#i was just trying to get to the bar to get my free margarita and chicken fajita now this feels personal

[savage-rhi]

Fuchsia? 😂

[pinkboaclub]

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to wake up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!] [read a prequel blurb here!]

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

TGCF couples at the beach

Because i want to go to the beach so bad rn

HuaLian:

Hua Cheng isnt too fond of the sun or the water but gege said he'd like to go so they're going.

Everything is fancy and luxurious, only the best for gege.

A large beach bed with a canopy, drinks and snacks served at all times, the whole nine yards.

He wears those fancy sunscreen lotions with foreign names cause he may be dead but he also burns easily and turns into a big baby about it.

Xie Lian insists they dont need to do all that and can just chill in the sand with a towel, which Hua Cheng finds preposterous.

They have a big ass umbrella over the canopy bed too cause the sun is a deadly laser.

So much affection - cuddling, kissing, being all sweet and lovey, feeding each other watermelon and gathering seashells

Theyre sickeningly sweet

Hua Cheng is able to keep his hands to himself for about 5 seconds max

If there are any noisy kids or families around, Hua Cheng sends Yin Yu to scare them off

(They take Yin Yu with for this express purpise but hey free all inclusive vacation, a win is a win)

Xie Lian never burns ever and refuses to wear sunscreen. Hua Cheng pouts about it because 1) dont want gege to get a sunburn and 2) cant teasingly rub lotion over him smh

Hua Cheng builds one of those fancy sand statues of Xie Lian and he thinks its the most romantic thing ever

It is

So many kisses in the water and swimming together all lovey

Hua Cheng is never seen not drinking a margarita

"You do not need to keep your swim trunks that low, San Lang." "Gege, tan lines are terrible."

BeefLeaf

SQX cant get He Xuan out of the water once they arrive to the beach. Nope. That is his habitat now. He belongs to the fishes.

SQX rents out beach chairs by the bar because how can one tan without a drink in hand?

Skimpy swimsuits because SQX also abides by the tan lines are the devil mentality

Manages to get He Xuan out of the water with the promise of ice cream

Talking shit about everyone around while eating ice cream and drinking martinis

So many seashells. He Xuan gives them to SQX as an offering aw

"XuanXuan you cant drown people that say indecent things about me!" "Who says" "the law??"

He Xuan brings SQX little fish he catches if they look colorful or pretty

"XuanXuan, put some tanning oil on my back!" And He Xuan spends like 10 mins trying to find the correct bottle because SQX brought like 50 and the tanning oil SQX wants looks like literally every other bottle there

So many selfies

He Xuan digs tunnels in the sand whenever he isnt in the water. SQX has to talk him into not using the Earth Master shovel

Theyre checking out hot people together

He Xuan puts on sunglasses to pretend he isnt staring at SQX

"XuanXuan you cant throw jellyfish at children!!"

SQX flirts their way into free drinks and He Xuan broods about it but also he is deeply in debt so he can't turn down free shit lmao

FengQing

Arguing, so much arguing, but hey thats their love language

"Thats a shit spot for a towel" "okay find a better one then" "here!" "Thats like a foot away whats the difference??"

Feng Xin refuses to put on sunscreen cause he thinks its not manly

"You cant beat the fucking sun, Feng Xin!"

Mu Qing refuses to get his hair wet. Feng Xin makes it a point to dunk him in the water at least once

Feng Xin falls asleep in the sun like an old man and Mu Qing draws dicks on him with sunscreen lmfao

They argue about who goes to get drinks and snacks and just end up going together

Feng Xin insists to exclusively drink beer until he tries one of Mu Qing's deadly cocktail combinations and hes hooked. He insists they add a little umbrella to his drink now so he and Mu Qing match

Sand castles competition turned chasing into the waves turned underwater kisses

Mu Qing judges everyone and Feng Xin cant help adding in to the commentary because its surprisingly entertaining

Beach sports! Theyre so competitive too so its extra fun and they make bets over everything

[reiderwriter]

🍷 Alcohol Free 🍷

Week 1 of my Playlist series! Inspired by Alcohol Free by TWICE.

Summary: You're the designated driver for half of your friends, and Spencer is the designated driver for the other half, so why do you feel so buzzed when you're around him? OR; taking every opportunity when you finally meet Spencer Reid for the first time ♡

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, but reader and Spencer are both sober. A/N: Welcome to week 1 of the Playlist! I think we started with an absolute banger, and for such a fun, upbeat song with this, I had to make this a fluff (sorry to all my smut and angst enjoyed, please be patient 🫡). I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to send me more song recs, as I'll be writing one follower chosen song fic per month 🥳

Check out my masterlist here~

“How much have you had to drink exactly, Pen?” You laugh as you watch her wobble back and forth, at her table.

“We started with champagne and wine. And then there was the cocktail round, so, a few margaritas here and there. And a mojito. Maybe a mimosa. I think a guy bought me a pint colada at the bar earlier,” her words were so sharp you almost couldn't believe she'd drank anything at all, but the fact that she said all this while swaying gently from side to side had you giggling at her antics.

“Don't forget the tequila!” Penelope's friend Emily groaned from the other side of the table then were gathered at, face already flat on the surface as if her hangover had already hit.

You'd been friends with Penelope for over a year now, so you were acquainted with all of the girls there, and had agreed to come and meet them on one of their girls nights out. You were never a big drinker though, so you offered to be the designated driver for the half of the gang that were committed to Uber-ing home.

They'd been drinking since the mid afternoon, and by the time you'd gotten off work and cleaned up for the bar, it was obvious that they were going to be a handful.

“Y/N, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?” JJ shouted from her seat beside you.

“Thank you, JJ, you already said that three times tonight. Maybe we should get you some water?”

“And so kind too, my princess in shining armour,” Penelope giggled.

For most people, being the only sober person on a night out was hell, but you found yourself enjoying it more and more as the years went by. Drunk women were so much like kindergarteners when they reaches a certain blood alcohol level, and you loved seeing what your usually serious and cool girlfriends would come up with.

You also wanted to make sure they stayed safe, and with the impressive list of multiple alcohols they'd just ingested, you wondered if you should be carting them off to the emergency room then and there.

“I THINK YOU'D LIKE MY FRIEND SPENCER. HE'S NERDY. YOU'D MAKE CUTE BABIES.” JJ was still shouting all of her words, despite the bar being relatively quiet and you almost did a spit take with your water as she kept on.

“Stop trying to marry Spence off, Jennifer.” Penelope giggled, over pronouncing JJ's name as if it were her first time ever using the word.

You'd heard a lot about this Spencer Reid since you'd become close with the girls at the table, and honestly, you were happy that JJ deemed you good enough for their Spencer.

From the sounds of it, all three of them nagged at him like elder sisters who found him endearingly annoying, and were fiercely protective of him. It made you curious.

“Are you seeing anyone, Y/N?” Emily asked, finally lifting her head up slightly, but in a way that made it look like it weighed 500 lbs more than usual.

“I'm not.”

“Why? You're smoking. Half the men in here have been circling your like sharks for the hour you've been here.” You laughed at that and pushed a bottle of water in Emily's direction again, encouraging her to take small sips of water.

“I'm being serious! I may be drunk beyond belief but this is a sober thought.”

“Emily, I love you, but none of these men are interested in me. I'm practically a spinster. I'm 27, I have no money and no prospects, yada yada, already a burden to my parents.”

“That was something nerdy, I know that was something nerdy, my Spencie Senses are tingling,” she quipped.

And as if right on cue, a quiet voice popped up from behind you and all the hairs on your neck stood on edge as it happened.

“It's a quote from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie, so it's not really all that nerdy, Emily.” You turned, slightly startled in your seat as you finally met the elusive Doctor Spencer Reid.

“SPENCE!” JJ cheered, and the other girls similarly whooped at his entrance. They were overjoyed, but you were slightly overwhelmed, because not once in their descriptions of Spencer Reid had they ever told you that he was quite possibly one of the hottest men to ever grace this good Earth.

His hair was slightly curly, a mess of waves flopping into his eyes, but shorter on the sides, highlighting his sculpted jaw. He was tall, on the lean side and craning your neck to look up at him was a happy experience to say the least.

He greeted his friends and looked down to you, and you felt all the blood suddenly rush to your brain when your eyes locked. Dear God.

“Spencer, this is Y/N, my wonderful, gorgeous, single and attractive friend. Say hello, Spencer.”

“Hello,” he gladly followed the instructions Penelope gave him, and you practically giggled at the sound of his voice. Giggled.

“Hello. I'm the wonderful, gorgeous, attractive Y/N,” you waved at him slightly, but your brain wouldn't stop thumping around as you enjoyed the sight of the man.

“Penelope actually told me about you before. You're working at the indie bookstore near Café Density, right? Castle Books? I got a first edition of T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats there a few months ago.”

“You!” You gasped the word, as a garage of words fell from your mouth in a stream. “You bastard, I was saving for months to buy that thing, and three days before my paycheck I turn up and it was gone! Oh my god, how does it smell? Are the pages mustard yellow or still A little white? They never let me touch it because I almost burst into tears every time I got close.”

To your astonishment, he didn't recoil from your spitfire speech, but laughed happily.

“It's great, the illustrations are amazing. I didn't know someone else had their eye on it when I went in, I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for finding treasure. You'd be a horrible pirate if you did that.” You brain really wasn't connected with your mouth anymore and you resisted the urge to turn and bolt away from the discussion.

“Thank you? I'm not a pirate, but I think that was a compliment.”

“See, nerds made in heaven, JJ was right.” The panic built up again slightly and you were sure your brain was going to explode with all the heat that was flooding to your face.

“What's JJ right about?” Reid inquired, and you almost grasped your chest to stop your heart from beating out of it when he cocked his head to the side.

You hadn't had a lick of alcohol the entire night, and yet you're entire body was reacting like it was drunk on Spencer Reid.

“Oh just that you and Y/N here would make beautiful-”

“BEAUTIFUL CONVERSATIONS HAPPEN.” You quickly cut Penelope off, sending her a warning look that was less subtle than just straight up telling her to shut her mouth.

“Can we go now?” Emily dropped her head to the table again as she threw out the words, looking suddenly three shades greener than she was a moment before. “I think that last shot was the drink that broke the camel's liver, and I'm the camel.”

You passed her the water again and slowly started to help your friends gently gather their things, noticing that Spencer was doing the same.

No wonder these girls were so protective of him if this is how well he treats them. He was their coworker, but he would have absolutely been confused for a filial son for any of the three women as he helped them each.

“Where do you live, Y/N?” He asked casually as you both helped the women out of the bar and into the fresh air. “My car is a bit small, but we can throw these three in the back together and they'll mostly sleep until they get back to their homes.”

“Oh no, you don't have to do that, I can go by myself-”

“I can't let a drunk woman go home by herself, Penelope would give me hell in the morning.” This earned a few giggles from the women beside you. You thought you heard Emily mumbling “some profiler he is,” under her breath as well.

You hesitated. You should've been explaining that you hadn't had anything to drink yet, that you actually drove here yourself and that your car was likely parked right by his. You should've offered to take at least one woman off his hands for the night to share the burden of making sure your friends didn't die.

But it was true that each of the women was likely to completely pass out when they got into the car, like newborns being rocked to sleep by their mothers. And that left Spencer Reid free for conversation.

“Thank you, that would be really nice, actually,” you smiled and followed the man to his car, lugging your wonderfully buzzed friends behind you.

[ladykailitha]

Staking My Claim Part 3

Hey, guys! We're back!

Part 1 Part 2

We finally get the lowdown on what happened. Otherwise known as don't mess with Jeff.

Robin freaks out.

And Gareth is loaded. Or at least his parents are. ;)

I'm also going to try tagging the untaggables separate and see if you can't get you lovelies tagged.

@redfreckledwolf, @mira-jadeamethyst, @itsall-taken, @emly03, @rozzieroos

***

He hurried over to the phone and called Family Video.

“Hello, thank you for calling Family Video,” the soft female voice said. “How can I help you?”

“Robin!” he cried again. “I’m so sorry!”

“Steve!” Robin shrieked. “Where have you been? Are you okay? You’re not in the hospital or jail are you? What happened?”

“I’m not in jail or the hospital,” he assured her. Eddie huffed out a laugh. He whirled around to stick his tongue out at him. “I’m okay. I’m still in Indy. I just landed at some friendly metalheads’ apartment.”

“Wait...” Robin said. “Those friendly metalheads wouldn’t happen to include one Eddie Munson, would it?”

Steve looked over at said metalhead and turned away to hide his blush. “Maybe,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Hell yeah!” she crowed. “Now tell me what happened now!”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Um...to be honest...I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what happened last night. Like I remember bits and pieces, but it all kinda blurs together.”

Eddie walked over and pointed to the phone. “May I?”

Steve nodded and hand it to him.

“Robin?” Eddie asked. “This is Eddie Munson.”

“Hello, Eddie,” she said coolly. “Would you like to explain why my best friend isn’t, I don’t know, home?”

“I would love you to tell you that story if it’s okay with Steve finding out by me telling you?” Eddie questioned, looking over at Steve.

He shrugged and waved his hand for him to go ahead.

“He’s says it’s fine,” Eddie said.

“Noted,” Robin said. “Now spill.”

So Eddie did. He told her about the sleazeball at the bar who wouldn’t take no for an answer. About his daring rescue of pretending to be his boyfriend.

Steve blushed when he heard Robin go, “Awww,” at that.

Eddie grinned at him. Then he launched into the actual fucking rescue. It turned out that Mr. Persistent bumped into Steve to lace his drink with a drug to knock him out.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “He did what now?”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah...it was this whole thing. Jeff even got to punch the guy in the nose. I think the bartender has a crush on him now.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. The bartender was a thirty something Asian dude with tattoos and piercings. But he supposed it made sense, considering the bar’s general attitude toward that specific portion of the population.

“At least he’ll get free drinks for life, right?” Robin said with a chuckle.

“That’s certainly one way to look at it,” Eddie agreed. “So yeah, this dude bumps into Steve and suddenly our friend is getting tipsy, fast. And I’ve been at many a rager to ply my wares, there was no way Keg King Steve was drunk after two beers, a margarita, and a half of a Cosmo.” The half a Cosmo was from sharing with Gareth.

Steve blushed. He wasn’t proud of those wild days in high school, but it probably saved his life in this case.

“Yeah...” Robin agreed. “I’ve seen him drink men under the table who were bigger and had been drinking longer.”

Eddie nodded even though she couldn’t seen him, but Steve could.

“Then the asshole comes over and starts flirting with Steve again, trying to draw him away,” he continued. “That’s when we really got that Steve wasn’t acting normal. So Brian steps in and tells asshole to leave him alone. But this guy has gone past persistent and into full creep territory.”

“Eww...” Robin hissed. “How did Jeff get his punch in?”

Eddie chuckled. “That’s honestly the best part, so Brian and Gareth take Steve out to my van and I go and get the bouncer. We come back and asshole is trying to get past Jeff to make his escape. So he takes a swing at Jeffy.”

“Bad idea, I’m guessing?” she said with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Steve tilted his head in interest and Eddie fought down a smile.

“Jeff’s dad is a former boxer who taught him how to fight to make the bullies leave him alone.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and Robin said, “Oooh. Please tell me he laid this asshole out! Please!”

“Dude stiffened like a board and went straight down,” Eddie confirmed. “The only downside is that they couldn’t prove anything, so he just got tossed out, but make no mistake, they’ll make sure spread the word around the other gay bars about this guy.”

“That’s good,” Robin agreed.

Steve wandered back over to his food, safe in the knowledge that he was in safe hands.

Jeff and Brian were at the counter grabbing their breakfast so Steve joined them. Coffee was was doled out by Eddie a few moments later.

Creamer, milk, and sugar were placed next to the coffee pot.

“Robin says not worry about coming into work,” Eddie murmured to Steve. “She said she would tell Keith you have the stomach flu. Which according to her will get you at least three days off.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Brian said. “I don’t think there is anything I could tell my boss short of being in the hospital that would get me even a couple of hours off.”

Steve laughed. “Keith has a weak stomach. You just mention vomiting and the dude turns green.”

“Handy that,” Eddie said with a smile.

“It’s very handy when you’re out drinking and drink too much,” Steve said with a shrug.

“I’ll say,” Jeff said. “I’m just glad we were there, man.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, me too.”

He dug into his food and was happy to note that while it didn’t necessarily ease the queasiness in his stomach, it didn’t make him want to throw it all back up, either.

He cleared his plate.

“So this is what’s going to happen, Stevie,” Eddie said as he cleaned up the pans from breakfast, “you are going to stay here until I am sure one hundred percent that you won’t throw up on the three hour journey back to Hawkins.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t. Right now nothing was coming up, but put him in a moving vehicle and he couldn’t say for sure that breakfast wouldn’t come right back up.

He nodded.

“I gave Robin the address so she’ll be stopping by after she gets off work,” Eddie continued. “I recommend that you get so actual rest, she seems like she’s a lot without her worrying about you, I can only imagine what she’s like when she is.”

Steve blushed.

“We’re going to all stay here,” Gareth said. “At least for one more day. I talked to my mom about it and she would rather pay more for utilities this month then worry about Steve getting worse.”

The other boys nodded their agreement, while Steve blinked at him in confusion.

“What now?”

“You do realize I live in Loch Nora, right?” Gareth asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. “My parents were very much exclusionists, dude. I only got to hang out with people that they deemed acceptable. Nicole, Carol, Tommy H. If they thought they weren’t in the right trade or held more liberal views, they weren’t worthy to interact with their son.”

Gareth blinked. “Fuck, that must have been lonely.”

He ducked his head and half shrugged.

“Anyway,” Gareth continued into the now deafening silence. “They pay for this apartment in the city for when we play gigs or need a place to crash after a night of drinking.”

Steve frowned. “You’re not eighteen yet, though, right?”

“No,” Gareth said with a laugh. “But my parents trust these guys to keep me safe.”

Steve thought about Dustin and his mom. That despite all the things that Steve had gotten up to in his high school career that she still trusted him to take care of her baby.

“Yeah,” he said fondly. “I can see that.”

Eddie came over to the other side of the counter. “Come on, up you get. You’ll be sleeping in my room.”

Steve���s eyes widened. “How many rooms does this place have?”

“Three,” Jeff said. “Brian shares with Gareth, but Eddie and I get our own rooms.”

“That’s because you’re both sluts,” Brian said rolling his eyes, “and me and Gareth don’t want to be kicked out of our rooms when you bring someone home.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

“I’ll give you the tour when I steer you back to my room,” Eddie promised.

Steve nodded and allowed himself to be lead back through the apartment and back to the bedroom.

Eddie tucked him back in and put a garbage can next to the bed. “I’ll be out in the front room, holler if you need me.”

Steve nodded and let himself drift off to sleep.

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Yeah, I'm sorry, I doubt even a middle class family would buy their very young son (if we hold to the belief that Gareth is OG drummer and was in the talent show with Eddie and Chrissy, putting Eddie in 8th grade, Chrissy in 6th, that would make Gareth in 5th grade) a drum kit.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @lololol-1234 @r0binscript @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @live-the-fangirl-life @f0xxyb0xxes @lublix @breealtair @croatoan-like-its-hot @confuseddisastertm @dissociatingdemon @sleepdeprivedflower @thedragonsaunt @jamieweasley13 @hellfireone @dragonmama76

[chosotallgf]

DOUBLE IDENTITY #2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

🔙 previous chapter Next chapter🔜

SYNOPSIS y/n is a third year college student who is about to intern for the top business company in Japan in a week, what happens when she unknowingly cross paths with her future boss not knowing he's hiding a secret.

WARNINGS mafiaboss toji x fém!reader, geto x fém! reader, alcohol, moderate au, sexual activity, criminal activity & behavior, naoya is his own warning, angst & fluff (not really lol) not proof read

p.s my work is only on A03 & tumblr!

Fast forward arriving at the club, shoko usually gets us in faster by talking to the bouncer. So happen she found out he was the guy she fake flirts with at the gym she ‘occasionally’ goes to. She said he landed a job here not so long ago, that he needed the extra money and was helping out a friend. Finally stepping into the club it was pack as hell no wonder utahime wanted to get here as soon as possible.

This is one of the main popular clubs in the city, surprisingly it’s not just made up of college students in the area but locals come here as often too. As i squeeze through the crowd trying to keep up with my girls I can feel the loud bass of the club music in my chest. turning around shoko grabs my hand “come on I hear the the DJ is playing lots American of music tonight” she said while smiling. I haven’t listen too much to American music in my life time but if I had to pick it would be ‘Les’ by childish Gambino to be played at least once.

Reaching the other side of the club where the bar is utahime puts in a few orders of drinks than shoko, we usually always order something stronger each time we come here. not paying attention to what she was saying I happen to look down at the bartender hands, oddly his knuckles were bruise and you could tell they had been bloody by how dark they were from his pale skin but I guess that’s what happen when you work at a popular club with crazy drunks who don’t care. snapping out of my glaze when he clears his throat and utter “and what would you like ma’am?”

Now Looking up at his face trying to get out of my head “um can I have 3 margaritas and 1 rum coke pls?” I rely but soon enough utahime & shoko look at my funny they both know I have a low tolerance when it comes to drinking but I still do it anyways.

“What?” I question them “aren’t we suppose to have fun tonight like we planned, so I say fuck it” utahime smiles wides “you sure? You know you can just start off-“ but she gets cut off by the bartender guy “if she wants to have that much to drink let her life short” I nodded in agreement with him “see? nothing wrong that’s tomorrow me problem” “fine but don’t call us when you feel miserable from a hangover” utahime mumbles. “You should go find us a free section, we will bring the drinks out and find you” shoko slaps my shoulder from behind.

Off and further from where I left, I can’t find a free section maybe ‘maybe I should try the other side this club is huge tho’. Not looking forward I bump straight in to the chest of a man? I tumble backward but luckily before I could fall he catches my back. Now we are super close chest to chest i get a clear vision of his face despite the all black hoodie he’s wearing. dark dead eyes with a noticeable cut on one side of his lip. He’s staring back into my eyes This feeling of closeness is getting intimidating I wonder if he realizes his hands are clutching more firm on my lower back. I start to panic

“Omg I’m so sorry” I can feel heat in my face now. I can tell he was lost in thought too because as soon as I said that he quickly turned his face and pulls his hoodie down over his eyes and let’s go making me find my balance again. “Pay attention next time” he speaks in an aggressive but low tone. “I know I know I was just looking for a sect-“ he cuts and moves me out his way saying “tch, whatever” he mumbles as he walks to the private section area. how fucking rude I think.

Im surprise the club didn’t kick him out for being suspicious with a hoodie on in here, they honestly should after that. next think I know shoko is now in front of me yelling over the loud music clearly trispy “y/n stop standing around and come over here we found a spot” shoko starts pulling me along with her.

I get to our own section i assume but see two guys, both of them I recognize as utahime and shoko childhood friends. “since you couldn’t do a simple task I had to ask this dickhead here to let us sit” “you should be lucky, I wasn’t even planning on being here tonight, my usual dealer been Mia and I need stuff for next Thursday party” he wines.

“Anyways let’s get to drinking we’re wasting time” I grab and drowned the 2 cups of margaritas “well someone is in a hurry” I hear the other guy next to gojo say “I’m suguru geto” he reaches his hand out to me to shake. I do the same “I’m y/n and yeah I just wanna let loose tonight” his hands are so soft and firm I wonder if his long hair feels the same. “No judgement here me and satoru are about to do the same” “sooo shall we finally get started or what?” shoko utter as smoke leaves her mouth.

author note ~ if you are seeing this when it’s first posted I will post chapter 3 later on during the day it’s 5am rn for me and I can’t sleep lol. if you wanna be tagged in that just lmk :) 9/8/24

likes and reblog are appreciated

[milkyboiiiii]

Hi I’m new to your blog but I loved what I’ve read so far.

I was wondering if I could request how the Haitani brothers, Mitsuya , and Mikey would react if they caught you singing this song randomly

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT886LYLC/

Please and thank you 🩶🩵

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚!

A little suggestive in Rindou's and Mikey's is just really stupid

(Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Takashi Mitsuya, Manjiro "Mikey" Sano)

Rindou Haitani

He just stood there with a blank face looking at you like :| Meanwhile, you have yet to notice him standing there. So you keep singing and dancing to the song. It wasn't until he had cleared his throat that you saw he was there. As soon as you made eye contact with him, your face became flushed. Rindou smirked at you "Margaritas, huh?" You're completely embarrassed now. You barely manage to stammer out an answer "Y-yeah" Rindou walks over to the kitchen and grabs a few things from the liquor cabinet. Walking not too far behind, you question what he was doing. He replied simply "I'm making you a margarita babe" with a teasing tone and a wink.

Ran Haitani

Ran heard you blasting the music from your shared living room as you sang along. So he decided to take a break from whatever he was doing and join in! That's how you two ended up here, dancing like drunken idiots in your living room. Now you also have a video of Ran singing and dancing to the song. He did it better and more over the top than any tik tok you've seen so far, you might post it later or at least send it to Rindou.

Takashi Mitsuya

Mistuya walked into the house as you were playing the song. His cheeks were tinted red as he chuckled "I didn't know that you get that way after margaritas, love" He walks up behind you and hugs you from behind, his arms wrapped around your waist. You jumped a little startled as he holds you in his embrace. "Taka it's just a song" he lightly places kisses on your cheek down to your neck, tickling you slightly and causing you to laugh. " I think I'll still make you two, just in case it isn't just a song like you said" he winks letting you free from his embrace as he walks over to your home bar. "So love, how do you like your margaritas? Frozen or on the rocks?"

Manjiro "Mikey" Sano

Mikey is another one that will join in and dance! Unlike Ran, Mikey has no rhythm and cannot dance for the life of him. He tries and shakes his ass but there's a problem. That problem is he doesn't have an ass he sucks at it, comedically so. He's got his hands on his knees and he's using too much back, and what makes it even better is he seems so confident in himself. You start laughing which gets him upset and pouty in typical Mikey fashion "Y/nnnnn! Quit laughing! You're just jealous of my moves" he says with a little pout. You keep giggling "Yes Mikey, I am"

(You try and get a video to show Emma later)

[husbandhoshi]

[5:00 PM]

lee chan never misses a beat.

one of your favorite things to do is watch him. the cocktail shaker turns to liquid gold in his hands, and no matter what terrible remix the dj decides to play for the night, you can never miss the hum of one of his perfect pours.

if you weren't competing for tips, you might say you had a bit of a thing for him.

but who doesn't? on weekends, the music is loud, and you think the easiest place to fall in love is here, at a college bar where vodka runs like water and you can't hear the sound of your own better judgment. truly, it's just a bonus that its star bartender wears the hell out of a button-up.

it's the slow hour, or, as mingyu likes to call it, free money, since all he does in the kitchen is throw shots while frying off the leftover mozzarella sticks before the friday night rush. the bar is empty, and the minutes pass like honey. usually, you prep your station and punt half-baked insults at chan, who isn't above returning the favor.

but today seems different. you watch him fumble with the strainer as he finishes up a mojito, seemingly in slow motion. he's already had to do a few remakes, and you can't remember the last time that's happened.

"think fast."

you toss chan an empty glass, which he nearly drops.

"sheesh," he grumbles. "trying to take my head off and it's not even 7 yet."

"sorry." you grin, and you watch him fight down his dimples as they fold up in return. "you were in a staring match with that poor girl's margarita."

"horrible week." he runs a hand through his hair. "i think i need a drink more than anyone else."

"boo hoo. wipe your tears with your tip money."

chan rolls his eyes at you, and you prepare to double down before it occurs to you that you couldn't keep teasing him even if you wanted to.

the only thing you know about him is, one, that he's old enough for this job, and, two, that he goes to your university. you've tried to guess what he's studying before, but nothing seems quite right—he's too practical for the humanities and not quite miserable enough to be in the sciences. last week, you saw him count a handful of change at least four times, so math was off the table.

regardless, it feels wrong to see chan, seemingly impenetrable to the perils of academia, winded by a bad week at school.

before you can say anything, the lone couple on chan's end of the bar flags him down and orders two off-menu cocktails with a million modifications. you watch the defeat write itself all over his face as he trudges over to you, and you decide it's time for an intervention.

"you," you say, pressing a finger to his chest. "sit. no questions."

chan frowns but acquiesces—he's learned the hard way not to cross you. instead, he takes a seat on the other side of the bartop and watches you make the drinks instead. you've run through these steps too many times to count; everything from the waxy twist of the orange peel to the bell-toll of the stirring spoon is second nature, except now it's also decidedly not. chan's gaze is surprisingly warm and it bothers you.

you slide the two drinks down and put a third in front of your weary coworker, who looks more and more confused by the second.

"drink," you tell him. it's a pint of beer, namely his favorite brand, although you'd rather die than reveal that it is not, in fact, a coincidence that you know this.

he first looks confused, then relieved. then he has the gall to smile at you, and you almost choke on your own heartbeat.

"are you trying to get me too drunk for my shift so you can poach my tips?" he raises an eyebrow before his expression disappears under the lip of the glass. "or is this a set-up? so you can report me for drinking on the job?"

"no and no, although those are good ideas." you bite the inside of your cheek as you piece together what you want to say—honestly, you didn't think you'd get this far. "what class?"

"what?"

you busy yourself with washing the two and a half glasses in the sink so that you don't have to maintain eye contact with him.

"you heard me."

"education studies," he sighs. "we had a three part midterm this week."

"education studies? you want to be a teacher?"

"is that a bad thing?"

no, it isn't. actually, it's the furthest thing from being bad—you picture chan in a too-big cardigan reading the very hungry caterpillar to a room of small children, and it genuinely makes you feel a little bit hungover.

"no, i just..." you search for your next jab at him, but it escapes you. "i didn't expect it, that's all. it...suits you."

"you're an art major, right?"

he says this as you're in the middle of rinsing the same glass for the third time, and you almost break it. "—how'd you know?"

"you always leave your sketchbook in the break room. you're really good, you know." then he holds up his hands like he's being mugged. "n-not that i snooped or anything. you just forget it sometimes, so i try to put it back in your bag after shift if i see it out."

suddenly things make a lot more sense. you've lost track of the times you've walked back to the bar after work thinking you forgot it, only to find it neatly tucked away in your backpack. the mental image of chan agonizing over whether or not to touch your stuff would make you laugh if it wasn't so endearing.

it makes you think about all the other small kindnesses you've allowed each other—the nights where he'd lend you his jacket if the air was cranked too high, or the times you'd cover for him when he'd show up late. or now, with this stupid pint glass you keep refilling and the floaty feeling in your head.

you look up from your nonexistent task to look at him, only to find that he's also looking at you, that he's been looking at you. something in your chest feels like it's being steamrolled, and if you weren't so concerned with swallowing down the heat in your cheeks, you'd notice that he was doing the same.

thankfully, mingyu emerges from the kitchen to ruin the moment. he has nachos in one hand and curly fries in the other, which is, in your opinion, the only acceptable way to do so.

"finally," he says, clapping chan on the back. "you guys have stopped ogling each other and started actually talking!"

your stomach drops, and you think you and chan actually gasp in unison, like you're in a cartoon. mingyu cackles. this is going to be a long night.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 15!!!

Okay, this is gonna be a long one, but I promise it's important. There was just a lot that I had to get in here. Also we had our first ever tie! So I chose between the two. Alright, let's do this. Enjoy!

Beginning || Previous || Next

*******************

The bar in question is rowdy and rustic. The crowd that has already gathered is loud, probably drunk, and honestly makes you wish you had some anxiety meds with you or something because the button in your pocket is a single thread holding you together when you could really do with a rope. You look over to Aziraphale, who’s grimacing at the scene. Oh good, so you’re not the only one who isn’t a fan of this place. You notice Crowley studying the bar – no doubt trying to get a sense for their selection.

“Over there,” Anathema shouts over the noise. You follow her pointing arm to see Sardis, already at a table and waving you over. Well, at least you definitely have a space to sit. That’s something.

The four of you approach Sardis who waves you into the seats around him with an enormous smile.

“Welcome!” He says grandly, “To my favourite place this side of town.”

“Your favourite place,” You repeat with skepticism, “Is a dive bar?”

“Oh not just any dive bar Little Moth,” Sardis winks as he speaks, “The best karaoke bar this side of the bayou. Personal opinion, of course. But I am an angel after all so feel free to take that as gospel.” He laughs loudly at his own joke. You chuckle uncertainly. Aziraphale shakes his head. Anathema rolls her eyes. Crowley looks like he could vomit. Basically, Sardis is the only one amused. Once he finally stops laughing, he looks around at you. “Such sour faces, my friends. But of course you have, I’ve forgotten my manners! Let me get you some drinks before the festivities start.”

“The festivities?” asks Aziraphale, “I’m sure you don’t mean...”

“The karaoke, of course!” Sardis smiles before leaving the table with a wink. “Be back in a sec!”

“I am not singing,” Crowley states firmly.

“Nor am I,” Aziraphale frowns.

“We may need to consider it,” Anathema says after a pause, “He has information that we need, and we may have to play his game to get it.”

“I mean, I don’t exactly…dislike him...but he's weird,” You, the dimensional traveler, observe.

“Oh absolutely weird,” agrees the witch.

“A very weird one indeed, yes,” affirms the angel of the Eastern Gate.

“Weird as all fuck,” confirms the demon.

Sardis returns carrying a tray with five drinks and lays it proudly on the table in front of them.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I took my best guess,” Sardis announces as he hands around the drinks, “Sherry for the angel, whiskey for the demon, margarita for the witch, and I played it safe and got you a sangria.” He lays the alcohol in front of each of you. You take a sip and holy crow is it ever delicious. “’S that good, Little Moth?” Sardis asks you as he takes his own seat. You nod, and his smile grows. “Good, glad to hear it.”

“Thank you kindly, Sardis,” Aziraphale ventures, taking a sip of his sherry, “Now, perhaps would you mind telling us what you know?”

Sardis laughs again. He laughs a lot, you notice. Probably having the time of his life with all of this.

“What I know is that I’m not saying anything about Jesus until you sign up and sing me a song.”

Honestly, you need to take a deep breath at that. The irritation is building. First he wouldn’t say anything until you came here, and now he won’t say anything until you sing for him. He keeps changing the goal posts on you. Anathema had said you might need to play his game to get information from him, but you honestly didn’t think it would feel so...condescending.

Anathema’s phone suddenly starts ringing. She pulls it out of her pocket, and you briefly notice the What’s App logo and Newt’s face lighting up the screen. After a brief apology, she excuses herself from the table and leaves the bar. Well. Lucky her. You sigh and stand.

“Yeah okay fine, I’ll be right back.”

“Where’re you going?” Crowley asks. His question has bite, but you’re sure it isn’t anger – he just doesn’t want everyone to end up leaving him with Sardis.

“I’m going to sign up,” You say, “Sing a song. Karaoke, right?” You look at Sardis, who nods appreciatively.

“There now! Little Moth gets it!”

Crowley and Aziraphale both gawk at you, but you’re already turning and beelining for the sign-up table.

Now here, dear Reader, let’s take a moment to talk about the Anxiety Loophole. In ordinary circumstances, you’d be lucky to talk to a crowd and sound normal about it (not to mention the possibility of nausea and such), but the Anxiety Loophole is a magical and gracious thing. In a situation where there is something that must be done, and everyone around you is too scared or embarrassed or anxious themselves to do it, suddenly it becomes possible for you. You may never dream of asking for your food to be sent back at a restaurant, but if your friend needs more ketchup and is too nervous to ask for it, you will put the chef in a headlock if you have to in order to get it for them. Or, say, if an angel and a demon have expressly stated their discomfort with singing in public, and another angel with vital information demands a performance before telling you said information, signing up for karaoke suddenly seems like a piece of cake. Besides, you figure, most of the people in the room are drunk. So you pick something easy, something loud, something most people here probably know already. That way, they’ll do most of the work for you, and then you’re singing with them, instead of for them. Are you a genius? Yes, yes you are. Take the praise, Reader, you’re going to want that confidence in a few minutes.

You return to the table, having put your name and song on the list, and take a seat (and a very large sip of your sangria).

“There,” You declare, “Now how about we talk about Jesus while we wait for my name to be called.”

“You’re not actually serious about this,” Crowley asks. You look to Sardis.

“I am if he is.”

Sardis’ eyes widen in surprise before he smiles again. “Oh, I most definitely like you, Little Moth.” He leans his chin on his hands. “Tell me, what has Metatron had to say about you?”

Oh good. You’re actually getting somewhere.

“Nothing good,” You admit with a frown, “He tried to turn me into salt once, and then trapped me in a bathroom and tried to manipulate me.”

Sardis hums and nods in affirmation. Then he turns to Crowley and Aziraphale.

“And tell me, what have the two of you done about that?” he asks them. The both of them practically jump in surprise.

“W-well,” Aziraphale starts and stops.

“Ngggk,” says Crowley.

“Well you see, it’s a bit more complicated than…”

“So nothing then,” Sardis concludes.

“Wait,” You say, “That’s not fair.”

“Have you given Little Moth any way to defend or protect themselves?”

“They don’t need to!” You all but shout, “They’re with me basically all the time!”

But Sardis doesn’t seem to hear you. He stares at the celestials with an offended glare. Neither Aziraphale or Crowley seem to know what to make of it, but he doesn’t give them much of a chance to before he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a card, and hands it to you. You take it from him, worried that if you don’t he might get upset with Aziraphale and Crowley and really it’s the Metatron’s fault, not theirs. Put the blame in the right place. Your hands are starting to shake a little as you look at the card.

“Oh!” You exclaim, relaxing a little. Actually it’s not all that bad. It’s a punch card of sorts. It reminds you a little bit of Furfur’s card from the 1941 minisode, but instead of being a Miracle Blocker, it’s a Miracle Enabler numbered 1 to 12. You notice that each number is perforated – meant to be torn off so that you don’t need to carry around a hole punch. Clever, actually. You show it to Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Oh my,” says Aziraphale, “That really is clever. I’m rather embarrassed to admit that the idea never came to me.”

“Huh,” Crowley adds, helpfully.

“Yeah,” says Sardis, “You probably never had to think about things like, what if they ever turn off your miracles Up There. Probably helps that your only mention in the Bible isn’t about how shit you are.”

You look at the card thoughtfully for a minute. You think about all the genie questions you’ve seen online.

“Go on, Little Moth,” Sardis coos gently, “Try it out.”

You glance at him and then back at the card. Well he’s not giving you any hints about how this thing works, so probably best to just follow your instincts. After taking a second to think, you rip off the number 1 and make a wish.

The number has disappeared from your fingers and reappeared attached to the card.

“Oop,” Sardis says, “Looks like that didn’t go through. What were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to make it so that I could do miracles without the card.”

Sardis starts to laugh. “Oh you have a clever mind! I like the way you think!” His laughter continues for a moment before he calms himself, though you notice it takes him some time. Then he shakes his head.

“Listen,” he says to you, “Humans just can’t do miracles. For you to be able to do them without the card, you would have to change your entire species. And this little thing just isn’t built for that sort of miracle. Try again, something smaller this time.”

Your brow furrows in concentration as you stare back at the card. Something reasonable that wouldn’t need a big change in order to work. Oh, wait a minute. You rip off the number 1, and make a wish. Suddenly, you notice that you are holding a second Miracle Enabler, full up.

“There you go, Little Moth,” Sardis sighs approvingly, “Now that’s how you do it!” The first card goes in a place you can easily reach – your jeans pocket, perhaps. The second one you fold up and place in your sock. For emergencies.

“What did you mean about your mention in the Bible?” Aziraphale ventures, apparently sensing that he isn’t in trouble anymore. Sardis raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you read Revelation?” he asks.

“Well yes, of course,” Aziraphale replies, “But I don’t recall it saying you were...well...bad.”

“Shit, Angel,” corrects Crowley, “He said it calls him shit.”

“I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead,” Sardis quotes, “Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your deeds complete in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you received and heard; obey it, and repent.” He shakes his head. “Does that sound like a glowing report to you? No, see, I invited that asshat John over for brunch one time, okay? ONE. He gets the runs, blames it on the bacon. Next thing I know, I’m getting hate mail, supposedly from Jesus, with passive aggressive notes about people who haven’t soiled their clothes. Yeah, no, I know exactly whose message that was.” He huffs angrily and sips his drink.

“So….” You interject cautiously, “You stayed down here because...oh, because Heaven endorsed it?”

“Enthusiastically,” he confirms, “I’m just a minor angel – ha, barely that. More of a guardian. They don’t care about me as much as the message.”

You nod, Gabriel’s trial coming to mind. It’s all about the message.

“We know all about that,” You say gently, “They threatened to erase Aziraphale’s name from the Book of Life. Well, anyone really, who uh, helped Gabriel escape judgment.” Sardis raises an eyebrow at that.

“Oh yeah? What did that bureaucratic ass do?”

“He fell in love with Beelzebub and said ‘Nah’ to Armageddon Part 2.”

“Psh, oh yeah, that’ll do it,” Sardis says, taking another sip, “Not that any of them could erase anyone. Not really. You need to know someone’s true name for that.”

“Hold up,” says Crowley, “The Book of Life isn’t actually real?”

“Oh, it is,” says Sardis, “I know it for a fact. You see, one of the things of being an Original Angel of the Church,” he says the title mockingly, you notice, “is that you end up with a gift. Something to give the worthy when they ascend. Mine happens to be knowing everyone’s true name.”

“Wait a minute, wait,” You say, “That’s...that’s...”

“I know,” Sardis says, “Look, it’s like this. Most books that you read, the words are 2-dimensional, right? The Book of Life sort of has more than 2 dimensions to it. And it records everything. Now look,” he takes a packet of coarse sugar, “This is a soul,” he opens it and pours the chunks onto the table, “Each soul can be different people throughout its existence, and the Book, for accuracy purposes, records your name in whatever life you're living,” he picks up one crystal, “on the first dimension,” he places it on top of the paper pouch, “and your true name on the dimensions that lie underneath.” He sits up triumphantly. “So before you can actually erase anyone you need to know their true name, and before you know that, you need to know how to read the Book, and before that you need the gift to be able to perceive the different dimensions.”

“Which you have,” Crowley concludes. Sardis nods.

“Which I have, yes. Unfortunately, I also have the misfortune of never being able to be anywhere near the Book of Life. So I’m basically the angelic equivalent of a dolphin who knows all the secrets of Super Mario. I know it, but fat lot of good it does me. Or will ever, for that matter.”

You’re about to say something else, but your name gets called to the stage.

Oh. Oh right.

Oh shit.

You walk up to the stage and take the microphone uncertainly as the intro music for Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off starts to play. You chose it because you know some of the actions to it and I mean, the lyrics are so simple that you’re hoping the drunk crowd will start singing along with you.

“I stay out too late,

Got nothing in my brain,

At least that’s what people say,

That’s what people say,”

A random drunk person in the back cheers.

“But I keep cruisin’

Can’t stop won’t stop movin’

It’s like I got this music in my mind sayin’

It’s gonna be alright”

The entire bar claps three times. Oh wow.

Basically, your plan works. They all can’t help but join in for the chorus, and you end up having a lot of fun with it. Their enthusiasm is so validating, and after a minute or two you don’t care if it’s because of the alcohol or if they actually think you’re good. You just sing the song and you have a fabulous time of it. Honestly, it's hard to have a bad time singing and dancing to that song. You forget about saving the world, you forget that Crowley and Aziraphale are watching you, everything just fades away for a few minutes except for the lyrics on the screen in front of you and the energy of the people in the bar. For a few minutes, you’re just having fun, and that’s the most important thing about this, dear Reader.

When the song is over you return to the table. Anathema is finally back, and you notice she’s finished her drink pretty quickly. Good thing you ate before coming. Sardis is clapping for you.

“That was excellent! Great job, Little Moth! Here, have another one on me.” He waves his hand and a second sangria appears IN A FISHBOWL. Oh...Aziraphale and Crowley better cover you later, a hangover while one world-saving duty would suck.

Anathema clears her throat.

“So,” she says, you notice her voice shakes a little. Probably because she downed that drink so fast. “About Jesus.”

“Ah yes,” sighs Sardis, “The prodigal son himself. Well, I will tell you that he is here, though not in this city. Came down in a plane and everything.”

“Ha!” You say, pointing triumphantly, “I told you!”

Sardis chuckles. “Yes, what a day that was. Landed in Los Angeles thirteen years ago.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

“Los Angeles,” says Aziraphale, “Well that’s awfully on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Wait a minute,” You say, “So he’s an adult then, right? Not a baby?” You’re hoping. Your fingers are crossed that maybe he arrived in the states when he was a toddler, or a small kid.

“Oh no, not a baby, but not an adult either,” confirms Sardis.

“Don’t say it,” You beg.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley looks like he’s on alert. Even Anathema looks a little unsure what to make of you.

“Okay actually just say it,” You decide, “How old is he?”

“He’s thirteen.”

“Oh shit,” says Anathema.

“Is he at least one of the nice thirteen year-olds?” You ask hopefully.

“Well,” says Sardis, “He’s definitely white this time, and his family is rich so, what do you think.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale interrupts, “But, ah, what exactly is the problem here?”

When, dear Reader, was the last time you were around a 13-year-old boy? The age when they are all about proving how masculine they are, the age when they like to play rough in places where they really shouldn’t be playing rough, be mean for no reason other than because it makes them feel like a badass, jump and hoot and holler and laugh at anyone with sense because they get a kick out of adults getting angry with them. There is no force more annoying or enraging than a 13 year old, of any gender. But now add privileged and spoiled to that and you have a force to be reckoned with. You briefly relay this to Aziraphale.

“So,” You conclude, “The person who we need to convince to save the world, the person who needs to take this seriously or everyone dies terribly, the person who we need to care, has all the makings of the one person who is the least likely to care on the entire planet.”

“Ugh,” Anathema groans, “Why did they have to do it like that? I thought Jesus was supposed to be all about the outsiders and being kind to each other and things.”

“Well,” suggests Aziraphale, “I suppose that was probably the first time around. This time, they’re probably a bit less concerned about the, ah, morality of the whole thing, and more concerned about the messiah bit.”

“Right,” Anathema says with a disillusioned sigh, “And the fastest and easiest way for anyone to become a messiah in this world is to be rich, white, and male.”

“Cutting corners, I believe humans would say,” concludes Aziraphale.

Sardis nods, a frown upon his face. The previously cheerful angel isn’t laughing anymore as he raises his glass and says “To the world.”

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[amaretigris]

Dreamy Part 2

Taglist: @hopeisrising @notagreekgal28 @luna2034 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @mylittlemermaid221 @freyagallileaevans @daydreamerwithnohobbies @jonahmermaid23 @jonahhauer-kingg

A/n: I came up with a part two for this. I hope you guys enjoy 😘

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1.8k words | Pure fluff

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"Sorry, sorry."

Jonah set his drink down, and brought his hands back up to placate.

"That was a joke. I don't mean to poke fun though. That was a tense situation."

You wiped the baffled look off your face and smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was trying to play along, and just went with my gut. I made it awkward," you grimaced before you took a long sip through your straw.

Jonah noticed the action. His eyes took on a more serious tone, and he reached his hand over to yours to reassure you.

"Hey, it's totally fine, (Y/N). That creep had you all worked up. There's no need to apologize. Besides, it wasn't awkward. I think we were actually pretty believable."

He gave you a soft smile, and watched as a blush tinted your cheeks. You smiled back, and he withdrew his hand.

"We were, weren't we?"

You knit your brow. He nodded.

"I'm sure we'd get along well. What do you like to do in your free time? I can't imagine it's spending it in places like this."

You lifted your eyes in thought.

"I love going to the movies, but besides that and concerts, I'm pretty much a homebody. What do you like to do?"

"I also like going to the cinema, and reading quite a lot. I spend time with my mates when I can."

You smiled at his response.

"So you don't normally come to places like this either?"

Jonah tipped his head.

"Occasionally. Although I do have to say that this bar is not my favorite. I prefer places where you can have a little quiet, and privacy."

"Yeah, that seems like it'd be a better experience. I don't drink much anyway, though," you shrugged.

Jonah smiled.

"Yeah, I try not to drink much either. It fogs the brain too much."

The two of you continued chatting for a while. Jonah was very polite and kind, but you'd guessed that when he protected you from that lowlife earlier. As you sipped more of your margarita, you felt yourself growing a little bolder.

"What do you do for work? Do you model?"

Jonah laughed at that.

"Part time, believe it or not. I'm trying to break into acting, though."

"Yeah, I could see it," you nodded.

"You're kind of dreamy," you offhandedly mentioned.

Jonah was quite amused. You seemed to be a lightweight, considering that you hadn't even finished your drink earlier before that man ran you off and it got tossed. One margarita was all it took.

"Ah, you can see it? Some people don't believe me."

You blew air out of your mouth and made your lips flap. Jonah had to hold back a chuckle. Pretty and funny.

"They're blind, then. I'm sure you get hit on all the time," you waved your hand in his direction.

Jonah shrugged.

"I'm not sure. In that dress, you could probably get more numbers than me."

You opened your mouth in disbelief, and looked down at your outfit.

"No way," you decided, shaking your head.

Jonah lightly chuckled, but took a second to just look at you. You were beautiful in your blue green dress with your cheeks and chest flushed from the alcohol. Your lips looked especially pouty.

"What do you say we-"

"(Y/N)?"

A foreign voice cut Jonah's question short. You both turned in confusion. Oliver, the guy you were originally supposed to meet, stood before you. You blinked, taking a moment to realize who he was. You sobered up quickly.

"Ah, shit," Jonah heard you whisper to yourself.

"Oliver...," you trailed off.

"Listen, (Y/N). I know I'm over an hour late. I apologize. The tube I was on broke down, and it took forty five minutes to get transferred to a new one. Unfortunately, my phone also died because my battery is shit. I know that I'm so late, but I decided to still come and see if maybe you stuck around."

Jonah looked back to you. Your eyes were saucers. You were processing what he said, and you watched as Oliver nervously pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I think that's my cue to le-"

Jonah started to get up from his stool until you reached your arm out to stop him. Your eyes begged him to stay, and Jonah sat back down. You fixed Oliver with a determined look.

"Oliver, I'm sorry as well. I have to be honest. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I didn't really want to come on this date. Ariel made me. I don't think we'd be anywhere close to compatible."

Oliver's eyes dropped.

"Oh," he sighed.

He took his glasses off.

"Well, if we're being honest, I actually overslept from a nap after work. I didn't want to come either. No offense. I'm interested in Ariel, but she was dead set on setting me up with you. I just wanted to be able to tell her that I tried," he shrugged.

Your eyes found Jonah's again, and the two of you burst out laughing.

"All good then," you waved your hand.

"Thanks, Oliver. I'll put in a good word for you with my sister," you gave him a thumbs up.

Oliver got visibly excited, sliding his glasses back on.

"Really? Thanks, (Y/N). See ya."

He nodded at you and Jonah, and turned to march back through the crowd.

You put your hands over your face and shook your head.

"Well, guess my date didn't go as planned," you started. "It's for the best. I was dreading sitting through another boring one, honestly."

You caught Jonah's amused gaze, and a question came to mind.

"Do you think we meet certain people for a reason?"

Jonah swallowed, and he nodded.

"Yes, I do. I think everyone who comes into our lives teaches us something, whether it's good or bad."

You nodded pensively.

"I think you're right."

You took a deep breath, realizing that your buzz was wearing off. You didn't feel nearly as bubbly.

"Well, I suppose I should get going," you started.

"I'll have to wait for an Uber though."

"Where do you live?"

Jonah quirked his brow.

"I'm not asking to be creepy. We could share one is all."

You laughed. He was sweet.

"I live in Nine Elms," you answered.

"Really?" Jonah asked in disbelief.

"That's where I live. See. We were meant to meet, although I am sorry that it was through such unfortunate circumstances."

"Let me call an Uber," Jonah pulled his phone out.

You smiled. It was nice having someone who was willing to help you out for a change.

"Here," Jonah handed you his phone.

"Type in your address, and I'll add mine after. I won't even look at yours."

You chuckled, looking down at the phone to type it in.

"It's okay, really. Maybe since you live so close, we could hang out again."

You tried to shrug and make it seem like a casual suggestion.

"That is, if you don't get too famous for me," you joked.

Jonah grinned.

"You beat me to it. I was going to suggest the same thing. And trust me, dear, I could never be too famous for you."

At his insinuation, you cleared your throat, and finished typing in your address. You handed Jonah his phone back. He typed his in.

"There," he set his phone down for you to see.

"The Uber gets here in ten minutes."

"Good," you started to yawn.

"I feel like I'm starting to crash."

Jonah nodded, and rubbed your arm.

"Probably so. I'm sure your adrenaline was pumping earlier."

You sighed.

"Yeah, it was. I'm going to run to the restroom before our ride gets here," you pointed.

Jonah nodded again, and watched you get up to leave.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you were thankful that you had actually put extra effort into your hair and makeup tonight. You'd almost decided that it wasn't worth it, but now it was paying off. You combed your fingers through your hair, and noticed that you were flushed. It happened every time you drank. Yawning again, you were trying to perk yourself up for the ride with Jonah, but you were so tired.

Walking back to your seat, you admired Jonah's back. He had wide, strong shoulders. Shaking your head at yourself and your thoughts, you grabbed your purse. Jonah stood when he saw you.

"Hey. Are you ready? I think the Uber is pretty close now."

"Yeah, we can go stand outside," you agreed.

You sighed, and grasped your purse strap. You were mentally preparing yourself to push back through the crowd to the exit. To your surprise, Jonah simply grabbed your hand, and led the way. People actually parted when they saw him. You moved through the crowd with ease. Outside, you took a deep breath of fresh air. Jonah led you to the street corner, and the two of you waited there. Realizing that you were still holding his hand, you decided not to say anything about it.

After about a minute, a car pulled up to the curb. The man rolled down his passenger window to talk to you.

"Jonah?"

"Yep," Jonah nodded.

He stepped forward, and opened the car door for you. You slid into the backseat. When Jonah was settled beside you and the driver took off, you turned to him.

"I'm really tired. I might doze off a little. I'm sorry," you warned him.

Your eyelids felt increasingly heavy. Jonah grabbed your hand in his, and stroked his thumb across it.

"That's okay, love. You can lean on me if you need."

You nodded, leaning into his warmth. You closed your eyes, and sleep overtook you. Jonah smiled to himself as you dozed off. This night may not have gone according to plan for either of you, but he thanked his lucky stars that he was there to protect you from that slob earlier. He hated to think of what could have happened otherwise.

He inhaled the scent of your hair, and examined your hand in his. About fifteen minutes passed, and Jonah had laid his head on top of yours. He watched the city pass by through the window. The driver pulled up to your building and parked much sooner than he would have liked, and Jonah hated to wake you. He delicately brushed your hair away from your face.

"(Y/N), I think we're here."

He couldn't help himself. He kissed the top of your head. You finally stirred.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

You sat up, looking around.

"Is this your building?" The driver asked.

"Yes, thank you," you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You turned to Jonah before you opened the door.

"Listen, I seriously don't know how to thank you for tonight. I hope I see you again."

Jonah gave you a soft smile.

"Real quick, can I have your phone?"

You reached into your purse to grab it out, handing it over. He typed in his number, and called it for one ring for good measure.

"There. Now you have my number, and I have yours."

He handed your phone back to you. You looked down at it. Gathering your courage, you opened the door before turning back to kiss Jonah's cheek. You slid out of the car, and quickly closed the door. Walking up the stairs to your building, you considered yourself lucky. In the backseat of the Uber, Jonah touched his cheek, and considered himself quite lucky, too.

[larsthefishoil]

For the well of knowledge known as "Something something write what you know but you cant know everything so ask someone with experience" - if there's a specific tag for this someone please tell me so I can add it BUT!

are you ever writing a fic with a bartender? And you don't really know how that works? well I work as a barback at a bar so here's some advice!

1- bartenders/barbacks are rarely snarky over drinks or orders. We'll only make fun of you if you're being an ass (and that also depends on the character of the bartender/barback), but if someone orders another round? Great, they're more drunk now so they'll probably tip better. Bartenders and barbacks are pretty much always going to act like either a stoic, focused worker or your best friend; our proficiency of work and ability to make people happy directly affects our take home pay so specifically not being an asshole is important.

2- carding: at my place honestly, we don't card much cause it's more the vibes someone gives and what they're ordering that gives off their age. (like if you look like you're in some vague 20s that one can't put their finger on, but you order a screwdriver, the bartender will absolutely raise their brow at you in suspicion and ask for id.(cause screwdrivers taste foul and only inexperienced drinkers ask for it)) But carding is really important! Realistically, it's just not feasible to handle fixing up five drinks while chatting with a customer and also making sure you ID the guy who looks like he's in his late 20s. There's kind of a split between bars with "won't card" reputations and normal bars full of adults getting off of work to chill. If, by chance, your character is under 21 and is looking for a bar to sneak into without getting carded, it's painfully easy to ask around and people who frequently check out bars will tell you to your face straight up. mostly because these adults are trying to avoid these bars; they are filled with horny, poor, stressed out college students new to drinking, bars without the "won't card" reputation aren't swarmed with kids. (btw always have your id on you its just safer in general)

3- If you've never worked at a place with a liquor license, then just a heads up that we're liable for any death/harm that comes to drunk customers/ people they may hurt under the influence. so if we serve someone too much and they go and get in their car and run someone over, then the worker that physically handed the drinks to the customer could go to jail. that being said, most inebriated people are accompanied by someone who will obviously drive them home, and I've seen some of the guys I work with bring drunks out of the bar to the street and order an uber for them.

4- size, age, sex, and sometimes ethnicity can contribute to how fast someone gets drunk to their ratio of drinks. I one time watched a guy drink 6 margaritas in a row, stand up, and walk out of the bar like he was sober. He absolutely wasn't, but these things are just hard to ping sometimes. Folks from East Asia, for example, have a genetic disposition to not be able to handle hard liquor as much as say, a Russian. Countries like Korea and Japan still have massive drinking problems, but that's a whole other thing. So there's genetics, tolerance, other smaller factors, but the main factor to drinking to drunk ratio is the size of the drinker but I think everyone's aware of that.

TERMS!

that little cap that we shove in the bottles that's metal and silver - quick pour.

small measuring tools with a small 1oz cup connected to a 2oz cup that you can flip over. Used for exact measures when making drinks - jiggers

metal cups we use to shake the drinks - tin

Stick we use to smash mint/fruit rinds to bring out the oils plus other stuff- muddler

(if someone thinks of something else and describes it I can probably name it)

Feel free to ask questions and I'll answer to the best of my ability! <3

[itsbenedict]

From the beginning | Previously | Coin standings | 4/18 | 2/2

(one of those was my own vote, which I'll be discounting here in order to make the prices line up.)

The bartender prepares various things for you- a TRIG FAIRY TRAUMA FRUITY MARGARITA for Adea, who has had a long fucking day and is in dire need of a drink. You also nosh on some SPINACH SALADS CHIPS AND SALSA, which for no reason you can discern appears to improve your LINKED CLASS by 1 apiece. You also stow away some juice mixers, which the bar sells separately in a I BUCKLE UP, JACK BULK JUICE PACK, as emergency rations which are worth 8 hunger to the 5 Coin. The SELTZERS, APTLY SALTY PRETZELS increase your SUMO ID levels, making you want to bulk up and wrestle- and the BEE'S TURN BEER NUTS are reserved for Adea because Walter can't stand the texture of the red peanut skins.

You also buy some DOMINANT ICICLES MEDICINAL TONICS, which... are just a marketing gimmick for some gin and tonic. Apparently formulated with the original quinine blend and not the sweeter, modern blend, the tonic water ostensibly fights off malaria. Assuming malaria is an issue you've got to worry about in this place. There's some restorative effect- 1 Soul Integrity apiece, so Walter opts to drink some down just in case- but actual medical attention apparently isn't something this bar provides.

(Some people across the bar apparently really dig your "swarm of butterflies" vibes, and buy you some free drinks and snacks. This should keep you up for a while!)

Adea then starts trying to chat up the bar patrons via the butterflies... but quickly discovers that the butterflies seem to garble any nontransactional communication. If it's not about buying or selling, speech gets lost in a haze of barely-meaningful sounds. It's not going to be easy to, say, call the city guard for help this way. Communicating with the real world properly will take a little more effort.

So... you've defeated the LONE THERMOSTATS, and FULLY ROBEd LILY. You've got a few different options, now:

HOWDY, A FAMINE!: Dig up more information about your situation and how to return to reality, by employing the FILIAL TWINS or NETTLE SPECIMEN to access networks and explore files, and maybe FIGHT THY RELIC in the process.

PALAVER THEME: Explore unreached areas of the city... somehow, in search of your daughter. There's no more links on the map, but perhaps there's other routes to unexplored areas where you might RADDER YOUTH FUNGI? Or maybe there's something at the fennec shop that might help.

YOU UNHEARD OWLS: You're both still pretty beat up and unstable, and your Soul Integrity could use a recharge. You may want to prioritize this in case of danger. (Healing to full would cost... like, 77 Coin's worth of patches, or using the Defrag Point at the steampunk spires and spending rations at a similar rate. Or maybe there's some easier way? ...Or maybe you just won't encounter any more real danger.)

Continued | 8/18 | 22/23

[cloudy-em]

Hotel - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (smut)

DO NOT INTERACT IF UNDER 18

warnings: mention of toys, fem reader w/ fem anatomy, pillow humping, mild voyeurism/exhibitionism(?), oral (reader receiving), praise, mild degradation, light smacking (thighs, ass), mommy kink. i think that's it?

Being in love with your coworker is not easy. I’m constantly hiding, fearful of her or our other coworkers finding out. What’s even less easy is hiding how turned on you are when you have to room with her.

Emily was wearing that stupidly tight red tank top today, which shouldn't have been enough to get me flustered, but it was. What made my panties begin to feel particularly damp, however, was watching her flirt with an unsub from the other side of the glass. Watching how she pushed out her chest a bit more, twirled her hair, and used her silky voice to imply a fun night made me unable to focus, imagining what it would be like if she was flirting with me instead.

So here I am, in our shared hotel room trying to act casual as Emily freshens up so she can go down to the hotel bar and get drinks with JJ and Penny.

“You sure you don't want to come with?” she asks, walking out of the bathroom to grab her shoes.

“No, but thanks, Em. I’m just really tired. Think I’ll take a shower and relax,” I replied, shrugging.

“Well, alright, but if you change your mind you can always come join us! We’ll probably be down there for at least 2 hours,” she smiles at me and I smile back at her, watching as she closes the door behind her. I wait a few beats.

There’s absolutely no way I’m making it through the night without taking care of myself, and she made it really easy for me to be able to do that. She’ll never even know.

I’m in no rush, so I take my time. I pull my shirt off, gently massaging my boobs through my bra before freeing them and squeezing them more. I pinch my nipples softly, enough to send just a small spark through my spine, sighing in contentment. Running my nails up and down my stomach and hips, I realize just how desperate I am as I shiver. I stand up off the bed, pulling my pants down as well as my panties. I pause for a second looking at the wet patch in the lace, embarrassed despite no one being around. How can I really be that wet when Emily doesn't even try to make me?

Laying back on the bed, I start gently, squeezing my thighs, putting a light amount of pressure just above my clit. I move a finger down, collect some lubricant and move it up, circling my clit slowly with minimal pressure. Instinctively, I reach my other hand out on the bed beside me, reaching for my vibrator. But this is a work trip, so I didn't bring it. Who brings sex toys with them on work trips?

I sigh, realizing I’m gonna have to go back to what I did before I finally had the courage to get my first toy.

I grab two of the pillows, placing them in a stack to help prop my body up so I can get a good angle. Gripping the top pillow, I straddle the pile and guide my cunt to the corner, grinding down. It feels so good, although I miss my usual dildo and hitachi wand combo, it’s good. I grind down again, this time harder; more desperate. Oh yes, this will do just fine to relieve myself. I continue humping the pillow, my hips bucking forward for stimulation. My left hand grips the headboard, my right keeping the pillows steady so I can keep fucking myself at the right angle. I try to keep quiet, but it’s hard when I’ve been so pent up all day. I let my moans out, whiny and desperate, and a few utterances of Emily’s name.

“I thought you were tired?”

I jump, turning to face the door. Shit. Emily’s back and she just caught me humping a pillow, my pussy completely visible. I’m desperate to hide myself under the covers but she steps forward.

“No, no,” she says. “You know, I just came back up to grab a jacket, but this is much better than my margarita.”

I look at her, wide-eyed, still trying to process. She sits on the bed next to me and reaches a hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my flushed cheeks.

“It’s okay, baby,” she reassures softly. “We all have needs. What were you thinking about, huh?”

I shift in an embarrassed manner, “I was thinking about you.” My whispered confession feels like I shouted it.

“Aww, you were? You're so cute. Let’s see what we can do to help you.” She pulls the sheets away from my body, revealing my breasts to her. She lets out a groan, groping both of them.

“You have the most beautiful fucking tits, baby,” she says, moving to bite my tits. She starts sucking my nipples, and I moan loudly. Emily pulls away.

“You aren't allowed to stay quiet, you know? You make the cutest noises, and I need to hear them,” she says. She pulls the sheets the rest of the way down, my body on full display for her. My thighs are pressed together, and she gently smacks my right thigh to get them to move apart. I spread my legs slightly, and she cups my pussy.

“Aww, you're so wet, aren't you?” I nod as she presses the heel of her palm on my clit. She kisses my cheek and pulls her hand away.

“Show me what you were doing.”

I waste no time in climbing back up to straddle the pillows and she gets up, standing behind me to watch as I hump the pillow desperately.

I moan every time the pillow fabric pulls against my clit, and I can feel my cunt leaking on the pillows. I close my eyes, grinding faster, the pleasure growing.

“Mommy,” I let out without even realizing it until I hear Emily chuckling behind me.

“Who would have ever thought that you’d have a mommy kink? You seem so vanilla, but I know,” she leans down next to me to whisper in my ear. “You're my dirty slut, aren't you? You're mommy’s whore?” I nod, moving my hips faster.

“Say it.”

“Yes, mommy, I’m your slut! I’m your whore,” I moan out, hips stuttering. “I’m so close, mommy, please!”

“Stop.”

I whine, but stop moving my hips anway. She pulls me to the end of the bed, facing each other, and kisses me deeply. She pulls away, smirking as she kneels down and spreads my legs.

“Oh baby,” she practically moans. “You have the prettiest pussy.” Without hesitation, she presses her mouth to my pussy, licking wherever she can. She circles my hole with her tongue, moving it back up to flick against my clit.

“Mommy please!”

She continues eating me like a starving woman, sucking and kissing my clit. She can tell how close I am as she makes out with my pussy.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warn her, hips bucking. She wraps her lips around my clit and sucks hard, making me orgasm so hard that I get dizzy for a second. She continues licking me, claiming she’s cleaning me up. I shiver as I come down from my orgasm. When she’s done, she kisses me once more. She stands up and my eyes follow her. She begins pulling her pants off, and I question her.

“You didn't think I was done with you, did you?”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Does Your Mother Know?

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x Reader

Description: You've always been a wanderer - wild of spirit and wild at heart. It figures that you marry a wanderer yourself. So when the two of you are finally in the same place, you capitalize on the opportunity. It doesn't help, though, that all of your husband's aviators seem intent on flirting with you. So you have fun with them.

Warnings: None. This is just cute. Mentioned Hannix

Word Count: 2539

A/N: This is another Discord fueled thought. This time, it's brought to you by ABBA and the movie Mamma Mia! It's a cute (I think so anyways) fic about how the Daggers find out Mav is married!

Also when did Maverick enter my Masterlist?

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

It's a hot summer night in San Diego. The Hard Deck's got all of the windows and doors open and you're quite content to sip on the colorful cocktail in front of you while you watch the Naval Aviators swan about. You've been coming to the Hard Deck since before Penny bought the place, enjoying the low-key dive bar charm of the place. San Diego’s always been home for you, no matter where your life and career take you.

You love going to bars, really you do. But after months away on a book tour, right now your favorite place for a drink is in your house with your legs thrown over your husband's lap. He makes the best margaritas and you're a simple woman. He's really all you need. Isn't that a jarring realization? Your younger self would be calling you boring right now. You'd spent most of your twenties, thirties, and the better part of your forties jet setting around the world. When your friends were getting married and having kids, you were volunteering in the Serengeti or writing a book in Paris. Sure you've had your fair share of flings, but you never expected to find anyone you'd want to spend the rest of your life with.

Then an aviator with a heart of gold and an ass perpetually on fire laid a line on you in a dingy bar in Italy where you were trying desperately to finish the next chapter of a book for your publisher. Pete took your breath away with just a few words and you found yourself in a committed relationship for the first time in years. It had been a little disjointed, your relationship bouncing from coast to coast as the two of you snatched the odd moments together. In truth, you loved that Pete was as free roaming as you were. So the two of you made it work. You didn't even need to think to agree to marrying him when he popped the question a year into your relationship. 

Nearly four years of marriage later, and your husband is still the sexiest man you've ever met, even when he's driving you crazy by pulling crazy maneuvers strapped into the cockpit of a plane. Which is what relocated the both of you to San Diego a few months ago. He'd been at a top secret site out of China Island for a while, doing something he couldn’t tell you about. You didn't care so long as he was safe.

When everything went down with first the Darkstar (which you're not supposed to officially know about) and then the Uranium Mission (also something you shouldn't know) shortly after, you put your foot down. It had been too close to losing the love of your life. That's what Pete is. Even though he's 15 years older than you, he's your heart and soul. This time when the promotion came across his desk, Pete had taken it, you know, more so for your sake than his own. So you finally settled back in San Diego, making the house Pete bought in the 90s a home and enjoying having Pete around permanently. 

The permanent station had also meant getting to know Pete's squad. But with book signings and your book tour right after the Uranium Mission, you never got the chance. At least, that is, until tonight. You're still a bit tired, as you've only been home for a couple of days. But Pete had been dragged out for drinks with his squadron, his kids really, and you promised you would meet him at the Hard Deck so you could meet them. You've only met one of his aviators before and that's because you have his life in pictures in a photo album and in Pete's hangar in the Mojave. Bradley’s his kid, so of course you’ve met him.

Pete had told you he'd find you in an hour. It's been a bit longer than that, so you start to look for him in the crush. You’re not the tallest woman in the world, and honestly, neither is your husband the tallest man. You like to joke that he’s perfectly sized for you just as you are for him. Penny's rushed off her feet at the bar, so you can’t even ask her if she’s seen him. So you decide to give it a few minutes before you try again. Just as you settle back down into your bar stool, a body muscles up to the bar next to you. You brace yourself for the inevitable line this young man is going to lay on you.

"Penny, m'dear? Can I get another Stella for myself and a second of whatever the pretty lady is drinking?" That's a Texan twang if ever there was one. This must be the irascible Hangman. You sneak a look at him from over the rim of your cocktail glass and wait to see if he's going to bite at an older woman looking at him. To his credit, he doesn't recoil at all. You smile at Penny when she quirks an eyebrow in his direction as she drops the drinks off. You make a shoo-ing motion with your fingers and settle in for the ride.

"So…" He's smiling sunnily at you, every inch of those pearly whites bared at you. "What brings a gorgeous lady like you to a bar like this?"

You snicker a little at the compliment. Oh, if only he knew. "I've been coming to the Hard Deck for years, kid."

He barely flinches at your nickname for him, continuing to flirt shamelessly as you sip on your drink. You reach your limit when he puts a hand on your thigh. You push it away before drawing the straw between your red lips. If there's one thing your age has taught you, it's how to wear lipstick that stays put. Looking at this flirtatious young thing, a classic song comes to mind.

"You're so hot, teasing me. So you're blue, but I can't take a chance on a kid like you. It's something I couldn't do."

You place one manicured hand against his stomach, lightly tracing your fingers over the rigid muscles.

"There's that look in your eyes. I can read in your face, that your feelings are driving you wild. Oh, but boy, you're only a child." With every word that drops from your lips, you lean closer. You can see him flush darker until he gulps.

To his credit, he doesn't quit though, "So does that mean I have a chance?"

"Well I can dance with you honey, if you think it's funny. But does your mother know that you're out?"

He chuckles awkwardly before turning tail and running away. He starts up a flustered conversation and you see Pete's entire squadron face you while you're sitting at the bar. You give them a cheeky wave and a wink and that's when you see them make the plot to try seducing you. What else could it be?

The next aviators to come up to you certainly are a gorgeous duo. Payback and Coyote if you remember correctly from the last pictures Pete had shown you. If you were about 20 years younger you'd be all over them, but no. Now, Pete's the only man for you. Even so, it's flattering all the same as Payback approaches you first to lay on lines about how you're a class above any other girl in the bar. It's true, you are, if only because you're completely besotted by a man who is a class above any and all of the kids swarming the place.

Your voice is playful and flirty as you respond. "I can chat with you baby, flirt a little maybe. But, does your mother know that you're out?"

He gives up at your coolly amused tone, retreating back to his friends avidly watching the show.

Coyote takes it a step even further, leading you onto the dance floor. You're happy Pete has your phone and wallet because you won't be leaving them on the bar. He's a good dancer, Coyote is. At least until he starts pushing in even closer to you. You tip your head up seductively, and purr into his ear, "Take it easy. Take it easy, better slow down, boy. That's no way to go. Does your mother know? Take it easy. Take it easy, try to cool it, boy. Play it nice and slow. Does your mother know?"

You're not expecting him to blanche outright at your words, though. Of course, when you turn to face the aviators, you see Pete in their midst, horribly unhappy and glaring at Coyote with the entire weight of his disapproval. You just wink at him and grin when he gets the point, smirking at you having your fun.

When you move back to the bar for a soda, it's Fanboy who walks up to the bar to shoot his shot. These young aviators. You'd despair of them if you didn't know their type so intimately by now. When they make a bet, they have to win. Fanboy's tactic is to be seductive in Spanish, trying and failing to ply you with sweet nothings. You drag your eyes up and down, smiling. He's really a cutie. But not your type. 

"I can see what you want, but you seem pretty young, to be searching for that kind of fun. So maybe I'm not the one." Your voice is amused as you trail your fingers teasingly down his cheek before sending him away with a pat on his ass.

The aviators cheer when he joins them. Of all the men, only one is left, the sweetheart wearing glasses you know has to be Bob. He takes the most encouragement before he carefully makes his way up to you.

“I’m sorry about them, ma’am.” He’s really very cute. He blushes all the way to his ears when you grin at him. For Bob alone, you make a concession, tugging him close, kissing his cheek so it leaves a crimson lip print before murmuring into his ear, “Now you're so cute, I like your style and I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile. Oh, but boy, you're only a child.”

You drag Bob out onto the dance floor, smiling as he stumbles over his feet as you dance with him. He’s even hesitant to set his hands on your waist. You take mercy on him and leave him by the pool table. The others are giving him impressed looks as you move back to your empty bar stool. That's when you see Bradley finally make his way to the pool tables. He’s dressed in his traditional uniform of jeans shorts and open Hawaiian shirt over a white tank. You watch Bradley’s eyes light up as he adds his money to the pot Pete’s standing guard dog over and stands by his side waiting for whoever is left to go.

The only aviator other than your de facto step-son left to try flirting with you is the sole female in the group. The incandescent firebird herself. If there is an aviator that both Bradley and Pete both love to chat to you about, it’s Phoenix. You can see the way she changes her entire posture within a few steps. When she loosens her hair from its bun, you know it’s not Natasha Trace who walks up to you, it’s Phoenix. She’s smiling seductively and you grin fondly at the younger woman. The first thing she does is flag Penny down.

“Hey, Penny!” She’s smiling sweetly.

“Hey, Natasha!” Penny exchanges a look with you as you sip on your cocktail.

“Can I get twenty-four shots of tequila please?” You wince at the thought, having had too many tequila hangovers during your youth.

“Are you sure, Natasha?” Penny’s eyebrows are sky high as she lays the shots down on a tray. But while you’re expecting her to carry the tray back to the pool tables, she stops and downs one shot, then two, then three. That’s when you stop her with a hand on her forearm.

“Whoa, there. Take it easy. Take it easy. Better slow down, girl. That's no way to go.” You push a glass of water to the younger woman. But she just smiles at you stubbornly and downs another shot.

“Nope. M’not stopping. Not until you give me your phone number.” She downs one more, and you wrap an arm around her waist.

“Take it easy. Take it easy. Try to cool it, girl. Play it nice and slow.” You grab the tray in your other hand and stagger her over to where Bob is waiting with a pulled out chair. You leave Phoenix there and turn towards the final pilot to try to seduce you. 

“What about you, kiddo? D’you want to try too? Or should I name the winner of your bet?” 

Bradley’s smirking at you.

“Dance with me?” He proffers a hand to you as the jukebox begins to play the same song you’ve had running through your head all night. The first thrumming beats of bass send your blood racing. You grin as Bradley leads you into a whirling dance, nearly rushing you off your feet. When the song runs out, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you back over to the pool tables.

“So, who won, ma’am?” You grin at Hangman. “Hey, Brad! Does your mother know that you’re out?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re my godmother and you’re standing right there, I guess she does.” You can’t resist cracking up at the gobsmacked look on the aviators’ faces as they look between you and Bradley like you’ve grown a few extra heads. Pete presses a kiss to your forehead and tugs you close. You peck his lips and rest your left hand against his chest. That’s when Phoenix finally sees the wedding ring.

“Bagman, seriously?!” She’s fuming. “You started this whole-ass bet not noticing that she was married?” She staggers up out of her chair and smacks at his chest weakly. You can’t resist your smile as the bigger man wraps her up in his arms and she goes willingly.

“Pretty sure they’re head over heels for each other.” You whisper that into your husband’s ear grinning at the fond smile Hangman gives Phoenix as he sets her back into the chair and presses water into her hands. This time, you note amusedly, the stubborn little thing actually begins dutifully sipping from the tall glass.

“How do you know, Mrs. Mitchell?” You grin. “Why, Admiral Mitchell, don’t you know? That’s how you look at me, and how I look at you.”

He drags you into a chaste kiss and introduces you officially to his squadron. Bradley’s busy pocketing the cash and you know that you’ve just as easily adopted six more aviators, like your husband had and like you had an inkling you would. So much for any more boring nights. You’ll count yourself lucky if you don’t have to post bail for Pete and one or more of the kids ever again. Though you wouldn't bet on it.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern 📻 @mayhemmanaged 📻@roostette 📻 @roosterforme 📻 @dakotakazansky 📻 @cassiemitchell 📻 @thedroneranger 📻 @cherrycola27 📻 @chaoticassidy 📻 @genius2050 📻@sarahsmi13s 📻 @lovinglyeternal 📻 @bobby-r2d2-floyd 📻 @roosters-girl 📻 @disturbedbeautywrites 📻

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

ooooo wanna hear more about danger zone with bradley!!

ohhh that one!! it is SO old istg, it's been sitting in my drafts unfinished for like a year. and it sounds so fancy and spicy and smutty as well, but i literally named it that (temporarily) because it's about danger zone. the song.

anyway since it's probably never gonna see the light of day, here, have a way too long snippet!!

and keep in mind that this one's old and unedited. for your sanity and mine. thank you 🙃

She motioned towards the dance floor - overcrowded and entirely uninviting. You shook your head almost immediately. No, thank you. You'd rather stew here for the next three hours than 'get out there'. Penny sighed, but nodded. "Alright, honey. But drink that margarita, okay? And feel free to change the music, if you'd like something else." She put her phone down on the bar top beside you and smiled. You smiled back, if still a little weak. Penny only wanted the best for you. She was only helping you. Also, you really had not been feeling the music all that much, so... You had just grabbed Penny's phone and unlocked it when someone suddenly interrupted your stewing and (not) drinking. "Excuse me", he drawled, and you almost jumped off the bar stool with how hard you flinched. By god, did the universe want to kill you? Your heartbeat skyrocketed and you were sure that for just a quick second, you'd actually seen god. The man beside you let out a laugh. You were hardly breathing when you turned to him. The first thing you noticed was that he was huge, towering over you even on top of the bar stool. The second thing was that he was wearing one of those ridiculous, long out of fashion Hawaiian shirts, blue and green and yellow and so bright and colourful it almost blinded you. "I'm sorry", he said then, and the third thing you noticed was how deep his voice sounded. "I didn't want to give you a heart attack." You took a deep breath and swallowed and then made the mistake to actually look up at him. He was gorgeous. Soft, brown curls, sunglasses in his hair, eyes like melted chocolate and - And a fucking pornstache. Oh, no. No. No, no, no, no, no. No, definitely not. "Well, you did", you said, forcing yourself not to stare in disbelief at the monster above his mouth. This was the twenty-first century, goddamn, who grew a fucking moustache in this economy? And who had the right to look good with it? "Then I sincerely apologise", he said, somehow not put off by your comment at all, but instead now - smiling? "Usually, I try to make a better first impression."

[smokeys-house]

when I become of drinking age (USA moment 😔) I want to taste every drink I can. when I said this aloud my family took it as I am having one of every drink and will get absolutely wasted on my 21st

I personally can't wait until I can just order a margarita and chill

LOVE a good margarita tbh. Also yeah it's so exciting to try new drinks! Not all at once 😭 also if you go to a bar on your 21st birthday and someone orders you a weird looking shot of something for free? 9/10 times they're hazing you with something narsty af so watch out! Everybody loves to mess with the newbie on their birthday