanked too much,” he murmured as you dripped onto his cock. He entered you, filling your pussy to the brim. “Lift your ass for me.”

You hesitated again. A part of you was curious--if he wasn’t going to spank you anymore, what would he do to you as punishment? You found out a second later when his hand closed around your throat. He squeezed a little tighter than you’d expected him to and a whimper of surprise fell from your mouth.

“You’re so dirty, baby.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Is there any punishment you don’t like?”

With his hand tight around you throat, you couldn’t respond.

“Lift your ass,” Ransom said, “or this is going to be a very long night for you. As much as you enjoy being punished, I know you like me letting you cum just as much. Only good girls get to cum.”

Your ass was in the air a second later. You moaned as Ransom’s cock was buried even deeper inside of you. He began to thrust inside of you. Your walls clenched around his length as you memorized the feeling of him fucking into you, his hand still tight on your throat and growing even tighter. Your inability to breathe only turned you on more.

Ransom fucked into you even faster and you gripped the bedsheets for dear life. How could one man make you feel so sinfully good? The room was filled with the sound of his balls slapping against your asscheeks and a mixture of your moans and groans. Hearing him grunt made your walls clench his cock, which only encouraged him to groan more.

Your body tensed as the pleasure ripping through you became too much. You were seconds away from coming. God, you loved how Ransom made you feel--No. You loved Ransom. Period. You cried out his name as you came around his cock and he muttered something in that filthy, dominating voice of his, but you couldn’t hear him through your blissed-out fog. His cock clenched inside of you and you knew his orgasm was coming too. He pulled out of you at just the last second. You felt his warm seed coat your ass and lower back and a part of you was disappointed, having wanted him to fill you up with his cum. But a second later he dragged a finger across your ass. He swooped up some of his cum on his finger and pressed it to your lips.

“You want a taste, baby?” he asked.

You opened your mouth and licked his finger, swallowing every bit of his cum. You loved the thick, salty warmth of it.

You two stayed like that, him feeding you his cum, until there was nothing left. Your body refused to move, still too overwhelmed by how well he’d fucked you. Ransom began kissing up your back. His mouth circled your neck and then he tugged at your earlobe, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. As his weight rested on top of you, filling you with warmth, you realized one undeniably terrifying thought: you were falling in love with him.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Crush

The reader is an actress and meets Sebastian at a wrap party. Fortunately, they both have something in common; they have a crush on each other. 

-

           You woke up to the sound of your roommate and co-star, Tom, walking into the apartment you were sharing. You’d spent most of the day moping because you’d finally wrapped all of your scenes for Far From Home, and you were missing it already. You didn’t have many scenes with him, but Jake was the definition of crazy and you could have used some of that. Tom was already your best friend, and your roommate, so you always saw enough of him. And tonight was maybe the last time you were going to see everyone together; it was the wrap party and you weren’t sure you could even fit into your dress because you were so bloated from eating ice cream all day.

           “What’s wrong with you?” Tom asked, looking you up and down. You shrugged, looking over at the pint of ice cream and bowl of popcorn you’d left sitting on the coffee table.

           “Just moping,” you responded.

           “Well, stop. Get ready for the party and we can pregame.” You scoffed. You didn’t usually drink copious amounts of alcohol, but maybe tonight was the night. “Please? I don’t want to be the drunk one.”

           “Whatever,” you responded as you sat up. You cleaned up your mess before taking a shower, doing your hair and makeup, and getting into your dress. It was a little slutty, but you had been feeling confident when you got it because you were training at that point. You looked damn good in it, too, and there was one person you had your eyes on. Sebastian Stan, the guy who played Bucky. You’d met him a few times, but only in passing. You’d never had a conversation with him, but from everything you’d heard he was sweet. You were probably sweet to him, just a kid, but if you said you didn’t like him, you’d be lying. You had a hard crush on him, and while Tom had figured it out and insisted you ask him out, you’d refused. You didn’t know him, first of all. There was no way he would go out with someone so young. That, and your best friend was Tom. He was all but a brother, and contrary to popular belief he could be intimidating to anyone who got you home too late at night.

           “Ow!” Tom marveled as you walked out. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Thank God, you look amazing.”

           “You’re supposed to tell me I’m always pretty,” you frowned.

           “You’re always pretty. Now come on, let’s go.” You grabbed your fully charged phone, your purse, and walked out of the apartment with Tom. He dragged you to two liquor stores before finding what he wanted, and then you Ubered over to Jake’s house. It was eccentric, to say the least. Like him. He was cool, though. You loved having him around.

           You drank the least out of both of them, worried about throwing up because of course Tom had to get tequila, and just sat back and laughed as they were their stupid selves. Finally the alarm on Jake’s phone sounded and another car picked you up to head over to the venue. You vaguely recognized some of the other actors, never really having met them since you weren’t in the other films. You finally saw Sebastian, standing with Anthony, and tried to come up with a reason to talk to him. You must have watched him for two or three minutes out of the corner of your eye before you saw him go up to the bar, probably to get more drinks.

           “Oh, can you get me one?” Tom asked when you muttered that you were going.

           “I’m going to shoot my shot, but maybe on the way back, big guy.” You pat his shoulder and walked toward the bar, ID in hand. You looked like a high schooler to anyone that knew you from movies, because you often played them. But with real makeup on you turned your actual age, and you could only hope that was going to serve you well tonight.

           “Oh, hey!” Sebastian said to you as you walked up to the bar, taking a seat at the counter. “You’re playing MJ, right?”

           “Yeah,” you responded with a smile. “I promise I’m old enough to drink.” He chuckled.

           “I believe you. I’m not so sure these guys will, though. I’m Sebastian, by the way. I played Bucky, with the hair.”

           “Didn’t recognize you without the fake arm and the face mask,” you said. “I, Tonya was a fucking masterpiece. By the way.”

           “That mustache never looked good on me, I don’t think. But it was such a good thing to work on, especially after doing all of these action movies. It was really fun.”

           “Oh, definitely. I’m doing an indie movie this summer and I can not wait to get a break from the action.” You continued a quick conversation until the bartender pulled you out of it, asking for your drink order. You went with a vodka cranberry, your usual, and noticed that Sebastian only got one beer for himself.

           “I’ll tell you what, I hate these things sometimes,” Sebastian said as he watched a room full of people that were only familiar to those who worked on the movie would know. “It’s like, thanks for inviting me, I know three people. Not that I’m not grateful, but…”

           “I know what you mean,” you interrupted. “I spent half the afternoon pre-gaming with Tom and Jake and I kind of just want to go to Waffle House and go to bed.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

           “That’s a thing? People in Atlanta actually, like, go to Waffle House?” You actually laughed out loud at that one.

           “Duh! I grew up in Florida and they’re definitely the best drunk food around. I was so sad when I moved to New York and couldn’t get any.” 

           Long story short, you and Sebastian talked most of the night. You even did shots together when Robert offered to pay for one for everyone. You spoke to Tom for a minute as he was getting another drink, but he saw you with Sebastian and excused himself back to where he was talking with Jacob and Harrison.

           “I thought they’d have more food,” Sebastian said quietly after a second of silence. “I’m half drunk and starving. This might be weird to ask, but do you want to go to Waffle House?” In ten minutes you’d both left the party and were on the way to get the best drunk food there could possibly be. You sat down in a corner booth that you and Tom often sat in on nights when you were just too excited to film the next day and couldn’t sleep.

           “I have to confess something,” Sebastian said as he was destroying a plate of hash browns a few minutes later. You looked up at him, stopping pouring the syrup all over your waffle. “I thought you were intimidating. Until I talked to you.”

           “That’s what everyone says! I don’t understand why because I literally look like a child.” He laughed.

           “No, you’re gorgeous. You just look like you could kill someone if they look at you the wrong way. And I respect that. You’re cool.”

           “Then I have something to confess.” Maybe it was the vodka and the tequila making decisions for you, but you were going to shoot your shot. If it ended up that he thought it was dumb, you could just turn it into a joke and take a bite of your waffle.

           “What might that be?” He wiped his hands on a napkin and waited. You looked away for a second, seeing a text on your phone from Tom asking where the hell you were.

           “I kind of have, like, a massive crush on you. It’s literally the dumbest thing ever, I’m twelve.” You drank a sip of water, waiting for an answer. Instead you got a grin from Sebastian. Those stupid, perfect lips were turned into a smile and his face was slightly flushed because he was still a little buzzed and he looked absolutely adorable.

           “It’s not dumb. I think I might have a crush on you, too. This doesn’t count as a first date, though, does it?”

           “It’s Waffle House, it’s basically a five star restaurant.” He sat back on the bench, thinking about something, and then responded. “Are you sure you want someone who can barely drink legally, though?”

           “You’re cool, that’s all I care about. You’re pretty and funny and I have a massive crush on you.” He turned your own words against you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

           “Nothing,” you responded.

           “Then, if that’s okay with you, I’d like to put this crush to the test and take you out.”

           “I’d like that.” You looked down at your food and continued eating, glad that you’d finally told him you liked him. You couldn’t have imagined your night ending that way, but it did. Once Sebastian begged you to let him pay for the food he had sobered up enough to go back to the venue and get his car.

           “I can get an Uber, you really don’t have to drive all the way across town.”

           “I want to,” he replied with a smile on his face. So you got in and he drove you home. You groaned at the sight of a light still on in the apartment, knowing that Tom was about to grill you about where you’d been and why you’d abandoned him. “I’ll walk you up. It’s dark.”

           “Thanks.” He opened your door for you and let you lead him down to the apartment, where you stopped at the lobby. “I literally don’t even have your phone number.”

           “Oh, you’re right, hold on.” In a minute he’d Airdropped you his phone number and sent you a text just to make sure it went through. “I’ll text you. God, that sounds so lame. Is that what kids these days say?”

           “Yeah, pretty much. Thanks for walking me back up. Drive safe.”

           “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You were in absolute heaven when you turned around and walked into the lobby of the apartment, and just to make sure he was okay you watched him walk back to his car. He drove away a minute later and you turned to go to the elevator.

           “Where have you been?” Tom asked loudly, as soon as you walked into the apartment. “I was freaking out! Your location just said you were at Waffle House, but you didn’t respond, so I thought your phone got stolen or you died or…” He was definitely still half-drunk, you decided, when he stumbled over his words and his voice broke.

           “I was with Sebastian,” you explained. Tom smiled.

           “So you told him about…”

           “Yep. I told him I have a crush on him and he said the same thing. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

           “That’s my girl!” Tom high-fived you and giggled his way through the rest of the night. As you turned to your phone, you saw it light up with a text from Sebastian.

           Pick you up tomorrow at 7??

           Definitely.

A/N: I loved writing this one so I hope you like it too!!! A date with Seb would be 🥺🥺

[dindjarindiaries]

Thunder - Chapter 3: Humidity

summary: Frankie, Luciana, and the boys head to a bar for the night, where the boys get a little too drunk and the other two start to give into rising tensions.

warnings: drunkenness, sexual themes

rating: R

word count: 3.789k

masterlist

chapter 3: humidity

Frankie may not like parties, but he’s always game for a good night at their local bar. Mulligan’s has been the home of many of Frankie’s favorite memories—especially the wilder ones. Of course, he’s never the one at the center of the action. His memories come from his perspective standing at the bar or in a corner, laughing at either Benny or Santiago making an idiot of themselves. Many of those memories come along with Luciana’s laughter in the background, whether she’s standing next to him or joining in the fun. Luciana will let herself be a little looser at bars than at parties, and Frankie doesn’t mind. She never lets herself get out of control.

Luciana’s gone out with her friends outside of the group a few times before, but Frankie never usually caught her leaving or coming back. She’s confessed something about it to him before: she wears different clothing when she’s with the girls, because it’s a different kind of experience. With the guys, she’s not out to impress anybody. With the girls, anything’s fair game.

This has stuck in Frankie’s mind for a reason he refuses to acknowledge.

But now, he’s curious—because Luciana’s coming into the kitchen where everyone’s gathering, and she’s wearing something Frankie would consider to be in her “with the girls” wardrobe. She has a deep v-neck lavender-colored shirt on that hugs to her body and crops just above the waistband of the cut-off denim shorts that are much shorter than anything Frankie remembers seeing her in. He tries not to make his studying of her too obvious, but he can’t help it. He’s not judging—he’s admiring. It’s showing off things Frankie never paid much attention to before. It’s not helping with everything he’s trying to keep buried within.

So, why is she wearing it?

Frankie assumes that Luciana’s probably meeting up with her girl friends at the bar. He feels slightly disappointed at the thought of it, wishing they could stand together and make fun of their idiotic friends, but he also wants her to do whatever she wants to. Frankie wouldn’t hold her back. He could try to keep up with the not-as-drunk-but-still-shitfaced Tom and Will—or stand in the corner on his own. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life he’s done that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Frankie?” Luciana’s voice suddenly snaps Frankie out of his thoughts, and he blinks a few times before looking to the source. She’s standing a few steps away from him, waving her hand gently under the brim of his hat. “You awake? The night hasn’t even started yet.”

Frankie chuckles, tucking his thoughts away as he focuses on her amused yet concerned gaze. He makes an obvious point to look there and not anywhere else—specifically the assets she has on display. He wouldn’t want to disrespect her. “I’m—yeah, sorry,” Frankie manages to finally answer, watching as Luciana lifts a doubtful eyebrow. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” Luciana presses curiously. Her brow then furrows into further concern, and she looks around to make sure the boys are properly distracted before taking a step closer to Frankie. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk?”

Frankie gives her a reassuring smile, feeling a warmth in his chest at her eagerness to comfort him. “I’m alright, Luce,” he assures her softly. “It wasn’t anything bad. I just…” Frankie sighs, trying to find the right words to be honest with her, “… I was wondering if you were meeting up with your other friends.”

Luciana’s face relaxes, and she shakes her head at him as she steps away. “No, we weren’t planning on it. Why?”

Frankie hesitates, trying to think of an excuse quickly. “I—.”

“You’d really miss me that much, Flyboy?” Luciana chuckles, an amused twinkle sparkling in her eye. Frankie nearly breathes a sigh of relief.

“Don’t flatter yourself like that, Luci,” Frankie jokingly scoffs, earning a punch to the shoulder. “Maybe I was hoping I’d get some time away from you.”

“You fucking asshole,” Luciana curses, pushing him backwards a bit as she laughs. Frankie also laughs gently but keeps an eye out to make sure no one’s witnessing the exchange actively. He’s satisfied to see Tom, Will, and Benny lost in their own conversation. Thankfully, Santiago’s usually the last one to come downstairs—who knows how long it takes him to gel his hair just right and put on his four layers of cologne—and so he doesn’t have to worry about increasing his suspicions.

As if on cue, Santiago walks into the kitchen, and everyone grumbles with divine-directed gratitude as they start to file out the door. The bar is on the other side of the street from the dive, and so they all decide to walk there. It’s safer for everyone and it allows them to drink as much as they want. For Frankie, the latter incentive doesn’t factor, but he doesn’t mind the walking; it always calms him.

That is, until he realizes how humid it is. It’s been a little over a week since their last storm, and Frankie wonders if the spring’s about to bring them another one. He even has to undo an extra two buttons on his tropical-printed shirt to allow himself more room to breathe. Sweat has already started to coat everyone’s foreheads, but it remains ignored as the group makes casual conversation.

Once they get to Mulligan’s, the usual routine starts to run. Frankie holds on to his reliable bottle of lite beer while the others down shots to get started. Luciana even joins in with them, and Frankie has to hide his smile at the sight of her having fun with them. He also has to swallow back the way he feels upon seeing her take them so powerfully, as if they don’t affect her at all. She’s even tougher than her brother. Frankie likes tough.

He shakes his head, looking down into his bottle. Frankie has no idea what he’s looking for. Or at least, he wishes he didn’t.

Frankie only looks back up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he meets Luciana’s sparkling gaze right away. “You should take one, Frankie!” Luciana encourages him, raising her voice over the hum of the bar’s many guests and the music playing much louder than it probably should.

He laughs and gives his head a shake. “You know me, Luce,” he responds, also having to raise his voice. “That’s not my thing.”

“Just one!” Luciana pushes, giving him a small smile. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to, but if you do, you’d only have to do one!”

Frankie sighs softly, searching Luciana’s gaze for a moment. It’s full of such fun, excitement, and hope—hope that Frankie will at least try to take a part in all of that, too. He doesn’t want to let her down. Plus, it’s not like he’s never done a shot before. Maybe he could use a little change. “Alright,” Frankie finally agrees, causing Luciana to whoop in delight. “Hit me with it.”

Luciana leads him closer to where the boys are still going, and they give a loud cheer as Frankie approaches. He tries to keep the heat away from his cheeks, putting his beer bottle onto the bar as he accepts one of the shots that’s sitting there. Before he takes it, Frankie looks over at Luciana, throwing her a wink that he wishes was more confident as he throws his head back and lets the alcohol burn down his throat. He scrunches his nose upon identifying the liquor as tequila. He thought it would’ve been vodka.

“What a fuckin’ legend, Fish!” Benny hollers from behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving his body a few shakes. Frankie laughs at his friend’s dramatic reaction, tipping his hat on his head as he reaches for his beer bottle again. “I bet you could do, like, ten of those in a minute.”

“I probably could,” Frankie agrees, placing his hand on Benny’s shoulder. “But then I’d be dead.”

Benny laughs—harder than he probably should, but Frankie knows his liquor’s already kicking in—and steps away from Frankie. “You’re hilarious, man.”

Frankie shrugs, taking a swig from his bottle as he stays on the outskirts of the group. He watches and rarely comments as they dare each other to drink more or try their luck with girls, witnessing as they slip further and further out of sobriety and start to gravitate towards the livelier part of the bar. Mulligan’s has a larger space left for dancing than most bars, which is part of the reason why the group loves it so much. Frankie’s never partaken in that. He hasn’t wanted to.

Frankie watches as his friends lose themselves in the crowd, some staying together while some split off and find some pretty thing to dance up on. That’s their way of relaxing, enjoying life, and de-stressing. Frankie has other ways, like watching his friends have fun and taking solitary walks. He can’t be as open as they are because he’s closed himself off. Frankie used to be funny and hyper. And then life caught up to him—it surpassed him.

He still hasn’t caught back up to it.

The only thing grounding him has been people like Santiago, Luciana, and the boys. His shell protects him from experiencing any further damage, but he lets them see underneath it. They understand it. They don’t try to peel it away. So, when Frankie stands here and watches his friends dance the night away like he might’ve had life been different, he doesn’t feel left out or sad. He feels… relieved. At peace. Happy that his friends won’t make him feel like he should be doing something he doesn’t want to.

But then Luciana gives his arm a tug, and he looks over to see her glancing up at him with that sparkle in her eyes—and he knows she’s about to ask him something out of the ordinary. It doesn’t anger him, though, or make him uncomfortable. He trusts her. “I love this song,” she tells him, and Frankie tunes in to hear “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC playing through the speakers. “Will you dance with me?”

Frankie’s eyes widen a bit. “Luce, I… you know I’m not—.”

“I’ll guide you,” Luciana insists. Frankie knows she’s more buzzed than usual—he can tell by the glossier texture of her eyes. But she’s still partially sober. She’s conscious of what she’s doing. And that makes him question things. “Don’t be scared.” Luciana reaches to ease Frankie’s nearly empty bottle onto the bar, taking his hand and gently pulling him in the direction of the dance floor.

“Luci, what about your brother?” Frankie starts to panic. “If he sees us, my ass is grass.” There’s a million other things going through his head right now, and he’s not sure what to do about it. His brain’s screaming at him to remove himself from this situation and think off on his own, but his heart’s telling him to enjoy this moment—like he might’ve used to.

“He’s absolutely hammered and completely invested in that blonde chick over there.” Luciana jerks her head on the opposite side of the dance floor, where Frankie observes Santiago practically falling onto the blonde who’s dancing on him. He lets out a sigh, looking back to see Luciana’s hopeful gaze.

“Alright. I’ll… uh, try.” Frankie often finds himself lacking confidence, but he’s never felt less confident about anything than he does about this. Dancing—with a girl, even if it’s one of his closest friends—is definitely not his strong point. Frankie can feel how stiff he is as he attempts to move in sync with Luciana, who’s easily able to move her body to the beat in ways that have him feeling a little dizzy. All she’s doing is standing right in front of him, and his heart’s beginning to race.

It doesn’t take long for Luciana to pick up on his rigidity, and she lets out a soft laugh as she places her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright, Frankie,” she soothes, and Frankie can feel some of the tension roll off his shoulders at her touch. He nearly feels numb when her hands move to his hat, flipping it around on his head so that the brim’s backwards. She then places her hands on the sides of his face to pull his forehead to hers, forcing him to look into her faded yet lively brown gaze. “Relax. It’s just me—just us. Move with me.”

Frankie tries to keep himself from trembling at this odd yet comfortable moment of intimacy. He watches as Luciana releases Frankie’s face and lets them separate again. She turns around so that he’s facing her back, and she looks over her shoulder as she moves to the rhythm of the classic tune. Frankie attempts to mimic her in a masculine way, trying to drown out the rest of the crowd so that he’s only thinking of himself and Luciana. He doesn’t want to share this moment with anybody else, and if he starts thinking of the other people present, he’ll lose the tiny shred of confidence Luciana’s attempting to give him.

The rest of the bar truly disappears the moment Luciana brings herself closer to Frankie, eliminating the gap between them until she’s right up against him. With every movement, she’s brushing up against him, and Frankie’s sure now that it’s not just the exercise of the dancing that’s making his heart beat out of his chest. He doesn’t know what to do—where to look, how to act—and he feels frozen again. Luciana senses this, and Frankie hears her release another chuckle. She reaches over her shoulder with one arm to capture the side of his neck, bringing his ear to her lips as she reassures him. “It’s alright, Frankie.” Luciana pauses, using her free hand to take one of Frankie’s and gently ease it onto her waist. “You can touch me.”

Frankie swallows back his hesitance and does what she says. He lets his other hand meet her waist as well, and soon his grip on her becomes firmer. It feels natural to him. Frankie swelters in the heat of the moment as Luciana leaves her hand on his neck, her lips instead beginning to brush over the perspiring skin of his neck as they keep moving together. He never would’ve expected something like this to feel so right, as if that line between friendship and something more has been blurred for a lifetime. He never would’ve expected he’d be looking down at her like this, admiring the way she moves against his body. He never would’ve expected to be eyeing the way her shorts ride up and reveal more of the assets he’d tried to ignore before, or the view he has down her shirt from this angle.

But what Frankie truly never expected was the way she turns herself around so that her chest is pressed against his, unfastening one more of his buttons before she firmly brushes a hand over the skin there. She’s reciprocating. And that insecure part of Frankie wants to tell himself it’s because she’s had too much to drink or that those shots hit her harder than usual. But he knows that’s not true. He can look into her eyes and see that she’s still there, maybe not completely sober but still entirely aware of what’s happening. Frankie’s always thought she was beautiful—in a way he couldn’t match. He knew that one day, she’d fall into the arms of a man who was equally as attractive. Instead, out of all the people surrounding them at the bar, she’s chosen to dance with him, to give him all of her attention, to make him feel as if he’s the only person in her world.

He can’t process that. Frankie doesn’t make himself process it.

He absorbs the moment he’s in now, losing himself in her gaze as his hands draw her waist even closer to him. Frankie feels bolder now than he ever has before, and he clings to that shred of confidence Luciana’s actions have brought him. He even lets his touch fall a little lower, getting closer to the fringe of her cut-off shorts. Still, Frankie hesitates, wanting to make sure Luciana consents with everything he’s doing. Once he earns a small nod, he lets his hands fall farther, until the soft skin peeking out from under her shorts is brushing against his palms.

The temperature of the bar rises even more now, especially as Frankie hears Luciana release a pleasured sigh at the feeling of his hands against her. Her hands that have come around his neck give the hair peeking out from under his hat a tug, and Frankie tries to bite back a pleasant grunt as his grip on her tightens in response. Luciana draws herself even closer to him, her hands easing his head back down until her lips are brushing against his ear.

“Frankie,” Luciana’s soft voice begins, the tone balancing between something kind and something sensual. It drives Frankie crazy to hear her say his name in such a way. “Has anyone ever told you…” she pauses for a moment, sliding one of her hands onto the skin of his chest and rubbing over it, “…how sexy you are?”

Frankie almost chokes upon hearing the words, but instead he ends up releasing a growl as her one hand grips his hair yet again. He tightens his grasp on her ass in a way that he’s sure will leave marks for at least a few minutes, causing Luciana to hide her face in his shirt-covered shoulder as she releases a half-gasp, half-moan. Frankie doesn’t know whether to blame the liquor or some instinct deep within for the full confidence he’s now gained, especially as he whispers back in her ear. “I only want to hear you say it,” he states lowly, almost like a demand. “As many times as you want to.”

Luciana lifts her face from his shoulder, her eyes darkened so much that they’re almost black. She bats her lashes up at him, and Frankie feels a bead of sweat drip down the side of his head. “I’ll say it as much as you want me to,” she assures him, her hand running over his chest once again before she secures it to the back of his neck. Her eyelids then flutter closed, as if she’s placing herself into a daydream. Frankie brushes his thumbs over the mixture of skin and denim he’s holding in his grasp, causing her to wince in delight as she hides her face in his shoulder again. “Fuck, Frankie.”

“I know,” Frankie assures her, his lips brushing against her ear in the haze of it all. Her body has never stopped moving against his, no matter how firm his grip’s gotten or how many times they’ve spoken to each other—and it’s put Frankie in a daze. This shouldn’t feel so right. This is something Frankie didn’t even know he had buried deep within him. This is an admiration for one of his closest friends that he never knew existed—or at least, that he attempted to keep under lock and key. Now, it’s loose, and Frankie doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to put it back in its cage again.

And then, just as suddenly as the long moment began, it ends. Luciana turns her head rapidly to the side, and Frankie follows her stare to see her brother and the other guys starting to head back in their direction. They separate quickly upon noticing that, and neither one of them speak as they help the stumbling men get back to the house safely.

The whole way there, Frankie can still feel himself buzzing from the excitement of what he and Luciana just shared. At the same time, he can’t stop worrying about it. Things have to change now. They can’t deny the way they just acted with each other, the things they just revealed without even having to say the words. What’s brewing between them goes deeper than friendship—even deeper than the plain admiration Frankie thought he held for Luciana, and vice versa. This was more than a “date” for milkshakes at the dive. This was more than a night spent in Frankie’s truck eating pizza and listening to classic rock. This was touching, and gasping, and confessing, and bringing each other to a feeling that’s not easy to come back from. Frankie can only hope he hasn’t ruined things for them by giving into these tensions.

He’s afraid he has up until they start to get settled in for the night. When the boys are properly distracted by completely passing out in their beds—though Bennie only made it to the couch, and needed to be dragged up the stairs—Frankie passes Luciana in the hallway and has his arm caught by her hand. He immediately stops, looking her in the eye to see nothing but the same fondness she’d shown him moments before the heat intensified at the bar. Frankie relaxes as he waits for her to speak.

“Thank you, Frankie,” Luciana whispers, trying to make sure the guys—regardless of their states of consciousness—don’t hear what she’s saying, “for such a fun night. I’m glad you loosened up. I had a really good time.”

Frankie ends up biting back a smile at her words, taking a moment to form his own in his head. “I should be thanking you for helping me to loosen up,” he retorts, earning a smile from Luciana. “I had a good time, too—a great time, actually.”

Luciana says nothing, choosing only to widen her smile and give his arm a gentle squeeze before she walks off towards her room. Frankie stares after her for just a moment, letting his eyes soak in that final view of her assets before he disappears inside his own room. He flops onto his bed and releases an airy sigh, staring at the ceiling and letting his smile grow.

Frankie wonders if this is what it feels like to finally fly, because he’s sure his spirits have never risen higher than they have right now.

next part: chapter 4: dark clouds

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[mirkwoodshewolf]

Ready now; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

To the anon who requested this from way back when, I first wanna thank you for being SUPER PATIENT with me.  I was going through a lot at the time you sent the request but I am slowly but surely getting through them. Eventually once I get the chance, I may open requests back up again.

Now there’s not really any serious warnings other than swearing, fluff, and angst.  I hope you all enjoy this fic and until next time stay safe, stay healthy, stay positive.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

____________________________________________________________

*Oklahoma city, Oklahoma, 1976*

It was like every other Wednesday night at COWBOY’S.  The live dancing, bull riding, and of course the famed karaoke night.  I’ve been coming to this club for as long as I can remember, in fact I think I was a kid when I first came here.  It was to see my mama sing for karaoke night and of course my dad is known around here as the world champion bull rider.

He kept that title from the time he was 16 up till just before I was born.  And because of his reputation, I (and I hate to admit it) but I get special treatment every time I go to Cowboy’s.  In fact the current owner, he was my dad’s longtime friend and fellow bull riding competitor.

As I walked inside I could already see the place was packed with people.  Line dancing and really lighting up the dancefloor making this club a real Hoedown. I first went up to the bar and there running it was the owner’s son, Jensen.  He and I go way back, even though he’s like seven years older than me, he treats me like his little sis.  Always keeping the boys away.

“Well, well, well, well, well. Look who walked in. It’s the singing sensation (Y/n) (L/n). Can I just say I am a huge fan of yours!” He teased me at the end.

“Oh Jensen stop it. You know I’m not famous yet.”

“Not yet, but you will be soon.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Okay hang on, let me get your usual and then you spill your guts.” He walked away and got my usual beer and filled it almost up to the rim.  He slid it towards me and he said as he leaned up against the bar, “Alright now talk.” I took a sip of my beer before saying.

“What if no one likes my song?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jens you know as well as I do that no one really sings original pieces here. It’s always covers of famous songs, and the last time someone did do an original he was booed off the stage.”

“First off, his song sucked and he kept screwing up on the guitar. So of course he was thrown off the stage. But you—you’ve got a serious talent in song writing. And your voice—baby girl the only other female singer I can compare you to here was your mom.”

“You really think so?”

“Coming from a Texas man forced to move here when we first met, you’re bout the only good thing in this one horse town. Hell you’re way better than just sticking right here. Especially since—well you know.”

“I know. It’s……it’s been rough. Ever since the car crash mama’s been—well not herself lately. Music is bout the only thing I can do to make her happy.”

“So you get up on that stage and knock these cow-folks right off their boots. Now go relax on the dance floor and I’ll let my old man know you’re here.”

“Thanks Jensen.” I pulled out my wallet to pay for the beer but he stopped me.

“No need, this one’s on my tab tonight. But expect to pay me back once you hit the big time.” I smiled at him and pocketed my wallet back into my jeans.

“Thanks Jensen, you’re like the brother I never had.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you yah silly little day dreamer.” He teased as he placed his cowboy hat on top of my head, teasingly rocking my head from side to side till I stuck my tongue at him and took another swig of my beer.

I then headed off to the dance floor to cool off (dancing always helped me calm down, especially when it’s with a group of people) and I danced with some of my old friends from high school, just letting my hair down as I danced the first hour of the night away before they would call up the performers for karaoke night.

*3rd Person POV*

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), it was also on that night that the most famous rock and roll band would also be there on that night to see her perform.  Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon, otherwise known as the band Queen, had just arrived in Oklahoma city to do their two night concert they had scheduled for their “A day at the Races” tour.

To let down some steam and relax after a few days on the road, Freddie had heard about this club from a friend of his and convinced the other three to come along and check it out.  All four of them wearing cowboy hats, so that they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumbs, they entered inside and saw the whole place buzzing.

“Wow, this is even more filled than the Disco club Veronica and I met at.” Said John.

“Well Tony said this was the one place in America where you would get a traditional Southern treatment.” Said Freddie. “And I like it. It’s reputation proceeds itself.” He continued with a smile as he adjusted his hat.

“Remind me again why we had to wear these though?” Roger said.

“Don’t be such a party pooper blondie. Besides you see every man in here. Tony said that everyone in Oklahoma wears cowboy hats. Anyone who doesn’t is automatically labeled a stranger. And I don’t want no Wanted poster of me across the state for refusal to wear a cowboy hat.” Freddie said as he playfully shoved Roger.

“It’s not so bad.” Brian said as he fiddled with the string of his hat.

“You’re just saying that cause you can’t feel it on your head.” Quipped John.

“Alright, alright Deacy darling you’ve had your shot at Bri. Now I don’t want any more brawls tonight. I wanna enjoy this night, you three know how much I love to party. So don’t fuck this up for me.”

“If you wanted that Fred then you should’ve left Roger on the bus.” Brian said.

“You know what yah curly haired space poodle……”

“Gentlemen.” The four of them turned to see an old man around his mid-50’s walk up towards them.  He wore a traditional brown colored cowboy hat, his grey goatee reflected off the lights, and the spurs off his boots jingled with each step. “Now I get it we all need to let off some steam, but if you’re gonna cause any trouble I’m gonna ask you all to leave.”

“No worries my good sir. You must forgive my friend here, he didn’t quite have him fixed yet so his testosterone can run him ragged like one of your bulls.” Freddie sweet-talked the man.

“Watch it Fred!” Roger sneered as he took out a cigarette and lit it up.

“Alright. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on your friend there. I get enough drunks brawling every night here, I don’t need another damage fee added to my billing. Bobby Singer, owner of Cowboy’s.”

“Pleasure to meet you Bobby dear. I heard about this place from a friend of mine and this place does not disappoint.” Freddie praised as he and Bobby shook hands with each other.

“Thank you son. Built this place myself with my own two hands before moving the wife and son up here.”

“How long has this place been here?” asked Brian.

“Well came up here around 51, bought this property at around 53-54 and the doors finally opened by the start of the 60’s so…..about 16 years this club has been around. And she’s still going strong.”

“Impressive.” Freddie praised.

“What kind of drinks do you serve here?” asked Roger.

“Well if you mosey on down to the bar, my son Jensen will lay down everything we got. We mostly do beer but if you can take something stronger, we got that as well. Enjoy yourselves boys.” As Bobby walked away, the boys bid him farewell.

“He seemed nice.” John said.

“A friendly old man, kinda reminds me of Miami. Firm, strict, knows when you’re starting trouble Rog.”

“Watch it Fred.”

“Alright come on, I think we can all do with a drink right now.”

“Yes.”

“Or ten.” the band members walked over to the bar to see Jensen cleaning out a mug.

“Excuse me darling!” Freddie cried out to Jensen.

“Yes can I he—he-ha-ha……oh shit! You’re….you guys are Queen!”

“Yes. I take it you’re a fan of ours?” asked Brian.

“Y-Yeah.” Jensen squeaked.  He then cleared his throat before continuing, “I mean yes. When I first heard Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time, it changed my life on how I look at music. Not even some of my favorite bands can do what you guys do.”

“Well thank you darling. Bohemian Rhapsody was a masterpiece.” Freddie said.

“But a complete nightmare to make.” Roger added in.

“So what can I get for you guys?” asked Jensen.

“What all do you got?” asked John.

“Well you guys actually came on a good day. Wednesday nights are our special’s night. Every drink at half price. We’ve basically got every beer imaginable, but we also do vodka, gin and juice, margaritas. And of course we have the basic water and soda for those sensitive to the strong stuff.”

“Well then my darling, we’ll go ahead and take three of your finest beer and a vodka shot please.” Freddie said.

“Coming right up.” Jensen walked off to prep the drinks for the four young band members.

“He seems like a nice chap.” Brian said.

“He does indeed.” Agreed John.  Before another word could be said, Bobby soon came up on stage and said.

“And that was Carol Anne with ‘Sweet home Alabama’.” The crowd then cheered. “And now ladies and gents, it’s time to be graced by our very own special songbird. Please welcome our very own Southern Belle. (Y/n) (L/n)!” the crowd cheered and it was then the four English rockers soon saw a young woman coming up on stage.

She looked to be about John’s age, maybe a couple years younger.  In her hand was a 12 string acoustic, she got onto the stool and adjusted the mic.

*My POV*

God my nerves were really starting to get the best of me.  What if no one liked the song? Oh god I wish daddy could be here, he always knew just how to calm me down.  I adjusted the mic and plugged in my guitar.

“Hello everyone. I uhh—” I cleared my throat. “Tonight I’m gonna do something a little different than my last few performances. This is an original piece I’ve been working hard on. Hope you all like it.” I turned towards the ensemble band and nodded to them.  They nodded back and as I began playing the opening on my mama’s guitar, Aaron came in with the violin and Jack soon came in with the bass.  

By the chorus, Daniel came in with a soft drum beat and as I passionately sung out the chorus, I could already hear some people cheering or whistling at me.

She was driving last Friday on

Her way to Cincinnati on a

Snow white Christmas Eve Going home to see her mama and her daddy

With the baby in the backseat Fifty miles to go, and she was running low

On faith and gasoline It'd been a long hard year She had a lot on her mind,

And she didn't pay attention She was going way too fast Before she knew it she was spinning on a

Thin black sheet of glass She saw both their lives flash before her eyes She didn't even have time to cry She was so scared She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus, take the wheel Take it from my hands 'Cause I can't do this on my own I'm letting go So give me one more chance And save me from this road I'm on Jesus, take the wheel

*3rd Person POV*

Everyone was involved in hearing (y/n) sing.  Like her mama before her, the adults all whistled and cheered for the young girl for she truly did sound like her mama whenever she sang, maybe even better than her.  But the one most intrigued by her was the leading frontman of Queen.

“Just who is that talented young lady?” Freddie spoke out as (Y/n) played a small instrumental break in the first chorus.

“That there is (Y/n) (L/n). Her parents were known in this club. Her mama for her singing and her dad, God rest his soul, he was the world champion bull rider. She’s got a gift with that voice of hers.” Jensen said as he cleaned out a mug.

“She does indeed.” Freddie muttered in awe as he continued to watch (Y/n) sing the next part of the song.

There was one point of the song where she held out a note so long, it felt like she was running on endless air.  The crowd all hooted and hollered as she held that note before finishing the song.  Everyone soon cheered as loudly as they could while (Y/n) smiled under the spotlight and stood up from the stool and took a bow.

“Wow she was amazing.” Brian praised.

“I’ll say, she held that note for like 10 beats. Not even I can do that.” Roger said.

“Excuse me, Jensen.” Freddie called out.  Jensen who had just gotten done serving another round of drinks for a bachelor party, came back over and said.

“What’s up?”

“Where can we meet that talented young lady?” he asked him.  The other three band members looked at Freddie confused.

“She’ll be out back. That’s where she usually goes when things get too hectic here.”

“Thank you so much darling.” He dowsed the last of his vodka and stood up and walked out of the club with the other three members behind him.

*My POV*

After the performance I went outside to cool off. I stared up at the starry sky and whispered.

“I wish you could’ve seen it daddy. It seems I really wowed everyone tonight.”

“You did more than just that dear.” I froze and slowly turned around and—pinch me I must be dreaming.  Cause right there in front of me stood my all time favorite rock and roll band Queen.  I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to wake myself up from this dream and found that I wasn’t dreaming.

Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor were really right in front of me.

“You—you’re……”

“Yes darling we know who we are. But what I’m more interested in is who you are. How long have you had that lovely voice for?” Freddie said as he came up to me and actually wrapped an arm around me.

“Well I uhh—for a while I guess.”

“And that was an original song you sang back there?” Brian asked.

“Yeah just…..a little something I came up with. Was it bad?”

“Au contraire darling, it was unlike anything we have ever heard. And that’s saying something.” Freddie said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The way you managed to have utter control of your voice as you belted out certain words of the song. Only one other person has been able to do that and that’s me.” Freddie bragged.

“Umm hello what about me?” Roger piped in.

“Oh yes you and your dog whistle range. That takes skill too.” I softly chuckled.  Man this was definitely not how I pictured this night would go (well except in my dreams). “Now then (Y/n). How would you like to be an opening number for our concert?” wait what?

“What?” I asked.

“What?” I heard the other three echo back.

“You’ve got the voice, the talent, you are too good for just singing at the clubs. What better way than to finally dive in and take this opportunity.”

“Uhh Fred can we talk to you for a second?” John soon spoke up.

“Just stay tight for a moment (Y/n) dear.” Freddie said as he bopped my nose before walking back towards his bandmates.  Okay what the hell just happened?

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie and the boys walked a few feet away from (Y/n) so that she couldn’t hear them.

“Fred are you crazy right now?” Roger hissed softly.

“What?”

“We can’t just go picking up random singers off the streets and ask them to open up for us!”

“I agree with Roger. No offense, but I don’t think Reid or even our tour manager Bill will go along with this.” Brian added.

“You don’t believe she’s worth giving a shot too?” Freddie asked.

“No, no it’s not about that. She is talented, beyond talented. We just—can’t do something like this. Picking up a random teenager and ask her to leave everything behind for the rest of our tour.”

“They do have a point Freddie. Plus how do we know she even wants this? I mean maybe she just sings for fun. To be honest I never thought we were that serious till our first album went on the shelf.” Deacy said.

“Okay first off that hurts Deacy dear. How dare you think that. And number 2, I have a feeling she does want it. She may not physically show it but there’s something in her eyes that show that she wants a chance at the real spotlight. And who am I to crush a fellow singer’s dream? Especially one as beautiful and adorable as her, just look at her!” they all turned towards her. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get an additional family member in our rag-tag band.”

“Whoa wait hold on now you’re saying we need another person involved with Queen?” Roger snapped.

“I’m thinking broadly Roger dear. Don’t be so dramatic about it darling. Now then, are you three with me?” Brian, Roger and John looked at each other and Deacy was the first to speak up.

“You’ll never let it go either way. I’ll say yes.” Fred smiled before turning to Brian.

“I mean—” he sighed heavily. “Okay fine, she can come with us. But only if her parents say it’s okay.”

“Well blondie?” Fred questioned as he turned to Roger.  Roger sighed heavily and said.

“I’m already ruled-out even if I say no.” Freddie cheered and hugged his bandmates before heading back over to (Y/n) to discuss his brilliant idea.

*My POV. 1 year later*

If you had told me that on the night I would perform my first original piece live before the people at Cowboys and then told me I would soon be standing before Queen, who not only saw me sing but also offered me the chance to perform alongside them, I would’ve called you crazy and laughed in your face.

But it happened.  With Jensen’s and uncle Bobby’s approval I was able to tour the rest of the North American tour with Queen.  I’ll admit it was frightening to perform in front of my first crowd of over 12,000 people, but once I got on that stage and just sang it felt good.

We had just gotten done doing a concert at the Hammersmith Odeon.  As par-celebration we all headed to a nearby pub the guys had rented out for the night and anyone who was involved with the concert was invited to come.

By 1am everyone was either completely drunk and were passed out on the floor, or they were having sex in the bathrooms. Wanting to perk myself up, I went to the restrooms to splash some cold water on my face but before I could walk around the corner toward the sinks I heard some girls talking.

“I mean don’t get me wrong Roger is amazing especially in the sack but why would he allow someone like her on stage?”

“Yeah all those songs she sings are soooooo boring!” I peeked around to see that the girls who were talking were some of Roger’s groupies.

“Queen is just being dragged by that little bitch who can’t sing for shit.”

“All her songs about Jesus or God or whatever. She doesn’t fit with them. I think they just pitied her so she could go on stage and sing her little country songs.” It was a stab to the heart.

I raced out of the bathroom and tried to contain my tears.  But it only got worse from there.  Walking pass the men’s bathroom were a few of the roadies who were talking about me.

“She brings to band down don’t you think? I mean her songs just aren’t up to par with where Queen is at. In fact I’ve seen sales going down at our concerts because of her.”

“Dorothy should’ve just stayed in Kansas singing for pubs. She’s nowhere near concert stadium material.” At that point a few tears ran down my face.

Was I? Was I really that bad? Did the guys really pity me? Was this all a big joke to them? I ran out the back way and just ran down through the streets of London.  

Not caring where I was going, or where I’d end up. I just figured the father I ran, the farther I would be away from those people and their cruel comments.

The next morning I was at my apartment (technically it was Freddie’s old apartment that he and his ex-girlfriend Mary had) lying on the couch holding the couch pillow close to me.  The things that the groupies and even some of the roadies said last night still rang through my head like a church bell.

Maybe I should give it up. I mean after all like they said, no one really listens to me perform.  So I decided to pack up my stuff and go back to America, back to Oklahoma, maybe try to get a job at Cowboy’s or something.  As I was packing up my last bag, the door suddenly opened and I heard Roger’s voice call out.

“Oi (n/n) you here?” shit why did Freddie have to give out spare copies of the keys?

“(Y/n) you in here?” I then heard Deacy’s voice speak up.  Oh great, not one but two of the Queens are here.

“Is everything okay poppet?” Brian’s voice echoed out. Great could this day get any worse?

“Everything’s fine.” I called out to them.  I quickly came out of my room and shut the door before walking towards the living room. “Hey guys what’s up?”

“Well you disappeared from the party last night darling so we came to see just why that was?” Freddie said.

“You didn’t sneak off with anyone last night did yah?” Roger teased.

“No! I—I felt kinda tired after last night’s concert so I just took a cab home.” I gave them a white lie.

“Why didn’t you tell one of us you were leaving? You know how dangerous the streets can be at night.” Roger said as he plopped himself on the couch.

“I’m not some fragile flower Rog. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just can’t help it sometimes, you’ve become like another sister to me, plus Jensen made me promise to keep an eye on you less he shoot me in the arse.” I rolled my eyes as I chuckled.

“(Y/n) dear~” Freddie sang out as he peeked from the hallway. “If you don’t have anyone here, then why is your door shut?” oh shit.  I quickly turned towards him and he just grinned as he raced towards my room.

“Fred no! Don’t!”

“Oh so there is a handsome beast you’re trying to hide from us!” I ran behind him trying to stop him from getting in my room. “Oh-ho-ho this must be serious then, he not dressed or something?”

“No Freddie there’s no guy now please don’t go in my room!”

“Technically it was my room first so I get first—” he opened the door and that’s when he saw the suitcases.  “What’s all this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to see that.”

“So what were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye!?” By now I’ve seen Fred literally explode on some major temper tantrums but this—this wasn’t anger.  This was disappointment, and when Fred lowers his voice, looks you straight in the eye almost to the point where it’s like his eyes are piercing your soul, that really tears you up.

And you never want to make Freddie Mercury disappointed in you.  Cause let me tell you, it is the worst.

“Fred—”

“No, no, no. Please I would like to know as well.” Roger’s voice soon rung out.  I groaned internally as I turned to see the remaining three band members standing right outside my door.

Roger’s eyes glaring right at me with his arms crossed over his chest.  Brian’s eyes in shock at seeing the suitcases, and Deacy—he looked like he was about to cry.

“Well!” Roger snapped impatiently.

“Hey Rog lay off on her will yah?”

“Brian are you not as upset as we are about this?!” Fred asked.  At this point the three hotheads began screaming at each other.  God this was a nightmare!  I was hoping to just leave without any drama and now I’ve done and caused it!  I held my hands to my ears and shut my eyes trying to drown out their shouting and screaming.

Next thing I know I feel a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and there stands Deacy. His eyes soft, not looking at me in anger or disappointment.  He gestured with his head to follow him and the two of us snuck out of my room.

We both sat down on the couch, him sitting close to me as his arm wrapped around me.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked me.  I shook my head no.

“Umm…..I don’t know if I’ve totally ruined this but—could I get a hug?” a soft smile spread across his face and immediately his arms wrapped around me.

“You know you will always get a hug out of me sis.”

Since Deacy and I were the youngest members of the band, we kinda clicked more than the rest.  Guess our shy natures also kinda mixed in together so we kinda had our own special psychic bond with each other.  We always knew what the other was thinking or needed, we would pull the other aside when things got too chaotic (just like now cause I never liked getting or hearing fights).

His fingers stroked through my hair as I adjusted my head so that it rested over his heart.  We sat there in comfortable silence (well besides the still arguing hotheads in my bedroom).

“I’m not good enough for you guys.” I finally confessed.

“What?”

“I—I heard some of Roger’s groupies and even some of your roadies literally talk about how I don’t fit with you guys. That I’m not even that good. Or that you guys just pitied me in order to help me get on stage.”

“I knew those tramps would be trouble.” I heard him mutter.

“But they’re right.”

“No they’re not.”

“Open your eyes Deacy!” I removed myself from his embrace. “My music and Queen’s music they just—don’t mix. I don’t do hard rock songs like you guys do. No rock fans are gonna wanna hear me sing just plain country or folk songs for 20 minutes. They’ll just be going out to get beer or go shag till you guys come up. I’m boring!”

“You’re not boring. Those arseholes are boring. If they can’t withstand a 20minute first act then they shouldn’t even be at one of ours. Because we most certainly perform longer than that.”

“Well you guys give a performance, not just a show. For me; it’s just me and my guitar. I mean yeah there’s people that may like a song or two from mine. Hell you guys allowed me to have a song on A Day at the Races and News of the World. But—in person I’m plain.”

“You’re raw.” I looked up at him confused. “I don’t mean raw in the sense of bad or disgusting. I mean you’re vulnerable. You don’t do the flashy lights, the loud hard rock of drums, or extremely, overbearing, long ass guitar solos.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s just you up on that stage. Just you and your guitar.”

“And people should see you as that.” We looked up and finally ceasing their arguments, Freddie, Roger, and Brian now stood there.  Freddie came up behind me, Brian knelt down in front of me, and Roger sat to my right.

“But they don’t.” Freddie began to massage my shoulders.

“Darling when I first heard you sing back in the states, It was like anything I’ve ever heard in a female singer. You have this rawness that can make anything a song. You could write a song about taking the piss and it’d be a hit.” I rolled my eyes.

“More like a flush down the sewers.”

“Oi you need to stop with the negative thinking!” Roger playfully growled as he took my head between his hands and playfully shook it, almost as if he were trying to shake out the negative thoughts out of my head.  I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as I tried to free myself.

“Cut it our Rog!” I laughed.  He stopped then said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Forget about what those rotter’s said. Never, ever doubt your talent. Because you have got something that not even Queen could ever have.”

“And just what is that?” I asked doubtfully.

“Rawness. Like John said, it’s just you up on stage. Most of the rockstars like us come up glammed out to the max, prance about the stage and do the headbanging hits. You—you connect with the audience just as yourself. And if people can’t see that, then they’re fools.”

“So you guys didn’t pity me when you asked me to join you guys?”

“Absolutely not! Whoever says that you just tell me and they’ll be dropped like yesterday’s rotten tomatoes.”

“Thanks you guys. I—I really needed that.”

“Hey, you’re part of this family now. We look out for each other.” Brian said as he gently took my hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking the back of them.

“There’s just one last thing that needs to be taken care of to ensure you’re feeling your normal happy self again.” Freddie said.

Oh no. Please not that!  At this point all four of them had the look of evil on their faces.

“No. Guys don’t you dare!”

“Too late lovie, we gotta make sure you’re back to your full-fledged happy self again. And we’ve got Jensen to thank for sharing with us your deep, dark secret.” I tried to make a run for it but it was too late, Brian trapped me in his long arms and soon I was gang tickled by Queen.

A couple weeks after that, we had just gotten done playing an arena in Houston, Texas.  Wiping the sweat off of my forehead (after not only doing a few of my own songs, but also joining alongside Queen playing guitar or piano) I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh sorry I—wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright. Say you’re the young woman who just performed alongside Queen correct?” this man had a strong Tennessee accent.  From underneath his cowboy hat I could see sandy blonde hair and he had the most striking blue eyes.  He looked to be about his mid-40’s.

“Yes.” I said wearily.

“Oh sorry I know this must seem a bit creepy, please allow me to introduce myself. Stan Singer.” Wait what? Oh my god!

“Wait, Stan Singer? The Stan Singer, manager of Glen Campbell?”

“The very same, you a fan of his?”

“Yeah. My—my daddy first introduced me to him when I was just 5 years old.”

“Man has good taste.” We both laughed. “How long have you been performing with Queen?”

“A year.”

“A year? Now that I don’t believe.”

“Well truthfully I’ve been performing on stage back home in Oklahoma for a few years at a bar a family friend of mine owns. Cowboy’s.”

“No kidding. I was just there last month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Quite a shindig that place.”

“Oh yeah, it gets crazy some days. But it’s the best place to go to.”

“Listen (Y/n), While I have enjoyed managing Glen and don’t get me wrong he’s a great guy and a great singer. I’m also looking out to see if there’s a next big thing I could help mold. And seeing you up on stage, you’ve got that special little niche in the realm of country singers. How about joining me for lunch so we can discuss a contract.”

“Me? You—you want to sign me up for a record deal?” I asked ecstatically.

“You’ve got something I’ve never heard from any male artist. Here’s my card, just give me a call whenever you’re ready to talk.” He handed me a business card and said his goodbyes as he tipped his hat at me.

Wow I—I can’t believe it.  I’m actually gonna get a real shot with my own manager.  And Glen Campbell’s manager, nonetheless.  I can’t believe this is actually happening to me.

Wait….what about the guys? What would they say? Would they be mad if I took this deal? Left them when we’ve already grown so close with each other?

During our bus ride to the next city of New Orleans, I was looking at Stan’s card debating whether I should call him or not.

“What’s that?” Roger spoke up.  He soon plopped down beside me with his arm over me. “Ooh a name and phone number! Already got yourself a groupie huh?” he teased as he nudged my shoulder.

“No Roger it’s nothing like that.” I nudged him back.

“Hey did I just hear (Y/n) got someone’s name and phone number?” Deacy soon piped in peeking his head from the curtains of his bunkbed.

“(Y/n) you sly little minx.” Freddie teased.  Oh man was I really not gonna miss this.

“Alright you guys lay off of her will yah. Now just who was it that gave you their phone number (Y/n)? Will there need to be any—talks we need to do with this boy?” Brian said.

“I already told Roger Bri, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? I mean normally a guy wouldn’t give you his number unless he wants a date or something else.” Roger spoke. Deacy came up and slapped Roger over the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

“It’s a business card guys! For Stan Singer. Glen Campbell’s manager.”

“Wait I’ve heard of that guy. Yeah he’s like one of the best country singers out there.” Roger said.

“Yeah. Well Stan actually saw the show tonight and well he—he offered to be my manager. He wants to sign up a contract with me.”

“Oh my god darling yes!” Freddie cheered as he came up and embraced me tightly.

“Congratulations (Y/n).” praised Brian.

“But—” I started off.  Fred separated from me and he said.

“But what dear? You’re finally on your way! This should be a celebration!”

“But what about us? You guys? What if—what if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other?” at that point the guys grew quiet. They looked at each other and that’s when Deacy spoke up.

“The future is uncertain. Maybe someday we will meet again. But (Y/n), if you don’t take this shot now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“It’s like Deacy’s song says. Time to spread your wings and fly away.” Brian said as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked between the four of them and they all had the same look.

Acceptance and love.

I felt my eyes watering up and I choked out.

“I’ll miss you guys.” They immediately hugged me and told me they would miss me too.  We remained in that group hug for the rest of the night till we arrived in New Orleans later the next day.

As soon as we got to the hotel, the guys sat with me as I called Stan up and told him that I would like to have lunch with him to discuss the contract.  Stan agreed to fly down to New Orleans and once that date was made, the guys brought me in one last final group hug telling me how proud they were of me, that they loved me and knew that I would become big in my own way.

On June 27th, 1977 I preformed my last concert with Queen as their opening act and the following day, I met with my new manager Stan Singer and together we went over the rules of my contract.

By the end of the 1970’s into the 1980’s my name had flown to the top of the charts in country artists.  So far in the 3 years of my growing career I had toured America twice for my 2 albums I had released under Sony records.

As I expected I was mostly popular in the southern states where country music reigned supreme on the radio.  But I did have some fans in the northern, Mid-west and western countries but I mostly toured around the South.

I was now performing back in my home state of Oklahoma to an arena of 20,000 people.  I had just gotten done preforming my biggest hit “Jesus take the wheel” and everyone went crazy for it.

“Thank you!” I turned and saw one of my roadies hand me a stool and I thanked him before setting it down right at the edge of the stage.  I adjusted the mic stand as I sat down. “This is a new song that I wanted to do especially for you my home sweet home. So you guys will be the first to hear this song coming up on my next album.” The crowd cheered. “But this song is also dedicated to four special men in my life. Without them—I wouldn’t even be up on this stage before all of you. It’s called Ready now.”

Then with just me on the guitar I began to sing my newly finished song “Ready now”.  As I sang the song, during the long instrumental breaks, I thought back to the guys.

All the fun memories I had with them while on the road with them.  Being there with them during their recordings, getting to do a song on their albums, or hanging out at the bars together after the shows.

Play video

You saw through me All this time I'd forgotten People are kind

I was hurting And you knew So you showed me What to do

You said, "I will listen Tell it all When you're finished We'll talk more"

But I didn't know how So we took it in turns And to my surprise We found my words

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand The world seemed to tell me That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

Something new Something strange Ten feet taller I had changed

I believe you I'm not wrong Oh it suits me To feel strong

You said, "I will listen Tell me it all You don't like the ending Then we'll find on that's yours"

Oh, how did you know That's all we need A promise of hope Is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand And I told the world That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

By the end of the song, I heard the crowd cheer and as I looked up at the ceiling I did a silent thank you to the boys.  Even though we would never see each other in our career’s again, I would always keep their memories alive in my heart and mind.

Without them, I would never have been ready to even get to this point.  And I will always be grateful to Queen.

[pepperful-qt]

what type of drunks are the karasuno kids like? (happy drunk/ crying drunk yk that stuff)

oh, drunk people

warnings: alcohol obv, general drunk shenanigans, some unpleasantness

Hinata: bouncing off the freakin walls at first you'd swear it was a sugar high😭 ten minutes since getting there he's already gone and bounced between 6 different conversationa and has 10 new friends and their social media. he's the one that breaks a table bc he started jumping on it when a "bop" came on it was one direction I can't seriously keep him on a leash. starts getting SUPER clingy though it's actually amusing. there's a threshold where he'll start going from crazy to sleepy drunk and you need to make sure you're there or he'll pass out latched onto some stranger

Kageyama: constantly talking at a volume just a notch too high. suddenly thinks he's the best at every skill, and will fight you about it. misses the beer pong cups every time but acts like they went in pLEASE just drink before he starts yelling and getting pouty. his temper is unbelievably short but on the plus side he's the first to pass out lemme tell ya it's a real rollercoaster while he's conscious though

Tsukishima: this fucker. he has "phases" he goes through as he drinks more and more. starts as the typical smartass with no filter, says whatever comes to his mind. I swear he leaves tears in his wake so disrespectful😤 constantly questioning you and your decisions, making you question your life choices,, ugh pls don't hang around him until he's had more. when he does keep drinking he gets quiet and MOODY YIKES he will kill anyone who sees him this way he's like a child simultaneously sulking and having a temper tantrum. once someone recorded him sobbing over his pet turtle that died in middle school and he decided he would never get smashed in public again

Yamaguchi: for the most part he's a happy drunk who will laugh at your jokes and mirror your emotions tenfold "he did wHAT??!?? >:((" bless him honestly. watch it though bc he has some sass to him and he will roast you without warning before laughing it off n you're there like 👀💦 wtf but if you hang around him too long he'll start unloading his problems onto you and there's no escape,,, but tbh he needs it just let him

Nishinoya: the definition of reckless. stop him please. he will do ANY dare EVEN IF YOU DON'T DARE HIM,, jumping off the roof into the pool seems fun, but that stair banister is just asking to be surfed down like freaking tony hawk or smth, OR there's 5 more shots of vodka just calling his name, decisions decisions🤦🏼‍♀️ also so SO loud no more inside voice. he'll pull the "vodka or perfume" stunt smh. flirts with anything that breathes, and things that don't

Tanaka: the most competitive person on the planet. first one to puke, but that doesn't stop him oh no his record is 5 before he went blackout what are you even. constantly screaming pls shut up. if you catch him at this specific time he will start philosophizing with you about the meaning of life and the pros/cons of different types of bras as if he knows ANYTGING omfG shut UP!! never makes it home unless he's got a responsible person with him. will pass out face down on the floor, curled up in the grass of a neighbor's backyard, or in the hot tub please supervise him

Ennoshita: a debater, jfc shut UP. suddenly becomes the most opinionated and smartest person in the world. literally converse about ANY topic and he will find a way to fightdebate you about it. can't take the heat though, and will just get louder and more aggressive in retaliation. for your own sanity just nod and smile. will kiss you if you ask though😙 (pls don't) chugs water like a monster, no hangovers here👌just gotta make sure he remembers to pee

Asahi: emotional drunk 100%. you'll find him in the corner sobbing about that person he accidentally didn't get the door for last week one moment and the next he'll be laughing and all giddy it's wHIPLASH omfg. people do tend to avoid him bc he's intimidating af sober but he's basically a gigantic emotional bomb teetering on 2 feet. also, puked once and swore off heavy drinking forever✌️😔rip brother

Daichi: "I'm fine, I swear I'm fine" literally acts like he's sober when he can't even make steady eye contact or keep his weight centered,, boy how many have you had. prefers beer to liquor and mixed drinks bc he likes the "flavor" freakin weirdo. constantly parenting everyone else and will chuck a waterbottle at your head

Suga: LOUD oh my god,, and thinks he's the funniest person in the world. also stirs every pot possible,, such a gossip compulsive liar wow, and will trip someone just to blame someone else and watch the chaos unfold sipping his horribly mixed cocktail. once Tanaka just walked up to him and he keeled over laughing and to this day no one knows why. changed Ryu's life tbh. great flirting game though tbh I hate him. will be very real w you in terms of advice though, doesn't hold back so be careful

Kiyoko: she doesn't actually like being drunk. when she's quiet and vibing, an absolute queen🙏 the kind of person you can chat with at a party easily bc the alcohol does loosen her tongue and relaxes her! you'll never catch her slipping though (she's such a wine & old fashioned drinker though wow just realizing this) will let you cry on her shoulder and will hold your hair back 💞

Yachi: SUCH a happy drunk omg. never stops smiling and gets super giggly about literally EVERYTHING. you gotta watch her though bc girlie will start freaking out on a dime but just tell her about a rabbit you saw on your way to a cafe the other day and she'll be good. BEST hype girl omg she's a cheer squad by herself,, even if you just said you made it to class on time "im just *sobbing* so proud *more sobs* you're just so TALENTED" needs some reassuring sometimes

🧡🖤

[puckmeupfam]

Consigliere | Kevin Hayes

Word Count: 3175 Note: The Mafia!Kevin Hayes AU that no one asked for. I’ve never seen the Godfather or any mob movies. It’s more lighthearted than it sounds, I swear. Brief mentions of past violence and mafia stuff so please don’t read if that will affect you.

Okay, so Kevin Hayes is kind of a screw-up. His father, Frank, had been mob boss ever since his father before him had died. And he was good at it. He knew when deals were being done. He knew when someone was thinking about snitching. He knew how to handle his allies. He knew how much money it took to get in the police chief’s blind spot. The Hayes family had been leading the mob before Prohibition even began which meant that Kevin had a heavy-weight on his shoulders ever since he could remember. Kevin was just four years old when his father started bringing him along to inner circle meetings. It was in the basement of a restaurant that seemed to always be closed at random times yet somehow still in business. The lights were low and cast large, ghostly shadows on the wall. The point was to get him to start seeing the guys as family. To see how his father commanded the room with his booming voice and wide shoulders. His father would speak confidently with a cigar placed casually in his mouth while the guys studiously listened. They knew to obey him because he had a habit of being… harsh. Kevin’s father wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. Kevin was in the fourth grade when he went along on his first “check-in” to one of the mobsters who wanted out. The guy was pretty high up in the hierarchy which made Kevin’s dad want to make the trip himself. There was nothing he hated more than a buddy who cried about wanting to stop for his “wife and newborn daughter,” to Kevin’s dad you were either in or six feet under.

Which is why it was always a bit of a sore spot that his heir was Kevin. Kevin whose voice was loud in an obnoxious way rather than a threatening way. Kevin who would much rather play street hockey than take a guy out in the street. Kevin who asked if he could “just have one of your fries” while his father was presenting his game plan. Kevin who tried to sneak his Nintendo on a stakeout. 

Kevin’s mother, Jeannie, and his father had a significant age difference. When he was born his mom was twenty-six while his father was forty-one. Most women involved within the mob didn’t even have a high school diploma, but his mom was just three semesters short of a bachelor’s degree. Her father, Al Rogers, was a made man and an advisor to the boss. Frank had too much power to have friends, but he protected his mafia as if they were his own brothers. Which is why when a lower gang showed up at the Rogers home one fateful night as a very aggressive hint to Frank, he brought Jeannie back from college and hid her in his house until he could make the other gang scarce. Call it love or call it Stockholm Syndrome, but Frank and Jeannie got married just two years later. Kevin was born first and was followed by three younger sisters. Leaving Frank with no other choices but Kevin.

But it was when Frank Hayes died suddenly of a heart attack that Kevin’s life was officially fucked. He was now the leader, the boss, the king and that meant something to these people. It meant that he had to step his shit up which was a lot harder said than done. At his first meeting since his father��s death, he sat with his eyes glazed over for about forty-five minutes before someone jolted him out of his thoughts. “Sir, are you going to give your speech now,” a man he only knew as Buddy asked him in hushed tones. Kevin stood, drawing everyone’s attention. When the boss speaks you listen.

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin began, “um, go kill those guys I guess.”

This was… not the right thing to say. He was met with wide, dumbfounded eyes. Kevin honestly couldn’t tell you who he just told everyone to kill and he definitely wasn’t using the imposing form or gruff vocabulary that his father had. 

Kevin honestly felt hopeless about his life and his new position. Until he met you. He was sitting in a bar that he knew no mafia members would go to. He ordered a piña colada, he had one once at a luau-themed high school party. His father was away on a mission leaving him with just his mother and the two mob members guarding his house to sneak past. In all likelihood, the security knew he was going probably even followed him to the party. But the point was that he got to enjoy himself. Got to wear a trashy Hawaiian shirt. Got to do a keg stand. Got to be a trashy kid instead of a mafia prince. And that’s where you came in. 

You had gone with your friends for a night out, you were wearing shorts and a sparkly sequined shirt with black boots. It was entirely inappropriate for the Boston weather, but that didn’t stop you from drinking tequila shots and dancing in the middle of what seemed to be one of the quietest bars in the city. Your friends had left already, but you weren’t ready to go home. You always claimed that you weren’t a fan of going out and would much rather stay home, but once you got out of the house you couldn’t turn yourself off as easily as they could. Which left you alone sipping a vodka tonic at the bar while lip-synching to the song playing overhead. 

The floor was sticky with spilled beer and the vinyl of the booths were tearing, leaving the foam and stuffing inside exposed. There happened to be a female bartender there tonight which allowed you to chat and laugh openly without worrying about giving the wrong signals. Kevin quickly spotted you across the room. With the bar being sparsely filled with drunks it wasn’t hard to miss you. But for Kevin is felt like a bit more than that. Like there was a ring of light surrounding you. Like a magnet pulling his gaze. Your mouth was wide in an uninhibited laugh, your sparkly pink lipgloss was smeared a bit, and you had a twinkle in your eyes. A sign of joy and happiness that Kevin envied. 

There were some calls from a corner booth of inebriated men which lead the bartender to give you a reluctant smile before going to bring them more pitchers. Now, bored without stimuli, you spun your barstool around. That was when you spotted him staring at you. He looked sad and oafish and non-threatening with his head in his hand and his fruity drink at his side, twirling the little umbrella between his fingers. You felt pity and curiosity when you saw him and walked to his table as if a magnet were pulling your belly. 

You sat on the other chair at his table without waiting for an acknowledgment or invitation. His back straightened as he gawked at you. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you said reaching your hand out. He absently noted that you had a strong handshake as his hand flopped in yours. “Kevin,” he hollowly responded. “Kevin,” you repeated back to him with a smile, “what’s got you so down in the dumps?” It took him a second to realize two things 1.) he was just kind of staring at you without actually speaking like a normal human person and 2.) his hand was still robotically shaking yours even though you had stopped squeezing. “Oh, just troubles with…” he hesitated, he knew all the codewords that everyone else used, but for some reason none of them really made sense. “Work,” Kevin finally said. You hummed in response. 

“What do you do,” you asked.

“What?”

“What do you do?” you repeated.

“I- I work in, like, the family business, I guess… taking over from my dad,” that made as much sense as anything else to him and it wasn’t technically a lie. But it made you smirk and lean back a little. 

“That’s very one percent of you,” was your response. Kevin barked out a laugh. “I mean, it’s more shitty than fancy but I get what you mean,” he told you with a chuckle and shake of his head. Kevin wasn’t entirely sure how much money the mafia brought in for profit. They had to live under the radar to avoid suspicious so his house was never very grande. A lot of the money went as bribes, but there was surely some kind of underground stash. 

“What do you do,” Kevin asked you once he snapped himself out of his thoughts. He came here to wallow, but focusing on his fucking mob when there was a gorgeous girl sitting right in front of him was a different level of buffoonery. His question elicited a very tired sigh from you that Kevin felt in his bones. “I’m in fucking law school,” you said as if it was stricken upon you rather than something that you chose for yourself. It was Kevin’s turn to lean back from the table and he observed you with wide eyes, impressed. He knew that even if he weren’t an actual mob boss, he wasn’t the type of person to have a big fancy office with framed degrees on the wall. 

“Yeah…” you trailed off in response to his shocked face. Kevin didn’t respond and you had a habit of uncontrollably filling the silence. “I interned on a political campaign as an underclassman and I just realized that I wanted to, like, make the world a better place which is so cheesy, I know. And to do stuff like that… you know, stuff that actually matters and changes peoples and even attempt to make everything less terrible you have to-” he cut you off by lunging across the table and slamming your lips together. 

You made a surprised sound but quickly leaned into the kiss. He was warm and his lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted like fruity cocktails. It felt like warming your body by the fireplace on a snowy night.  While it wasn’t a habit of yours to make out with strangers, there was just something about this guy that made you an absolute fool. After what could have been ten seconds or ten minutes he pulled away. You were left hazy and stunned while he looked at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m not,” you replied without hesitation. Kevin’s eyes flickered back to yours. To show him that you were serious you reached across the table and grabbed his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his larger ones. Your mischievous grin grows once his bright smile begins.

The two of you talk until the bar shuts down. Not about anything in particular. Just movies he likes and the asshole in your Philosophy of Law class who always tries to correct you. When the two of you stumble out, not drunk just dizzy on the night. He reluctantly starts to say goodbye to you when you stop him.

“Not so fast,” you start with a toothy smile. Kevin’s eyebrow quirks in a silent question. “I have coffee at my apartment,” you tell him. This brings the grin back to his face so you tangle your fingers together over the gloves you haphazardly shoved onto your hands. Kevin came with a coat, a wallet, and nothing else while you brought gloves, a hat, a scarf, and your heavy winter coat to cover your outfit that had zero protection against the chill. 

The two of you are mostly silent as you trek to your building. It was about a ten-minute walk and it hadn’t occurred to either of you that there were options other than walking. Kevin held the door open for you and you felt warmer as soon as you stepped into the lobby. You pushed the buttons on the elevator to bring you both to your apartment. This was another thing that you didn’t do often. Even though you didn’t plan to have sex tonight, it was almost dawn. Inviting some guy you just met into your apartment in the middle of the night went against everything Law & Order SVU had taught you.

You told Kevin to make himself at home while you got the mugs of steaming coffee ready. He noticed that your apartment, while small, was homey with framed pictures of your friends and your graduation. There were scented candles on the shelf and flowers on the table. You came back to sit next to him on the couch, handing him his drink. Your boots were unzipped but you were too lazy to take them all the way off. 

“I can’t do this,” he announced suddenly standing up with a panicked expression. Your eyes bugged and your coffee splashed a bit with his sudden movement. “What,” you asked, confused. “I’m not fucking like you, (Y/N),” he said with a dramatic wave of his arms. “You’re actually a good fucking person and you have your shit together and you’ve accomplished things,” when he said this you stood and moved to hold him in place. “No, no, no, Kev, you’re amazing and I don’t have it all together. I mean, I have like tons of student loans and the other day all I had to eat were Doritos,” you were trying to calm him down, taking deep breaths hoping that he would follow your lead.

This only seemed to agitate him more. “Shit, (Y/N), I’m in the mob,” he finally said. This made you still. “Exactly,” he said and moved to grab his coat from the back of a chair. “No, don’t go,” you whimpered, suddenly jumping to follow him. “I just told you that I’m in the mob! Kick me out of your house, call the cops, don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. He knew he was being self-destructive, but he also knew that doing anything else was stupid. And the prospect of being killed or captured by the police didn’t scare him at this point. He was living through hell every day. Okay, he was a little bit scared of what kind of weird mob torture might come over him, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. Kevin knew he would be unhappy until he died so why not speed up the process. Maybe he would even turn himself in and just get it over with.

“Just sit for a sec, hold on,” you told him. While he didn’t sit as you asked, he did stop moving. “What do you mean,” you asked stupidly. Kevin groaned in response. “What it means is that my dad died and now I am the boss of a mafia. A mafia! And I’m shit at it and I hate it and my dad knew that I hated it, but this is just how it works because it’s the mob,” he said gesticulating wildly. 

“But why did you tell me? I’m not a real lawyer yet or anything,” you responded calmly, but with a questioning tone. “I’m telling you because I fooled myself into thinking I was a nobody for the evening and I can’t do that to you,” Kevin responded. Your mind was going a mile a minute trying to understand everything he was telling you. “Wait… you hate it,” you asked, picking that statement over everything else.

“Of course I hate it, do I look like someone who would want to be a mob boss? I’m not even a little bit hardcore,” he said, “I can’t even get my blood drawn at the doctor’s office.” This made you giggle which lightened the mood a bit. 

“So this is like a High School Musical situation,” you guessed. He looked back at you dumbly, obviously the connection between the mafia and a children’s movie didn’t make much sense to him. “Yeah, like, your dad pushed you to take on this whole operation,” you explain, “and then you’re like “no dad that’s your dream, not mine.”” You used an overly exaggerated voice to be Kevin and you weren’t sure if it was that or the analogy, but both of you erupted into laughter. This went on for a minute before you sobered and brought yourself back to reality. You had to figure this out, you had to decide what the two of you were doing.

“Are you asking me to get you out,” you asked in a whisper. He sighed and looked at his feet. “There is no way out for me, (Y/N), I either end up dead or in prison,” he confessed. You moved your hand to bring his chin up to make eye contact. “And I know it will be one of those two because I’m not good enough to keep everything afloat,” he finished. 

“Well you should have said something, this could actually be a fun project for me,” you said with a tiny grin.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started. You abruptly slapped him. “What the fuck was that for,” he shouted, clutching his cheek. You hadn’t hit him that hard, but it came as a major surprise for him.

“First of all, don’t call me an idiot,” you commanded, “and second, I’m studying to work in politics so don’t act like it’s not something I could help with.” He looked at you dumbly as you grinned. What kind of future-lawyer-slash-political-mastermind would you be if you couldn’t hold your own? From the beginning, you were aware that you had the ability to command a room. You had always demanded everyone’s focus and attention. It was easy for you to act naive and charming and then make a complete one-eighty and start telling people exactly what you wanted them to do. You were always branded as “manipulative” or “domineering,” and you were well aware that your personality in someone like Kevin would be unstoppable. 

“Not to mention, I want to be a campaign manager so it might be good practice to puppeteer an idiot into an icon,” you looked devilish. It was an inescapable fact that this experience could allow you to be the most you that you’d ever been. Calculating and alluring and full of moxie. Kevin knew he should be offended by your honesty and crassness. But there was something about you, something about this night, that made everything coming out of your mouth sound completely rational.

“You know, in the mafia we would call that a consigliere,” he told you, reaching to extend his hand. His voice was raspy and his chin scruffy, though you were aware that you very likely had eyeliner and mascara under your eyes and a rats nest on your head. But you shook his hand. You shook his hand because you felt sympathy for his. You shook because there was just something about Kevin Hayes that intoxicated you. You shook it knowing that this whirlwind night was just the beginning.

[robinskey]

Robin’s Confession (Steve x Reader)

Request: hey!! could you make steve x fem!reader where robin has a crush on steve’s girlfriend(reader) and robin gets drunk and tells steve this ! tyyy

A/N: Thanks for requesting, anon! I LOVE Robin, so this was a blast to write. Hope you like it!

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking (legal drinking age in the US is 21)

Taking Robin with you to a house party was a truly terrible idea.

You’d told Steve this multiple times. Robin was only a year younger than you and your boyfriend, sure. But in terms of experience with alcohol, she was lightyears behind you. Until recently, Steve had been known as the “Keg King” of Hawkins High, and though you weren’t as interested in drinking, you’d been to your fair share of parties with Steve.

Robin, on the other hand, had never attended a party in her life. (Unless you count the annual Band Bash hosted by the mother of Gregory Allen, the star tuba player.) Sure, Robin had sampled some watered-down wine on special occasions, and she’d even managed to sneak a few sips of her father’s beer once at a particularly chaotic family reunion. Other than that, though, she’d never built up a tolerance to alcohol, unlike most Hawkins teenagers. Since there wasn’t much else for kids to do in the small town, drinking was more of a hobby than anything else; if you walked around without a red Solo cup, it wouldn’t be long before someone shoved one into your hand.

You didn’t want to expose Robin to that sort of environment. In many ways, Robin was more mature than you and Steve would ever be. However, you two had graduated, and she still had a year left of high school. You saw her like the little sister you’d never had-someone you needed to protect.

To Steve, though, Robin was his best friend. He wanted to hang out with her-outside of work, that is. He saw her nearly every day, but with her still in school and Steve working full-time, they rarely had a chance to see each other. Besides, Robin was always asking about you. Steve figured a party would be a great chance for all three of you to catch up.

One night, the two of you were cuddled up on his sofa, watching a movie together. Suddenly, Steve looked at you with his big, sad puppy dog eyes.

Before he even opened his mouth, you knew what this was about. One of your friends, Jennie, had just gotten engaged. She wanted to celebrate in the way any rambunctious, slightly-redneck nineteen-year-old would: by throwing a raging house party while her new fiancee’s parents were out of town.

“Fine,” you had huffed. “But please, please watch her, okay? Make sure she doesn’t drink too much before she even realizes what’s about to hit her.”

“You’re the best, baby,” Steve had said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he hopped off the couch.

“Where are you going?” you called as he wandered into the kitchen.

“To call Robin,” he answered, “and tell her the good news.”

That’s how, a few days later, you find yourself in Jennie Hayfield’s boyfriend’s basement. You’re sitting between a somewhat-sober Steve and a definitely-inebriated Robin, whose head was laying in your lap. Steve sits a few inches away from you, just far enough so that his thigh doesn't accidentally brush yours. Usually, Steve would be the one you were holding. However, you’re not exactly pleased with your boyfriend right now; somehow, in the ten minutes you’d left him alone with Robin, she’d managed to down three shots of vodka.

So much for Steve being a “damn good babysitter.”

“You guys are my best friends in the whole wide world. I love you both so very much,” Robin is saying, her words slurring together. She gazes at you with glazed-over blue eyes and reaches up to boop your nose. “Especially you, Y/N.” Robin’s voice drops to a stage whisper as she adds, “Don’t tell Steve, but you’re my favorite,” then bursts into a fit of giggles.

“What are we going to do, Steve? Robin’s curfew is in an hour, and if we drop her off at her house like this, her parents will never let us hang out with her again.”

“Don’t worry.” The stage whisper is back. “I can be very discreet. They won’t even know anything’s up.”

“This is your fault, you know,” you say pointedly to Steve. “I knew this was a bad idea, but you insisted you could take care of her.” You finally break the unspoken no-contact rule to jab him in the chest.

“Hey, don’t blame this all on me,” he spit back. “You’re the one who left-”

“Mom, Dad, don’t fight,” Robin interrupts. She reaches up to touch your face again, this time patting your cheek in what she must believe is a soothing manner. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N. I’m a grown-ass woman who can take care of herself.”

“I know, babe, but I don’t think your real parents will see it that way,” you say, gently pushing her back up into a seated position.

You’re too busy being annoyed by your man-child of a boyfriend to notice how her cheeks turn pink as you call her “babe”. She huffs in protest as you slip off the sofa and onto your feet. Robin crosses her arms over her chest like a toddler preparing to throw a tantrum, which doesn’t help her “grown-ass woman” case.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks. Robin lays her head on his shoulder.

“To get her some water,” you say. “That is, of course, if I can trust you to actually keep an eye on her this time.”

“I kept an eye on-”

“Shh.” Robin muffles the rest of Steve’s statement by smashing her hand against his mouth.

“Thanks, Robin,” you say, then point your finger at Steve. “No more alcohol. For her or for you.”

“None for me?” Steve cries indignantly. “What did I do to deserve that?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before he regrets them. He’s never seen such fire in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, sorry. No more alcohol.”

Robin and Steve both watch you walk up the steps. Even when you’re angry like this, Steve can’t help noticing how gorgeous you are-how those jeans fit every curve of your body just right.

Little does he know that he’s not the only one noticing that.

“Stevie, I have a question,” Robin hums, sitting up straight again.

“Okay…” Steve draws out the word. In the last half hour, Robin’s asked about everything from the plural of the word “octopus” to what he thinks happens when we die. Thus, Steve has no idea what is about to come out of her mouth.

“If Y/N dumps you, can I ask her out?”

Yeah, he certainly wasn’t expecting that.

Steve sits there in stunned silence for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he musters: “You’re joking, right?”

“Does this look like face of someone who’s joking?” she asks, scrunching her features together. “Besides, it’s just a hyp-o-thet-i-cal, Harrington.”

“I don’t really like this hypothetical, Robin.”

“Okay, fine. Different hypothetical: Let’s just say you...die in a tragic car accident. Would you, like, haunt me if I started dating your girlfriend?” Steve’s jaw drops as he stares at her blankly, so Robin adds, “After a respectful grieving period, of course.” When he still shows no response, Robin waves her pale hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to dingus?”

“Do you like my girlfriend, Robin?”

Robin rolls her eyes as if she’s talking to the biggest idiot in the world.

“Well, duh. Everybody likes Y/N. She’s the best.”

“That’s not...not quite what I meant.” Steve runs a hand through that glorious hair of his, trying to think of a way to phrase his question. Finally, he just blurts out: “Do you have a crush on Y/N?”

Robin’s eyes once again travel toward the heavens.

“Double duh,” she says with a laugh. “Your girlfriend’s hot, dude.”

Steve’s attempting to craft a response when he hears thudding footsteps on the stairs. You’ve returned with three water bottles and an ear-to-ear grin. You toss one to Steve; he fumbles, and it tumbles to the floor. He picks it up, twists the cap, and tilts it to his dry lips.

“Crisis averted,” you announce. “Danny let me use the house phone, and I got ahold of Mr. and Mrs. Buckley. I told them Robin and I are having a sleepover tonight. They probably think we’re laying in bed together right now.”

Steve makes a gurgling sound, nearly spitting out his water. You gently whack him upside the head.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Harrington,” you say. That’s when you notice Robin slumped against the back of the couch. With her fair skin and small features, she resembles a porcelain doll in slumber.

“She’s so beautiful,” you murmur, reaching out to comb your fingers through her cute bobbed hair.

When Steve stays quiet, you nudge his knee with yours.

“I won’t get jealous if you agree with me, you know. I know she’s not interested in you,” you say, shaking your head in amusement.

Steve swallows the lump in his throat.

Maybe not in me, he thinks. But she’s definitely interested in someone.

***

The next morning, Robin wakes up in a bed that definitely isn’t hers with a pounding headache and ringing in her ears. Sunlight filters through the curtains over the window. It lands on a framed piece of art on the wall that looks too expensive to even exist in Hawkins. There’s only a handful of families in the area who could afford something like that, so she automatically knows where she is.

Robin wanders into the hallway. From a distance, she can make out two figures sitting at the kitchen table, their heads bent together. Incomprehensible whispers echo across the kitchen. Robin starts to sneak up on them, planning to grab their shoulders and scream to scare the living shit out of them. But her plan is foiled when a sneeze she simply cannot contain tickles her nostrils.

The two silhouettes pull away from each other so quickly that they nearly bang heads. You and Steve awkwardly smile at Robin, who bares her teeth in a hungover attempt to smile back.

“What happened last night?” Robin asks as she takes a seat across from the two of you, rubbing her head.

“Vodka happened,” Steve says simply, and Robin nods. She raises a hand to her mouth and nearly gags at the repugnant odor of her own breath.

“I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

The silence causes Robin to look up. You and Steve are exchanging looks. Under the table, his hand rests on your knee. He squeezes it. You kick him.

“Oh, hell no. You’re the one who let her get drunk. You’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“Come on, baby,” Steve whines. “It’s really between you and her.”

“No, it’s not. She told you, not me. And then you told me. So, really, you’re the one who got me wrapped all up in this.”

“It’s not my fault I’m terrible at keeping secrets!”

“Secret? What secret?” Robin asks.

Then, it hits her. She groans, burying her face in her hands.

“You know, don’t you?” she mumbles into her arms.

“Yeah,” you and Steve answer.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so dumb,” Robin stammers. “I understand if this is weird now, and you don’t want to be my friend anymore-”

Gentle fingers brush Robin’s wrists as you gingerly pry her hands away from her face.

“You’re not dumb, it’s not weird, and there’s no way in hell it’s going to stop me from being your friend,” you say. Steve gives your knee another reassuring squeeze. “And, if you’re interested, I have a single friend I could set you up with. She’s funny, smart-and way hotter than me.”

“There’s no way,” Steve and Robin say in unison.

You laugh and shrug your shoulders.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

[honeyhan-123]

Little Red Label

Summary: Having been dragged out by Sam, Bucky meets a woman in a little red dress. 

Warnings: Smut so 18+, a little bit of cursing, and some low key angst. 

Word Count: 3.1k

gif source:

Your eyes peaked open, offering a sideways view of the television, infomercials running across the screen. You realised quickly that it wasn’t the quiet voices trying to sell you a bottle a vitamins which would apparently drastically change your life that had awoken you. Instead it was the shrill and continuous buzz of your doorbell. Whoever was outside was clearly just holding the little black button down, waiting for you to let them in. 

A groan escaped your mouth as you heaved yourself up off of your leather couch, the cashmere blanket slipping from your shoulders as you padded across the room towards the control box by the door. With blurry eyes you looked at the screen which offered a view of your best friend Charlotte. Normally you would have been happy to see her, you were both so busy that you hardly had time to catch up anymore. Now however, you just wanted her to leave you alone so pressing the button to talk you leaned in closer to the microphone and rasped ‘go away Char, I’m not in the mood.’ 

Charlotte’s ever bubbly personality however was not deterred by your less than warm welcome. Instead she smiled brightly at the camera, holding up a tub of Ben and Jerries in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. You let out a sigh as you buzzed her in, no words were needed, she had obviously seen his facebook post. 

As you waited for Charlotte to climb up the stairs to your apartment, you got out two glasses and soda to mix the drinks with, as well as two spoons. You had no intention of leaving any remains of the ice cream, deciding that eating straight from the tub would save washing up later. 

A heavy knock on the door pulled you from your cramped kitchen and to the front door, opening it up for Charlotte to walk in and pull you to her, wrapping her arms around you. ‘Gurl, I’m so sorry. He’s such a prick.’ Your tear ducts had long since dried up with all the crying you had done today, but being wrapped in her arms, her fingers running through your hair as she soothed you made you want to cry again. 

Why did he have to be like this? Getting engaged not even three months after he had completely and utterly broken your heart. Something about the way Charlotte was holding you brought back unwelcome memories of when stronger arms had comforted you, your hand enclosed in his making you pull away from her embrace, from the memories. 

Releasing you gently, Char lead you back to the kitchen pouring two generous shots with the vodka, however you weren’t paying her any attention now. Your eyes fixated on the little red label on the bottle. It was the same brand. 

You made your way through the crowd, sweat sticking to you like a second skin along with the two sizes too small, little black dress Char had forced you into. Frat parties normally weren’t your scene but you had just finished a ten thousand word essay on Anglo-American relations during the second world war and you figured you deserved to let loose. 

Making your way to the kitchen you grabbed a red solo cup before looking around for a drink. Vodka was your preferred method of forgetting the night but they didn’t seem to have any, only some crummy beer and some second rate tequila. Sighing, you were about to reach for the tequila when a voice interrupted you.

‘Looking for something darl?’

Turning around you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and a megawatt smile. Your mouth mimicked his, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you responded. ‘Yeah, I was looking for the vodka, you don’t know if they have any here do you?’

‘Ah, so you’re a vodka girl? I should’ve known. Honestly I kind of picked you for the cruiser type. I’m Callum by the way, maybe I can help you find that missing bottle.’ He held out his hand to you and smiling, you responded with your name, taking his hand in yours. 

Your search for a drink had been a little derailed by the easy conversation that flowed between you and when you finally found a bottle, hidden under the sink in the bathroom, you had almost been upset, thinking that your “quest” as he had jokingly called it had ended. But instead of leaving you, Callum just grabbed two cups and sat next to you, sharing the bottle as the party surged on around you. 

‘Come on, drink up we’ve got a long night ahead of us.’ Char offering you a glass pulled you out of your reverie and throwing your head back you took the shot before pouring yourself another. However as you reached for the ice cream she had brought, Char pulled it away, hiding it in your freezer. ‘Nah-uh. That’s for later. The vodka is for now.’

Your confusion must have shown on your face as soon Char was reaching into the large duffle bag at her feet which you had thought nothing of at first. ‘You haven’t been yourself the past three months and now with that asshole getting engaged, I’m calling an intervention. We are going out and getting absolutely smashed and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ 

Char didn’t even allow the protest to escape your lips as she shoved a little red number into your hands with matching stilettos and herded you towards your bedroom. 

+

Despite your many protests, three hours and half a bottle later, you and Char were dancing, sweat dripping down your back as the fluorescent lights flashed over the club. Over the night a few men had sidled up to you, hands gripping your waist, but each time you had shoved them away, uninterested in anything they offered. That is, until you saw him. 

He sat leaning against the bar, talking to a friend and looking somewhat out of place as he surveyed the room. He looked kind of familiar, but you knew that you would remember meeting a man that looked as good as he did in just a casual button up shirt. 

You weren’t sure if it was all the alcohol you had drunk but watching him awoke something deep inside you that had been dormant for the past three months, since that night. A blush erupted on your cheeks as you realised that he had caught you staring at him and quickly you tore your eyes away and focussed on Charlotte again, hoping she had missed the interaction, yet the glint in her eyes told you she had seen everything.

‘You should go talk to him, he’s hot.’ She yelled over the music. 

You shook your head as you responded. ‘Yeah and totally out of my league.’ Thankfully Char dropped it and let you continue to dance in peace with the feeling of eyes boring into your back. You tried to ignore the feeling of him watching you as you continued to move your hips to the music, getting lost in the rhythm.

Multiple songs had passed but the feeling of his eyes on you never stopped.

+

Bucky hated clubs. He hated them with a passion. Yet here he was, practically dragged out by Sam and the others. His only saving grace was that Steve was here with him too, feeling equally as out of place as he did. Opting out of dancing with the others who had soon been lost in the sweaty mass of grinding bodies, he sat by the bar, nursing a scotch with Steve. 

It was times like these when he was annoyed that he couldn’t get drunk. Perhaps some liquid courage would help him feel better about being in such a different environment. He wasn’t used to the loud techno music blasting through the speakers or the bright lights that occasionally blinded him. 

He was just trying to come up with an excuse to get the hell out of the club when he saw her, felt her eyes on him. Even from this distance, he could see the slight blush that came over her as she realised she had been caught staring, echoing the red of her dress. Even though he was used to dames dressing more conservatively from the forties, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way her dress clung to her like a second skin, showing off her curves and the way her hips moved in time to the rhythm. He couldn’t help but imagine how they would feel against him, his pants slightly tightening at the thought. 

He couldn’t help but stare even long after she had ripped her eyes away from him, he was completely enraptured with her. 

‘You should go up and dance with her.’ 

Turning sharply in his seat to face his best friend, Bucky pretended not to realise what Steve was implying, shooting him a quizzical look. 

‘Don’t play that game with me Buck, you’ve been staring at that dame for the past half an hour. Just go and dance with her. If you don’t I just might, she looks like a good partner for more than just dancing if you catch my drift.’ 

Although Bucky knew Steve was only saying those things to rile him up, he felt anger flowing through his veins at the idea of him dancing with her never mind other things which he had clearly alluded to. ‘Don’t even think about it Stevie.’

Steve merely held his hands up mockingly. ‘Well you better act fast Buck because I think she has a few other fans.’ Looking around the club Bucky could clearly see what Steve meant by that, his girl had caught the attention of a couple other men. 

Taking his last swig of scotch, he got up off of his seat muttering curses under his breath. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, it had been so long since he had danced with a dame but there was something about the woman in the red dress that he just couldn’t ignore. 

You felt another set of hands placed on your hips and turned around to tell the guy the same thing you had told every other guy tonight, that you weren’t interested but the words were caught in your throat when you saw it was him, the guy from the bar. Completely silenced by just how incredibly handsome he was up close, you simply turned back around and resumed your movements, arching your back a little more so you could rub against him. 

His hands were gentle at first, tentative, as if scared that you would run away, yet when a couple of songs had passed and you were still caught in his embrace, he seemed to gain some confidence, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer so you could feel just how much of an effect you had on him. You raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck, entangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer in response. You could now feel his whole front pressed against your back as you grinded, his hands exploring your front, tracing your dress up to where they cupped your breasts over the red material. 

It had been years since you had danced like this, completely forgetting about where you were and just losing yourself. You hadn’t even danced like this with Callum you realised with a start, he had never liked going out to clubs with you, getting overly jealous at how the other men would look at what was his.

You could feel his lips on your neck, trailing open mouthed kisses up to your ear until your turned your head to his, replacing your skin with your lips. You could feel his slight stubble scratch against your cheek and suddenly you wondered what it would feel like against your thighs as you let out a moan at the thought alone. He took full advantage of your distraction as he slid his tongue into your mouth, desperate to taste you. 

You could now no longer ignore the growing dampness in between your legs aided by how his hot length was pressed right against your ass. You ached for some relief and so you broke off the kiss, placing you lips next to his ear. 

‘How about we get out of here? My apartment isn’t too far from here.’ You rasped, barely audible over the loud music. Your nearly lost it then and there when he started pulling away, shaking his head as his lips now came to your ear. 

‘That is far too far Doll, I need you now.’ As if to emphasise his point, he grabbed one of your hands and trailed it down his body to where you could feel him in your palm, achingly hard. 

The thought of this godlike man wanting you was enough to distract you from noticing the cool metal that enclosed your hand as he started to lead you away from the dancefloor and towards the bathrooms. 

Bucky thanked his lucky stars as he saw that one of the toilets was free, and pulled you in behind him, locking the door hastily before pressing you up against it, rubbing his aching member on you, desperate for some friction as his lips caught yours again. Using both hands, Bucky lifted your dress over your head as you started working on the button down shirt he was wearing, your fingers occasionally fumbling before his hands replaced yours and ripped it down the centre, buttons flying everywhere as your lips reattached. 

You traced your hands down his chest, marvelling at the muscles underneath your fingers as you started attacking his belt, desperate to get it off just as his hands slipped around your back, detaching your bra and shimmering your panties off of you, completely exposing your body to him. 

It was only after one of his fingers had started teasing you clit and the other was shrugging himself out of his jeans that you finally noticed his arm. 

As if he could sense your sudden realisation, Bucky pulled away looking to see if anything was wrong, only to see your gaze fixated on his metal arm. A sinking feeling hit him right in the gut. What was he thinking? Of course you wouldn’t want to fuck the Winter Soldier, not after eveything he’s done. 

‘You’re Bucky Barnes.’ You didn’t know what to say. You felt like an idiot for not having recognised him sooner. No wonder he looked so familiar. You stood motionless until you realised that he was trying to pull his jeans back on. Hastily you grabbed his metal hand, stopping him. ‘What are you doing?’

He seemed surprised by your question as he responded ‘well I just figured you wouldn’t want to anymore.’ You let out a laugh, your hand still on his as you led it back to the apex of your thighs, the wetness blatantly obvious. 

‘You seriously think I’m not interested now?’ You teased as you wrapped your other hand around his neck and pulled his lips to meet your again. Your teeth clashing in your desperation as his metal fingers started moving inside of you, his thumb teasing your clit as his other hand reached around to you ass, lifting you up off the ground. 

Bucky had to remind himself to thank Shuri the next time he saw her for the enhanced sensitivity in his new arm because being able to feel you writhe against him as you came nearly had him creaming his pants. He waited until you were coming back down from you orgasm before he pulled his briefs down and wrapped your other leg around him. Piercing blue eyes met yours as he slid into you easily, eventually bottoming out as he filled you. 

Never tearing his eyes from yours, he started to move his hips, slowly at first while you tried to get used to the new feeling of fullness he gave you. His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking and biting as he went, being sure to leave a mark as you moaned out underneath him. ‘Bucky, yes... fuck right there baby.’

Bucky smirked as he found your G-spot and started to pick up his pace, thrusting into you harsher, being sure to hit that special place every time. The creaking of the door underneath the weight of his thrusts had him worrying that the door would give way so he quickly moved you against the bathroom wall. The tiles were cool against your back, contrasting the heat you felt everywhere else, adding to the building sensation in the pit of your stomach as you longed for a second release. 

Sensing your desperation, Bucky moved one of his hands from around your waist and started toying with your clit, as he chased his own finish.

You could feel his hot lips against your ear now as he fucked you relentlessly. ‘Oh Doll, you’re cunt is so fucking tight. Like nothing I’ve felt before.’ His praise only added to the tingling sensation that you could now feel all over, just needing a little bit more to wash over you. 

‘Come on baby, I need you to cum for me again, I know you’re close.’ The dirty words escaping from his lips finally tipped you over the edge crying out as you came, his fingers still flicking your clit as he tried to extend your orgasm, his hips stuttering as he came, coating your walls. 

His forehead pressed against yours as you both fought to catch your breath, his cock occasionally twitching inside of you. Gently he lowered you so you were back standing on wobbly legs and pulled out, reaching behind him for a paper towel to clean the top of your thighs with. When your juices were somewhat gone, he handed you back your bra to put on and helped you back into your dress before he pulled on his boxers and jeans. 

You cast a quick look in the mirror as he chucked on his now ruined, buttonless shirt and realised that he had indeed left a lovely little mark right on your neck. You knew Char would not let you live that one down. You didn’t even realise him quickly bending down to grab your still damp panties and tuck them away, hiding them in his jeans pocket.

Coming up behind you, Bucky wrapped an arm around your stomach, kissing his mark gently, eyes meeting yours. 

‘How about he head back to your apartment now? I’m not quite done with you yet’.  

[chloegami]

stand and face me (chloe/kagami one shot! fwb mutual pining type gig)

  AO3 link

 “Do you want to come over tonight?” Asks Chloé, leaning against the car like it’s her’s and not her dad’s and also chauffeur-driven. Even though it’s a question, and a very fucking loaded one at that, she phrases it like she’s asking Kagami for nothing more than a gal-pal sleepover.

  Kagami sighs, adjusting her fencing bag. “Sure.” She gives Adrien the slip, saying Chloé’s going to drop her off home instead. The boy just says he’s glad the two of them are friends now then smiles widely, which Kagami echoes, because Adrien is so perfectly, blissfully, eternally oblivious. It’s why she finally picked up and moved on from him. It wasn’t her job to teach him how to notice her flirting.

  Chloé picked it up much quicker, and was much more reciprocative.

  The car ride is silent. It usually is. Sometimes, when they’re tipsy from a party, Chloé will pull up the partition and they’ll hardcore make out instead. It shrouds the back seat in awkwardness and an emotion Kagami refuses to pin down as yearning.

  They refrain from touching as they walk through le Grand Paris’ crowded lobby and hallway. Kagami’s pretty sure the entirety of the hotel staff have figured out what Chloé gets up to with her new friend, but that doesn’t mean Mayor Bourgeois, who surpasses Agreste in terms of total lack of situational awareness, needs to know why his daughter still hasn’t gotten a boyfriend.

  As Chloé shuts the door, it’s like a veil lifts. Kagami likes to tuck things neatly away in nice, clean, compartmentalised boxes and whatever it is she has with Chloé is the same. Once that doors closed, and until that unseen fog of pretend falls back on the two of them, Kagami is allowed to indulge in Chloé without feeling bad or having to think too hard about it.

  Kagami shoves Chloé against the wall, receives Chloé’s hard kiss eagerly, and lets herself melt into her.

  The fog falls, and Kagami wonders whether it was a smart or stupid idea to pretend to be asleep so she wouldn’t have to ask Chloé whether she should move to the sofa.

  They have rules, unspoken as they are. They kiss, because kissing’s great, but only once the metaphorical (though usually literal) door closes. They never stay over at Kagami’s, but Kagami can stay over at Chloé’s when Audrey’s not visiting. None of their friends can know, except Marinette figured it out, but she also knows Kagami doesn’t like to talk about it so there’s no worry of ever having to acknowledge anything.

  They do not speak about whatever arrangement they’ve created. Not ever. They ask whether the other is free, they ask whether they want to come over, but never any details. They don’t discuss what it is, or what it means, or what it entails, or what responsibilities they have now.

  That’s don’t need to talk. From the first moment, when Chloé had laced her fingers in Kagami’s and leant in, there had never been words. They just knew. They knew what they liked, they knew what they wanted, they knew.

  Or, Kagami likes to think she knows. It’s easier that way.

  It’s easier than obsessing over every word, easier than worrying how much she’ll spill just by opening her mouth, easier than having to confront feelings and confront Chloé.

  She wonders if Chloé thinks the same.

  She knows she doesn’t.

  She likes the think she knows she doesn’t.

  She falls asleep, tossing and turning and hoping the bed is large enough that she won’t end up clinging to Chloé during the night.

  “Put that down. It’s disgusting.” Chloé leans over her balcony, thin ribbons of smoke curling into the air from her cigarette. Chloé rolls her eyes. “Who are you, my mother?” She scoffs, but Kagami notes she doesn’t put it back into her mouth. She’s glad, even though she doubts she’ll be kissing her again anytime soon. It’s a dangerous time, two hours past midnight. A part of her wonders what woke Chloé up. A part of her aches to ask.

  But the bigger part of her, the one that recognises how thin the thread their relationship hangs from is already, and that if she doesn’t want it to snap she should keep her mouth shut.

  Paris is beautiful. The Eiffel Tower, kitschy as it is, glows with such brightness and she’d be lying if she said she wouldn’t be content to sit at the balcony and just stare out over the city till she falls asleep. Kagami misses Tokyo and she doubts she’ll ever truly feel at home in France, but Paris has its beauty.

  But maybe it’s the little things that make her think that. Maybe it’s all those outings to the Eiffel Tower with her friends, maybe it’s the stupid parties they throw that makes the city glow for her, maybe it’s Chloé that makes her want--

  “Are you going to Alya’s thing tomorrow? Or today, whatever time it is. You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I’m going.”

  Chloé takes an edged breath. “Do you want to come over tomorrow night? After the party.”

  “I can’t.” She doesn’t bother softening her voice. Maybe she should. It’s easier not to. “Okaa-sama’s only letting me go if I get home before ten.” She’s already saying too much. The thread threatens to snap.

  Chloé shrugs. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.” She flicks her cigarette off the balcony with a sharp finality. Kagami might chastise her. It might make Chloé stay outside with her.

  She doesn’t.

  The bed is wide enough that Kagami would have to stretch her arm out to reach Chloé, and even then she might just wake up to it empty.

  She’s thankful her mother’s gotten more lax about her having friends, though she wishes it hadn’t taken an akuma to teach her that maybe her daughter should be allowed to have a social life. She likes parties, contrary to what people think. She’s not much of a drinker, never quite fell into the casual drinking of Parisians or teenagers. It varies amongst her new friends.

  The Designated Sober Friends are Marinette, because she really is the mother of the group; Adrien, because his dad forbids all fun; Luka, because he’s the only one with a driver’s license and Juleka, because Rose is such a lightweight she needs constant supervision. Everyone else drinks to some capacity. Alya and Nino are prone to drunken karaoke, Alix and Kim spend most of the night competing in drinking contests (which Max supervises, even though he gets just as plastered as them) and Ivan and Mylene are affectionate drunks, forming into one really hug-y creature until Alix loses it and shoves them into a closet so they can have some peace.

  Kagami drinks so she feels less guilty about wanting Chloé. If she’d drunk when she stares at her, she can blame it on the alcohol and not consider any sort of introspection.

  Chloé drinks, though Kagami doesn’t let herself speculate why. That falls to close into admitting she cares about her.

  They’ve fallen into that portion of the evening when languidness takes hold. The air hangs thick, mainly with the smell of nicked vodka and beer. They’re half-watching some teen drama Rose squeals about, and everyone’s fitted nicely into some niche. Marc paints Nathaniel’s nails, Marinette pretends she's not stealing glances at Adrien, Juleka’s smiling at Rose as she tells everyone to keep watching because the third season’s gay, and Chloé lays in Kagami’s lap.

  Chloé likes to be cherished, and Kagami likes Chloé, so of course she indulges her.

  Chloé has soft hair and it’s fucking infuriating. It’s so feathery and luscious and it makes Kagami insane with longing. Every time she’s in its general vicinity she wants to comb her fingers through it, and what's worse is Chloé loves it when people ravish her and practically melts in Kagami’s hands whenever Kagami shoves aside her rationality and lets Chloé lay in her lap so she can stroke her golden locks and pretend she isn’t imagining what it would be like to do that as a girlfr--

  “I need to throw up. Kagami, you’re holding my hair back.” Chloé’s bluntness used to shock her, the cultural clash hitting her like a ton of bricks, but it very, very quickly became one of Kagami’s favourite things about her.

  She follows her into Alya’s bathroom, and has to suppress a yell when Chloé closes the door by pushing her against it.

  “Since you can’t come by tonight,” is all Chloé says by way of explanation. “But keep quiet and be fast, this house is so fucking small--” and Kagami cuts her off.

  If she tugs Chloé’s hair in the middle of it all, and watches Chloe’s pupils dilate as she tries to stay silent, then no one can really blame her for tucking that away for future consideration.

  “We should go back,” she says, every word harder and harder to say. Chloé pouts, but shrugs. She doesn’t let go though, and the thread pulls ever thin. “Do I look like I threw up?”

  She looks beautiful.

  “Sure. Splash water on your face.” Chloé doesn’t. She stays where she is, with their legs laced together. Chloé watches her curiously, flushed, in a way Kagami can’t interpret and doesn’t want to try. Her companion breaks out from her reverie and gives her a kiss, so lightning-fast Kagami doesn’t have time to react. And then she’s up like that was nothing.

  Affection for the sake of it isn’t something they do. Kagami’s lips burn.

  “Come on. Adrien will have figured it out if we stay here any longer.”

  He doesn’t, but Kagami’s pretty sure Juleka gives them a once-over. Chloé notices it too, Kagami’s sure of it, but it doesn’t stop her from putting her head back in Kagami’s lap. If Kagami were to die like this, her hands in Chloé’s hair, she’s not sure she’d be too upset at that.

  “I can’t come over,” she says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. They’re waiting outside Alya’s, both for their respective rides, since Nora came home early and kicked everyone out.

  “I know,” Chloé replies, “You said.” Her voice is harder than usual, and it doesn’t sound like it’s from the vodka.

  “Or the next three weeks. We’re going back to Tokyo for a little.”

  Chloé is silent, until she isn’t.

  “You should have told me.”

  It comes out like a stammer, which is something so alien to Chloé that it nearly knocks Kagami back. She doesn’t know how to reply. Apologise? That assumes Chloé is missing something with her leaving. Offer to skype? That establishes there’s something.

  She’s saved by Chloé’s car pulling up. Or she’s not, because Chloé pulls her in for the longest kiss they’ve ever had, and it’s soft and sweet and Kagami’s world is crashing down and she doesn’t even care, because Chloé Bourgeois is kissing her like nothing else in the world matters.

  And then it’s over, and then, like a fucking idiot, Kagami pulls her back in and kisses her till she’s sure her mother will comment on her lateness. Then she drops her hands from Chloé’s waist and stalks off, because she’s a fucking idiot.

  Kagami shoves her stupidity to the back of her head, and enjoys home. Paris has nothing on seeing her grandparents and cousins and fencing practice in Ueno Park and seeing the fireworks at Sumidagawa, but Paris has Chloé and that’s more than enough for her to be thoroughly ready to swim her way back to Europe.

  They get back, swimming unnecessary, but Kagami restrains herself from immediately hopping a cab and driving her way to the hotel and climbing the balcony like she’s some poor lovesick fool in a Shakespearean tragedy. She imagines Chloé would push her off if she tried.

  So she goes about her week like normal, not thinking about honey-blonde hair or her fingers through it, not snippy remarks or the pink lips that say them, not of blue eyes and bee combs and goddamn Chloé Fucking Bourgeois.

  It’s after fencing class she finally sees her. Kagami had probably gone a little hard on her peers today, and so she’s panting and distracted as she walks out of the school, only to be practically barrelled into by a flash of blonde hair. She registers arms around her, registers the smell of Chloé’s perfume, registers that Chloé’s now kissing her--

  Adrien makes a noise between a squeal and a whoop, which brings Kagami and Chloé back to Earth. Adrien blushes. “Oh...um...I’ll...I suppose Chloé’ll drop you off?”

  Chloé glares. “And why do you suppose that?” She doesn’t stammer, but she sounds a lot on edge. She tosses her hair behind her hair. “Ridiculous.” And then she’s gone, not wasting another look on Kagami.

  Kagami would leave, but Adrien’s her ride home. They step into the Agreste car, because the Gorilla waits for him outside fencing class because who knows what nutcase might come by and try to abduct him. Adrien coughs, breaking the awkward silence. “So...are you and Chloé together? I feel a bit dumb now.”

  “You are dumb. We’re not together.”

  “O-oh. Okay. Um, sorry?”

  She was sorry too.

  Chloé didn’t bring it up, didn’t treat her any different. They slipped into a closet at Alix’s party, met up at Chloé’s on Kagami’s free day, went back to the hotel like usual after fencing, and not once during any of those did Chloé hint at the incident.

  Kagami wasn’t sure if she wanted her to or not. She wondered if she should.

  They sat at the balcony, one past midnight this time. Chloé had lit a cigarette, but Kagami chastised her and she only holds it. They sat in silence, until they didn’t.

  “Do you ever want to come out to your mother?”

  It was so out of left field Kagami had no choice but to be honest. “Yes. But I won’t.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Your mum’s in town?”

  “Yeah. Came by last Monday.” Kagami pretended she wasn’t counting back the days. It would have been during her trip away.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chloé shrugged. “Whatever.” She tapped her cigarette on the railing, pausing to watch the ash fall. “Do you want to go out tomorrow? We can see a movie together.”

  They didn’t do things together, besides the obvious. It was only in groups. Doing things like this was too close to a date, and Kagami would never in a million years have suggested that. The thread was frayed enough as is, and she wouldn’t risk it for anything.

  “I have a tournament tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like one.

  Chloé shrugged again. “Whatever.”

  She lost the tournament. It was tied, and her opponent won by priority.

  Her mother didn’t come, which means Kagami has to call her. She stares down at the contact. Tsurugi Tomoe, Okaa-sama . She can feel her eyes prickling with tears. She can already see the disappointment practically radiating off her mother.

  “Hey,” calls a voice from behind her. “Kagami, hi.”

  “Chloé.”

  “Are you...are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I watched the tournament. Adrien wanted me to go. I’m...I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You did really good.”

  “I lost. My mother will think I’m a failure.” Kagami doesn’t know what makes her say that out loud. Stupidity, probably. Delirium.

  “Then your mother’s an idiot,” says Chloé, her voice so firm Kagami believes her. “I watched the whole thing, it was totally unfair. if your mother had actually been here she’d know that.” Kagami hadn’t realised Chloé knew fencing, and she tells her as much.

  Chloé laughs. “Yeah, I picked it up after watching Adrien. You don’t really know much about me though, do you?”

  That was unexpected. Kagami shrugs. “Do you know much about me?”

  Chloé is quiet a few moments. “I know what matters,” she says finally. Kagami can feel her cheeks redden. If Chloé notices, she doesn’t show it. “Look, I know you’re an amazing fencer. Don’t worry about what your mother thinks, she’s not you and if she can’t see who you really are then who gives a shit?”

  Kagami wishes she had Chloé’s total confidence in herself, but something about Chloé makes her feel just a little like everything will be okay. She wants to reach out and thank her, but vulnerability is not her strong suit.

  Chloé turns back to her so suddenly Kagami jumps a little. “I’m getting a milkshake. Wanna come with?”

  “What?”

  Kagami thinks she sees Chloé’s smile falter, but it’s probably wishful thinking. “Do you want to come or not? Christ.” Chloé kicks at the ground. “Screw your mum. She’s gonna be mad either way, right? Why not have some fun first?

  That’s the stupidest logic she’s ever heard.

  But then again, Kagami’s well and truly whipped.

  She nods as nonchalantly as she can manage. Can you nod nonchalantly? She hops her nod doesn’t convey how much she’s freaking out over how beautiful and adorable Chloé is. “Sure, why not?”

  It’s less awkward than Kagami freaked out that it would be. They’re friends already, they talk at parties, but a social gathering with a gang of friends is different to sitting across from the girl you definitely aren’t head over heels for, so close you’re touching knees which shouldn’t be that crazy because Lord knows how many times you’ve seen her naked but it’s different somehow, so different.

  A good different.

  A great different.

  Kagami was worried she wouldn’t know what to say. She still hadn’t got the hang of friendship and social interaction. She cringes at how she acted around Marinette at first and she’s gotten better, but she’s still barely halfway there.

  She needn’t worry, because Chloé talks enough for both of them three times over. She can make a complaint out of anything and back it up with ten arguments and have you just as convinced of it as her, from the intensity of the fashion industry to whether pain au chocolate or chocolatine is a better name. Kagami listens to everything, because she’s getting better at that and because she’d listen to anything Chloé says.

   Yin and yang, she thinks and then suppresses, because she’s pretty sure Chloé would laugh at her for how cheesy it is and because that’s dangerous thinking.

  Not that all of this isn’t dangerous. She’s still not sure how she’s supposed to be addressing this. Is she supposed to ignore their rendezvous? Is this an escalation of them? Is this just another one, with less handsiness?

  She does talk a little, when Chloé asks her about fencing and her mother. Chloé listens too, which surprises Kagami. When Kagami had first started hanging out with Adrien and Marinette’s friends, Adrien had warned her that Chloé could be prickly and was rather set in her ways, and even Marinette, who was the epitome of goodness and kindness, had said that though Chloé was much better than she used to be, she could still be quite aggressively assertive.

  Chloé was confident and commanding, but Kagami had never found her to be aggressive or prickly. She had been prepared to hate her. Marinette had told her a little of how Chloé used to treat her and it broke Kagami’s heart but Chloé was nothing like she’d expected.

  As she watched Chloé lazily blow bubbles into her strawberry milkshake, golden hair practically glowing in the afternoon sun, Kagami thought now was as good a time as ever to admit she was madly in love with her.    

  They walk down the Champs-Élysées together, with Kagami dopily listening to Chloé complain about American consumerism and the influx of annoying tourists, and it’s something that might be romantic if Kagami were naive enough to think Chloé might like her back.

  She tells her mother when she gets home, who grounds her for three weeks and forbids her to speak to her friends.

  The days are agony. And not just because of Chloé, Kagami does in fact have a life outside of her. She can’t see Marinette. She can’t go to Juleka’s birthday party. Her mother accompanies her to her fencing lesson, scrutinises the entire time and makes it clear in no uncertain terms that if she talks to Adrien she’ll be punished.

  By the second week, she’s done.

  She’s fresh out of a lecture from her mother about how much of an awful influence her friends are and how dare Kagami sully the Tsurugi name and the moment they can they’re leaving this godawful country and frankly, Kagami’s such a mess of anger, tears and boredom she’s the perfect target for doing through with a really dumb idea.

  She watches the window. She could do it, it’s not like her mother’s cruel enough to put bars up.

  She can’t go to the Dupain-Chengs’, because Marinette’s really weird about people going over to her house unannounced, especially at night, and Tomoe took Kagami’s phone. Going over to Adrien’s would be a death sentence, both because her mother would kill her for embarrassing them in front of Gabriel Agreste and she’s pretty sure the Gorilla wouldn’t appreciate someone trying to sneak into the Agreste mansion. Everyone else is crossed off by virtue of them only really being friends via Adrien and Marinette.

  Which leaves one person. One person who she really fucking wants to see.

  But by God would it snap the thread.

  That stupid fucking thread that does nothing but stop her from doing what she wants, no better than her mother, and put in place by her own damn self.

  It’s possible she’s being dramatic, but it’s easy to be dramatic when you’re scaling down your building in nightwear and a coat at 11:00pm on a Monday night.

   This is a stupid idea, she repeats to herself as she tracks her way through the streets to the Grande Paris. She gets a few looks but most Parisians have been desensitised to oddities, and a teenager frantically bolting from the 16th arrondissement to the 8th in a jinbei is hardly the weirdest thing they’ve seen.

  It really is the dumbest thing she’s ever done, but somehow, in the twenty minutes or so it takes to run to the hotel, not once does Kagami think of turning back. She does wonder, though, if it is cowardice or courage.

  She doesn’t run through the doors, because the doorman is very nice and she doesn’t want to upset him, but she does start running when she gets to the hallways.

  She halts when she reaches Chloé’s. She knocks before she can start regretting her decisions.

  “Mother please, just leave me...oh my God, Kagami?” She cuts her off by falling into her arms and embracing her.

  “I needed to see you,” she breathes, by way of explanation. Chloé hugs her back.

  “I’m glad. I...I missed you.” She pulls back, leaving Kagami cold. “Did you run all the way from your house?”

  “Yes,” she says, because she’s never been one for lying. Denying the truth, certainly, but never lying.

  Chloé barks an uncertain laugh, before pulling her back in. “That was a stupid idea. Your mother’s going to kill you if she finds out.” She only holds her tighter though. “Thank you.” She whispers, so quietly Kagami can’t be sure whether she imagined it.

  Chloé finally pulls back, her face flushed. Kagami can’t pin why. “Come on, you should shower. I’m not kissing you when you’re like this.”

  She lays content in the afterglow and doesn’t notice Chloé watching her until she turns to soak in her last image of her before Tomoe grounds her for the rest of her life. She paints her ocean eyes, her rose blush, her shell lips.

  She’s being dramatic, but it’s easy to be dramatic when you’ve run half an hour to your hook up’s hotel because you’re madly in love with her because you’re a dumb bisexual who can’t just sit tight for three weeks until you see her again.

  “I should go home,” she mumbled into the pillow, not wanting to ever leave. She wants to hold onto Chloé’s hand and grasp it and never let go.

  So she does. She reaches out and laces her fingers through Chloé’s.

  She waits for Chloé to pull back, to laugh, to sneer.

  She only gives her a reassuring squeeze.

  “Stay a little longer.” Her voice shakes, and Kagami remembers with guilt that Chloé too has her own problems, that she doesn’t just materialise into existence every so often. She wonders what had happened earlier to have made her say what she said about her mother when she opened her door. Kagami wants nothing more than to make Chloé feel confident again.

  She pulls Chloé’s hand to her lips and kisses her, and hopes it conveys more than her words could.

  It apparently doesn’t, because Chloé sits up and pulls away as quick as lightning. “I can’t do this.”

  Her heart sinks.

  “Oh.”

  Chloé must notice her crestfallen expression, which only makes her wince. She can’t even keep her stupid emotions to herself.

  “No, no,” Chloé croaks, rubbing her eyes. “I just...I don’t know what any of this means, and I can’t do this if it doesn’t mean what I want it to.”

  “Oh?”

  Chloé groans, flopping back down. She turns to Kagami, expression unreadable. “Why did you come by tonight?”

  “Because I love you.”

  Kagami is not one for lying.

  She does reconsider this when Chloé’s eyes go wide.

  “I just...I just mean…” But that is what she means, and there is no other way she could phrase it.

  Chloé makes a joyful babbling noise as she moves to straddle Kagami and hold her bewildered face in a soft hands, kissing her frantically all over her, her forehead, her temple, her cheeks, her jaw, her nose, her lips.

  Kagami understands why Chloé likes to be ravished.

  She pulls away, but only to ask, “How did you not already know I was in love with you? All I do is stare at you.”

  “Adrien told me I needed to stop assuming things of people.” Chloé’s voice is serious, but soon she snorts. “And anyway, like you’re any better than me. How many times did I kiss you in public? And when I straight up asked you on a date?”

   Oh. Chloé laughs at the utter astonishment that must be Kagami’s face.

  Chloé smiles down at her. “So. Girlfriends?”

  Kagami laughs at the bluntness. She loves that about her. “Yeah. Girlfriends.” She furrows her brow. “But if Tomoe wakes up and I’m not there she’ll probably...what is it? Rapunzel me. Put me in a tower, never let me out.”

  Chloé’s laugh could light up the world. “I’d save you. Knight in shining armour.”

  “Knight in a striped unitard, antennae and a spinning top.”

  “Don’t diss my miraculous! It’s a great outfit, philistine.” Chloe pauses. "You know, you're the only person I know who noticed I started smoking and told me I should stop."

  Kagami kisses her. "Well, I'm telling you again to stop. It's gross, you'll ruin your lungs."

  "Already the nagging wife, huh?" Chloe laughs between kisses.

  She sneaks back home and Tomoe wakes none the wiser, though Kagami still has a week and a half of her punishment to go.

  Sneaking out to make out with her new girlfriend does make it alright, if she does say so herself.

(title is a sappho quote! “stand and face me, my love, and scatter the grace in your eyes.")