#unless I get drunk then I will cause I can’t shut up when I’m tipsy

[ghostbeam]

If i ever have a typo or punctuation error in my fic u can always tell me u can always send me a message or an ask or something and I will fix it cause omg

[littlestarrykenobi]

A Drink that Leads to More (Sugawara x reader 18+ fic)

Summary: A drink between coworkers leads to a little more with Sugawara Koshi.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption, spanking, degradation, NSFW

Word Count: 2112

You were putting the books back a little later than usual when Mr. Sugawara walked in with yet another stack of chapter books.

“Oh you have to be kidding me!” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he awkwardly pushed the library cart over to the little desk.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I had to wait until everyone was picked up before heading down here.”

“Fine, fine,” You sigh as you stand up from the low shelves, hiding a smirk as you watch him turn his face away quickly. “But since you’re the one causing me the issue, I expect you to help me fix it. Come on, take a scanner, we’re getting these checked in as quickly as possible alright?”

“Maybe we could… Go for a drink after?” he offered, a slight blush on his cheeks as he did as you instructed. “It’s a Friday after all and it’s not like I’m eager to stay in and grade spelling tests all night…”

“You know what? Sounds fun. Anyone joining us?”

“N-No I uh… Thought it’d be nice for it to just be the two of us.”

“Ah,” You muse, a blush on your cheeks as you avoid eye contact. “Yeah, sounds good actually.”

What you couldn’t have anticipated was exactly how much of a lightweight he would be. You giggled as you gave him water, kissing his forehead comfortingly as he leaned against you in the booth, already tipsy after the couple of drinks he’d had. He was still fine but you wanted him to slow down before he got any worse.

“I’m just a little dizzy is all,” he mumbled, blushing as he tried to sit up. “I can’t help that you make me so nervous.”

“Nervous?” You laugh, teasing him gently as you try to encourage his water consumption. “What would there be to be ner-“

He wrapped his beautiful long fingers around your wrist, staying your hand. “You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And I know we can’t… The rules at the school… But gah, it’s… I don’t care what they might say. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you first transferred in here…”

He reached his other hand up, gently caressing your face with the back of his hand, feeling the curve of your cheek with a loving adoration.

“If you wanted to kiss me… why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper in response, grateful that you didn’t have to raise your voice as he leaned closer in to you.

“Does that mean you want to kiss me too, sugar?” he mumbled with a smirk, his lips ghosting yours.

You hum softly, pressing your lips to his as his arms go around your waist, pulling you closer as you ignore the rest of the world around you. As far as you’re concerned you’re the only two people in existence. He smelled like bourbon and firewood, his lips tasted like liquor an cherries and it was getting you more intoxicated by the second. Reluctantly you both pulled away for air, his eyes wide and all the stars in the sky had decided to settle right in those two lovely hazelnut orbs.

“Koshi,” you whispered, and he nodded before even knowing the question. “Back to my place?”

You squealed with laughter as he chased you from the car to your front door, picking you up from behind and spinning you up the stairs to the porch. You had both sobered up from the two light drinks you’d had at the bar, both now only drunk off the moment and the feeling of being together for the first time.

“Put me down Koshi!” You laughed as you grabbed your keys out from your jacket. “I have to unlock the door.”

“Oh don’t think you’ll get away from me that easily!” he laughed, letting you open the front door as he tugged on his tie, discarding it as soon as the two of you walked through the door. “We uh… We could watch a-“

He looked back over at you as you began to unbutton your dress shirt. He let out a shaky breath, trying not to let his eyes wander or linger for too long.

Oh.

“It’s that kind of party is it?” He teased as you flushed, the two of you having a race back to your bedroom, chuckling as he let you win, still smirking as you shut the door in his face. “Oh come on, sugar, open up…”

“Why should I?” You tease, stripping yourself of your shirt and fiddling with your pants as you pressed your back to the door.

“I’ll give you what you want, what we both want, but you have to open the door,” He purred, pressing his forehead and his hands to the door, imagining what state of undress you must be in by this point. “I won’t bite… hard… unless you want me to?”

He could imagine you blushing, letting out a low growl as he jiggled the doorknob. “Oooh you didn’t lock it did you? You want me to come in, just admit it,” he teased.

You had already left the door, choosing to lounge back on the bed waiting for him to finally break the rules he’d set for himself. If he walked in right now… if you two did this… the relationship you two had before, as colleagues and friends, would change forever. And luckily for the both of you… he was more than ready to change that status.

“Fine if you won’t say it out loud, I’ll pull it from those gorgeous lips of yours,” He chuckled, summoning his courage as he pushed the door open. He could have melted at the sight, already feeling weak at the knees at the sight of you, just in your underwear as you laid back in the low light of your room. “Oh baby I’m going to give you what you need.”

“And what’s it that I need?” You tease as he strips his dress shirt off, letting you see his still toned body. Even now that he was nearing thirty, he’d kept up exercising that was clearly paying off. Not completely chiseled by any means, his body was toned, almost like a swimmer’s body. His frame was still slender, his arms clearly a point of pride as he stalked over to the bed, grabbing your legs behind your knees and dragging your ass to the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees as he kissed your stomach down to the waistband of your underwear.

“Just shut up,” he chuckled, fingers hooking on your underwear, pulling them off slowly, planting kisses along every new inch exposed as he pulled the inconvenient cloth away. “Unless you really want me to stop because… I want to make you my toy…”

Suga finally pulled the clothing off you, flinging it to the side with a smirk. “I can tell you,” He chuckled. “You won’t be needing these for a while. God you look so fucking gorgeous…”

He kisses around your sex, always just brushing over where you want him. “Oh, is this for me?” He teased, running his fingers along the evidence of your arousal. “Aren’t I special? I didn’t even know I had so much power over you, princess, but let me tell you I’m not complaining…”

Suga’s warm lips finally pressed a kiss to your sex, chuckling as he realized how much it affected you but not wanting to stop to tease right yet. He had plenty of work to do, that was for certain. He kissed and licked and sucked, bringing you as close to orgasm as possible before backing off, reveling in how you whined for him, one hand keeping his pace going as he slid his own pants off.

“Oh no, sugar, you don’t get to finish yet. I want this first time to be special… to be… together.”

He pressed two fingers against your opening, moaning sweetly as your body welcomed him with little resistance, whispering a string of cuss words as he stroked himself, leaning over your body with his head on your shoulder. “Good baby doll,” He muttered as he began to slowly move his fingers in and out of your waiting sex, pressing a third in as soon as he felt you were ready. “Good… good…”

He moaned as he saw how slick his fingers were becoming with need, a shiver running down his spine. “Fine, I-I think you’re… ready…”

He lined his cock up to your entrance, sucking the slick off his fingers eagerly before tilting your chin up to look into his eyes. “You’re so beautiful…” Sugawara whispered as he pressed into you, a strangled moan following his words almost immediately. “You’re so… fucking… shit… you’re so tight! Fuck that’s not what I want to… say…”

Panting, struggling to breathe as he let you adjust to his girth. He wanted nothing more than to take you fast, passionately and deeply as he left a perfect you shaped crater in the mattress but he held himself back, wanting to try to make love to you before taking you like the caged animal he was. He let his head roll back, eyes fluttering shut as he finally began to slowly move, your knees on either side of his hips, his hands resting on top of them as he tried to balance and pace himself.

“You… have been on my mind for, shit, so fucking long now… And God damn you’re… Fuck… I’m never letting you go fuck you look so pretty taking my cock like that…”

Your moans were like the sweetest music to his ears, loving how you contorted under him as he gained speed, muttering teasing things in your ear before he pulled out, ruining another building orgasm as he flipped you onto your stomach, pushing you further up the bed as he mounted you from behind.

“Fuck your ass looks so good…” he whispered before landing a firm smack on your exposed flesh, chuckling as you cried out. “Don’t you remember I used to play volleyball? I still remember how to spike, sugar.”

His voice was low, his breathing deep and controlled as he realigned himself with your waiting fuckhole. “That’s a good little slut,” he purred in your ear, predatory and demanding. “Take my fat cock like a good whore.”

He spanked you again and again as he fucked you, pressing your face into the mattress as he threw out his ideas of a sweet and gentle love. He wasn’t able to hold back nearly as well as he’d believed himself capable but he was too needy to care. “That’s a good slut,” He muttered, letting out a cry as you clenched down on him. “Good… Fuck… Cum for me baby do it,” he demanded, reaching around to play with your sex as he felt his own climax fast approaching.

He moved one hand quickly, forcing your head back just enough to be able to look at how your eyes rolled back as you came for him. That was the image he’d been looking for, the last thing to send him over the edge as he rapidly pulled out, his hand gripping the base of his cock as he shot three long sticky strands over your ass and back, panting still as he let you collapse into the bed.

“I-I’m so… fuck… sorry…” he mumbled, reaching quickly for a tissue. “I-I’ll clean you up and…”

His hands shook, chuckling softly as his cheeks reddened. “you did look… more beautiful than I ever imagined…”

He looked around for a trash can but… he knew he was seconds away from his own knees collapsing on him so he decided it’d be better to take refuge next to you and worry about the trash later. He pulls you in to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you both basked in the afterglow.

“How is it you can still smell so fucking good after all that?” He teased. “I must smell like a pig… You’re so… You’re like an angel, sugar…”

Suga gently pushed the hair out of your face, admiring how perfect your eyes looked in the low light coming from your bedside lamp. “I… I want to stay with you… If that’s alright, of course…”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” You mumble, shivering a bit before he pulls the blankets up over the two of you. “We’ll try and get up later, yeah…?”

He nodded in agreement, chuckling as he felt the butterflies return to his stomach with every gentle touch of your hand. “You just… rocked my world… And… Man am I glad I was late…”

[7-wonders]

Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)

Summary: Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Well, two people sent me asks saying that they liked the Beauty and the Beast AU, and as I am a whore for validation, I wrote an idea I had a while back. Thanks, friends!

Other works in the Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU: Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet | This Place of Wrath and Tears | A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner | This Cruel Trick of Fate | Down the Rabbit Hole | Hints of Kindness | Days In the Sun

Thunderstorms are not something that Duncan Shepherd is very fond of. While many children have a fear of storms, Duncan was not one of those children. He loved to hear the tremendous crash of thunder, counting the seconds between that and the crackle of lightning across the sky to see how many miles away the storm was. For Duncan, storms meant his mother would read him stories until he fell asleep, faking that he was frightened just so she would spend time with him. As a child, Duncan actually enjoyed storms.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, thunderstorms conjure memories of the night where his life went to hell. When the winds begin to rage and the house shakes with the force of thunder, when rain demands to be heard and lightning lights up the night, Duncan flinches with the worry that she might be waiting on the other side of the door. After all, the witch who cursed Duncan and his entire household darkened his life on a dark and stormy night. Maybe the forced transformation into a beastly creature, being trapped on the grounds of the secluded manor with a now-invisible staff, and the reminder that he will die unless he manages to fall in love with somebody, and have that somebody fall in love with him wasn’t enough for her.

Staying in one spot is making him nervous, and he wants to make sure that, on the off-chance the Enchantress does decide to come back for him, she can’t catch him by surprise. Duncan begins to walk up and down each of the halls of the manor, checking doors and windows and only slightly flinching at a particularly loud boom of thunder. It’s worth it though, for the peace of mind that this security check provides him.

It’s when Duncan reaches the main floor that all senses are on high alert. There’s music playing from somewhere, actual music. Battery-operated devices had long since died, and electronics could not be charged, which meant that the staff was eventually unable to listen to music, their one lifeline to the outside world that they had once been a part of. When that day arrived, it came as a relief to Duncan, who loathed the tunes and melodies that haunted and teased him. Now, for there to be more than the quiet humming coming from the staff, music surely meant trouble.

He begins to follow the sound down the hall, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of a glowing aura. Eventually he reaches the library, where the source of the music is coming from. However, it’s not a witch that’s set up a perfectly-planned trap and is deviously waiting for Duncan to come to her. Instead, it’s a record player. He’s not sure where the record player came from, but it’s hooked up and spinning a Fleetwood Mac vinyl. You’re on your back next to it, reading a book in front of the fire.

Duncan didn’t think that he was going to go any further into the library, but his legs have a mind of their own. It’s only when you look at him before sitting up that he now realizes he’s halfway into the room.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, turning the volume down on the record player. “I can leave, if you’re wanting to use the library.”

“No!” Duncan realizes that sounded a little forceful, so he clears his throat and tries it again. “No, you’re fine. I just...heard music playing, and it’s been so long since we had music here that I was trying to find the source. Where did you get the record player from?”

“I was bored and looking through closets, and I found this and a bunch of records.”

“And out of all of the records you found, you had to pick Fleetwood Mac?”

“Hey, don’t talk shit about Stevie Nicks.”

You throw your head back in a laugh, and Duncan thinks that he might actually smile. The beginnings of a rare smile are thwarted, however, when an unexpected clap of thunder makes goosebumps rise on his arms. Of course, you notice the grimace on his face.

“You don’t like storms?”

Duncan looks into the fire, not used to somebody looking at him for any amount of time. “Not really, no. Bad experience in the past.”

You nod in understanding, and Duncan believes this is the end of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s not. “My dad would always tell me that storms weren’t meant to be weathered alone. We would spend thunderstorms together, playing games or watching movies, sometimes even just sitting together, and suddenly, the storms wouldn’t be so bad.”

Duncan hums in acknowledgement, not quite sure what you’re getting at. You sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Come and sit with me,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Out of all the things that Duncan had been expecting from you, this was not that. It takes a minute for his brain to cooperate, but he does finally sit down on the couch. It’s not exactly “sitting with you,” but you won’t argue with this. “Is...is this okay?”

“I’m the one that invited you in here, aren’t I?”

“You did.” A long time ago, he would have never been so shy and unsure of himself. If Duncan then were to meet the man beast that he had become, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“An actual question, smartass, not just permission to ask a question.”

Duncan smirks, but nods. “Why did you save me? That night where I tried to run away, you could have just let me die. That would have solved a number of your problems, but you didn’t let me die. Why?”

How was Duncan supposed to answer this question without sounding like even more of a creep? After all, he couldn’t exactly say that he saved you because you were his last chance to even potentially break the curse and save his life. Even then, he knew that this wasn’t the full answer. Truthfully, he saved you because, for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. It was a split-second decision, and one that had a multitude of reasons behind it.

In the end, he settles for the very beginning of the truth.

“You selflessly gave up your freedom so your friend could have his. I couldn’t let that sacrifice go to waste.” You don’t look extremely satisfied with that answer, but it’s good enough that you don’t ask for further elaboration. “What about you? Why did you give up your freedom for Jim’s?”

You raise your eyebrow. “We’re playing 20 Questions now, are we?” With a sigh, you stand up. “I’m gonna need some alcohol for this.”

//

Duncan has not enjoyed himself like this in a very long time. He’s had so much fun learning about you, from the mundane like your favorite color, to the introspective like if aliens really do exist. Likewise, he’s found himself opening up to you as well. 20 questions had turned into 40, which turned into so many that he’s lost count. With each question you took a sip of wine, leading to personal space becoming nonexistent and your body becoming boneless, that is, you were now lying right up against him and giggling. You aren’t drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy, and the wine has given you a warmth in your veins that heats you up against him.

Most importantly, and something that Duncan won’t note until later that night when he’s alone and missing your warmth, is that the storm hasn’t bothered him since he started talking with you.

“You’re tired,” Duncan states, looking at the way your blinks last longer and longer.

“A little, but ‘m okay. Besides, we’re talking.”

“You should go to bed.” His hand pauses at the last second, and he jarringly realizes that he was about to stroke your hair.

You nod, clumsily sitting up and trying to get your bearings after dozing. Duncan stands with you, beginning to walk with you to your room. “What are you doing?”

“Wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to decide the floor makes a good bed.”

You chuckle. “Y’know, you try to act like you’re a scary guy, but you’re not. You’re actually really thoughtful.”

“I’m not, but thank you.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” Now, he almost regrets walking you to your room, the door of which you’ve now reached. He stands a respectable distance away, ready to slip off back to his wing and wallow in solitude for the night. “I want to ask you one more question.”

“And what question is that?”

“What’s your first name? Nobody ever says it.”

He could choose to ignore your question, or tell you that that’s something he likes to keep private. He doesn’t feel like he deserves a first name anymore. First names are for people who aren’t monstrous beings cursed by a vengeful witch. But you’re looking at him with a waiting smile, and you’ve both shared so much tonight.

You think this question is a lost cause as the silence continues to stretch on. As you start to turn the doorknob open, ready to mumble apologies, he speaks.

“My name is Duncan.”

You turn around, grinning, and for the second time tonight, the warmth with which you look at him almost takes his breath away. “Goodnight, Duncan.”

Duncan wishes you goodnight as well, waiting until the door shuts before finally going back to his wing. In the empty study that he used to use, the enchanted rose, which wilts more and more each day and continues to lose petals, glows with a long-forgotten hope.

[downondilaudid]

Reality Check

Spencer gets tired of readers reckless behavior, and finally gives her a little reality check.

Requested: Yes

Prompts: My life motto is fuck bitches, get money blow cash.(This is a inspired by a line from the song ODD by Hey Voilet) & That’s not even factual

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: SMUT, LIKE PRETTY ROUGH SHIT

“Talk is cheap, but actions are priceless.”

― Green Monk

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself reckless, per se, just a little wild. It was a surprising turn of events when you and Spencer ended up together, his teammates had thought you would be nothing more than a fling, someone to keep his bed warm while he was gone. Yet, you had been together for a year and a half now and had been living together for five months. 

Despite the two of you being opposites, you worked together beautifully, you easily complemented each other. Your wild nature allowed Spencer to relax, and enjoy the simplicities of life. While his sophisticated way of thinking forced you to use your head a little more, and consider the consequences of your actions. You loved Spencer, and he loved you, it was just hard sometimes, seeing the world through different eyes. 

“C’mon Spence, please?” You pleaded, your hand latching into his arm to try and get his attention. 

“I really need to work on this, Y/N” he mumbled absentmindedly, pulling his arm from your grasp, and writing something on a notepad. 

“Spencer! You’ve been working on this all night, please take a break.” You shifted so you were standing behind him, wrapping your arms around him, and laying your head lightly against his shoulder. 

He let out a mix between a sigh and a groan, and you could feel the vibration of it through his back. “I need to finish this, Y/N, watching you get drunk, and then having to drag you home, doesn’t sound like a break.” 

You scoffed, “suit yourself, babes.” You pushed off of him, leaving the room to go get ready.

The music pounded in your ears, and the bass rattled your drink against the table. You were already quite tipsy, but for the first time, you weren’t a happy drunk. You guess you were what people call, a sad drunk. 

You stirred your straw around your drink absentmindedly. “Y/N! Come dance with me! Please?” One of your friends questioned. 

Right as you opened your mouth to deny her, the unforgettable intro to Gas Pedal by Sage the Gemini sounded through the club. It was like a switch had been flipped inside you, suddenly you were on your feet. Grabbing her hand, you dragged her to the dance floor. 

She laughed at your change in mood, “yes!”

You laughed along, the both of you staring at each other and in sync screaming, “h-h-h-h-holy shit!” 

This was good, it was good for you to forget, to throw away all the problems of life, and get drunk off your ass. 

Which is how you, and your two girlfriends you had gone out with, ended up stumbling down the street, the club long forgotten. 

The three of you laughed and giggled, talking about anything and everything that popped into your drunken minds. 

“Ooooh! We should prank call someone.” Your friend shouted rather loudly. 

You laughed at her, “totally, we could prank Spencer, he was a dick to me earlier. He didn’t even want to come out with us!” You exclaimed, your hands gesturing wildly, and your speech slightly slurred. 

The girls gasped, both talking over each other, screaming about how boring and annoying he was. 

“I know!” You cried, pulling out your phone to call Spencer. 

You hit the call button, putting the phone on speaker, and hushing the giggling girls. 

“Y/N?” A voice asked through the phone. 

“How did you know it was me?” You asked, a look of bewilderment crossing your face. 

Your friends laughed harder, one of them reaching out to smack you on the arm, “you forgot to block your caller ID, idiot!”

“Oops” you giggled.

“Y/N, where the hell are you? It’s one in the morning.” Spencer questioned angrily. 

Another laugh escaped your mouth, at this point, everything just seemed funny to you. You looked around the dark street, nothing looked familiar. 

“Do you guys know where we are?” You questioned. 

A scoff came from the phone, “are you fucking serious?” 

The girls giggled one of them letting out a childish “oooh! Someone's in trouble!” The two of them turned leaning on each other as they walked away, letting you have your privacy. 

“We were at a club, I’m just not sure where we are now.” You giggled. 

“Which club?” Spencer questioned, his tone authoritative, like a disappointed parent.

You combed through your brain for the answer, “uh…”

Spencer let out a deep sigh, and you could imagine him running his hands angrily through his hair. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N.” You could hear the sound of a car door opening, and you assumed he was coming to find you.

“Actually, I can do whatever I want, it’s my life. And, my life motto is fuck bitches, get money, blow cash.” Anger bubbled in your stomach, who did he think he was telling you what to do?

“Y/N look around you, what do you see?” Spencer asked, ignoring your comment.

“Hmm…” you trailed off, giggling before you finished your sentence, “my two bitches over there!” You hollered, pointing towards your friends, who laughed at your antics. “The fat stacks in my purse, and the club we just passed where I paid way too much for drinks!” 

“Y/N, I swear to God…” Spencer muttered. 

“C’mon Spence, let me live a little! What are the odds of something bad happening to me? Like, none. I’m with my friends, having fun. Something you seem to never do.” You snapped. 

Spencer let out an angry huff, “first of all, that’s not even factual, second, you need to tell me where you are. Or, I’m going to call Garcia, and have her track your phone.” 

Well, damn. Your eyes squinted, trying to read the blue street sign. “Uh… Briar, Brian Ln.” You laughed, “what the hell does Ln. mean?” 

“Dear God, lane, Y/N, it means lane,” Spencer grunted. You could tell he was tired of your shit.

Luckily for him, the cool night air nipping at your exposed skin began to sober you up. You heard the phone hang up, right as a familiar car pulled up next to you. 

You watched as a very pissed off Spencer leaned over from the driver's seat, pushing open the passenger side door. You looked to your friends, who were jokingly saluting you like it was the last time they would see you. “Good luck! We’re catching an Uber! Call us if you live!” 

You let out one last laugh before clambering messily into the car, roughly shutting the door, and buckling your seatbelt. Spencer remained quiet, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles turning white. You would be lying if you said the sight wasn’t hot, Spencer was always hot, but, angry Spencer was hot.

The rest of the ride was silent, despite your efforts to try and “jam to some music” Spencer smacked your hand away from the radio every time! It was like he wanted you to sit here in the horrible silence. 

As soon as the apartment door closed, the exhaustion washed over you, your limbs felt ten times heavier, and all you wanted to do was sleep. You immediately began your walk to the bathroom to lazily brush your teeth and wash the makeup from your face. 

“Oh, so we’re not going to talk about it?” Spencer said, his voice rising slightly. 

“Spencer, be quiet, it’s two in the morning.” You groaned out quietly, wiping the last of the makeup from your eyes so you didn’t look like a rabid raccoon. You threw the makeup wipe into the trash, moving past Spencer and into your bedroom.

An angry scoff left his mouth, “seriously?” He followed you out, his eyes glaring holes in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, stripping from your dress and opening Spencer’s closet to grab one of his old shirts. “Yes, what do you want me to say? Sorry for having fun?” You slipped the soft fabric over your head, turning around to crawl into bed. 

“Please, Spence, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, I’m drunk and tired.” You grumbled, your frazzled mind struggling to pull back the comforter correctly. 

Spencer sighed, your actions proving your words, he leaned over, roughly yanking down the comforter for you, “fine.” 

You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of Spencer getting ready for bed. He slipped under the covers, turning his back to you. The only reason he did so was because he knew you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were facing him. Something in you wanted his face to be the last thing you saw at night and the first thing you saw in the morning. Despite his petty actions, the alcohol in your system put you to sleep anyways. 

                                                            … 

You groaned, rolling over onto your side, tugging the warm comforter with you. “Seriously?” Spencer questioned, yanking the comforter back, causing you to roll back onto your other side. 

“I need an Advil.” You muttered, squinting slightly to try and block out the sunlight streaming in through the window. 

“Why the hell did you get so drunk, Y/N?” He sat up slightly, the comforter sliding down his bare chest. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “you think I remember? I’m just as clueless as you.” You pushed the comforter off your body, deciding to leave the warmth of the bed for a bathroom break and some Advil. 

Spencer followed suit, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “Y/N you got lost, you were wandering the streets alone and drunk!” 

“I’m sorry, I guess.” You mumbled, your speech slightly distorted as you began brushing your teeth, fighting off the nauseous feeling in your stomach. 

“You guess? Y/N, you have no idea how worried I was!” Spencer cried, his hands gesturing wildly as he took a step closer to you. 

You set your toothbrush back in its stand, “mhm, the same worry I feel when you overwork yourself 24/7.” You remarked, turning to face him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“That’s different, Y/N! You’re being idiotic, reckless, and immature. I was doing my job.” He spat, spinning on his heel and storming out of the bathroom. 

You sighed angrily, continuing to get ready. You knew he was right, you were being immature. Maybe you had let your friends sway you too much, you just wanted to forget Spencer for a night. You hated seeing him so stressed, it broke your heart, and now you were the cause of that stress. 

Walking out of the bathroom and into the living room you were met with the sight of Spencer once again hunched over his desk, pencil in hand. 

‘Wow, didn’t expect that one.” You muttered sarcastically, walking into the open kitchen, searching the cabinets for Advil. 

“Just like I should’ve known you would go out and get wasted with your friends. Seriously, Y/N, what’s it going to take for you to learn you have to grow up?” Spencer slammed his pencil down angrily. 

“Why are we even together if I’m too immature for you, huh?” You growled, watching as Spencer angrily stood from his chair, stalking over to you. 

Spencer’s hands found your hips, roughly shoving you against the counter, his body pressed against yours. 

You felt his hand trail up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Because, unlike most guys,” his hand laced into your hair, giving it a sharp tug so you were forced to look up at him, “I know how to handle brats like you.” He finished. 

A cheeky smile grew on your face, this wasn’t how you imagined this conversation going, but you weren’t complaining. 

Spencer chuckled, “oh you think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, his condescending words casting a new atmosphere in the room. 

“You’re so quiet now, baby, you weren’t so quiet a minute ago.” His voice was low and as smooth as honey. 

A giggle left your mouth, “well, if I talk, will you shut me up?” 

Spencer grinned, his grip on your hair loosening, “I think I have a few ideas.” 

“I’d love to see them” your hands started a path up his chest, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. 

“I bet you would.” He said, and in an instant, he was gone, he had stepped back and was already walking back to the bedroom. 

“Spencer!” You cried, stomping after him like a child who had just been put in timeout. 

“Calm down, I’m just getting something.” He said, digging through his work satchel. 

You rolled your eyes, your bratty nature getting the best of you, “well you better hurry, or I’ll just take care of myself.” 

Your statement sent Spencer into a fit of laughs, and your face scrunched in confusion. “Y-you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” He said between laughs. 

“And you’re saying I’m the immature one?” At that moment, all you wanted was for him to fuck the shit out of you, but, apparently, that was not on his agenda.

He walked over to you, much like a predator would to its prey, slow and deliberately. “Just shut up and fu-shit!” You cried out in the middle of your sentence, as he roughly grabbed your arm, spinning you around and pinning you to the wall. 

“You’re telling me to shut up? All you’re doing is back talking, and I’m sick of it.” He growled out.

You squirmed in his grip, “then maybe you should stop being an asshole!” His hand grabbed your other arm, yanking it behind your back, “ow, Spencer! Jesus.” Then the faint clinking of metal filled your ears, and chills covered your arms as the cool metal clamped around your wrists.

“Did you just fucking cuff me, Spencer?” You screamed, trying to turn to face him. Surprisingly, he allowed you to, in fact, his hands moved to your hips, helping you.

But the second you faced him, his hand was wrapped around your neck, tight enough to restrict your speech. “I did, in case you can’t tell, you’ve been an absolute brat the past few days. And if you want to go out and act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.” A primal look washed over his eyes, he wanted to break you, to humiliate you into submission. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Spencer chuckled, “oh, you really are a whore. You like it when I choke you, huh?” 

His hand pushed back on your neck, shoving you back into the wall, watching as you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You gasped for air, squirming as the handcuffs dug uncomfortably into your back. 

Spencer’s hands went to his belt, unbuckling it quickly, “get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and gentle, probably because he just choked you and threw you against a wall.

You complied, shifting onto your knees with minimal struggle, despite the restraint of your arms. “Good girl.” Spencer praised, pushing his pants and boxers down thighs, his hard cock springing free. 

Your eyes widened, you were shocked at how hard this had made him, sure, you had always had this Dom/Sub dynamic, but you had never been this rough before. 

His hand wrapped around his length, giving it a few good pumps. His other hand wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail, using it to drag your head towards his cock. “Open, baby.” 

Your jaw fell open, his cock filling your mouth, and your lips puckered around him, sucking lightly at the tip. “Oh no, baby, I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you’re going to sit there and let me.” 

He pushed down harder against the back of your head, driving his cock further past your lips. You squirmed, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, you tried to pull back for some air, but his hand just pushed your head down further. “That's it, such a good whore” he groaned out.

You took shallow breaths in through your nose, trying your best to relax your throat to take him in further. Tears welled in your eyes, and you tried to pull back once more. Spencer let out a mix of a groan and a chuckle, “no, no, you wanted to act like a whore, you’re going to take it like a whore.” 

He pulled back, groaning as your tongue ran over the vein on the underside of his cock, “God, yes, there you go.” He pushed back in, this time pulling back faster, setting a rough pace. You gagged again, more tears falling down your face, mixing with the saliva escaping your mouth. 

“Shit, that feels good.” Your eyes flickered up to Spencer's face, just in time to watch him lean his head back with a groan. The sight alone caused you to moan around his cock. “Oh, God” he moaned, his hand pushing your head down one last time, as he stilled, his cock twitching lightly in your mouth, spilling his hot cum. 

The sight of him coming undone before you had you moaning around his shaft, milking his orgasm. “Fuck” he breathed out, his chest heaving. You swallowed around him, trying to control your gag reflex as he pulled your head off of his cock.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, his voice once again soft and soothing, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you to your feet. 

“Please, Spencer, please” you begged. 

Then the soft tone in his voice was gone, replaced with a low condescending tone, “please, what? You want me to make breakfast? Or maybe you want me to go back to working?” 

“No, no, no, no” you begged, taking a shaky step towards him, “please, just fuck me.” Your voice came out harsher than expected, albeit still horse from the abuse on your throat. 

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a short scoff leaving his mouth, “wow, and here I was thinking you had learned your lesson.” 

“No!” You cried, before correcting yourself, “no, I mean no, please fuck me, I’m sorry.” You could feel your arousal soaking through your panties.

“Hmm… much better. Get on the bed.” He stated, turning towards the bed, he clambered on, laying down in the middle, his cock once again hard, and standing at attention.

“B-but, I can’t, not without my arms.” You whined you could only imagine how much of a mess you looked like, drool and tears all over your face, along with your disheveled hair. 

You watched as Spencer’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking leisurely, “that’s a shame, I guess you won’t get to ride me.” He sent you a smirk, watching as you struggled to walk to the bed, the bastard was enjoying this so much. He was addicted to the sight of you, no longer reckless, but more wrecked. Completely at his will. 

You fell face forward onto the bed, squirming to try and climb onto it. “How cute.” Spencer voiced, sitting up slightly, his hands wrapped around your biceps, and in one swift tug, he had pulled you onto the bed. “There you go.”

His hands helped you onto your knees, helping you to straddle him. He pulled your panties to the side with one hand, the other spreading your wetness around your folds. He hummed in approval, “almost seems like you’re enjoying this” he teased. 

You whined at the friction, your hips grinding down against his hand. He pulled his hand back, reaching down to grab his cock. He lined it up with your entrance, slipping the head in. You both groaned at the feeling, your head falling back in pure bliss. His hands moved to your hips, yanking you down fully onto his length. 

“Oh, God, fuck yes.” You moaned, your head leaning forward this time, your hair falling in your face. 

Spencer’s hands left your hips, folding behind his head, “if you want to cum so bad, you can do it yourself.” 

You swear your jaw fell to the floor, and the tears that once filled your eyes came flooding back. “No, please, Spence, please fuck me, please.” Despite your words, your hips began to rock into his, lifting slightly only to crash back down on his cock. 

He groaned lightly, his eyes closing in pleasure, “you were acting like a whore, you’ll cum like a whore.” 

“Ugh, shit.” You moaned out, your hips working faster. 

“Yes, baby, there you go. Make yourself cum on my cock.” Spencer said through gritted teeth.

Your thighs began to burn, and you knew you couldn’t carry on much longer. You quickened your pace, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good whore, my little whore.” Spencer praised, his voice strained with lust. 

The burning became too much, and exhaustion hit your body like a train. You collapsed forward, burying your face in Spencer’s neck. “Please, fuck me, please, Spence. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.” You sobbed, your fresh tears falling onto his shoulder. 

“Alright, baby, it’s okay.” He unfolded his hands from behind his head, running them up and down your back soothingly. His hands ran down to your hips, lifting you off of him. “C’mon baby, we’re not done yet, I know you can take it.” He cooed softly.

You pulled your head back, biting down harshly on your lip, you nodded your head, not trusting your voice. “You’re such a pretty girl, and all for me,” Spencer said, his hand coming up to trail over your face affectionately, and you subconsciously leaned into his touch. 

“Okay, up.” He said, landing a soft tap to your backside. You giggled lightly. He helped you off of him, and before you could relish in how gentle he was, it was gone. He shoved your face forward into the bed, and you let out a sharp yelp. 

The low gravelly tone was back in his voice as he spoke, “You’re such a pathetic little mess for me.” He had moved behind you, his hard cock grinding against your clothed ass.

You turned your face to the side so you could breathe, muttering out a, “please, Spencer, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

His finger hooked in your panties, pulling them to the side, and with one swift motion, he had slammed his cock into you. You screeched, eyes crossing, and mouth falling open. “Fuck, yes! Fuck, me.”

Spencer’s pace was relentless, pounding into you, skin slapping against skin obscenely. He practically growled from behind you, and his hand reached up, latching onto the handcuffs. He pulled you back onto him with each thrust. 

You yelped, your wrists ached, and they would definitely be bruised, but the pleasure was too good to tell him to stop. Plus, you doubted he would listen. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer.” You muttered, the tension building in your stomach. 

“C-can I cum, please? Please, please?” You begged, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth. 

“Cum, cum, whore,” Spencer demanded. 

You let out a loud cry, panting as your orgasm coursed through you. Your thighs clamped together, and you cunt clenched around Spencer’s cock. Your back arched further, pressing your breasts into the mattress. 

Spencer continued his pace, crashing into you with everything he had. “F-fuck, shit, Y/N, so good.” He stuttered. 

At this point you were an incoherent mess, your mind was clouded, all you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer’s cock dragging against your walls. 

“Spence, please, I won’t do it again, I promise.” You begged, you couldn’t tell if you were begging him to stop or continue. 

He chuckled through a groan, “your right, you won’t do it again,” one of his hands reached around, placing itself on your stomach. He could feel the bulge his cock created every time he thrust into you, “you won’t do it again, because I’m going to cum in you.” 

The one-sentence had you spasming around his cock again, moans, and whimpers leaving your mouth. “You won’t be able to go out and drink with your stupid friends if you’re nine months pregnant, bitch.” He gritted out, finally stilling inside you, letting his cum fill you up.

The feeling alone sent you into one last orgasm, your body trembling, and a constant flow of tears cascading down your face.

You knew this wasn’t healthy, you couldn’t make up like this. He was so right, you were being childish and immature. Orgasming inside you was almost his way of telling you you’re not a child, you’re a woman, and you need to act like one. It was on its own, a reality check.

Spencer gave you a few more gentle thrusts, before pulling out, moving quickly off the bed. 

You didn’t dare try and move, your body ached, and your wrists had been rubbed raw. Your headache from earlier was back, this time twice as strong, and you groaned at the pain.

“Shh… baby, don’t move.” Spencer was at your side in an instant. You vaguely registered the clinking of metal and the freeing of your wrists. 

You whimpered as he slathered lotion on your sore wrists, massaging them gently. When he was done you giggled deliriously to yourself, it was moments like these you cherished. Such moments of utter vulnerability and trust that would only be shared between the two of you. 

He left once again, and you slowly rolled onto your back, letting your eyes close momentarily.

Spencer came back shortly, walking back over to the bed. He placed a kiss on your forehead, watching as your eyes fluttered open, “hi” you mumbled. 

Spencer laughed, “hi” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “C’mon” he mumbled.

One of his arms hooked under your knees, the other around your back, you got the idea, quickly wrapping your weak arms around his neck. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom. Upon entering you had noticed he already drew a bath, and a smile crept onto your face. 

“Here, sweetheart.” He set you down on the toilet, helping you out of your shirt, and pulling off your ruined underwear. He helped you up, holding onto you as you stepped into the water. 

You got yourself situated, watching as he stripped from his clothes to join you. You scooted forward, allowing space for him to slip in the bath behind you. 

He smiled at your actions, climbing in carefully, he settled behind you, his arms wrapping around you comfortingly. You sighed peacefully, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m sorry if I was too rough with you” he muttered into your hair.

You giggled lightly, “no, I deserved it.” You sank deeper into the water, allowing the warmth to soothe your muscles and the pounding in your head. 

“No, Y/N, you were just trying to help me relax,” Spencer said sympathetically.

“Mhm, and I ended up doing the exact opposite, I’m sorry, Spence. I just wanted to forget about you, I can’t stand to see you so stressed.” You turned slightly so you could look at him.

“How about this, you don’t drink so heavily next time, and I’ll take more breaks from work?” Spencer debated, one of his eyebrows raised in question. 

You let out a giggle at his expression, leaning back to press a kiss to his perfect lips, “sounds like a deal to me. Plus, who knows when I’ll be able to drink again?” You teased, alluding to the fact that he had come inside you. 

Spencer laughed, his arms wrapping loosely around your stomach, “there’s no one I’d rather have carry my child than you.” He ended his statement with a lasting kiss to your lips, pulling back, only to pepper more kisses on your face.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizabeth Debicki - Gorgeous

A/N & WC - Back again with Elizabeth and Taylor Swift. Reputation is my favourite album currently, with evermore as a close second. Two incredible women in one yes please. Listen to 'Gorgeous' while reading for the feel of it. 2.8k exactly.

Warnings - Legal alcohol consumption, mild cursing once.

Summary - Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

“YOU'RE SO GORGEOUS…”

“What was that?” Elizabeth swiftly cuts in.

Your eyes grow wide in an instant, looking down intensely at the black table, sticky with spilt drinks, and turn your attention away.

“Nothing…” you trail off. Frankly, you hadn’t realised you were thinking aloud, but if you said what you were thinking, then tonight's girls night out with your best friend is gonna be a whole lot harder.

“So as I was saying, this guy from Bumble, he comes and he looks nothing like his profile picture, right?” Her eyes are so animated when she speaks, her jaw agog in a remembering shock, she taps at her glass with ebony painted fingernails. “Like his picture was a solid eight outta ten, but in person, not even a four. But there was something about him, you know? That little twinkle in his eye, so I gave him more of a fair shot than I do other catfishes.” You hum noncommittally, not necessarily listening to the words, but the soft undulating animation in her beautiful accent is worth listening to any day, even if just hearing about her going on a date with someone riles you up intensely. “No personality,” she gapes, smacking her lissom hands down on the table with a slight thump, causing some of her wine to spill. “Absolutely none! It was like talking to a brick wall for half an hour. Can you believe it? And he asked what part of Australia I was from, and when I said Melbourne, you know what he said? ‘Is that in New Zealand.’”

She scoffs, and downs the last of her wine. Her magnetic field is so strong, so alluring, you can’t help but feel drawn to her even more. She really should think about the consequences of her charisma or else you might snog her and ruin everything before the nights even over.

“What a dick,” you play along.

“Ugh, I know. Refill?”

“Please. Whiskey—”

“On ice. I know, hon.”

She smirks, shooting you a wink before standing up and practically gliding across the room to the bar. Your eyes twinkle with hope, with sinful want, as you watch her, and you’re sure that with your wistful expression and flushed cheeks and the way your mouth suddenly goes dry the second she says or does anything that could be construed in the least bit flirtatious that she knows how much you like her. Your whole body tingles, your words and sense swallowed up by an intense fire the second she touches you, it’s beginning to make you furious that she’s able to make you feel this way and still acts so coy about it if she even does have the first clue how utterly besotted you are with everything she does.

Over at the bar, Liz has to hunch to lean her forearms on the countertop, kicking her feet back a little, her short dress showing off her long, shapely legs with grace. She looks so sultry, with her leather jacket shrugged so casually over her pale shoulders. But your mind and illicit thoughts plummet and die the second you peer around her and capture a look at the bartender she’s talking to. Tall and that muscular build of slim that only comes from years of sport, a pinched waist and full chest, tanned skin—perhaps of Filipina descent, dark inky hair falling in tendrils from her work ponytail, no makeup and she still looks stunning. And exactly like Shay Mitchell. And she's flirting with your Elizabeth. Not that she’s yours or anything, that would be absurd, unless…

This woman is gorgeous, and you’re already jealous of her, of the attention she’s receiving from Elizabeth; the suggestive touches, the coy laughs, the revealing tug of her dress, the tentative tilt of her head, the run of her slender hand through her choppy blonde locks. But because Liz is single, it’s actually worse, because she’s been a lot more open and experimental with her sexuality recently, not labelling it but trying more out, trying more partners out. And you don’t fault her for that for even a moment, but why she can’t experiment with you, a raging queer, is beyond your grasp. It’s almost undoubted that she’s going to be taking this incredibly scorching hot bartender home at the end of the night, and if you weren’t out with Elizabeth, you’d be making the same move. But Liz… she desperately needs to think of the consequences of her touching this romans hand in a darkened room. That should be you.

You can’t get too possessive, though, as Liz has done her fair amount of touching you all night on this signature girls pub crawl, but it’s not the same, it’s not… enough. She’s been holding your hand, hooking her arm through yours to do shots, hugging you with her lithe arm around your waist as you totter down the high street in heels too high. It’s all been too friendly, though. And now it’s getting late, your final destination of the night. You’re practically the only patrons with a conscience at this point. You’ll be turning in soon, the bar will be closing soon, it’s inevitable. Liz will have a warm bed, and you’ll be left to go home alone to your cats. She’s so gorgeous, you can't blame the bartender, but she can’t blame you wither; love made you crazy.

You’re busy brooding over the ice slowly melting at the bottom of your glass, condensation forming in droplets on the rim when Liz casts a glance over her shoulder, a bright beaming smile etched upon her face, every line drawn up to match her glee. She points a long raven-painted digit at you, and prompts you to smile back, which you do—without even half as much fervour—and ensure you incline your head towards the bartender, whose dark hazel eyes are now fixed on you, before turning back, pretending to have found something of interest on the table.

“That’s y/n,” she says in a happy, furtive whisper, “my best friend.”

With her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, your mind is all scrambled, and with the intense feeling you might sink and drown and die, you know you need to get it in order before she returns, so you push your own stool out and head to stand in the doorway, fresh air hitting you like a brick wall.

The smell of the city instantly prevents it being worthwhile.

The sun set long ago, and you can see vines crawling up the building across the road from you, even in the dim street light and shadows. Even in a tucked away corner of the city, down back streets in a quiet quarter, the incessant incense of exhaust fumes and chippy food and pigeon shit never quite leaves one alone.

Everything’s winding down, quietening, muffled by an indelible blanket of night. A soft mist fills the air, an impending storm infiltrating your senses, roiling you a little. The walk home will be made worse by the rain soon to fall, ire digging at you for more reasons than one.

Elizabeth… She can make you so happy with one simple look that it turns back to sadness the moment you see the flicker of friendliness in her eyes, never anything more, never anything deeper, not once. What can you say? She’s gorgeous, she’s everyone else's for the taking, whoever she deems rakish enough to take home for the night.

The silence of the night, of your thoughts, is hewn by a sharp siren whizzing past you, so you push your pain away, and sidle back through the doors, shutting the slow drizzle of rain out as you close the door behind you.

Once you return inside, your thoughts slightly more reordered, you see her back at the table, fiddling idly with the hem of her dress, her cheeks tinted a soft red.

“So?”

“I got her number,” she confesses, barely able to bite back a smile, even as her perfect white teeth graze her lower lip. “She gets off shift in an hour.”

You were right, then.

“That’s nice. She’s hot.”

“I know,” she replies dreamily, “and looks exactly like Shay Mitchell, can you believe it? I fancied her so much when Pretty Little Liars first came out.”

“Yeah, I did too.” you admit quietly, clasping your hands around your fresh whiskey.

“You okay? It’s getting late, we can head off now.”

“Nope, absolutely fine. In fact, I think I’ll have another. Tell me something.”

“But we haven’t talked about you all night, I wanna know how your life is going. Love life too.” she protests.

What, your life with the monotonous job and the zero romantic prospects so you spend all your free time sitting at home reading and the nights with your vibrator and Liz in your head? How the hell are you supposed to tell her that.

You simply shrug, and keep a mask of cold, hard resolve in place. “You know my life. I’m interested in yours. Go on.”

So she does. And you do order another whiskey after your first, to the point where you’re verging on the highest restraints of merely tipsy and if you have another you’re heading fast for straight out drunk, which you shan’t do. But you’re merry, and Liz’s words all sound weird, slurred a little from the alcohol, her Australian accent bending to accommodate the vowel sounds she’s making with the occasional slip of a Polish or French word in there. She gets like this when she’s drinking, and it’s one of her most endearing qualities very few are able to see.

“Your voice sounds really weird,” you chuckle, leaning back in your chair, “you’re talkin’ all funny.”

“No I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Am so not!” She’s persistent, she never did back down easy.

You half heartedly shrug, knocking your glasses into one another on the table. You tug your jacket further around you, and purse your lips readying for battle.

“You know, you really should take it as a compliment that I’ve got drunk and I’m making fun of the way you talk.”

She allows her precisely plucked brows to dance over her face in surprise, though quickly schools her features into a plain mask.

“Alright, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Liz. I’m fine.” you say adamantly, and take another swig from your drink, savouring the tang on your tongue. Your glass makes another thud when you slam it down with unplanned and unnecessary force.

“You see, your mouth says that, but your… mouth is telling me something else?”

Before you can help it, your fingers are clutching the edge of the table, your cheeks heating softly, “I haven’t kissed you yet, how can that be?”

A chill slithers down your skin as her eyes grow wide, her pale skin blanching a shade further. “I didn’t mean, um, what? I—” she breaks off with a cough. “I ju— just meant that, um, you’re… sulking.”

“Oh.”

You can’t ignore the way your stomach plummets into the core of the earth, embarrassment taking over every other rational thought within your mind and body. Your soul is already brittle, but this? Your pride has certainly taken a knock enough for you to down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp.

“I’m gonna take off,” you say at last, across the curious blanket of silence, ignoring the way her angular face—limned with hope—falls a fraction.

“Please stay.”

You don’t think you hear her correctly, if at all. For all you know, her words could just be a whisper in the blustering breeze beating outside, the storm you predicted arriving early. In the dim bar, you’re away from it all, sage, until the bartender gets off shift and snatches Liz away for yet another night.

“Beg pardon?”

“Please stay,” she repeats, louder this time, but her blue eyes don’t meet yours across the table. “Tell me what’s up.”

She’s not backing down, so you brace yourself, allowing brazenness to fill you with courage, allowing your alcohol to eddie around you, summoning the words at long last.

“Nothing…” you say at first, because really, it is nothing, but she cocks her head at you that authoritative way. God, she should be a teacher with her assertive glances. “Just that you‘re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…” you snatch her cup across the table, and take a deep swallow before shrugging and casting your gaze outside to spare yourself the mortification of being rejected. “Sober at least.”

You’re met with a beat of silence, “Why?”

“Look at your face!” you shout, utterly exasperated. You’ve got a good mind to pull a compact mirror to remind her how drop-dead stunning she is. “I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way.”

“Why, baby? What way?” she croons.

Too caught up in your momentary lapse of judgement and rant, you fail to notice her edging closer to you, moving your glasses out the way, letting her forearms rest on the sticky table just so she can watch the way you lick your lips with nerves.

“Crazy, because you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts.”

“R—really?” she stammers.

You turn back to her, all thoughts evaporating with her ocean blue eyes looking in yours, driving you insane. Her pretty lips are all parted and awaiting, how much you want to kiss her… So instead, you pout, and begin to throw a strop in your tipsy state.

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she teases, a smirk toying at her mouth, giving her cheeks subtle dimples. “Don’t leave me hanging. “Tell me what you really think. How I make you feel. I wanna hear,” her voice drops to a purr, leaning over the table to husk in your ear, “every little thing.”

“Ok then,” you concede. “You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.”

“I don’t see how,” she snorts, “but continue.”

Her attention never once fails you or turns away, enamoured with your every mere breath.

“You’re gorgeous. Your magnetic field is too strong for me to cope. Your energy draws me in. You’re all I want.”

“More.” she coaxes, a single word, but a whisper, and yet it stokes the embers of desire in the pit of your stomach, your forehead creasing to attempt to draw some concentration back from the depths of your mind where your fantasies about her saying that exact word in that exact breathy way linger.

Perhaps your adulation is excessive, but you don't miss the sparkle in her eyes at each compliment you dole. This is your final card, though, and you’re going to play it right, so you forget about the consequences of touching her hand in a darkness room, and simply intertwine your fingers, drawing your noses to meet over the table.

“You've ruined my life, by not being mine,” you profess, ensuring that your hot breath fans over her lips. You can feel her shudder. “And you know there’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have.”

“I’m all yours if you’ll have me.”

And just like that, the world stops turning around you. Your heart lilts, your mind prattles on about all you want to say, all you want to do. But then it stops. And all of a sudden, you’re intrepid, desperate to ravish her and ruin her for all other women, eager to kiss her voraciously until you can scarcely breathe, yearning to feel her words of reassurance wrap around you, if only she agrees to your proposal over that of the hot bartender.

“Well, I’ve told you what's up, so I guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats. Alone... unless you wanna come along.”

You push away from the table and stand with a slight shrug, turning your back on her, making strides for the door and the storm bristling outside. Only, you barely make it to the door before Liz’s slender hand is wrapped around your arm, and is turning you back to her, tugging you closer, chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Fuck yes, księżniczka. After that, of course I’m coming.”

Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, a desperate battle of will, and her tongue slides over the seam of your lips. You grant her entry with an open mouth, heat skittering over your skin as she holds you tighter, closer, with a deeper urgency you don’t hesitate to match.

Her crystal eyes simmer as she withdraws, her forehead on yours. Her lips brush yours as she breathes, and she grabs your hand, heading out into the night with Liz, at long last.

“For the record, you’re gorgeous and perfect and drive me crazy too. Everything you said tonight, I echo. What can I say?”

You’re gorgeous.

[heytherejulietx]

Drunk ~ Bughead

Masterlists

Requests are CLOSED

Read on AO3 here.

Notes - Okay I know I said I’d have my Jughead x reader fic out before this but I was so inspired to do this first! Please let me know what you think I really liked this one!

Warnings - Alcohol consumption, medication.

Word count - 3.6k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @teenloves

To join my tag list fill out this form

After a while of Betty staying at the trailer on and off, it was always odd whenever she didn’t stay the night. Those were usually the nights that Jughead spent writing, when he wasn’t encased in the secure arms of the blonde goddess he was dating. It gave him the time alone to get fully immersed in his writing and the words that formed on the screen in front of him at every tap of his fingers against the keyboard. Usually he sped through his writing alone; unless he was with Betty or his friends he enjoyed silence so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it, though this night he couldn’t seem to write anything. His blank document stared back at him as he pressed his lips against white clenched knuckles, unable to focus. He had been getting an odd feeling all night - one where you just knew something was wrong, and he hadn’t been able to shake it.

Before he could procrastinate any longer his phone buzzed on the coffee table beside his laptop as his ringtone swallowed the silence of the room, and he smiled slightly upon seeing it was his love calling. Before another loop of the obnoxious ringtone could fill the room he pressed answer and held the device against his ear.

“Juggie!” Betty pretty much yelled on the other end, earning a wince from Jughead at the volume, who held it a little away from his ear. “I miss you so much!” She giggled, her speech a little slurred together.

Jughead frowned. She had only meant to be staying at Veronica’s for the night, and it wasn't like the girls would drink together alone at the Pembrooke. “Are you drunk?” He asked anyways.

Betty simply giggled again, and it was then he could hear the generic pop song coming from the receiver as well as Betty’s voice, as well as a mix of conversation from other people. Many other people. “Kinda.” She responded coyly. “I haven’t had much to drink, Juggie, only a little.”

Jughead sighed and rubbed his free hand over his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. “You sound like you’ve had a lot. Are you at Veronica’s still? Can you put her on the phone?”

“Uh, no we’re at-” Betty cut herself off with a hiccup before she continued. “-Reggie’s house but Ronnie’s here!”

A few faint voices could be heard on the line before an almost rustling noise followed, Veronica’s voice soon filing his ear instead. “Jughead listen-”

“Is Betty okay?” He interrupted her as he frowned a little more. Betty had never even drank before, to his knowledge, and now she was drunk at a house party? Reggie Mantle’s house party? Of course he wouldn’t want to get in his girlfriend’s way of having fun, but she sounded pretty out of it when he had spoken to her, and he didn’t want her getting hurt or worse.

“She’s a bit tipsy. And by that I mean B’s absolutely wasted, she sucks at beer pong by the way.” Veronica tutted. “She’s been asking for you for like an hour, she only just found her phone with her coat.”

Jughead inhaled deeply through his nose and tipped his head back against the back of the sofa, trying not to get too annoyed or worried. Betty had wanted him for an hour whilst she was drunk and Veronica hadn’t called to tell him?

“Give me Reggie’s address. I’m coming to get her.”

-

The thumping of the bass from the generic pop song drummed through the house as Jughead walked into the house, tucking the key’s of his dad’s truck into his jacket pocket. He didn’t even want to risk letting a drunk Betty onto his bike. Too many accidents would be just waiting to happen.

As he pushed through the crowd of dancing and laughing high school students, most of which he recognised from Riverdale High, Jughead couldn’t help but think back to his own sixteenth birthday party that Betty had thrown in his sophomore year. He just hoped that this night didn’t end as horribly.

Surprisingly it didn’t take too long to find Betty in the house full of intoxicated teenagers. After walking through the front of the house he ended up in the kitchen, where Betty and Veronica were alone, spare a couple of other students who were taking shots on the other side of the room. Betty was sat on the counter with a red solo cup in her hands; Veronica stood beside her with her own cup as she laughed away at something. He took in the state of his girlfriend as he crossed the room to meet her, noticing more details as he got closer, the first thing he noticed was the silver and blue dress she was wearing. It was most definitely an item that she didn’t have in her wardrobe - something that Alice Cooper would highly disapprove of if she would have seen her daughter wearing it - so he had to guess the thigh length body-con came from Veronica. The next thing he noticed was her hair; blonde strands let loose over her shoulders and free from the usual ponytail, though it was slightly frizzy and more unkempt than he had seen it before, spare a few life-threatening situations that they had been in.

“Ladies.” Jughead sighed as he got to them, preparing himself for whatever drunken mess he was about to deal with, but he couldn’t help but smile slightly when he watched his girlfriend’s eyes light up when she saw him.

“Juggie! You came!” Betty cheered excitedly, wobbling as she climbed off of the counter before she wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

“Mhm.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he moved an arm around her. “We’re going back to mine, okay? You can sleep over.”

As he was speaking to Betty, he noticed over her shoulder as Veronica grabbed her coat and handed it to him, the raven-haired boy mouthing a thank you as he took it from her.

“What?” Betty whined and leaned back to look up at him, causing her to wobble though Jughead tightened his arm around her waist to make sure she didn’t lose her balance and fall backwards. “We can’t go! You just got here!”

“I know, love, but we have to. It’s late and you’ll feel horrible in the morning as it is.” He sighed. “I’ll go out with you next weekend if you really want. Okay?”

Betty looked like she was thinking about it for a moment as she tugged her glossed bottom lip between her teeth, before she just nodded and smiled. “Okay.” She giggled.

Jughead felt her hands slide underneath his unzipped jacket to rest against his sides as she leaned up a little to kiss him. He could smell the alcohol on her breath and could taste it on her lips as he kissed her, though refrained from deepening it any further and leaned his head back when Betty had tried to. She was very drunk and he wasn’t going to take advantage when she was in such a state.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you to bed.” Jughead pressed another kiss to her temple before he pulled away and handed Betty her coat, thanking Veronica as she slipped it on before he splayed his palm against the small of her back and led her out of the house.

“Did you have a good time?” He asked once they were in the quiet of the outside, slipping his arm around her waist when she kept wobbling to the point of worrying him that she would fall.

“Yeah.” Betty giggled and nodded. “Ronnie heard about the party and said we should go and it was-” She hiccuped again. “-really fun! I’m great at the ball game.”

“The ball game?” He tipped his head to the side to look at her as he got the truck keys out of his pocket to unlock the vehicle.

“Yeah! Y’know, the one with all the red cups and you’ve gotta drink the drinks. Cup basketball?”

“You mean beer pong?” Jughead asked with an amused smile.

“Yeah! Cup basketball!” She giggled.

Jughead chuckled and shook his head as he opened the passenger side door for Betty, gently gripping her forearm to help her into the seat and clipped her seatbelt, before he shut the door and joined her on the driver’s side.

“What does this do?” He heard her ask and looked over at her to see her messing with the lever beside her seat that adjusted it.

“It tips your seat back.” Jughead told her, and had to keep from laughing when she yanked the lever and tipped her seat all the way back so she was laying down.

Jughead started the car once he’d looked away from her and buckled his seatbelt, driving away from Reggie’s house soon after. He was surprised to find that the majority of the journey back to the South Side was in silence, with how talkative Betty had been inside, but every time he risked a glance her way she was just staring out of the window and watched the cars pass by their own. At some point she had reached her hand up and made a grabby motion towards his, and he smiled softly as he gently laced his fingers with hers and kept his other on the steering wheel.

“Juggie?” He heard from beside him just as he started driving into the South Side, humming in acknowledgement as he gave her hand a light squeeze. “Did you know that if you close your eyes… if you close your eyes you can’t see.” She giggled, and upon turning to look at her he could see that Betty had her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Really?” He asked simply just to amuse her, fondly rolling his eyes as he looked back at the road. “Fascinating.”

“I just blew your mind, didn’t I?” Betty asked and Jughead had to suppress a chuckle as he nodded.

“You sure did, sweetheart. You always do.”

By this point Jughead had pulled into the trailer park and parked the truck beside where his motorbike was, shutting off the engine before he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Betty simply hummed in response so Jughead got out of the car and walked around to her side and opened her door for her. She was still just laying down when he had gotten there so he leaned across her to unbuckle her seatbelt before he gently took her hands to help her sit up again.

“Hey!” Betty gasped oncs she’d sat up, a sudden burst of energy filling her. “You live here!” She leaned forwards to point at the trailer though leaned too far forwards and almost fell out of her seat, if it wasn’t for Jughead who had quickly moved his hands to her hips to steady her.

“Easy, love.” He chuckled and helped her out of the truck carefully before he returned his arm around her waist to keep her steady as he locked the vehicle behind him.

Betty stumbled beside him as he helped her up the stairs of the trailer and inside once had the door open, letting it close behind him. His laptop and notes were still strewn messily across the coffee table from earlier in the evening though he gave it no notice as he led his girlfriend through the small space to his bedroom, where she had slept a countless amount of times before.

“Juggie?” Betty giggled in what almost sounded like a sultry tone once they had reached the bedroom, and it caused Jughead to raise his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look down at her with a hum of acknowledgement.

Betty didn’t return with an audible response, and instead slipped her hands underneath his jacket again as she leaned up to kiss him just like she had done at the party. Though unlike the party she moved her hands to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer against herself, deepening the kiss before he could pull away. Jughead groaned lowly into her mouth as her teeth nipped at her bottom lip and as much as he didn’t want to, he moved his hands to rest on either side of his face as he pulled away with a sigh.

“Betty, you’re drunk.” He stated with a newly found seriousness that he hadn’t had in the car.

“So?” Betty whined and leaned up on her tiptoes again, only to be met with his hands on her hips to keep her at a slight distance.

“So I’m not going to take advantage of you whilst you’re drunk.” Jughead explained, and watched as she frowned though nodded her head.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he looked down at her as he took his hands away from her as he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders.

“We’ll get you changed and into bed, okay? Then you can sleep, you must be tired.” He said softly, tilting his head a little as he looked at her.

“I’m not tired.” Betty defended with a giggle and shook her head, though Jughead simply raised his eyebrows at her, his expression screaming I don’t believe you.

“Whatever you say, love, let’s just get you changed anyways okay? That dress can’t be too comfortable.” He lightly brushed his hand across one of the straps before he pulled away from her and walked across the room to grab one of his shirts for her to sleep in.

“It’s Veronica’s.” Betty told him simply as he walked back over to her with the shirt.

“I know, love, it’s not your usual style.” Jughead chuckled and nodded, before he placed the shirt on the edge of his bed and lightly touched her arm. “Need help getting this off?”

“Mhm? There’s a zipper.” Betty nodded. “Just don’t break it because Veronica won’t be too happy.” Betty giggled, and wobbled a little though for the most part she stayed completely still as Jughead moved behind her to unzip the dress and slipped the straps off of her shoulders, letting the material pool at her feet.

“Want this off too?” Jughead asked as he lightly touched the side of her bra, knowing it would just be uncomfortable for her to sleep in though he still wanted to check. He waited for Betty to nod in confirmation before he carefully unclasped the clips and let it drop to the floor with the dress, an action he’d done countless times before, just in a different situation. “Okay, arms up beautiful.” He tapped her upper arm as he grabbed his shirt before he stood back in front of her again, helping her arms through the sleeves once she had held them up before her head through it too, pulling it down so it’d be on her properly.

“Hey this is yours.” She giggled and gestured to the shirt once she had it on, causing him to fondly roll his eyes again as he nodded.

“Yeah it’s mine.” He chuckled, as if he hadn’t been holding the shirt before.

Jughead helped her step out of the dress before he sat her on the edge of her bed, handing her an unopened water bottle that was on his side. “Here, love.” He opened the cap for her before he moved across the room to gather her clothes neatly for her to get the day after.

By the time he’d come back to Betty she’d gulped half of the water and was trying to put the lid back on, which he helped her with when he saw her struggling to do just that. Looking at her expression he couldn’t tell if she was sobering up or not, but she was definitely tired, noted by the dropping of her eyelids every so often before she forced them open again.

Jughead placed the bottle of water on the bedside table before he pulled back the covers and helped Betty get into the bed, her eyelids drooping again as her head hit the pillow. “I’ll be back in a moment, Juliet.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead and watched as she nodded before he pulled the covers up and stepped out of the room for a moment.

After years of dealing with his dad’s drinking, he knew how bad the hangover would be for Betty. And he knew it would probably be worse considering it was her first time drinking. Jughead stepped into the extremely small bathroom of the trailer and turned on the light, ignoring as it flickered as he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle of Tylenol that hadn’t been used since he needed them after facing the gauntlet. He checked the dosage on the back of the pot just to be sure before he tipped out two into his hand and put the pot back into the cabinet and closed it, shutting off the light as he made his way back into his bedroom.

A soft smile painted across his lips when he saw Betty peacefully asleep, thankful he wasn’t going to have to convince her of that too. He carefully dropped the pills on the bedside table beside the bottle of water before he got changed into his own pyjamas and got into the bed beside her after he shut off the light, not taking too long to fall asleep himself once he’d pulled Betty closer and held her until he drifted off.

-

He was woken the next morning by a quiet groan in his ear, and blinked a little as he came to his senses. Betty gripped onto his white tank top as she pressed her face against his neck, another quiet groan leaving her lips as she used her free hand to rub the side of her head. Jughead frowned at the state of her, realising she had a headache.

“Hey,” he whispered, and although she didn’t look at him he knew she’d heard him, her head tilting slightly at the sound of his voice. “You okay?”

“No,” Betty whimpered, sounding close to tears, which made him frown a bit more. “It feels like I got hit in the head really hard.”

“I’m sorry love.” Jughead sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he pulled away from her just enough to reach up and grab the bottle and Tylenol. “Take these.”

Betty turned her head and sat up to take them, her eyebrows knitted together as she sat up properly. “Thank you.” She mumbled as she put the pills in her mouth, having some water to swallow them before she placed the water back down as she sighed and rubbed her temples with her palms.

Jughead laid back into the bed and held his arm out for her to settle into, smiling softly once she was pressed against his side and in his arms. His arm curled around her waist to bring her closer as his free hand lifted up to brush some loose blonde strands out of her eyes, the action causing her eyes to flutter shut. “Do you remember any of last night?”

“Some of it.” Betty whispered in response, opening her eyes back up to look at him as she moved one of her arms around his waist to stay even closer to him. “It’s all a bit fuzzy. I don’t remember getting into bed.” She sighed and shook her head before she winced. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

“No,” Jughead shook his head as he started smirking a little. “But hey, did you know that if you close your eyes you can’t see?” He asked teasingly and chuckled.

Betty groaned as she hid her head against his neck again, causing him to laugh a little more. “I’m sorry.” She whined.

“It’s fine, love, it was pretty funny.” He chuckled.

“No, I’m sorry about all of it.” Betty clarified, and this time Jughead’s expression softened a little.

“It’s nothing, love. I wasn’t just going to leave you at Reggie’s place alone and drunk.”

“Yeah but…” Betty trailed off and sighed, something that kept Jughead’s attention as he waited for her to form the words. “I know what you went through with your dad drinking and I’m sorry I was like that, I shouldn’t have called you in the first place it was stupid of me, I-“

“Hey hey hey,” Jughead cut off her rambling with a gentle hand on the side of her face, guiding her eyes up to meet his. “You don’t need to apologise, sweetheart. You and my dad are completely different things, okay? It didn’t bother me.” He explained, and watched as she visibly relaxed at his answer.

“Okay.” She sighed and smiled in relief.

“I love you, I’ll always be there to take care of you.” Jughead smiled and leaned down to lightly kiss her for a long moment, feeling warm at the soft expression on her face once he’d pulled away.

“I love you too.” Betty whispered and nodded. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“It’s no problem, love.” Jughead shook his head, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Any time.”

[imagine-loki]

.....And that’s enough for you

TITLE: … and that’s enough for you  ONE SHOT AUTHOR: ValarieRavenhearst2  ORIGINAL IMAGINE :Imagine getting blind drunk at a nightclub with your friends and Loki protesting that you should head home but you keep saying you’re ‘fine’. After the fourth time you stumble over he’s had enough and throws you over his shoulder and takes you home to look after you.

RATING: 

NOTES: Was gunna make it nasty but ended being happy with cute fluff. 

  The atmosphere at the Avengers base was brimming with excitement as the day was drawing to a close. Friday. Just about all the cadets and agents were ready to hit the town and get the weekend started. Some members who live off the base are arriving back to pick up their friends after getting ready individually. Reverie, an intelligence agent whose role and position has been a constant roller coaster for the past two years, arrives back so that she can have pre-drinks with her friends (who are classed as the rowdy bunch on the base). She had been an active rising star field agent until she was injured in an explosion which resulted in her being benched in intelligence until her performance could be up to scratch again. But since she showed such exceptional skills in her benched field – nobody bothered to hurry the process along. Then along came a certain God of Mischief who needed a lot of one on one time. The job description was more of a Handler but it became a very flexible title. They needed someone who could earn his trust and keep him calm because the directors were all nervous of the murderous persona that was hidden underneath that charming smile. After it was revealed that his war crimes were influenced under the power of the Mind Stone everyone kind of had to just ‘forgive’ him. The exact details are on a need to know basis but currently he’s living on his own wing of the base so that he can be well monitored (just in case). If the Avengers aren’t doing a group mission then he generally stays on the base and keeps to himself. And since he’s generally well behaved the ‘handler’ position has become a flexible term, leaving Reverie’s career once again up in the air.

    Reverie enters the common area of the living quarters where music is already pumping through the speakers as the girls get ready. They all come take a round of shots and some warm up selfies before Reverie goes to check on Loki for the night. She finds him quickly heading back to his quarters and he stops to admire his friend’s striking appearance. He seldom sees her in such a casual attire. Her low cut mini dress was positively revealing, and arousing. The skirt hem swishes around the middle of her thighs as she walks and the neck line scoops over the tops of her breasts to show as much cleavage as possible before they are practically popping out. Though the mesh sleeves and covering runs across her collar bones for that extra layer of security. Loki’s eyes sparkle mischievously with glee as Reverie dances through the hallway to stop him.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” She sings, wrapping her arms over his shoulders, which she can reach with ease thanks to her stilettos.

“I was about to ask you the same thing?” He flashes her an accusing grin as his hands come to rest respectively above her waist.

“It’s Friday, come out with us.” She pleas and he mockingly rolls his eyes at her.

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.” He muses and she presses her body against his as she tugs gently on his neck.

“Please…” She pleads, not planning on taking no for an answer.

“I’m just so awfully busy at the moment.”

“Oh phft, we both know you are just going to go to your room and do nothing. Come on, come live a little.” She forces him to slow dance with her which evokes a small chuckle. “It’ll be fun.” She promises but again he declines as he twirls her out of his arms and keeps walking. “Loki, please?” She makes one last attempt, wanting to spend the night with her closest friend.

“Go have fun, Reve, you don’t need me for that.” He waves over his shoulder and she slumps in defeat, knowing that she can never pull him out quickly from a brooding state.

“Well we all know that’s just a lie.” She calls and she can hear him chuckle in the distance before she too, turns on her heel back to the party. She enters the common room again as everyone is ordering cars and taking shots. Katie, another intelligence officer looks at her with an encouraging smile moving her hands to ask whether or not the god of mischief would be joining. She shakes her head with a exaggerated pout before taking a shot. Katie matches her expression but doesn’t bombard her with questions, not wanting to upset her as she knows how much she actually wanted Loki to come. Another girl however loudly boos, commenting how good it was that one time Loki actually came out. Reverie remembers the time fondly, it had indeed been a sensational night. Though it had ended poorly the next day when her boyfriend had thrown a fit about her being so ‘friendly’ with the god. She had actually made out on a dare with two of her other friends as a joke but that was okay “’cause who doesn’t love girl on girl action’ as he put it. But god forbid Loki hugging her around the waist.    Not that it was public knowledge yet, but Reverie’s boyfriend had broken up with her suddenly, leaving Rev reeling in confusion. She had only told Katie because she had caught her having a moment at work earlier in the week. So with her cupids wings on, Katie sneaks out to go get Loki. She sprints across the compound as fast as her high heeled shoes will allow before she begins knocking wildly on his door. When the stubborn bastard takes forever to open up the door she begins calling out. When he does open the door, he appears less than impressed – his scowl would have broken a weaker person.

“You have to come out.” She insists and he just rolls his eyes as he goes to berate her for acting like someone had been shot. “Listen, no on knows, but Reve and Nathen broke up.” She informs, still deciding whether or not she will regret spilling her friend’s secrets. “And you’re her friend so that means you have to come out and support her.” Loki’s eyes widen in contemplation – he can’t say he’s sorry. He hated that little punk but held his tongue for the sake of Rev. He wonders why she hadn’t told him herself? Katie can feel his demeanour softening so she continues to probe him. “Come on, it’ll be fun, she just needs to have a good time and she can’t fully do that unless she’s got her trickster god by her side.” He finally reluctantly agrees and before Katie can order them a cab he says he’ll drive as  Midgardian alcohol doesn’t get him drunk any way.   When the two late comers finally show up at the club Reverie is on her fifth drink and positively buzzing. When she sees Loki swimming through a sea of mortals to get to her she is absolutely elated; cheering with both her arms in the air. She hugs him tightly, trying not to spill her drink on him. She has to yell over the throbbing music even though she’s holding him.

“You came.” She observes with exuberance at her best friend’s sudden appearance, barely making out his appearance between each seizuring strobe light.

“I decided I needed to live a little.” His lips are practically on her ear as they speak. She pulls him on to the dance floor with the other girls who are just as pleased to see him; coming up to grind themselves up on him to welcome him to the dance circle.    With every passing hour Loki notices Reverie trying to drink her body weight and tries to lightly encourage her to slow down. But she continuously boasts that she is fine and continues to dance like there’s no tomorrow. When she’s out of the safety of his embrace he watches as she stumbles spectacularly and he rushes to her thinking that for sure her ankle must be broken. But as he reaches her she’s already back up and bobbing like nothing happened. He already suspects that she’ll be in a world of hurt tomorrow. The night begins to merge into morning and the club shows no sign of slowing down, in fact it becomes fuller and Loki struggles to locate his troubled little friend in a sea of darkness as the strobe lights become disorientating. When he finally catches a glimpse of her, she’s bent up against a wall table taking shots with her friends whilst a group of guys come up behind her and try to start groping her as she dances. Startled by their actions she flinches to try and manoeuvre away but the crowding causes her to stumble. Before she can hit the ground Loki is pulling her back up and into him. With his free arm he slams one of the guy’s head into the table and throws him backwards; and in the strobing light no one is the wiser. Reverie begins to say that she is fine but Loki argues, throwing her over his shoulder and marching out. He piles her into the back seat of his car and switches on the child lock. Her body aches with relief as her legs begin to ache from exhaustion so she doesn’t persist with arguing but manages to sit herself up so she can see him in the rear view mirror.

“Where are we going?” A yawn overtakes her as her body relaxes in to the leather upholstery.

“I’m taking you home.” He tries not to sound too much like an overprotective parent and reminds himself not to chide her.

“Okay.” She shrugs easily, her mind happy to be able to fully shut off as it doesn’t have to worry about getting a way home. “I promise I didn’t invite you to be my deso.” She adds.

“I know.” He chuckles lightly, observing her sitting contently, her head rolling side to side with every turn and bump.  

“When am I going to see you drunk?” She babbles. They’ve shared many drinks together and she’s never even seen him tipsy all because of his godly stature.

“Well unless we raid the cellars of Asgard, then never.” He jokes and she leans forward to rest her head on the edge of his seat.

“I’d do that with you.” She promises and wholeheartedly means it. “When do you want to go? We can go right now, sneak in through some tunnels, you dad would never even know we were there.” She begins to formulate and Loki laughs robustly, reaching over to pat her on top of her head.

“Oh I’m sure you would be such an inconspicuous little thief, stumbling around in those ridiculous stilts.”

“Look, buddy,” she hiccups, “we’re not all born with giraffe necks for legs, so we’ve got to get a little creative.” She continues to make him laugh all the way to her drive way, then he helps her out of the car with a supportive arm around her as they walk up the front path. After a brief moment of searching for her keys, Loki just waves his hand over the door and the locks open. “Thanks magic boy.” She mumbles as she stumbles over the threshold, throwing her purse over somewhere and pulling off her heels. Her legs scream in protest at the sudden change in angle and she almost wishes to just cut them off. Loki scoops her up before she can have a tantrum and carries her off to her room; placing her in the middle of her bed. With no energy to open her eyes she lays still, hearing Loki move about her room. “I don’t want to get ready for bed.” She whines as her limbs ache but her mind refuses to let her sleep with her face still caked with makeup. Luckily everything she needs should be within arm’s reach because she planned for this. “Will you help me?” She pleads as she stretches out her body and her arms become stuck above her head.

“Of course I will.” She feels him crawl on to the bed, climbing on top of her to straddle her hips. “What would you like me to do?” He questions, his tone playful as his fingers lightly caress up and down her sides. She giggles as she thinks of many things she would actually like him to do.

“Can you pass me the wipes, they should just be over there somewhere.” Her fingers point in the vicinity of her bedside chest as her arms go to sleep momentarily. Loki reaches across effortlessly and retrieves the packet, pulling a towelette out he begins wiping away the layer of makeup that covers her face starting at her chin. She giggles hysterically which causes his own laughter to rumble with hers. “It tickles,” she laughs and he tries to be more firm to cease her babbling amusement. The black glitter on her eyes is more hesitant to be removed and smudges all around her eyes.

“How on earth were you going to do this alone?” He questions as this task is becoming harder then he thought.

“I don’t know.” She mumbles with a drunken smile, she’s always gotten it off before. The stars just must align at this time. “You need to take the lashes off.” She informs and she would have laughed if she could see Loki’s startled expression.

“How?” His voice goes high as if he’s watching someone give birth.

“You just pull them off.” She tries to wake her arms up so that she can do it herself but it’s going to take a little bit of manoeuvring. Loki gently touches the lashes before gently trying to peel them off. When the first one begins to pull away he makes an uncomfortable groan which sounds like he’s watching someone have surgery on their eyeballs. “It’s not that bad,” she giggles, her arms coming back to life.

“Why on earth do you do this to yourself?” He mockingly questions as he can’t see a substantial reason behind this peculiar task.

“Too make myself look pretty.” She laughs as she’s able to force her eyes open again when he’s finished.

“Reve, you’re already stunning.” She looks up at him and becomes saddened by the adoration she sees in him.

“Nathan doesn’t think so.” She whispers with a mirthless smile as she tries not to cry.

“Then he’s blundering bilgesnipe.” He cups her face gently and kisses her forehead, “why didn’t you tell me you broke up?” He questions as he caress her hair gently.

“I don’t know.” She continues to whisper so she can’t hear the sadness in her tone, “it just makes me sad. And I wasn’t ready for everyone’s harsh opinions.” She shrugs as she avoids his gaze by playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“You know you don’t have to hide things from me.” He adjusts his body so he’s gently laying on top of her as he kisses her cheek gently. “I’ll always listen.” A small squeak emits in her throat as she wills away the tears; holding his head down so he doesn’t see her cry. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles against her pulse. “He wasn’t worthy of you.”

“Thank you.” She sniffles and blinks away her welling tears. Content and happy in his arms she allows herself to drift off again and when she’s calm Loki finishes getting her ready for bed before joining her; laying down next to her with a protective arm draped across her.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Four Times Nathan Proposed and One Time He Meant it

Hi! This is my humble contribution to @nolypats and @hockeyboysiguess campaign for Nathan MacKinnon for Hockey Boy of the Month. Please see their blogs for more info, also just because they’re amazing writers. This is my first time trying a 4+1, I thought it would be nice to put something out before the next chapter of Flatbush & Atlantic. It was genuinely so much fun writing this, so please let me know what you think!

Wine pairing: Rotari rosé. @hockeyboysiguess and I have started to pair all of our writings with their own wine, bearing in mind that neither of us knows anything about wine. It’s all about the VIBES. 

4 times Nathan proposed and 1 time he meant it

The first time (February)

Jordan knocked on the door, a glass dish balanced precariously on her hip. She and Nathan tried to have a standing date night every week, something that wasn’t grabbing lunch when they were both free or meeting for coffee before she had to head to work and he went to practice. That was, unless there was a game. Or a roadie. Or a team event. So needless to say, the two had been a little strapped for “couple time” recently, and they were both feeling it. She had an article due the next day, a co-write about the use of illegal dark money in a recently-elected congressman’s campaign. Nathan had a long practice that morning and wasn’t feeling too up to anything that would require him to move too far from his couch. 

He opened the door, giving her a quick kiss. “I pulled up a few movies I thought you might be into, but didn’t want to pick anything until you got here.”

“You’re so considerate, I think I’m going to swoon,” Jordan said.

Nathan shrugged. “I’ll catch you if you fall.” Deep down, he really was a romantic, though the boys would chirp him endlessly if they knew. 

Jordan padded into the kitchen, setting the dish onto the counter and opening up the cabinet right above the toaster oven, grabbing two plates. Even apart from date night, it wasn’t uncommon for them to eat in; partly due to the fact that there were few things in this world Nathan loved more than being able to fly under the radar, something that was a little bit difficult to do when you wore the A for the Colorado Avalanche, but partly because in his own way, it was letting Jordan into his life. “What movies were you looking at?”

“Depends what you’re feeling,” Nathan replied. “We’ve got...Star Wars, Captain Marvel, and 10 Things I Hate About You.”

Her ears perked up. “The one with Heath Ledger?”

“That’s the one. Sound good to you?” 

Jordan had always had a penchant for movies of the late-90s and early 2000s, especially if they were romcoms, and especially if said romcoms starred Julia Stiles. As a little girl, there was definitely more than once where she had herself entirely convinced that her life would turn out exactly like The Prince and Me. Minus, of course, the fact that the beginning of Paige and Edvard’s entire relationship was built on lies. Mainly, she was just really into crowns and big poofy dresses as a little girl. “Sounds good to me!” She said brightly. “You want a brownie?”

Nate craned his neck to look at her in the kitchen, looking expectantly at him with one hand holding a spatula. “You made brownies?”

Jordan giggled. “I did. I take it that’s a yes?”

“That’s a definitely, please, my God give me one right this second or I might combust.” She slid the plate onto the side table a minute later, grabbing two napkins. “Are these normal brownies?” Nathan asked, picking one up and inspecting it with a semi-confused look on his face. 

“They’re triple-layer, it’s an old recipe for slutty brownies from when I was in college. Bottom’s cookie dough, then Oreos, then fudge brownie on top of that.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Slutty brownies?”

Jordan swatted at his shoulder. “I know it’s a weird name, just give them a chance. I know you’ve been feeling a little down with the losing streak, and thought you could use a pick-me-up. They were my go-to for breakups, always seemed to help the girls feel better, so I thought it might work for you too.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathan’s heart skipped a beat with Jordan’s words. “Guess I’ll have to see,” he said, taking a bite out the corner. His face melted. “This is...literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Seriously, it’s so good. So good. Oh my God, marry me.”

Jordan flushed, turning to take a sip of water so he wouldn’t see. “I’m glad you like them.”

The second time (May)

It was 11:38 on a Friday night, and Jordan and Nathan were at a bar. To be precise, Jordan, Nathan, and pretty much the whole team were at a bar, plus what seemed like the entire population of Denver. Springtime meant playoff season for the NHL, and winning a series meant going out. Jordan normally had to pass whenever the team decided to hit up a bar or club after a win; as much as she would have liked to go, she was a journalist who kept a 9-5 job, which meant that she had to at least get some modicum of sleep if she was going to be able to function in the newsroom without an injection of caffeine straight into her veins. But it was the weekend, and she’d be damned if she was going to miss out on this. 

For the most part, the fans weren’t making a fuss; there was the occasional picture taken or pat on the back for winning the conference semifinals for the first time in twenty years, but nothing out of hand. Sipping her Dark & Stormy, she looked fondly over at Nate, who was having what looked to be a very animated conversation with Burky. Already two and a half drinks in, Nathan was starting to act a little tipsy; while he was normally more reserved about public displays of affection, he kissed Jordan more than one as the night went on. Not like she was complaining. Picking up a refill from the bar, she scooted back into the booth next to Nate. He planted a messy kiss on her cheek. “Where’d you go, Jo?”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Unlike some of us, I can’t just snap my fingers and have alcohol appear at will. I had to actually go to the bar for another drink,” she teased. 

Nathan threw his head back laughing. “‘S’pose you’ve got a point there, babe.” He slung one arm over her shoulders. Jordan unconsciously leaned into his touch. “What’d you think of the game?” She wasn’t able to make it to every game, but was lucky that she could get down to the Pepsi Center more often than not. The Avalanche had beaten the Flames in 6, after dropping the first two games in Calgary and being pegged as another likely sweep, they had come back to win the next four and the series. 

“Just trying to stroke your own ego, eh, MacKinnon?”

“Picking up some Canadian slang, eh, Murphy?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe, maybe not. But the game was amazing. You know that. You did amazing, Nate.” In the 3-1 win, Nathan had scored two points, an assist and an absolute beauty of a power-play goal that just barely squeaked into the top left corner above Rittich’s shoulder. 

“Sure, maybe I do know,” Nathan admitted, “but it’s one thing hearing it from fans and the media and even my teammates. It’s another hearing it from you.” Jordan loved Nathan, but he wasn’t always the best at expressing his feelings out loud. She was the first one to say “I love you, to introduce him to her parents, to take just about any step forward in their relationship. It was something he was getting better at, slowly but surely, and it meant the world to Jordan that he was trying so hard. Maybe it was the liquor, or the atmosphere, or the excitement of the night, but it meant just as much to her to hear it as it probably did for him to say it. 

Half an hour and several drinks later, the last few people left were trickling out. Most had carpooled to the bar, leaving their cars back at the arena to get the next day. Jordan would have ordered Nate an Uber and then just hitched a ride with someone else back towards her apartment west of downtown, but Nate was pretty far gone. And he was a cute drunk, all things considered, but she was on her way to sobering up and felt an obligation to at least get him in bed safe. Their car pulled up, Nathan clumsily ducking in ahead of her as she shut the door behind him, buckling first his seat belt then her own. They walked through his front door fifteen minutes later, Jordan dropping him off in his bedroom to get undressed before grabbing a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. Nathan was in his boxers when she walked in, struggling to pull a t-shirt over his head. Jordan laughed, walking to his side of the bed before gently tugging it, handing him the water and two Advil. “If you take it now, it’ll help with the hangover later.” Kissing his forehead gently, she turned to leave.

“Where are you going, Jo?”

She stopped at the door. “Home?”

“I want you to stay.” 

She sighed gently, smiling at him. “Okay, I’ll spend the night.” 

“No,” Nathan interrupted, grabbing her wrist lightly as she turned to grab one of his old World Cup shirts to sleep in. “Forever. I want you to stay forever.”

The third time (August)

It was the middle of August, and Jordan and Nathan were in Canada. He had invited her earlier in the summer to visit for a few weeks, and as soon as she got the time off approved, she booked her flight. Getting to Springhill wasn’t the easiest — she flew to Toronto, had a layover, flew to Halifax, then got picked up by Nate for the two hour drive to his hometown. He had flown out in June, about a month after the Avs lost to the Kings in the conference finals, so the couple hadn’t seen each other in nearly two months. Jordan wasn’t about to complain about a few more hours. His parents had been so generous letting her stay for two weeks, and hadn’t batted an eye when Nathan had moved her into his old room. “Just don’t wake us up,” his mom had said, causing Nathan’s cheeks to turn scarlet. 

Jordan had met them a few times before; they had flown out for the All-Star game the previous January and had gotten together during the team Moms’ and Dads’ trips. And if she was around when Nathan was FaceTiming them, she always popped in for a few minutes to say hi. But she still hadn’t quite expected the ceaseless hospitality she had been offered over the past week. Maybe Canadians really were just that nice. 

Halfway through Jordan’s trip, they decided to throw a barbeque. And by they, that meant it was Nate’s idea and he roped them all into helping. Jordan had already been introduced to a few of his old friends, they had gone out for drinks to the one bar in town on her second night, but she was excited to meet everyone else. His dad Graham was keeping an eye on the grill, Nathan had filled the cooler with drinks, and Jordan was helping his mom carry out the fruit bowl and salad to the backyard. Nathan ran up to his room to change right as people started trickling in, and came back to a yard full of family and friends. He craned his neck, trying to figure out where Jordan had wandered off too, before his sister pointed to where she sat with a few of his cousins. 

Nathan opened his mouth, about to ask her something, when Jordan quietly brought a finger up to her lips. “She’s sleeping,” she whispered, gesturing to her arms, where a tiny baby was nestled, eyes firmly shut. 

He remembered that his cousin Rachel had had a baby not too long ago, but didn’t realize she’d be old enough to travel yet. “Is this Natalie?” he asked quietly, sitting in the chair next to Jordan. Rachel nodded. For a few moments, Nathan was lost in the scene, lost in how damn perfect Jordan looked with a baby in her arms. They had spoken about those sorts of things — future things — enough to know that marriage and kids were something they both wanted, but this was the first time it had hit him, like really hit him, that that could be them down the line. Over by the fire pit, his mom watched, a soft smile on her face.

Nathan stood in the kitchen with his mom a few hours later, drying off dishes from the party. Handing a plate to him, Kathy shot a curious glance at her son, as if a thought had just popped into her mind that hadn’t been there before. Nate looked back at her, confused. “What is it, mom?

Kathy nodded out the window, where Jordan was laughing at a joke his dad had just made, balancing the last round of dirty plates to bring in on her arm. “When are you going to put a ring on it, Nathan?

Nathan wasn’t particularly prone to blushing, but he had been doing a lot of it lately. “I—uh—” His mom rested a hand on his shoulder with a knowing smile. “Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve been thinking about it.”

Kathy was beaming. “I knew it. When?”

“When am I going to propose?” She nodded. He shrugged. “I don’t know when it’s going to happen, Mom, but it’s going to. I’m going to marry that girl.”

The fourth time (November)

Jordan grimaced, breathing in sharply as she braced her elbows on her desk. Elisa, her friend who worked in the cubicle beside her, looked over, a concerned expression on her face. “You good, hun?” 

Jordan nodded mechanically, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen, swallowing three with a gulp of water. “Yeah, I should be fine. I should be starting my period in the next day or two, so I’m pretty sure it’s just cramps.”

“Are they usually this bad though?” Elisa had always been a worrier.

She shook her head. “No, not since I went on birth control a few years ago, but who knows. The ibuprofen will help, and it’s probably normal anyways. I’m sure it’ll go away.”

It didn’t go away. Two hours later, when Elisa was finishing up the last paragraph of her analysis of the Broncos’ new coaching hire, Jordan suddenly shot up from her desk, running at breakneck speed towards the women’s bathroom with a queasy look on her face. Elisa followed, bursting through the door to the unmistakable sharpness of vomit. She knelt down next to Jordan, pulling her hair back with the spare scrunchie she kept on her wrist. “Jordan? Are you okay?”

Jordan shook her head. “I feel awful, El.”

Eliss touched the back of her hand to Jordan’s forehead. “You’re warm. Have the cramps gotten better.”

“Worse,” Jordan admitted, wiping at the beads of sweat that had started to accumulate on her forehead. 

Elisa pulled out her phone from her back pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance. I don’t think this is cramps, Jo.” 

Jordan didn’t have the strength to argue, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to anyways. The ambulance arrived ten minutes later, carting Jordan off to Denver Health Medical Center. “Any chance you could be pregnant?” one EMT asked. 

“I could be, but I shouldn’t. I’m on birth control and my boyfriend always uses protection,” Jordan said weakly. The EMT made a scribble on her paper. She barely registered pulling into the hospital, nurses pulling her into the ER, or a doctor wheeling in an ultrasound machine. She was conscious enough to recite her name, date of birth, and insurance number before being taken into the operating room, and then a mask was placed over her nose and her world went dark.

The first thing Jordan did when she woke up was check the clock in her room. It was 3; from what little she remembered, she had been taken to the hospital sometime a little after noon. “Oh, thank God,” she heard from her left side. She recognized that voice. It was Nathan’s voice. He grabbed her hand — the one that didn’t have an IV drip in it — and kissed it quickly, smoothing back the pieces of her hair that had come out of the hair tie. “Elisa called during practice, and she told me what happened, but she didn’t even know what happened, and then I left and drove over here, but then—”

Jordan laughed softly, feeling a dull pain in her lower abdomen. “It’s fine, Nate, I’m fine. What happened, anyways? I don’t remember anything after I went into surgery, I have no idea what it was even for.”

“You had appendicitis, your appendix was about two seconds away from bursting.”

Jordan let out a low whistle. “Glad that didn’t happen. Hey,” she added as an afterthought, “I thought visiting hours here didn’t start until 4?” Jordan had visited a college friend of hers who had had a baby a few weeks prior, and could have sworn that she wasn’t let in until later. 

Nate smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, they do. I couldn’t even figure out what room you were in at first. They wouldn’t tell me anything, so I told them I was your fiancé.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Nathan rubbed his thumb over her finger. Her ring finger. “I mean, it’s pretty much true. All I’ve got left to do now is ask you.”

“And get the ring,” Jordan added. 

“Nope.”

+1 (January) 

Family skates had quickly grown to be one of Jordan’s favorite parts of the season. She had loved the first one, but had felt just a tiny bit out of place; her and Nathan had only been dating for a little over six months, and it seemed like almost everyone else had known each other for years. But she’d forged some amazing friendships with other WAGs over the past year, trading babysitting duties for pies and meeting to watch the game while the boys were on a road trip, sharing new Spotify playlists and learning how to support each other along the way. The team had become her second family, even though her parents only lived an hour and a half away. 

Jordan had been a competitive figure skater throughout high school and into college, so she was no stranger to the ice. She obviously couldn’t get out nearly as often as she had before, but her skates still fit and she could still land a triple salchow after warming up. She and Nate had been skating around for an hour or so, taking a break after some “friendly competition” where Josty had made the mistake of challenging Jordan to a race around the rink. She beat him by two seconds. 

Jordan unscrewed the top of her water bottle, taking a few grateful sips before putting it back in her bag. “Babe!” Nate called from a few rows away, where some of the younger kids were gathered next to what looked like pastels. “Want to face paint?” 

She smiled, raising her eyes playfully as she popped on her blade guards and walked over towards the bench. “You sure about that one, MacKinnon? I’m not much of an artist.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s okay, I bet you’ll be great!” He was so sweet for believing in her. 

“Alright,” Jordan said, straddling the bench and picking up the box. “What would his highness like for the design? Bear in mind you’re working with a beginner here.”

“Butterfly!” He chirped excitedly. “There’s been a whole bird and insect theme going on here,” he pointed at the kids’ cheeks, covered in bees, ladybugs, and one demonic-looking...crow? Was it a crow? Did they even get crows at this time of year? “and I wouldn’t want to break the trend.”

“We couldn’t have that,” Jordan agreed. Ten minutes later Nathan had a very blue, barely-acceptable-looking butterfly on his right cheek, but he was beaming like the sun as soon as he pulled up his camera to look at it. “I love it, Jo. Thank you,” Nate said, giving her a quick kiss. 

Activities wrapped up not too long after, and Jordan and Nathan walked out of the rink hand-in-hand towards his car. They had moved in together two months earlier, and Jordan had been more than happy to move out of her tiny studio into Nate’s giant apartment, where you could see the Rockies from the rooftop on clear days. Plus, his building allowed dogs. As Nathan drove home, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tangled with hers by the center console, Jordan looked over at him, with the little blue butterfly on his cheek, and she suddenly felt so unbelievably happy. So unbelievably full. It went without saying that she loved Nate. She loved him like she had never loved anyone before, and never would again. 

At the same time, Nate’s heart was beating faster than it ever had in his life. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t surprised, but he had just realized something. He already knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jordan. Nathan had realized that months ago. And he hadn’t been lying at the hospital, he had already bought the ring. But Nathan wanted everything to be perfect when he proposed; it couldn’t be rainy outside, because what if she wanted pictures? It couldn’t be too soon after her older brother’s wedding, because then she might think that was the reason why. It couldn’t be in the summer, because then he’d go back to Nova Scotia for the summer and his mom might scalp him for leaving his fiancée in another country. But, Nathan realized as they pulled into the underground lot, there never was going to be a perfect time. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to be Jordan’s husband. There shouldn’t be anything stopping him. There wasn’t anything stopping him. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Nate said as Jordan slipped off her shoes. She nodded. Nathan went up the stairs, but past the bathroom. He walked into their bedroom, into his closet, to the shoebox that had his old atom league medals. He grabbed the velvet box, opening it and taking one last look before taking a deep breath and putting it in his pocket. 

“You want to watch SVU reruns?” Jordan asked as he ambled back into the living room. 

His mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Uh—can I say something?”

Jordan looked over. “Yeah, go ahead? We can totally watch something else if you’re not feeling Law & Order, I think I saw Chopped on the Food Network, or Jurassic Park is halfway through…” She trailed off. 

Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets, turning the ring box over and over. He bit his lip. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” Jordan nodded slowly. “When I met you, I wasn’t looking for anything. I had just had my heart broken by someone who I thought would be my forever, but then you came into my life and suddenly...suddenly, it all made sense. I thought I knew love, I thought I knew what it was to be in love, but I didn’t, really. Not until you. You bring me down to earth, Jordan, when I’m too far in my head. I know you’re on my team even when we’re losing, even when it seems like nothing in my life is going right I know you’ll always be there to pick me up when I fall. And I don’t ever want to take that for granted. You challenge me in the best way, you always push me to be a better partner, a better teammate, and a better man. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you.” Jordan was tearing up, starting to figure out where his whole speech was going and hoping beyond hope that she was right.

“I know I’m not always physically here, but I promise to always be there for you, Jordan. I’ll hold you when you’re crying, I’ll buy your favorite chips when we’re out, I’ll pay the utility bills because I know you’re terrible with remembering dates. It was eight months in when I realized you were the one.” Nathan bent down on one knee. One of Jordan’s hands was over her mouth, the remote having long since been abandoned on the couch. “I can’t wait to see where we go, Jordan. I can’t wait to get a nice house with a big backyard, go down to the animal shelter saying we’re only going to adopt one dog but come back with three. I can’t wait for the day you tell me you’re pregnant, and we get to hold our child for the first time and I get to see you be a mother. I can’t wait for us to start our lives together. I can’t wait for you to be Jordan MacKinnon.” He opened up the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

Jordan fell on her knees, hands on both sides of Nathan’s face. “Yes.”

[wonderswritings]

Charm

Summary: Who knows, maybe instead of third times the charm, it’s fifth times the charm. Warnings: None Pairings: Oliver Queen x Female!Reader

Requested: @slytherinlyn13​ are you still doing wedding oneshots? If so can you do a Oliver queen AN: Technically my wedding oneshots are closed cause that was from a while back like last year I think 😂 but my regular requests are open so here you go! And I’m working on you’re other request to! Also this is set in my Oliver Queen series universe I’m currently working on that I haven't posted yet 😅 But I’m working on it!  Dividers made by @writeyourmindaway Tags Guess who’s returned to the land of the living! This girl!

“You sure you want to do this? There’s still time to back out.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I reached for my glass of champagne.

“Shut up.  I didn’t run for it the first four times.”

Felicity grinned, nodding.

“True. Hopefully this time you can actually make it down the aisle and through the vows.”

“True. But even if, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Unless nazi’s show up.”

Huffing, I waved a finger at Felicity.

“That was one time, and out of our control, and not even our wedding.”

“Sure Ms I’m going to play the self sacrifice card for someone they’ve only met twice who’s apparently their doppleganger from another world.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

“Do you give Oliver this much hell when he does the exact same thing, like every week?”

Felicity nodded, standing up.

“You know it. Now come on, the car is waiting for us.”

I laughed as I stood up, Felicity running around the room, making sure we had everything. I followed behind her, turning and rushing back into the room, grabbing the bottle of champagne, causing Felicity to laugh.

“Alcoholic.”

I rolled my eyes, sliding into the limo behind her.

“Whatever. You know you want some too.”

She grinned, grabbing to glasses.

“You know it.”

When we got to the venue, Thea was already there waiting for us as the limo pulled up, her hands on her hips.

“Where have you two been?1 you were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

Me and Felicity shared a look, holding onto each other before we broke out into laughter. Thea huffed, rolling her eyes as she walked in between us, forcing us apart, grabbing onto our arms, leading us inside.

“I can’t believe you two are drunk.”

I gasped, looking over at Thea, slightly shaking my head.

“We are not drunk!”

Felicity started to laugh again, causing me to make a face at her.

“Okay, Felicity is slightly drunk. But I’m not! You know I can’t get drunk, even if I tried. I’m just, barely even there tipsy.”

“You’re getting married today.”

“Who knows, we might not even make it through the ceremony like the last four times!”

Thea snorted, shaking her head as we came to the bridal suite.

“I am definitely telling Ollie you said that.”

I shrugged, flopping down onto the bed.

“Go ahead. He knows how I am.”

I lifted myself up onto my elbows, turning my head towards Thea, grinning.

“It’s why he wants to marry me.”

Thea shook her head as Felicity fell into another laughing fit, almost falling out of the chair, causing Thea to sigh.

“Alright, you need to sober up. I am going to get you some coffee.”

She turned towards me, shaking her head.

“Sarah should be here shortly. She can deal with you while I make sure everythings good on Ollie’s end.”

I gave her a thumbs up, falling back onto the bed.

Thea knocked on the door, pushing it open not long after. Oliver was standing in front of the mirror, Diggle and Barry lounging in the chairs.

“Hey Barry. When did you get here?”

Barry smiled at Thea shrugging.

“Not too long. Iris should be with the girls.”

Thea nodded, looking over at her brother.

“How is she?”

Thea grinned, walking towards Oliver.

“Felicity is drunk. YN said she’s barely even there tipsy, which I’d believe if they weren’t both an hour late and laughing like idiots when they got here.”

Diggle laughed, shaking his head.

“I owe Lila fifty bucks now.”

Oliver turned, making a face.

“Why?”

“I bet that YN wouldn’t show up drunk to the wedding till wedding number ten. Lila bet wedding number five.”

“We wouldn’t have made it to number ten.”

Barry grinned as Diggle smirked, tilting his head to the side.

“Why not? Figure she wouldn’t want to keep postponing it?”

Oliver shook his head, smirking.

“Because if she had it her way, we would’ve already gone to the courthouse and gotten married.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Oliver shook his head, huffing.

“Because after all I’ve put her through, she deserves better than a courthouse wedding.”

Thea smiled, grabbing Oliver’s hand in hers.

“Well, clearly she loves you since she’s stuck by you this entire side. Plus, it’s a bonus that she hasn’t dragged you to the courthouse yet anyway.”

She shrugged, grinning.

“Not like you could really stop her either.”

Oliver laughed, pushing his sister towards the door. 

“Go make sure she’s ready.”

Thea grinned, standing in the doorway.

“Why? Afraid she won’t be walking down the aisle?”

Oliver huffed, nodding.

“Yes.”

“Ready?”

I nodded as Thea and Sarah flittered around my dress, smoothing and pulling in certain areas, causing me to huff as I used my powers to push them away.

“Can you not? I’m good. Now let's go get me married.”

Felicity laughed as she handed me my bouquet.

“Yeah, we’ve only been here four other times.”

Sarah grinned, moving to push the doors open.

“How many dresses does this make? Two?”

I grinned, shaking my head.

“Nope, three. The first one we couldn’t get the blood out of it, the second one caught on fire and then the third was ripped to shreds. None of which was my fault. Hopefully this dress lasts.”

“Hopefully this wedding is actually a wedding and not-”

“Like the other four?”

I laughed, nodding.

“Well, at least this time everyone’s actually here. Maybe with a room full of heroes, we’ll actually make it through the freaking entrance.”

They all laughed as we came to a stop outside the doors. They flittered around me once more, causing me to huff as the music started to play. The girls got into position, Thea turning back towards me, grinning.

“Sure you don’t want to make a run for it? There’s still time.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I used my powers to push her forward.

“Shut up and walk.”

Walking down the aisle, I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn’t laugh at Oliver. Don’t get me wrong, it was a sweet moment, walking down the aisle to the love of my life, but Oliver was crying, tears streaming down his face with a smile so big, he was making my cheeks hurt. I’ve seen him crying before, but this was different. Coming to a stop in front of him after I handed Thea my bouquet, I laughed when Oliver pulled me to him, kissing me, causing everyone else to laugh.

“Not yet Mr. Queen.”

Oliver shot a smirk at the priest, shrugging.

“I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Sucker.”

Oliver grinned at me, giving my hands a gentle squeeze as the priest started to talk. In all fairness, I probably should’ve been listening to what he was saying, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Oliver. I shook my head when Oliver slightly pushed me, causing him to grin.

“Now you made me write these vows, so you better be listening.”

I grinned, shrugging slightly.

“I’m listening. I just can’t get over the fact that we’ve actually made it to the vows without someone crashing us.”

“Well now, don’t jinx it. There’s still time.”

The priest coughed, drawing our attention to him.

“It’s time for your vows Mr Queen.”

Oliver nodded, turning back towards me, smiling.

“This is gonna be so cheesy. But here I go.”

He took a deep breath, and I couldn’t help but watch his chest rise and fall.

“Before I met you, I had a plan. I had a way how I was going to be, my life, everything. But then you showed up and you changed everything. I was in the darkness but you’re compassion, your trust, your wit, and your love brought me into the light. You let me know, and you showed me that I deserved it. You were the light, my light. And I don’t know if I still deserve that trust, if I deserve you. I probably don’t, but whatever happened, whatever will happen, the way you make me feel is the best part of my life. You are my always and forever.”

I sniffled, tightening my grip on his hands as I reached up, wiping my eyes.

“Oh my god, Felicity and Sarah are going to kill us both for messing up all their hard work. And I’m gonna kill you for making me cry you sucker.”

Everyone laughed, Oliver shaking his head.

“You love me too much.”

“Well clearly else we wouldn’t be here. Now shut up, it’s my turn.”

Oliver laughed, grinning at me.

“Well of course my dear.”

I huffed slightly, glaring at him.

“Well, seeing as you’ve already made me cry, I think it’s my turn to make you cry. You;ve said time and time again, that I was the one who saved you, brought you out of the darkness when really, it’s the other way around. You’ve saved me more times than I can count. You’ve stuck by my side even when I didn’t want you there. When I’m down, you’ve picked me up. When I’m weak, you’ve been my strength. And through it all, no matter what, you’ve loved me. Something I never thought I deserved. You say you don’t deserve me, or my love, but I say you deserve that and so much more. So, even though we’ve been here four times before, it doesn’t matter. All that really matters is you, me and our love for each other.”

I grinned as Oliver sniffled, sticking my tongue out at him.

“I told you  I’d make you cry.”

Oliver huffed, turning towards the priest.

“Mind hurrying it up a bit so I can kiss her already?”

The priest laughed, nodding.

“Of course. We’ve already done the rings so all that’s left is, by the power invested in me by Starling City, I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

The priest laughed as Oliver pulled me to him, kissing me. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I smiled into the kiss, placing one hand on Oliver’s cheek. Leaning back just a tad, I looked up at him, running my fingers along his cheek. 

“I love you.”

He smiled, slightly shaking his head as he gave me another quick kiss.

“Not as much as I love you, Mrs. Queen.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Not as much as I do.”

Permanent Loves:

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[allthingshetalia]

can we pls get a scenario of femreader being bffs with gil. like they literally are together for everything to the point ppl say/think they are a couple. but luddy has had a crush since forever on her but ofc puts gils happiness before his. turns out, she returns his feeling too. this could apply to a humanau but you may do as you like tbh your writing is good. stay safe bb and thanks.

💕I love this so much!!! Thank you!!💕

The large blonde grumbled to himself as he scrubbed the dishes. He could hear your melodic laughs from the livingroom as you and Gilbert were having a pillow fight. He felt horrible. You were suppose to be like a sister to him. I mean Gil always referred to you as his sister, so didn’t that technically mean you were his sister too?

He wanted nothing more than for those laughs to be because of him. They were sometimes, but not near enough to his liking. It was so juvenile. Even if you did return his feelings he would feel horrible for stealing his brothers closet friends. But yet another part of him thought about how nice to would be. You and Gil could do your shenanigans when he was doing his paperwork. You could all eat dinner together- expect for when he took you on a date of course.

But yet he didn’t want to cause a divide. What if him and Gil fought? Whose side would you take? He obviously hoped you would take his side considering you would be his girlfriend, but Gil had seniority over him.

No. You are just as close with him as you are with Gilbert. That’s a lie. And the fact that, that is a lie makes his stomach hurt.

“Careful you don’t break that plate. It’s an antique from the 1700s.” Gilbert’s voice rang out. Ludwig jumped and looked over his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Ludwig grumbled. The Prussian hummed and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“You good?” The Prussian mumbled. He assumed he asked quietly because he didn’t want you to hear. The blonde nodded, not looking at his brother. “You could tell me you know.”

‘No I can’t.’ Ludwig thought. The blonde finally looked over at him and nodded his head so Gilbert would leave him alone. The Prussian gave him the familiar look of ‘this conversation isn’t over’ and popped back into the livingroom with you. Ludwig finally finished the dishes and decided it was time to take the dogs for a nightly walk. He usually just lets them out the back door but decided he needed to get out of the house.

“I’m going with you!” Gilbert shouted as Ludwig threw on his coat. Ludwig groaned, but maybe it meant you would come along too.

“You two have fun! I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for bed.” You laughed, throwing the throw pillow back on the couch.

“Who invited you to stay the night?” Gilbert teased poking your side.

“Shut up!” You laughed. You paused for a moment and bent down petting Berlitz head. “You take good care of them! Don’t let anyone attack them at night.” You laughed as the dog seemed to understand you, because he nodded his head. “Have fun!” You shouted before running up the stairs.

The two brothers were just about to leave when you poked your head out from the top of the stairs. “Wait! Ludwig can I use your shower? Gilbert’s is disgusting! I promise to leave it nice and clean!”

That did more to the blonde than you will ever know. First of all, you naked. Second of all, naked in a space he is also naked in. Third of all, you’re gonna be naked. The blonde swallowed thickly trying so hard to stop the blood rushing to his head I’ll let you decide which one sorry.

“That’s fine.” He cringed when that came out as a squeak. Flashing him a smile your head disappeared up the stairs.

Ludwig quickly opened the front door enjoying the way the freezing cold chilled his overheated body. Blackie yelped even though he was wearing a little doggy coat and Aster pulled at her lease wanting to see if there was any ice she could play with on the ground. Gilbert closed the door behind him and took Aster’s lease from Ludwigs hand, knowing she was more than enough of a handful and she’s gils favorite.

“So what am I going to have to do to get you to talk?” Gilbert mused, nudging his brother with his elbow.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Ludwig stated. His tone was perfectly normal but Gil could see straight through him.

“Does this have anything to do with your undying love for my best friend?” Ludwig choked on his spit and he stopped in his tracks.

“How did you know about that?” Ludwig quickly grimaced when he realized how easily he gave that away.

“It’s so obvious! I’ve known you since you were this tall.” Gilbert placed his hand against the middle part of his thigh. “I see the way your eyes get all mushy when you see her and that stupid tiny smile that is on your face.”

Ludwig groaned and ran a hand down his face, continuing to walk. “How long have you known?”

“Since you’ve started liking her! At first I thought it was gross because she is toooo young for you.” Gilbert teased.

“Everyone on this earth is too young for us.”

“Thats a sad fact, especially if you’re with an older woman- because then you realize you are actually older than her.” Gilbert sighed.

“You are speaking from experience.”

“Well I’ve had a lot of experience.” Gilbert chuckled. It was silent for a moment. “You know she likes you too.”

“What?!?” Ludwig glared at his brother stopping his walk once more. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure you were both right for each other. You are both the two most important people in my life. I didn’t want her to hurt you or you to hurt her. But you two would be really good together and I would make a great uncle.” Despite Gilberts joking attitude his words made Ludwig smile.

“I know it could put you in a bad situation. I mean what if things don’t work out?” The blonde mused, sighing when he realized he had to pick up his dogs poop.

“I’ll just stay out of your guys relationship! from this day on you can’t come to me for advice and she can’t come to me for advice! So that way I’m not in the center if things go badly. But you do have to know that if this happens and both of you break up- which won’t happen because you two belong together, she is still going to be my best friend and you will have to see her.”

“Like you could stay out of it.” Ludwig grumbled throwing the doggy bag away. “But honestly that’s a risk I’m willing to take, if she is of course.”

“We could have so much fun! We could all go camping, and hiking and work out together. We’ll be like a big happy family.” The thought of all of that made excitement bubble up in Ludwigs chest replacing the uncertainty.

He absolutely adores you. He would rather date you for a week and have you hate him forever than not even try to date at all. You two worked so well together too. Before he could get to far along in his daydream Ludwig thought of something.

“How do you know she likes me?” The question caused a loud laugh to escape the Prussian.

“I always had a small suspicion, but remember Alfred’s party a while back, when he made us play 7 minutes in heaven?” Ludwig hummed recalling that night. He actually liked that party because you got a little too tipsy and hung onto his arm, so you wouldn’t fall. He loved the fact that you trusted him even in your drunken slur. “Well I asked her why she didn’t put anything in the hat and she said it was because you didn’t put anything in the hat. And you were the only one she would want to be in the closet with.” Ludwig smiled wider than he should have at that statement.

“See that’s what I’m talking about.” Gilbert laughed, pointing at him. “That lovesick grin.” Gilbert made a sound of disgust before turing around heading back to the house. “But I’m happy. You’ve never looked at anything like that and you’re my little brother. I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”

Ludwig blushed and rolled his eyes.

-back inside! Sorry this is so long!-

“Thanks again for letting me use your shower.” You smiled flopping down on the couch.

“It’s nothing. If you want to put some stuff in there I don’t mind. I’ve never been in his bathroom but I’ve heard the horror stories.” Ludwig chuckled. You laughed along with him.

“Thanks Ludbug. I will move some stuff in there tomorrow.” You joked. But you were also serious. Deadly serious. “How was your walk?” You asked. You laid down on the couch causing your feet to press against the outside of his thigh. You didn’t want to be a creep but you also hoped he wouldn’t move away. He blushed and you suddenly felt like you shouldn’t have brought it up. But before Ludwig could anwser Gilbert came trotting down the stairs in a dress shirt and nice slackes. The first few buttons were undone and his hair was gelled nicely.

“Awww does someone have a date? Why didn’t you tell me?!” You sat up quickly. You rolled so your legs were under your butt but this new postition caused your shoulder to almost hit Ludwigs.

“It’s not a date! Francis, Toni and Alfred called. They invited you too but I already said you were asleep.” You breathed a sigh of relief. You hated going out with all of them by yourself. They always got a little too drunk and being the only girl made you a little uncomfy- unless Lud was there of course. He always kept you safe. Like this one time a guy tried to slip you a roofie and Ludwig caught it before you did. He completely knocked they guy out in one punch and turned him over to the police. You shook yourself out of the daydream and stared at noticed that both brothers were looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You asked.

“Is that okay?” Gilbert repeated. He had a small smirk on his face like he knew where your mind went, but knowing him he probably did.

“Of course it’s okay!” You assured.

“Have fun you two!” Gilbert shouted as he walked out the door.

“Car keys!” You and Ludwig shouted in unison. You both blushed and looked at each other. The albino rushed in and grabbed his keys from the front table and turned back around, smiling to himself.

“Did he seem weird to you?” You questioned. You unconsciously leaned closer to Ludwig.

“He’s always weird.” He chuckled. He threw his arm back over the couch, causing you to realize what you did. You felt a little hurt think he didn’t want you to be near him.

“Sorry!” You yelped, scooting away from him.

“Nein!” His voice boomed causing you to jump. “Sorry I-I don’t mind.”

“Really?” You wanted to slap yourself. You sounded like a stupid high school girl. You both leaned back up in the couch and stared at the blank TV. “Can I ask you something?” You turned so you were facing him. He nodded and adjusted so he was turned towards you as well.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” You needed to know. He stiffened and adverted his eyes away from you.

“Ja.” He replied softly. He looked back at you and stared directly into your eyes.

“Do you?” He leaned a little closer to you and something in your body told you he knew.

“Ja.” You giggled copying his accent. You moved a little closer so your forehead bumped against his. His eyes softened and his hand went up and he stroked your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The little action caused your heart to melt.

You both smiled lightly before finally capturing each other’s lips in a kiss.

And neither of you noticed the very teary eyed Prussian in the doorway.

[angryinternetduck]

fireworks

a little under 2.5k on fireworks and wine.  Harry Styles x reader.  warnings: none I can think of?  lol this was supposed to be in a fic writing challenge, but... I didn't take the prompt (fireworks) soon enough. So. Uh. Whoopsidaisies oh AND it's a reader insert ('cause of the challenge lol) so uh hope I didn't botch that. I've never done one of these before... enjoy :)

You met Harry Styles at a New Year’s Eve party. 

Your boyfriend at the time had had some sort of connection, and you’d gotten into the party, but you were borderline regretting the whole idea because now you were bored. You were drinking some sort of punch, lurking behind your boyfriend as he somehow kept engrossed in one of the most boring conversations you’d ever eavesdropped on. 

It was after you tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder to tell him you were getting more punch, after he waved you off and dove back into the conversation, and when you’d made it to the punch table that he’d approached you. 

He’d startled you, coming up behind you and saying, “Good punch, hm?” just a little softer than normal, and you gasped. “Sorry,” he said, smiling a bit, and you couldn’t help but smile back, because who could refuse those gorgeous dimples? 

“‘s okay,” you replied, and he said, “Enjoying the party?” 

“Yup,” you lied, leaning against the punch table. 

“You’re terribly unconvincing, uh…” He looked at you expectantly, and you shifted your cup to your left hand to hold out your other for a handshake. You told him your name, and he shook your hand as he said, “Harry.” 

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” you said, and he nodded. “Ditto. What’s wrong with the party, then?” You smiled, shaking your head, and told him, “It’s not that bad. I’m just a little tired, but, uh… you can’t exactly leave a New Year’s party before midnight, huh?” 

“You’re right,” Harry said, “that would be scandalous.” 

“Absolutely,” you agreed. There was a beat of silence, and then he asked, “So, er - how’s the punch? Reckon I should get some?” You smiled a bit. “I reckon you should.” He raised a brow. “Are you mocking me?” he said, pouring some punch into a cup.

“Handsome and quick,” you said, and he grinned. “Funny, too,” he said, “and proper humble. ‘m quite the catch.” You nodded, looking over at where your boyfriend was, and replied, “Me too.” Harry grinned. “See we share the humble trait, hm?” 

You bit back a laugh despite yourself and, not quite unreluctantly, went on, “Only, uh… I’m already caught. That’s my boyfriend, over there, and I should probably get back…” Harry followed your line of sight, and then nodded. “Right,” he said. “Erm - nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah,” you said back, giving him a smile. “Ditto.” 

*****

The ball dropped, and you kissed your boyfriend. 

The fireworks started, and you held his hand. 

Everybody was cheering, and you were scanning the crowd. 

The fireworks died down, and you found who you were looking for. 

Your boyfriend kissed your cheek, but you were smiling at Harry. 

*****

You and your boyfriend didn’t work out, but it wasn’t a messy breakup; you stayed friends. So when some manager asked for your number from him because he was looking for an in in your industry, he gave it over, because he was your friend. 

In fact, you stayed such good friends that, when Harry Styles texted you and admitted he wasn’t looking for an in in your industry but rather a date, you told your ex and thanked him for handing over the number.

*****

The date went well. 

But not well enough. 

He didn’t kiss you at the end of the night. 

And you didn’t kiss him at the end of the second night. 

And neither of you kissed the other at the end of the third night. 

So lovers? No. 

But friends? Absolutely! 

*****

“You,” you declared, already holding a glass of wine, “look like shit.” 

“And you,” Harry replied, “started without me.” 

“Sue me,” you muttered. “You were twenty minutes late.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting a half empty bottle of wine. “Started this twenty minutes ago, did you?” You pursed your lips, grabbing it from him and filling up your already over half way filled glass. “‘s your fault for being late. You’ve got to wash your glass, by the way.” 

Harry scoffed, grabbing it from the coffee table. “I left this here last week.” 

“Exactly,” you said. “Shoulda washed it.” 

“Wasn’t in the room, love. Out of mind, out of sight.”

You giggled. “You started without me too.” 

“Sod off,” Harry mumbled, not bothering to rinse his glass before filling it. 

“Had a date?” 

“‘f you can even call it that,” Harry said. 

“Ooh, that bad, huh?” 

“Worse. Her name was Gertrude. She took me to Spasso’s.” 

“Yikes,” you breathed. 

“And,” Harry went on, gesturing for you to follow him as he walked into the kitchen, “she was going on and on about rom coms, yeah? Like classics and shit. And then - and then” - he turned around, catching your eye for drama - “she goes I think my favorite is To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re too haughty. It’s really not that bad.” 

Harry huffed, ducking his head into the refrigerator. “Oh, please. ‘s a tragedy. And it wouldn’t have been that bad, but after she said classics, that rubbish is just -” He paused, and reappeared, and said, “Darling, I’m not seeing any wine.” 

“Must be blind, then,” you said, nudging him aside. But then you looked, and your fridge was basically empty, and there were no bottles of wine patiently waiting for you. “It was - I had two…” You faded off, turning to look at him sheepishly. “Uh… Yeah, so I may have just finished the last bottle?” Harry groaned, rolling his head back dramatically. 

“Christ, woman, I come here once a week for an escape, and you can’t even manage to have a bottle of wine for me?” he asked in a whine. “The only time I drink sophisticatedly, the only time I can really talk, the only -” 

“Shush,” you said, putting a finger over his lips. “Shush shush shush. I’ve got whiskey.” 

Harry’s brows jumped. “Ooh.” 

You nodded at the cupboard. “Grab glasses.” 

Harry grinned, leaning in. “Love it when you tell me what to do.” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing him off you, and muttered, “You’re hammered already and here I am giving you more alcohol. Ridiculous.” Harry scoffed. “Am not!” You raised an eyebrow, pouring him a glass. “Whatever you say, Styles,” you said. 

“Right then, Miss Sober, tell me about your week, hm?” Harry asked, and you sighed, collapsing on the couch. Harry sat next to you, sliding an arm around your shoulders. You sighed, again, and swirled your whiskey around in its glass. “Well… I had another date with Kyle…” 

Harry snickered. “Kyle the cardigan guy?” 

You rolled your eyes. “He wore it once.”

“It was olive, love,” Harry said. “Olive.” 

“It was a poor fashion choice, Styles, shut your mouth,” you said back. “Happens to all of us. Want to reminisce your outfit at my birthday party?” Harry groaned, tipping back the last of his whiskey. “I was pissed, darling,” he insisted. “The lights were off. Can Mr. Cardigan say the same?” 

“He’s a nice guy, Styles.” 

“He likes Nickelback.” 

You scoffed. “You like Nickelback!” 

“Not anymore!” 

“You’re impossible,” you sighed, reaching to refill your glass. 

“Impossibly wonderful, darling.” 

“Conceited ass,” you said under your breath. “Ask me about my week, and then nitpick every little thing I say.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So dramatic, you are. Tell me something good and I’ll react appropriately!” 

“Ooh,” you giggled, “big words from the drunk.” 

“Takes one to know one, love.” 

“Love,” you echoed dreamily. “Ever been in love, Styles?” 

“F*ck’s sake, now you’re really pissed,” Harry laughed. 

“Took you this long to figure that out, huh?” 

“Pardon if ‘m a bit slow, ‘m a bit tipsy from the lack of wine ‘round here.” 

You scoffed. “Lack of wine, he says, as if it’s my fault.” 

“Oh, but it is, love - you started without me.” 

“There it is again!” you said. “Love. You’re too good at this dodging questions thing.”

Harry smirked at you over his glass. “What dodging questions thing?” 

“Oh, shush. Have you? Have you ever been in love?” 

A beat of silence, and you were almost convinced he’d answer seriously, and then he smiled at you and said, “My mummy.” You rolled your eyes. “No, Styles,” you said exasperatedly, “I mean romantic love. Butterflies in your tummy romantic love. Every second thought about them love. Warm and fuzzy feelings love.” You giggled. “Kissy love.” 

He paused for a second, and you looked up. “Take your time,” you giggled, and then Harry flushed, shaking his head. “Just thinking ‘bout your vocab, hm? Tummy, kissy - didn’t know I was drinking with a four year old.” 

“I hate you,” you sighed contentedly. 

“Hate you too, love.” 

“Can’t call me love if you won’t answer the question.” 

“Oh, my darling dear, my honey pot, my precious rose petal, my -” 

You groaned. “I’ll put on To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Styles, swear to God.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry seethed. 

“You’re full of yourself.” 

“Said that already, love.” 

“Different wording,” you giggled. “I can be creative.” 

“Creative, my ass,” Harry murmured. 

You whined, slapping him on the chest. “You’re rude.” 

“Got any other adjectives?” Harry asked. “Prove your creativity, hm?”  

“Rude, jackass, bastard,” you said, and then took a sip of your whiskey as you mumbled nonsense. Harry grinned. “Nice try, love,” he said, and you pouted. “I’m drunk,” you insisted, draining your glass. 

“Clearly.” 

There was a beat of comfortable silence, and you leaned forward to pour more whiskey into your glass. “Whoopsidaisies,” you murmured as your hand slipped and some sloshed onto the table. You leaned back, and took a sip, and then realized Harry was staring at you. 

“What?” 

“Did - did you just say whoopsidaisies?” 

You giggled. “Maybe.” 

“You did not just say whoopsidaisies.” 

You cleared your throat, lowering your voice a bit. “I don't - I don’t think so,” you replied in a British accent. “No one says whoopsidaisies do they? Unless they're…” Harry grinned, catching on. “There is no unless,” he said, taking up a slightly higher pitched American accent. “No one has said whoopsidaisies for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets.” 

You laughed, shaking your head and leaning into him. “What if I want to be a little girl with blonde ringlets, huh?” Harry tsked, twirling a piece of your hair around his fingers. “You’re going off script.” 

“Can you imagine Hugh Grant with blond ringlets?” you giggled. 

“They’d go well with his blue eyes.” 

You sighed. “Anything goes well with Hugh Grant’s blue eyes.” 

“What about my blue eyes?” 

“They go wonderfully with your blond hair and freckles.” 

“Why, thank you. I always thought the blue stripe in my hair was a bit much.” 

“No, no, it matches your eyes.” You paused, looking up at him, and said, “Should do it.” 

“Should do what?” 

“Dye your hair.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Blue?” 

You grinned. “Pink.” 

“Can you imagine,” Harry murmured. 

A beat of silence, and then you sat up and exclaimed, “Dick!” 

Harry’s brows jumped. “‘ve got one, yes,” he said, and you shook your head, pressing a finger against his chest in an accusatory way. “No,” you said, “that’s another adjective. To describe you.” You grinned. “You are a dick.” 

“Very clever,” Harry told you. 

Another second of silence. A car honked outside, and then a dog barked, and then Harry looked at his watch. “Erm - darling, I know we said we weren’t going to say anything about your birthday, but -” 

“Oh, no,” you muttered, downing your glass. 

“I might have a little surprise for you?” 

“H, I thought we agreed -” 

Harry grinned, leaning forward and taking your hands. “I know, I know we agreed, but I couldn’t help it, because this lad I know from secondary school -” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Not important. The point is, the opportunity was too good to pass. Don’t be mad.” 

You huff. “Just get on with it.” 

“Wicked,” Harry said, and he stood up, pulling you towards the balcony. 

“Where are we -” 

“Shush,” Harry interrupted. You’d arrived on your balcony, and Harry was positively buzzing with excitement. “What am I looking at, again?” you asked, and Harry shushed you again, checking his watch. “Any minute, now…” 

He settled next to you, and you felt his hands on your shoulders, and then - 

Fireworks exploded across the sky. Sparks of color filled the city skyline, popping and fizzing out before another set went off. They seemed to last for ages, each burst more dazzling than the last, until the last one sputtered out with a cheerful pop, leaving you in breathless awe. 

Vaguely, you realized the pleasant weight of Harry’s hands on your shoulders had disappeared, and you turned around to see him lowering his fingers from his ears. He was grinning, though, looking absolutely ecstatic. 

“You hate fireworks,” you breathed. 

Harry laughed, shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. “Happy birthday, love.” 

“Oh, H,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

You pulled away first, keeping him close, and for the first time in your four years’ worth of friendship, you had the urge to kiss him. And, from the way his gaze kept slipping to your lips, you guessed you weren’t the only one feeling that urge. 

“Harry?” you whispered, feeling yourself lean in. 

“Hm.” 

“Can I -?” 

“Please,” he murmured, and he closed the distance, and you were kissing Harry Styles. 

He was warm, and soft, and tasted slightly of vanilla, but mostly of whiskey, and just a hint of mint. He was smiling, just a bit, against your lips, and you couldn’t help but revel and smile back at how perfectly you fit together. Your lips fit like puzzle pieces, your hands feeling perfectly natural on his chest, his hand warm on your cheek. 

He pulled away much too soon, and despite the desperate need for air, you felt yourself tipping forward to just get a little more, just a few more seconds, just a few moments more of that happy bliss he’d given you. 

“He’s a moron,” Harry said, and you blinked, almost in a haze, before realizing that fireworks were going off again, and you giggled, leaning against his chest. “It was supposed to be one burst,” he told you, and you grinned, looking up at him. “They’re beautiful.” 

“I know,” he murmured, and he kissed you. 

*****

Two years later, neither Kyle the Cardigan guy nor Gertrude the Spasso’s girl was invited to the wedding. 

You didn’t think they’d mind. 

The wedding was on the first day of summer, on the summer solstice. 

It was a beautiful day, and a beautiful wedding. 

Harry still didn’t like fireworks. 

He got them anyway, and as they exploded, he kissed his bride. 

*****

hope you liked it!!! if you did, a reblog and some feedback would be v much appreciated 💜 thanks for reading!!!!

masterlist | ask

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Prompt: Undercover Cop AU

Character: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested by @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Note: I’ve made this a little different to most Undercover Cop AUs, this time reader is just a normal citizen and Buck is our Undercover Cop.

Parties were boring when you didn’t have a date but at least you had plenty of free champagne to drink. It was a large company fundraiser night and there were hundreds of people in attendance but none you particularly wanted to spend more than five minutes at a time with. You were there to show face, you even had a plan that you’d get tipsy, spend maximum of an hour there and then go home and watch the Bachelor and order takeaway.

That had been the plan until you saw a very handsome, broody looking man sitting in the corner watching everyone.

At this point, the alcohol had kicked in and your brain told you that yes, going over to the handsome stranger and flirting with him was a great idea! Wrong.

You smiled as seductively as you could as you walked over to him, “You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself very much.”

He breathed out a laugh, “Heh, it’s not really my scene.”

“Mine either. Everyone’s so stuck up and pretentious.” You stuck your hand out and introduced yourself.

He smiled at you, eyes shifting to the mass of people, “Uh, Steve.” The way he fidgeted and glanced around every few seconds, you knew something was up but hey, the champagne did not care, “What branch do you work for?”

“Brooklyn, here, this building,” you told him.

This caught his interest, “So, you work for Jeremy Pickett?”

“Yeah, dude’s a total weirdo.” Steve asked you why, “Hits on all the women, sexist pig, rumours are that he’s into some illegal shit but I don’t know, I don’t take to do with that.”

“What illegal stuff we talking?”

“Again, just rumours... My friend, Jill, she works as his assistant’s assistant, I know right? Anyway, Jill was tidying his desk and the computer was on and it looked to be tax records and she swears that the numbers didn’t add up but she only saw it for like fifteen seconds so she doesn’t know for sure but she swears.”

Steve looked at you, “Wanna help me with something?” You nodded and let him take your hand and lead you through the crowd and up into the elevator.

A little too tipsy and a little too confident, you said, “We should go on a date or you could just take me home right now.”

Steve cleared his throat, pulling at his suits collar, “One thing first, okay?” You nodded with a smile. You went in the elevator to the top floor, “I need you to help me break into his office.”

That snapped you out of the trance you were in, “Huh? Dude, I just told you I’m not into illegal shit. I’m not above the law.”

“I am the law,” he told you, opening his suit jacket to reveal a police badge, “I’m an undercover cop. I’m looking for evidence of tax evasion and fraud for Jeremy Pickett. He’s paid off a lot of the cops that were on the case but if I had cold, hard evidence... he’d be sentenced no problem.”

“You’re... You’re a cop. I... I was flirting with an undercover cop? Oh my god.”

He smiled at your embarrassment, “My real name is James but everyone calls me Bucky. And, for what it’s worth, I would love to get dinner with you tomorrow night but first, you gotta help me.”

“Why me?”

He shrugged, “You know this place plus, if someone was to find us, you’re drunk enough that we could easily scrape by and act like it was a drunken mistake.”

“I’m your cover story,” you rolled your eyes, “this is why I had a plan in place to go home and watch the Bachelor! It would’ve caused much less hassle.”

Bucky laughed as you stopped in front of Pickett’s office, “But then you wouldn’t have met me, doll.” You couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when he called you ‘doll’.

“Here,” you said, pulling out a bobby pin from your hair, “I saw in the movies they use these.”

“I was going to kick the door down-”

“And what would our cover story be? We just so happened to kick the door down drunk for no reason. Use the bobby pin!”

He did as you instructed and within a minute, you were standing in Pickett’s office, “Keep watch and listen,” he told you, “I’m going to hack into his computer.”

“That’s illegal.”

“I’m a cop, I can bend the rules a little for myself.” It was exciting, whatever this was. It was intimidating but quite a lot of fun so far, “Gotcha!” He grinned, “Why are all rich guys passwords the name of the mistress and 123 after it? Just need to download it and then we can arrest the son of a bitch.”

“How long will it take to download?”

“Minute, tops.”

“Any way you can make it go faster?”

“Why?”

“Elevator just dinged. Someone’s coming.”

“Shit. Keep watch.”

You did, peering out the tiniest crack in the door, anxiously waiting to see who would appear in a matter of seconds, “How long?”

“Forty seconds.”

“Hurry it up.” The voices were getting closer.

“Thirty seconds.”

There were two men walking towards the room. They were dark suits with an earpiece and a wire; guards.

You rushed over to Bucky, “Jacket off, now. Now!” You hissed as he looked at you. Quickly, he did so and you draped it over the computer monitor so that it concealed the bright screen.

You kicked off a shoe, rustled your hair and pulled him up, “I’m going to kiss you and you’re going to go with it.”

“What-”

You kissed him. He was stunned but when he heard the voices approaching, he realised what you were doing. He relaxed into it, dropping his hands to your waist and pulling you closer before lifting you onto the desk. He kissed you deeper as your hands pulled at his shirt. It was hot. God, he was a good kisser.

The door swung open but you two stayed kissing until one of them cleared their throats, “What are you doing in here?”

“What are you doing in here?” You giggled, slurring your words on purpose, “Can’t we have a little bit of alone time?”

“Unless you wanna join in, fellas,” Bucky grinned.

“How did you get in here?”

“It was unlocked,” you told them, “trust me, we tried a lot of other rooms and couldn’t get in. Almost gave up and then, bingo!”

“Out of here,” one of the guards said, rolling his eyes, “Get your things and go.”

“Well, turn around,” you told them, “I don’t want you seeing things.” They turned around and Bucky grabbed his jacket and grinned when he saw it was complete. He got the USB drive and quickly shut down the monitor as you slipped your shoes back on.

“Thanks, gentlemen,” you said, grabbing Bucky’s hand and leading him out of the office. The guards walked behind you two as they escorted you back to the elevator. Once in the elevator you smirked at Bucky, “Now was that a gun in your pocket or were you just excited to see me?”

He laughed, “Both. It was both... That was good back there, amazing. The plan was good, too.”

You laughed with him, “I’ve not had this much fun at a company party in years. What’s next?”

“Well, doll, you’re gonna give me your phone, I’ll give you my number and then when we get out of this elevator, I’m going to arrest Pickett now that we have proof of fraud and tax evasion and you’re going to go home, drink a lot of water, get some sleep and in the morning, you’re gonna call me and we’ll go for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Sounds like a plan, officer.”

[perseusannabeth]

blame it on the alcohol

Summary:  Elain gets drunk and decides to sleep in Lucien's room. Also, she keeps talking about her boobs.

Elain was drunk. She was very drunk, not even just tipsy, all thanks to Mor who had convinced her to go to Rita’s with the rest of the girls. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, her hair was slightly messy, her eyes were slightly glazed over. It was the drunkest Lucien had ever seen Elain, and it was endearing. Even when Elain was so drunk she could barely stand, she still managed to take Lucien’s breath away. He couldn’t quite believe that she was stood at the entrance of his room, panting like she had run a marathon, grinning from ear to ear.

They had been taking things slow in regards to the mating bond. He spent time in the gardens with Elain, sometimes watching, sometimes helping. They would talk about everything and nothing. They were slowly getting to know each other and were getting more and more comfortable around each other. The physical aspects of their relationship were limited to holding hands, linking arms, Lucien kissing her hands and Elain sometimes kissing Lucien on the cheeks. Although the mating bond tugged and gnawed at Lucien, he found he could easily ignore it, when just thinking of Elain’s face flushed, her beaming with happiness, her eyes shining with fondness and joy, and a happy, content feeling washing over him through the bond. As long as Elain looked and felt like that, Lucien could deal with whatever was thrown at him.

Or so he had foolishly thought, until now. Elain pushed past him and walked into his room, sitting herself down on the foot of his bed clumsily. He closed the door cautiously and turned to look at Elain, who had kicked her shoes off and was sat with her legs crossed on his bed.

“Is everything alright dove?” he asked as he walked towards the shirt he had draped over a chair when he had gotten ready for bed. His sleep-addled brain hadn’t thought to put a shirt on before he answered the incessant knocking at his door.

“Do you usually sleep without a shirt on?” Lucien couldn’t even tell if she was ignoring his question, or whether she didn’t even register that he had spoken.

“Yes, I do, unless it’s very cold.”

“Is it cold now?”

“No.”

“Then don’t put it back on.”

At that, he stilled, his shirt in his hands, hovering mid-air as he was about to put it on. He turned to look at Elain, who was openly staring at his chest. He felt a rush of pride that his mate was staring at him, appreciating his body. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of what to say. Instead, he watched as Elain stretched out her hand, until she was grasping the shirt, and slowly took it out of his hands, her eyes still roaming his torso.

“I want to sleep here tonight,” she said, snapping herself out of the trance she had been in as she finally met his eyes.

“That’s fine. I’ll sleep on the cha-”

“No! You have to stay with me!” she cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.

“Elain, dove, you’re very drunk right now. You wouldn’t want this if you were sober,” he said softly, trying to reason with her.

“Actually, I would I’m just too scared to ask for it,” she slurred her words but grinned as she spoke. Lucien decided that grin might be the death of him. “If you make me leave, I’ll cry and then tell Nesta you made me cry.”

Lucien’s eyes widened at such a threat coming from Elain. “Now you’re just playing dirty,” he huffed out with a slight laugh. “No need to resort to that, you can stay,” he held his hands up in surrender.

Elain let out a little giggle as she straightened her legs so they dangled in front of her, her dress still bunched up under her as she swung her legs. Lucien quickly looked away, before moving to try to help Elain to fix her dress. Elain was modest, and he knew she would be mortified at her behaviour right now, and Lucien didn’t want that to happen. Drunk Elain, however, had no problem with showing her legs, and tried to wiggle away from Lucien, laughing as she did, and almost kicking Lucien in the face for his efforts.

“Right then dove, why don’t we get you into bed,” he said, giving up on that idea and gesturing to the blanket which was still folded over from when he had gotten out. It was clearly safer when Elain was under the blanket, for both parties involved.

“Okay!” Elain jumped up onto the floor, turning her back to him, and then, to Lucien’s horror, started undoing the laces on her dress.

Lucien grabbed her hands quickly and turned her around to see her brown doe eyes filled with confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked, wishing his voice didn’t sound like he had swallowed sand.

“I can’t sleep in this,” she said slowly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I especially can’t sleep with my bra on, that would hurt my breasts,” she said, hugging her chest, frowning at the possible pain they might go through. Lucien let out a choked sound but couldn’t speak, which Elain took as a sign to carry on talking about her problems. “They always hurt already, if I slept with my bra on, they would definitely cause trouble.”

Elain shook her head, before continuing to undo her dress. Lucien’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned around, not knowing what else to do. He heard the soft thud of fabric hitting the floor, as well as another smaller fabric, hitting the floor after. Lucien tried to think of something, anything to take his mind off the fact that his mate was stood, almost naked in his room, but it was no use. His face heated, and the heat seemed to run through his veins.

“It must be so easy being a male, you don’t get people staring at your chest,” Elain said with a sigh.

“Who stares at your chest?” He growled, the thought of others ogling at his mate making him feel a simmering rage deep inside.

“Lots of people do. Sometimes I think males forget that females can see that their eyes wander. Still, it was worse when they first started growing. I used to want to rub them because they were so tender and sensitive but then that drew attention to them.” Lucien bit back a groan at the thought of Elain touching her breasts, his mind drifting to her touching herself in other ways before he could stop himself. He cursed silently, as he thought of Tamlin, Eris, Beron, Nesta, anyone to stop his thoughts. His sleeping trousers were already tightening uncomfortably. He quickly adjusted himself, before turning around to see what his mate was doing.

She was covered, thank the cauldron, however, she was wearing the shirt she had insisted he couldn’t wear, and cauldron boil him, the sight of her in his shirt, her cheeks flushed and her hair dishevelled nearly had him on his knees. This was clearly a punishment for all the terrible things he had done, he decided.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he managed to rasp out quickly before she decided to carry on torturing him.

Elain nodded and let him guide her into the space that Lucien had vacated in the bed, and Lucien couldn’t help but watch as those long, smooth legs slid under the covers, which he then pulled up under her chin, hoping it would be enough to stop him from seeing anything he shouldn’t.

As he walked around to the other side of the bed, lying on top of the covers for some semblance of propriety in the situation, Elain decided to continue her torture session.

“I used to wish my breasts weren’t so big. They always cause so much backache, and the men always used to stare. When we were poor it was difficult to buy bras that fit me, because the bigger the breasts the bigger the price for the bra. Then when the bra didn’t fit me they would fall out of the bra, which drew more attention to them, or the bra would dig in and leave bruises and marks. My nipples are always sticking out at the slightest thing too, I think that must mean they're really sensitive.”

Lucien pushed the palm of his hands into his eyes, rubbing them as he wondered what he had done that deserved this much punishment. Perhaps in a previous life, he had human slaves, or maybe he had murdered people in cold blood. Maybe he had drowned baby animals for fun. It had to be something terrible if he had to listen to this.

“Feyre said that males prefer bigger breasts though, is that true?” she asked, turning those big doe eyes on him.

“I, don’t really, I’m not, I don’t know?” he managed to stutter out, his eyes drifting to her chest almost automatically, the blanket had shifted slightly, before berating himself and looking away. Looking at her chest would mean he was no better than the people he just contemplated running his sword through.

“Do you like big breasts? Or my breasts?” Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that this was just a terrible dream, nobody could give him blue balls this cruelly, surely. “Maybe you can’t comment because you haven’t seen them.”

Lucien’s eyes flew open at Elain's comment as she moved the covers, her hands going to the bottom of his shirt to lift it up. At the flash of black lace, Lucien grabbed her hand and pulled it away, pulling the shirt down as far as it could go and pulling the covers up again.

“I can’t comment yet, but I’m sure they’re lovely dove,” he said, slowly releasing her hand. “However, I think you should show me them another time, not right now,” he said, marvelling at his own self-control when he could feel his dick press against his trousers, the mating bond begging him to touch his mate, to please her, begging to break free. He thought of what Nesta would do if she saw what was happening, and imagined the kind of pain his balls would suffer if she could hear the things he was thinking, and the painful need started to slowly ebb away, thank the Mother.

“I can show you another time?” she asked, yawning slightly.

“Any time you’re sober dove.” he leaned in and kissed her forehead. She sigh, and pressed her body up against him, Lucien managing to angle his hips away as Elain rested her head against his chest and breathing in his scent as she started to drift off slowly.

Lucien held his breath until her breathing slowly evened out, and he was sure that she was asleep. He smiled as he looked down on his sleeping mate. She would be embarrassed in the morning, he knew, but he could enjoy the fact she was here, sleeping in his bed for now. He watched her, the smile not falling from his face until he fell asleep, holding his mate.

♥♥♥

Elain woke up to the sun streaming through the window. She groaned, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, hoping it would help the hangover. As she slowly became more awake, she realised her bed smelt differently, like pumpkins and freshly cut grass. Then she noticed how warm she was, and - oh.

She opened her eyes and saw Lucien’s sleeping form next to her. Her eyes widened with panic as she looked around the room, noticing her dress and bra on the floor. She looked under the covers and saw she was wearing Lucien’s shirt! Her panic subsided slightly as she noticed that Lucien had slept above the covers.

“Good morning dove” Lucien’s voice, raspy from sleep made her jump. She looked up to see him smile as he kissed her forehead.

“I - what am I doing here?” she asked him cautiously.

Lucien grinned. “You decided you wanted to sleep here. But of course, you couldn’t sleep with your bra on, so you decided to start stripping.”

Elain’s face went bright red. “You didn’t end up…” she trailed off, unable to finish her question.

“I saw your lovely legs, but nothing more, although you did try.” he laughed.

Elain gasped, as the memories flooded back, hiding her face in her hands and groaning. “I tried to show you my breasts!” she groaned out, horrified at her behaviour.

“Don’t worry dove, I didn’t mind it. You were drunk, and rather adorable, even if you caused a few problems for me. Still, nothing that couldn’t be fixed by thinking of what Nesta would do to me.”

“I can’t believe it. What came over me?” she said, slowly looking up at her laughing mate.

“I can’t say I know dove, but if you ever need anyone to give an opinion on your breasts, I’m always willing to sacrifice my time for that noble cause,” he teased.

Elain couldn’t stand the teasing and wanted him to be quiet. In fact, she wanted to be the one laughing at him, and so, without letting herself overthink, she leaned in and captured his lips, his laughter quickly dying, as he froze at the feeling of her lips on his. Elain started pulling away when Lucien wrapped his arms around her and kissed her slowly.

Elain pulled away, out of breath from the kissing. She felt her face flush as she looked up at her mate, whose face was frozen in shock, his eyes glazed over slightly. She felt a rise of smug satisfaction as she saw him speechless from a kiss. It gave her the confidence to get up and get her discarded clothes and walk into the bathroom to get dressed.

When she emerged, Lucien was sat up on the bed, smiling at her as she came out. She blushed slightly as her eyes roamed his naked torso, remembering how she had been hypnotised by it last night.

“Well, that’ll teach you to be so smug.”

“El, if that was to stop me from being smug then you’d better think of a better deterrent. That was not a way to deter me,” his eyes drifted to her lips.

“No, but just think of what happens when Nesta finds out that I was almost naked in your bed and I kissed you.”

Lucien’s eyes widened as Elain left the room quickly before she did something else to embarrass herself. The thought of Lucien’s horrified face had her laughing all the way to her own rooms. She decided she didn’t care who found out where she had spent the night and would be able to calm Nesta down easily, but Lucien didn’t need to know that.

[ghosttotheparty]

cotton candy skies always look better in person

4. also on AO3 chapter three

Lucas moved in weeks ago, and he still isn’t done decorating his room.

Really, he could be, he could say “I’m done,” at any second and the room would look finished, but he keeps adding to it, adding to the walls. All four of them: covered, almost completely. Photos and drawings, newspaper clips and cut out letters from magazines pasted over paper and photographs to make quotes he liked and quotes he’d made up. One reads “In case you ever foolishly forget.” It had been pasted on a paper next to a photo of him and Kes in his last room, but now it was surrounded by architecture sketches he did. Another reads “Respect your mother,” over a cutout of Earth from a National Geographic magazine. The walls are cluttered, photos overlapping, some of them almost completely covered, other, random things, like a deflated, wrinkly, yellow balloon from his fourteenth birthday party, and train tickets, causing clashes in colour that felt like tv static. But a calming static, to him. Like all the colours came together to form a visual white noise.

When his room is tidy it looks nicer. Like the mess on the walls in on purpose. (It was only partially. He wanted things on his walls but didn’t plan on it turning into this.) The contrast between the bare wood floor and the walls, scarcely a single spot left blank, looks nice. But usually, the floor is a mess too. Clothes strewn about, more colourful clothes than he wore in Utrecht, and sometimes tubes of paint scattered across the floor, along with a messy palette and brushes. He doesn’t sit at his desk to paint, using it to do schoolwork (unless he does it on his bed) and clearing it off to let his paintings dry somewhere he won’t have to worry about stepping on them.

His room almost always smells like paint now. Oil paint usually, the smell deep and dull, only noticeable when you’re in the room, contrasting from the high, sharp scent of nail polish, which his room smells like every Wednesday. He always opens a window when he does his nails.

He opens a window almost all the time, actually. He likes the fresh air, like the wind that will blow in. He has to put a box of paint behind his door though, as it swings open and shut with the wind. (That’s the only thing he doesn’t like about his new room. The latch on the door doesn’t work that well unless he locks it.) He likes opening the window at night especially, shutting it before he goes to bed. The night air is always cool on his face, and he holds his upper body out the window, closing his eyes and drinking in the air, listening, feeling, the night time city. Cars passing quietly in the distance, a lone bicyclist on the sidewalk below him, laughter from drunken friends, the nearly silent hum of the streetlights. The city is a different city at night.

Lucas loves exploring the Night City, loves how peaceful it is, how sleepy everything seems. At times, he feels like he’s the only one awake. It’s exhilarating.

Leaning out the window, he props himself up on his elbows and sighs, the air cold in his nose and lungs. He catches a whiff of the paint as the wind churns in his room. He shifts on his feet, closing his eyes. He could fall asleep right now. Won’t, but he could.

Moments like these are when he feels lonely, but a nice sort of lonely. A lonely where he feels alone but knows he isn’t really, knows he doesn’t have to be if he doesn’t want to. In another country, miles and miles away is his mom. (Who he talked to today. It was a nice conversation, she talked about how therapy is going so far and how kind her new nurse is.) And Noah. (Who he didn’t talk to today, but did talk to yesterday. It was over a video call and Lucas enjoyed watching him paint his nails. Noah told him about a museum he and Zoë went to on a date. Lucas told him about a great spot he’s found to take pictures of the sunset and promised to send some photos when he downloads them from his camera.) There’s also Kes, Isa, and Jayden, who he doesn’t talk to as much as he hoped to, but talks to about as much as he expected to. Little check-ins, “What have you been up to?” stuff like that. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still nice to hear from them. He’s also received videos of drunk Jayden and Kes, videos of them stumbling around, spilling whatever drink they’re holding, rambling about whatever it is. Kes has sent him a video of himself, in the darkness of night outside, nobody else around, yelling “I miss youuuuu!” the words slurring together. Of course, the video is now in Lucas’s camera roll.

Somewhere in the city, he has Jens. Who is really Lucas’s only friend in Antwerp, unless his cousin counts. Lucas supposes he and Jens are friends; they’re texting now, which Lucas loves. There’s a flutter in his stomach every time he gets a notification from him, the same flutter that he gets every time he looks at a picture of him. He’s learned a lot about Jens. That he’s a skater(when Lucas said he skates too Jens said “I’ll have to take you to my favourite spots,” and Lucas’s smiles grew so big he could barely see), that he plays the guitar (Which, of course , he does), that he likes greasy food. This last one he may have learned from Jens’s Instagram, which Lucas did ask for.

Lucas hears his phone vibrate from inside his room and opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust, before straightening his back and turning into the room. The phone buzzes again as he reaches for it, and he picks it up, dropping himself on his bed, lifting it to read the messages. From Jens. The messages from Jens. At this time.

Hey You up?

Lucas feels like he just went over a drop on a rollercoaster. He wonders if responding right now would seem desperate, but responds anyway.

Always

Jens reads the message as soon as it’s sent, and maybe there is a glimmer of hope that Jens feels the same as Lucas. But then again, it is a little past one in the morning. Maybe he’s just bored. But then again if he is… he’s talking to Lucas. Sometimes the quarrel between the optimist and the cynic in his head is exhausting.

Can I call you?

Lucas smiles, a little excited.

Of course

He freezes, realising he doesn’t know whether Jens means a video or a voice call, but Jens is already calling him. Lucas sighs in relief when it’s not a video call, and answers.

“Hey.” “Hey.”

Jens’s voice is soft and Lucas can hear music on his end. It’s muffled like it’s playing from behind a closed door, and it’s loud and fast, with strong bass.

“Where are you?” Lucas asks.

“I’m, uhm… I’m at some party. My friend’s house.”

“Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t know, I got bored.” Jens’s words are slurring together slightly.

“So you called me?” Lucas smiles.

“Yeah, I- I like talking to you.”

His smile grows.

“I’m also, uhm…” Jens’s voice trails off and fades like he’s turning away from the phone. “Uhm, a little bit tipsy.” That explains it.

“I can hear that.”

“I can call you later if you want, when I’m not,” Jens says quickly, sounding apologetic.

“No, it’s okay, you’re fine.” Lucas doesn’t want to hang up. He likes this, Jens’s voice in his ear like he’s whispering to him. Like everything he says is a secret.

“Okay.”

Lucas hears Jens sigh.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“My friend’s house, I found an empty guest room.” Jens pauses. “There’s a bed but I’m laying on the floor.”

Lucas laughs.

“Comfortable?”

“Actually, yeah, really.”

Lucas gets up, holding the phone to his ear, and shuts his window before kneeling on the ground, moving a box of paint tubes out of the way and laying down. He groans softly as his back cracks, and then sighs, laying his down on the floor and looking up at the ceiling.

“Are you on the floor?” Jens asks after a second.

“Yeah. You’re right, this is nice.”

Jens giggles and Lucas grins.

“I’m just gonna pretend I’m lying next to you,” Jens says.

“Sounds good.” Lucas closes his eyes.

There’s a minute of silence, except the music on Jens’s end. Lucas thinks he could fall asleep, with the bass and Jens’s breath in his ear.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t think Jens’s are open either.

“Do you believe in God?”

Oh. That’s a heavy question. Of course, Lucas’s mom believes in God, believes wholeheartedly in God. But Lucas can’t say he does. He enjoys going to church, enjoys listening to the others pray and sing, likes the sense of community that it seems to create. But he always feels like he’s just humouring his mom.

“I like the idea of God,” he offers.

“Mm.”

“Why?”

“I think…” It sounds like Jens rolls over on the floor. “I think if God is real…” He sighs. It sounds like he’s falling asleep. “He was having a good day when he made you.”

Oh.

Lucas heart just about explodes, and he laughs,

“How much have you had to drink, exactly?”

“Mmm… not much.” The slurring in his voice betrays him.

“Mm-hmm.”

“A really good day.”

“That’s a good pick up line.”

“Mm,” Jens grunts, and says almost under his breath, “Why I said it.”

“I might have to use that.”

“On who?”

Lucas grins at the drunken jealousy in his voice.

“Don’t know. Maybe I’ll just Uno-reverse-card it and use it on you on Thursday.”

“Mm… okay.”

They both sigh at the same time and Lucas smiles.

He doesn’t know what time he falls asleep but it isn’t long after that. He ends up curled on his side, he knees pulled up so he’s in a ball, his arm tucked under his head with his phone so he can hear if Jens says anything else. He doesn’t. Lucas assumes he fell asleep before Lucas does.

Lucas falls asleep listening to him breath. Which he wouldn’t tell anyone, obviously. But he does, listening to the long inhale, the quick huff of the exhale.

By the time Lucas is asleep, their breaths have synced.

[sofhyuck]

Go Stupid

Genre: college!Jeno, college!reader, fluff, dumb shit

Word count: 4.3k

Excerpt: “You’re so cute, you know that, right?” Your laughter finally died down, giving you room to speak again. “Why would I give you my number if I didn’t want to keep talking to you? I thought you seemed fun to talk to at the party so I gave you my number.”

Jeno’s brain couldn’t compute a better answer other than, “oh.” His friends stared on in disbelief; there was no doubt in Jeno’s mind that a sharp “I told you so” was on the tip of Renjun’s tongue. 

A/N: This is basically a Mark fic disguised as a Jeno fic

Jeno wasn’t drunk. Well, he could still tell he was talking to Jaemin and Renjun, about what he wasn’t completely sure, and for him that was good enough. The three were huddled closely together by the drinks in hopes of being able to hear one another over the pounding bass resonating throughout the frat house. His focus wandered from the conversation to the mass of writhing bodies then back to his friends, a small voice at the back of his head wondering where Donghyuck had wandered off to. Probably to do another keg stand in hopes of impressing Mark. It never worked. 

Renjun nudged Jeno in the side, pointing towards the other side of the room with a roll of his eyes. Sure enough, there was Yukhei holding Hyuck up as the crowd around them chanted his name. Mark was busy trying not to throw up from nerves - and probably the four shots of tequila he had downed earlier - whilst talking to a cute girl on the outskirts of the small circle that had formed. Jeno shook his head and turned away from the spectacle, both amused and embarrassed by Donghyuck’s desperation for approval from his older friends.

You weren’t drunk. You had only had one shot and could count every string light hung around the room; there were upwards of fifty. Unfortunately, your friend was completely blasted and you were her only chaperone for the night. Prying her away from a greasy senior boy who was getting a bit too handsy, you brought her over to the kitchen sink just as she doubled over to vomit up a third of the drinks sitting in her stomach. You patted her back mindlessly, gazing blankly ahead of you at the multi-colored star shaped string lights strung haphazardly on the wall across from you. Why a frat decided to have so many goddamn lights was beyond you, but at least they were pretty. They’d probably be prettier if you weren’t stuck holding your friend’s hair away from her face. After staring at the blue star that had half gone out - third one from the left, next to the spastic pink star - your vision began to blur and you lazily blinked to clear the haze.

Your friend stood up straight, mumbling something about wanting to leave. Grabbing her arm you pulled out your phone with your free hand, checking for the nearest Uber. It seemed as though everyone else on campus was either leaving or going to a party for the closest Uber was twenty five minutes away. With a heavy sigh you ordered it, groaning at the high rates of a busy Friday night. Dragging your friend behind you, you weaved through the crowd, attempting to make your way to the door. You had almost made it, the door in your sights, but a group of boys blocked your way from escaping the sweaty, beer scented Hell you were currently stuck in.

“Excuse me.” You called out, gripping your friends arm tightly to ensure she didn’t wander off. There was no response, the boys continued to laugh and talk boisterously, oblivious to your fuming state.

“EXCUSE ME!” You yelled this time, determined to be heard above the din caused by shitty trap music and clashing conversations. 

Jeno turned to face you and was about to step to the side until he looked at your face. Fuck, you had a really pretty face. He stood frozen in place, eyes wide and unmoving. You raised an eyebrow at him and he finally took notice of how angry you looked. Still pretty, though. He had to say something, he knew that. In a split second his brain whirred to life and spit out the first thing it could come up with.

“You’re like really fucking pretty.” His face immediately reddened upon realizing what exactly he had blurted out and Jaemin and Renjun turned to face you at their friend’s sudden outburst.

“Um, thank you? Now, unless you want my friend here to throw up all over you, I’m going to ask you to kindly get the fuck out of my way.” 

Jeno jerked his head in acknowledgment and stepped out of the way, his gaze never losing you. You couldn’t help but think how weird he was as you finally made it outside. Cute, but really fucking weird. Renjun broke into a fit of laughter at his friend’s expense, amused to no end by Jeno’s uncharacteristically awkward interaction. Jeno, now determined to mend his floundering, brushed past his friends to follow you outside. There he found you leaning against the porch railing whilst your friend leaned over it, the sounds of her retching filling the night air. You looked up at the sound of the screen door opening and closing only to see the boy who had just practically confessed to you. Glancing at your phone to check the status of the Uber, Jeno fumbled with his fingers, debating his next move. The door opened behind him and he lurched forward, pushed by someone rushing to join your friend in puking over the railing. He stumbled towards you, figuring that he might as well keep moving before his nerves once again glued him in place. 

“Is your friend ok?” His voice pulled your attention away from your phone. 

“Yea, this isn’t the first time this has happened.” You sighed, putting your phone away, bored with watching the arrival time of your Uber flirting around the twenty minute mark. 

“Do you want me to get her some water? We have bottled, no risk of tampering.” He added upon noticing the skeptical look that settled across your face. 

“Sure, that’d be great.” You replied, chewing on your lip once he disappeared back inside. You quickly glanced at your phone. Sixteen minutes. 

“Here you are.” The screen door slid open to reveal Jeno holding up a full bottle of water. 

“Thanks.” Taking the bottle from his hand, you inspected it sligtlhy, just to be safe. After all, you didn’t even know his name. 

“I’m Jeno, by the way.”

It surprised you how easily he slipped into conversation after his previous blunder. He acted as though it had never happened. 

“Y/n.” You gave him a blunt reply, opening the bottle and handing it to your friend, encouraging her to drink from it. “Are you a brother?”

“I’m rushing with a few of my friends, we’re friends with a lot of the brothers though.”

“That’s cool.” You hummed. “Greek life has always sketched me out a little, especially after all those sorority videos that keep popping up on Twitter.” Jeno chuckled at how you physically shuddered at the thought, remembering himself the semi demonic chants recited by tens of sorority girls. 

“I guess it’s a little weird, but I think we’re a pretty chill frat compared to others. I mean, we’ve got Mark Lee and he couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried.” Jeno shrugged. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shit on you. I just can’t see myself living in that kind of atmosphere.”

“No, it’s fine, there are definitely way too many shitty frats out there.”

“I will say I’ve enjoyed the parties I’ve attended here, despite always having to leave because of this one.” You remarked, patting your friend on the back who promptly flashed you her middle finger. 

“Oh, you’ve been to other parties? How come I’ve never seen you before?” Despite being well past tipsy at nearly ever party he had been to, Jeno was positive he wouldn’t forget a face like yours. Sure, he’d seen and danced with pretty faces before, but yours was one he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to, and he definitely didn’t want to. 

“I never really know when the parties are happening here so I’ve only come to a few. But the ones I’ve been to have been fun. I think I should try to find another party buddy so that I can fully enjoy them, though.” You gazed at your friend out of the corner of your eye, her slumped figure signaling that she was nearly passed out on the railing. There was no way you were going to let her drink for the rest of the semester; her kidneys couldn’t survive much more. 

“Oh, I can let you know when the parties are happening, if that’s ok? Mark always keeps us updated.” Jeno offered, heart picking up at the thought of having your phone number in his possession. 

“That would actually be so great! You could even be my new party buddy!” You exclaimed, fishing your phone out of your pocket and opening up a new contact, handing the device over to him. With shaking hands Jeno took your phone, his fingertips brushing against yours, sending sparks through his body. He hastily typed in his phone number, having to reenter it a few times before finally getting it right, silently cursing his thumbs for their sudden paralysis the whole time. As Jeno passed the phone back to you, a notification popped up alerting you that your Uber was a minute away. You glanced at your friends unconscious figure and your shoulders slumped, wondering how the hell you were going to tow her body out front. 

“I can help you.” Jeno offered as you situated one of her arms over your shoulder. 

“That would be amazing.” You smiled as Jeno made his way over, wrapping his arm around her waist. The two of you made your way around to the front of the house where your Uber awaited. Dumping your friend into the backseat, you thanked Jeno and clambered in behind her, sending him a wave as you shut the door behind you. 

❃❃❃❃

Jeno had received a text from you that same night and three days had passed with no response from him. He reasoned that you only wanted him to contact you about parties; nothing more and nothing less. However, that didn’t stop him from thinking about you 24/7, constantly locking and unlocking his phone to read over and over again the single text you had sent.

Hey, this is Y/n from the party last night! Thanks again sm for helping me and my friend out <3

That stupid little heart had sent him into a frenzy of flapping arms and embarrassingly high pitched squeaks whilst he, Jaemin, Renjun, and Haechan were cleaning up after the party - part of the grueling initiation process into the frat - and his three friends had stared at him out of both concern and curiosity. Mostly out of concern. Once Jeno had calmed down and the threat of his flailing limbs disappeared, Renjun was the first to interrogate him. Upon revealing the heart attack inducing text to his friends, the three encouraged him to continue the conversation, after a copious amount of teasing at Jeno’s expense, of course. However, Jeno was a stubborn headass - Renjun’s exact words - and had already convinced himself that, no, you didn’t actually want to be his friend, and refused to respond. 

Donghyuck had told Mark right away, to no one’s surprise, and the older immediately pulled open your Instagram, remembering that you had shared a class the previous semester and occasionally studied together. Jeno had immediately snatched the phone out of Mark’s hand, earning him a sharp “Hey!” from Mark, but Jeno could hardly care. Opening his own phone, Jeno searched for your Instagram. Private. He hesitated before requesting to follow you. Ten gruelling minutes passed before he got the notification that you had accepted his request, even requesting to follow back, much to Jeno’s delight. His friends tried to emphasize that this only further proved that you wanted to be his friend, but again their reasoning was to no avail. He spent the rest of his morning scrolling through your feed, Donghyuck not so gently referring to him as a stalker, but Jeno only brushed off his teasing, too immersed in your travels the previous summer, pausing a little longer at every swimsuit-clad picture you had posted. How perfect could one person get?

You kept gazing at the single message you had sent to Jeno, the daunting read 8:16 a.m. stared back at you, taunting you. What kind of idiot calls you, quote, ‘really fucking pretty,’ follows you on Instagram, and then promptly leaves you on read less than six hours later? You had sent him a heart, goddammit. It frustrated you to no end and left you in a sour mood for the rest of the weekend. Your friend, who spent almost twenty four hours in bed before returning to the land of the living, groggily looked over your shoulder as you casually scrolled through Jeno’s Instagram. She didn’t remember him at all but that didn’t stop her from commenting on how attractive he was, not that you couldn’t see that for yourself, further rubbing salt into the wound that Jeno’s lack of response had left behind. Eventually you came to the conclusion that all men are idiots, especially the attractive ones, and pulled yourself back into your studies. There was a test on Tuesday that you had to study for anyways.

❃❃❃❃

Tuesday morning you woke up late. You made it just in time for your exam at the expense of breakfast. Luckily for you, the exam was a breeze and you finished forty five minutes before the class was scheduled to end. Stomach grumbling, you rushed towards the dining hall. It was weird going to lunch so early; the dining hall had just began to serve lunch and hardly anyone was inside. You could hardly care, your empty stomach taking hold of your actions and leading you straight towards the buffet. Filling your tray with probably way more food than you’d actually be able to stomach, you turned to scan the tables, deliberating over which of the empty tables you would take a seat at.

Jeno’s friends would not let him live. The conversation had started simple: discussing dinner plans for Friday night, a small hangout with some of the frat brothers. Then Donghyuck suggested Jeno invite you and all hell broke loose. Did you text back yet? Seriously you haven’t? Get your shit together dude! It’s obvious there was something going on there! Sometimes you can be really dense, man. By the time they had arrived at the dining hall Jeno had completely tuned them out, focusing instead on what he was going to eat for lunch. Much to his relief, the conversation shifted when they all sat down at their usual table - right by the wall of windows so that they could people watch to their hearts’ content - and Jeno was able to breathe easy again. He lazily scanned the dining hall, half-heartedly nodding his head in agreeance to Jaemin’s claims of being the smartest out of the group.

“I make the plans and get your lazy asses to actually come out!”

“Yea, but who always saves our asses when we always end up in some deep shit? Me, that’s who! Therefore I’m the smartest. Tell him I’m right, Jeno.” Renjun argued, sending a desperate look in Jeno’s direction.

“I don’t know which of you is the smartest, but I do know that it certainly isn’t Hyuck.” Jeno chuckled at Donghyuck’s whining as he turned back to people watching. Then he saw you scanning the crowd. He was just about to duck down, hide away from your curious gaze, when your eyes met his. Jeno froze.

There he was. The big idiot who had been ignoring you for the past few days. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. Standing up tall, you set your sights directly onto where he sat, his eyes blown wide, frozen in shock at your approaching figure. His friends, having noticed Jeno’s odd demeanor, had followed his gaze, his whole posse now staring as you stopped in front of him. 

“Mind if I sit?” You smiled politely, gaze unwavering from Jeno’s. A series of mumbled “no”s and “it’s fine”s chorused around the table and you slid into the vacant seat beside Jeno. Situating yourself, you took your bag off and neatly arranged your food before turning to reaffix your glare onto Jeno. Jeno fidgeted in his seat, unsure of what exactly was about to happen.

“So,” you started, “why haven’t you texted back?”

Jeno gulped, any possible traces of confidence now long gone.

“I thought, I mean when I asked for your number, I figured you only wanted me to text you about parties? And that was it?”

You couldn’t help but gape at his confession, completely aghast at how dumb he was proving to be. Your disbelief, however, quickly morphed into amusement and you couldn’t help but laugh at Jeno’s expense. Sure he was a little dumb, but he was also way too cute to stay mad at. Jeno’s cheeks reddened at your fit of laughter, embarrassed yet flustered by how adorable your laughter was.

“You’re so cute, you know that, right?” Your laughter finally died down, giving you room to speak again. “Why would I give you my number if I didn’t want to keep talking to you? I thought you seemed fun to talk to at the party so I gave you my number.”

Jeno’s brain couldn’t compute a better answer other than, “oh.” His friends stared on in disbelief; there was no doubt in Jeno’s mind that a sharp “I told you so” was on the tip of Renjun’s tongue. 

“It’s not a party but we’re planning on going out to dinner this Friday with some of the brothers if you wanna come.” Jeno’s head whipped towards Renjun, a smug smirk residing on the latters face. “Mark says he knows you, too, so it’s not weird if you just show up.”

Your face lit up at the mention of Mark. His idiocy rivalled that of Jeno’s, but it only made him all the more endearing.

“I’d love to come if it’s ok with you guys!” You grinned, glancing around the table.

Everyone nodded in agreement, happy to have you join in on the fun and make Jeno even more of a stuttering, blushing mess. Jeno nodded robotically, still in slight shock from your unexpected interrogation. Turning pointedly to once again face Jeno, you leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand, a coy smile settling over your features.

“Don’t forget to text me, ok?”

“Y-yea, I won’t.” Jeno stuttered out, his face flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red.

“Good.” You smiled, a genuine one this time, and his heart fluttered. He wouldn’t be able to ignore you even if he tried. And he wasn’t planning on trying any longer.

❃❃❃❃

Jeno couldn’t tear his eyes away from the front door, his left leg bouncing uncontrollably. You had texted him sixteen minutes and thirty three seconds ago that you were on your way, and he knew that it took at least ten minutes to get to the restaurant from campus. Were you ok? Did you get in an accident? It was raining out, the roads could be slippery, maybe you were listening to music and couldn’t hear—

“Yo! Lover boy! Snap out of it man you’re worrying way too much.” Renjun called out to him from where he sat across the table. Jeno jolted out of his spiralling, turning back to face the boys. You and Mark were the only two who had yet to arrive - by now it was expected Mark would be late - and Jeno had been on edge the entire day. Hell, he’d been on edge since you sat next to him during lunch earlier that week; he just couldn’t get you out of his head. He had arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes before they had agreed to, too anxious to keep waiting idly in his dorm room. Renjun was next to arrive, not so subtly rolling his eyes upon seeing Jeno sat at a large table, fiddling with a straw wrapper whilst trying not to check his phone every five seconds. Haechan and Jaemin were right behind him. Yukhei had come in surprisingly on time, dragging Sicheng along behind him. That left you and Mark.

“They better come soon, I’m getting hungry.” Donghyuck grumbled, fiddling with his already empty glass of coke.

“Wasn’t it your idea to wait until everyone arrived to order?” Renjun shot back.

“Yea, well, that was yesterday when I thought I was gonna be the last one to show up. Jeno, why can’t you text your girlfriend to hurry up?”

“S-she’s not my girlfriend!” Jeno spluttered, sitting up straight in his seat.

“Not yet.” Renjun smirked. The door opened before Jeno could respond and you came rushing in, wiping your damp feet on the welcome mat whilst shaking out your umbrella.

“Sorry I’m late!” You panted slightly, plopping down into the space directly in front of Jeno. “I ran into Mark along the way and, well he needed a little help—”

The door once again burst open, revealing a very wet and panting Mark.

“I fell.” He grinned sheepishly, dropping his dipping backpack onto the floor beside the table before taking a seat. Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you, your hair slightly damp - probably from when you stopped to help Mark - yet a bright smile painted across your face. Even the gloomiest days couldn’t diminish your glow. You looked over to him and your smile brightened tenfold; Jeno swore he could have gone blind. 

“Great, now we can finally order!” Donghyuck cheered, flagging down the nearest waitress who looked none too thrilled to be serving a table filled with rowdy college students. Everyone placed their respective order, Jeno nearly forgetting his side of fries because he was too busy stealing not so subtle glances at you. The waitress left your table, grumbling over the sheer amount of food you had ordered, and you all fell back into conversation.

You lightly kick Jeno in the shin under the table to gain his attention. “How’s your week been?”

“Oh, it was fine,” he startled, embarrassed by how blatantly he had just been staring at you, “pretty normal, I guess. How about you, did you get that test back from Tuesday?”

“I’m surprised you remembered that,” you rose your eyebrows. “We didn’t get it back yet, but our professor said the average has been high so far so, fingers crossed!”

“Of course I remember, you were freaking out about it all Wednesday night!”

“I wasn’t freaking out, I was merely expressing my nerves.” You flushed, recalling how frantic you had been during your Facetime call with him the other night.

“Don’t worry, it was cute.” Jeno grinned. The two of you had been texting and Facetiming a fair amount over the past few days and Jeno found himself growing more and more relaxed around you, allowing him to slip into his regular annoyingly charming persona. Not that you minded. 

“So annoying.” You muttered under your breath, struggling to hide the smile threatening to break through. Jeno laughed at your frustration but you chose to ignore him, turning your attention towards the slightly heated conversation between Donghyuck and Yukhei. The topic of said conversation: how many straws they could fit into their mouths.

“You shouldn’t put any in your mouth, save the turtles!” Jaemin rallied.

“You know there have been several studies done on how that will do very little to help the environment and rather we should focus on pressuring the big corporations to change their policies—” Renjun was cut off by an even louder “save the turtles!” from Jaemin.

“The only real way to settle this argument is to actually do it.” Sicheng shrugged, knowing exactly how he was feeding the fire. You shot Jeno a look, silently asking if they were actually dumb enough to follow through with Sicheng’s suggestion. Mark’s call of “I’ll keep count” answered for him. You watched on in awe as the pair began to unwrap the plastic straws and shove them into their mouths, Jaemin weakly trying to remind them of the turtles whilst everyone else egged them on. Jeno’s gaze fluttered between the grotesque scene and your twisted look of disgust and intrigue. The way you wrinkled your nose, your mouth frozen in a gaping half smile, caused Jeno to smile to himself. 

“Twenty nine holy shit.” Mark announced, the whole table cheering for Yukhei’s accomplishment whilst Donghyuck slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was close!” He whined and you patted him on the back.

“Twenty four is still pretty good.” You consoled him, laughing as he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“At least someone knows how to show some compassion around here.”

“More like someone hasn’t grown immune to your pouting yet.” Renjun shot back, Donghyuck sticking his tongue out at the former. You locked eyes with Jeno, jokingly rolling your eyes at the antics of your friends. Jeno shook his head in return, eyes filled with mirth. The food arrived, your waitress visibly disgruntled with all the stray straw wrappers strewn across the table. Renjun, taking note of how you and Jeno couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of each other, nudged Jaemin in the side, jerking his head towards you. Soon enough the whole table was half paying attention to the two of you, still attempting to maintain their normal conversation. Whenever someone did or said something - specifically Mark and Donghyuck - Jeno would look towards you to gauge your reaction only to find you already looking at him. And, of course, the others watched the whole interaction.

“This is almost sickening.” Renjun mumbled, eyeing the two of you in disgust.

“Aw, come on, it’s cute!” Jaemin chimed in.

“Do you think they’ll ever come back to join us in the real world?”

“Probably not.” The whole table - sans you and Jeno - turned to look at Sicheng. “They’re just two oblivious idiots in love.”

[headoverhiddles]

Mephistopheles of Los Angeles - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut] (Part II)

Synopsis: After the kiss, it’s impossible to avoid the press. But behind closed doors, there’s no reason to deny that you two have a connection. AKA Marilyn invites you and Johnny over to his place for a night of fun. 

Notes: Third and final part coming soon! Also, I love comments :) 

PART I

PART III

You sit up by your window, watching the pool glisten. You can't come out and say anything-- he was probably drunk. But, you two did have that magnificent conversation before the drinks came around... there was definitely a connection there.

As if you two shared a mind, just as you're about to pick up the phone to call Johnny, his ID shows up on your screen.

"Hey," you say.

"Morning, sunshine," he says, his voice cracking from an obvious hangover, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

You groan, sliding the curtains shut and blocking out the sun. He laughs.

"Hey, what if--" Just then, someone else starts to call through. It's an unknown number. You really shouldn't answer, you being who you are... but there's a glimmer of misplaced hope inside you, leftover from last night maybe.

"I'll call you back, kay?" you mumble, and swipe on the call. "Yeah?"

"Hey." It's him, deep, gravelly voice and all.

"Hey." You pull your feet up to your chest. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping-- I got your number from Depp by the way, so I'm not a stalker-- that you guys'd come over to my place, like, tomorrow night. Night before your premiere. We could celebrate properly."

"Sounds great," you smile. "How are you not hungover?"

"I am, I'm just a good faker." He pauses. "It felt good to unwind with you last night. I... appreciate company like yours. I also appreciate that that was the sexiest kiss I've had in like, ten years." That's all he says, then he hangs up. Sober, he's a very somber person... but his drunk side shines through every now and then it seems. Smirking, you stand, and start to think about a shower. Johnny will probably be getting a call next.

-

The next night, the three of you are situated in Marilyn's living room, the thermostat set to cool air and a low soundtrack of David Bowie floating in the background.

"Cherry. Blood red. So we can pretend we're vampires." A pyramid of jello boxes sit on his counter top, three bottles of Absinthe that would be used instead of water.

"We basically are," Johnny comments idly, watching a fly crawl along the counter.

"Or, or we can pretend we're eating flesh," Marilyn continues, shaking one packet out into the bowl, "Absinthe and flesh. Or we can pretend (y/n) is menstruating, and--"

Both you and Johnny groan loud enough to drown out the rock star's ravings, and finally he concedes, adding the absinthe (mostly) silently. Ultimately however, Johnny is unable to restrain himself from pitching in. "Who would want to eat a woman out on her period though?"

"You'd be surprised," you answer that one, swinging your legs over Marilyn's velvet couch.

"I wouldn't mind it," Marilyn offered, licking the cherry goop off his tattooed fingers, "If I was like, an actual vampire."

This sets Johnny off again, and as he's laughing, you saunter up to Marilyn, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"And what if you weren't a vampire?"

"You mean if I didn't need to stick my tongue in a reservoir of ovum littered blood?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know girls get aroused on their period, because their hormones are raging. So if my girl was horny as fuck for me on her period and wanted me to eat her pussy, I mean, I wouldn't say no."

You pat his cheek. "A true gentleman."

"I've always wondered this-- when you fuck a girl on her period and she cums, is it like a dam of blood breaking?"

"What, like the parting of the red sea?" Johnny frowns. Marilyn considers this.

"More like... Titanic, but... the Titanic is your dick."

"Completely false," you say, and both guys look over to you, legitimately interested. "It's the opposite. At least for me. The blood stops for a bit, then... comes back with a vengeance once all your wetness has returned from whence it came."

"Very interesting, love," Johnny says, getting up and pouring himself another drink.

"I love being educated in the vaginal arts," Marilyn says, making obscene slurping noises as he licks the rest of his fingers clean.

As the night wears on the three of you (plus Lily) put down bottle after bottle, smoke a couple of joints, and finish the red coagulated creation. Once two AM hits, the conversation deepens, and the guitar breaks out.

"It's gonna be hell for you answering questions about those pictures this weekend, (y/n)," Johnny says, strumming the acoustic instrument.

"I know. The questions I get are so dumb, I've already had a billion asking about you and me and if we're dating. Just because two people play love interests--"

"And have fabulous onscreen chemistry," Johnny adds.

"Yes, doesn't mean we should get... shipped!" Angrily, you exhale a cloud of smoke, the joint hanging lazily between your fingers.

"It's because the media's bullshit consists of asking why male artists do what they do, and asking female artists why they fuck who they fuck," Marilyn mutters candidly, stealing the joint.

"Load of crap," Johnny nods, playing a riff of The Beautiful People.

"I like you... though," Marilyn mumbles, glancing your way.

"I like you too," you blink.

"I would've fucked you y'know... if the paparazzi weren't such cockblocking motherfuckers..."

"I know. When it comes to the press though, we've gotta make it look like an accident if they did get pictures."

"Which they did," Johnny nodded, "I already saw one this morning titled "Chateau Marmont's Wild Nightlife: Johnny Depp blazes one while rising co-star and shock-rocker best friend get 'cheeky' in the bushes." Now we've got not only rumours about you and me to deal with but you and this fuck." This makes Marilyn laugh.

"I'm just known as the best friend now? Wow." He touches his wow tattoo, holding it up.

"You're faded, man."

"Faded, faithful, and fuckin' fatal."

"They make me look like a fucking stoner now, so I'm not much better."

"You are a fucking stoner."

"I'm Jack Sparrow, mate."

"You're a fucking stoner."

You just roll your eyes as they bicker. You remember what your agent told you-- if it's not purposefully publicized, it's messy, and messy doesn't sell. Guess that's what it's like in the Hollywood dating pool.

"Nah, but of course we've gotta deny all of it," Marilyn sighs. "It would blow up your career in a not-good way cause they'd say this young, impressionable starlet is dating a satanist, or whatever they call me, and I don't really feel like answering a billion stupid questions about you either at this point, not when I'm trying to promote my record. They're going crazy over this cause you're so popular right now, (y/n). It'll be all over People and the internet and shit."

"Covering personal shit is the worst part of this job," Johnny mutters. "Unless it's a story about smuggling cocaine into the Pirates premiere."

"Wasn't that at Disneyland?" you frown.

Marilyn and Johnny both nod noncommittally.

"Worth it," Johnny says, holding his guitar with one hand and flicking a piece of the blood red Jell-O onto the ceiling with a spoon.

"Clean that up," Marilyn grins.

"Lick it off, mate," Johnny laughs. It suddenly falls, and with a jiggle, lands between your breasts. You yelp as it splatters into your cleavage, and the two men fall to the floor laughing.

"Mmmmhmmhmm," Marilyn smiles, crawling over to you on his hands and knees with tipsy half-lidded eyes, "I think I will lick it off." He straddles you on the armchair, one leg on either side, and puts his face into your tits, his tongue sweeping deep licks between, up, down, ugh...

"Fuck, you're making me horny," you whisper. Johnny giggles, standing and snatching a small bag and heading up to Marilyn's pool patio with his guitar.  

"See you two in the morning."

"Don't drown," you call up.

"I don't want to have to clean up your chlorine bloated corpse in the morning," Marilyn adds.

"I will leave you the sexiest corpse you could possibly imagine, brother," Johnny calls back down, stumbling up the stairs. You and Marilyn turn your attention back to one another.

"Your tits taste good," he comments, eyes flickering lazily back down to them.

"My pussy tastes even better," you grin, taking his hand and sliding it down between your legs. He rubs it against you, and comes up with slick fingers.

"Bedroom."

His bed is covered in black silk sheets, a satin cover blanketed overtop of them. Messy piles of books and records litter the floor, and creepy artefacts you wouldn't want to see with a light on surround everything on bookshelves.

"You have blacklights?" you ask, looking around the dark, mysterious room.

"To admire the cum shots on the ceiling," he clarifies.

"Oh, is that all?"

"--But I don't like to call it cum, I like to call it... making wet in you," he giggles.

"Mmm, make wet in me?"

"I would love to make wet in you."

Before you can say anything else, he grabs you by the hips, shoving you forward onto the bed. You land on your stomach, and he stands behind you as you turn your head.

"Take your panties off," he says in a low, level voice, as if he had sobered up in seconds. You feel your bratty side coming out.

"What if I don't?"

He lifts his chin up, looking like a king. "Get on your hands and knees... arch your back and present your ass for me. It's a really pretty ass, I just wanna look at it. Promise."

You do so, and wait in the darkness. After a second, you feel his tongue dart out, licking a stripe up your panties from behind. Then he smacks your ass hard. "Ohgod," you whisper, and he smiles.

"You look so good like this." You flip over, and crawl up to the headboard, hanging on. "Why don't you spread your legs for daddy?"

"Why don't you spread them for me, daddy? I'm a little bit tired."

"Lazy little bitch," he mumbles, sliding his hand between your legs. It rests on your knee, then you feel the pressure of him parting your thighs. He rolls over on top of you, and for a moment, you think he's going to instigate a kiss. You part your lips, waiting for him. Instead, he slides down like a snake between those parted thighs and hooks his fingers into your panties.

"Just lick around them," you smirk, biting your lip.

"Uh, uh. I want to enjoy my meal," he drawls, and pulls them off down to your ankle.

"Eat my pussy good, baby."

"Oh, I plan to."

"Gonna fuck me after that?"

"You know I am, kitten."

He delves between your folds again, making low noises. His hands reach up to grope and grab at whatever they can; your hips, your breasts, your inner thighs. After a moment, you gasp as he slips two fingers into you, then three, fucking you rough with them.

"That's--" You gasp, grinding into his face, "That's so good..."

He hums, the vibration of his lips against your clit driving you wild.

"How fuckin' close are you?" he hisses.

"So fucking close," you whine.

"Cum for me. Make wet... in my face."

"God, you're gonna ruin my ladyboner by saying shit like that!"

A few more masterful circles of his tongue however, and you do cum, gripping the boards for dear life.

"Grab my--" he murmurs, "Grab my hair, love it when it's-- oh, tugged--"

Your hands fly to his hair, and you tug the short black locks as he fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Giving you a moment to breathe, he flashes his dark glare up between your legs, eyes shining almost demonically in the dark.

"Fuck me, Brian," you breathe. He crawls up on top of you, holding you by your shoulders as he guides his dick between your legs. When he finally pushes in, he gives a grunt as you moan, wrapping your legs around his ass.

"So fucking good," he groans, and you bite into his shoulder.

"Ohhh yeah, oh yeah," you moan, and he suddenly pulls out.

"Back on your hands and knees, kitten." You obey this time, fucked out but wanting more. He smacks your ass again, and you moan, wiggling back. He spanks you again, and again, and you bite your fist. "Nah, nah," he whispers, "I wanna hear you. Get fuckin' loud, scream it out."

You very nearly scream as he spanks you again, and presses soft kisses up your back, turning into hickies by the top between your shoulder blades.

"Wanna ride you," you breathe. Wordlessly, he lays down, and you roll over top of him, getting into reverse cowgirl position. With another gasp, you sink down over his big cock, and roll your hips.

"That's good," he groans, "Fuckkkk yeah, that's good."

"Daddy, daddy--" you gasp.

"Daddy's gonna make you cum," he whispers, reaching up and around to squeeze your breast. He sits up, so that his chest is pressed to your back, and the angle makes you moan even louder. "I gotchu," he whispers in your ear, "I gotchu, I gotchu, gonna take real good care of you... cause you're takin real good care of me..."

You nearly sob as you reach back and grab his hair, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you had done with him. You feel a bit of blood drip, and cum hard. Marilyn increases his pace as he feels you gush around his cock, pounding you harder than ever. Skin slaps against skin as he fucks you on his lap, and your orgasm keeps burning through you as he mumbles growled-out words of praise.

When you finally come back down to earth, he's pressing kisses to the bite mark, which felt good in the moment, but stings like hell now.

"Guess you're a real fucking vampire, Manson," you giggle. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, laughing.