#which i’m definitely still in the early stages of so. excuse shakiness.

[adelaidedrubman]

KINKTOBER DAY 13: ORAL + minthara baenre x kyrene multhoma (durge oc) | from prompt list by starsandskies

summary: minthara grants kyrene the chance to finally indulge herself without fear. wordcount: 4.2k notes/warnings: y’know. explicit NSFW. background mentions of grove slaughter (she did all that!). intrusive violent thoughts during sex slash internal monologue of general durge stuff (amnesia, fear of losing control, etc.). praise kink. biting with a smidge of blood kink implied. very mildly implied masochism on kyrene’s part. brief, light bondage. and pretty unavoidable lack of proper prior negotiation on all of this (unless you count tadpole brain blast). sometimes women need to think about killing each other a little during sex ok

Indulge. 

The call was static sparking pulses painted in the furious hot pink of blood pounding through flesh from the moment she first saw Minthara, throbbing so heavy in her ears she felt as if her tiny brain was being squeezed down to a single fold by the force, every other thought wrung to drip out as a bead of sweat crawling down the back of her neck. 

Indulge, indulge. 

It had first come as a sort of permission, spoken aloud by the paladin herself. 

Join my hunt.

A command, more accurately, no room for disagreement. But her voice grew so tinted warm with approval through its dark gravel as she spoke of the blood Kyrene was to spill that it felt one in the same, the gleam in the crimson pooling from black depths of her eyes making it feel equally like a promise. Such a stark contrast, from the stinging edge to Shadowheart scolding her for being carried by the fancy to pluck suddenly materialized hand from wrist those days before. 

A sigh fell from Kyrene’s lips as calloused fingers stroked their swell, and she wondered if she could have ever stopped the affection that bloomed in her chest the moment she heard the words, her heart tangling in the garden that sprang to life in a single beat. Had she thought to steel it with a reminder of control yourself, it will pass, instead of allowing the constant mantra to fall away, suspended, replaced by a whisper. 

Indulge, indulge. 

That was the offer as Kyrene heard it, whatever terms of battle plans it had taken form as, it was a caress along the back of her ear and a whisper — ‘Indulge,’ it fell in a warm breeze against skin, ‘You may finally indulge yourself.’

It was there, before greedy fingertips already twitching with anticipation, as if she were a child turned loose in a candy store and about to spring, all the restraint shown a final glance back to the adult who’d led her through the door with wide, questioning eyes. 

‘Are you joking?’ she’d asked, with the same giddy awe. 

Minthara had raised her brow, raised her arms to study the thick spider silk woven around them. 

‘Have I mistakenly donned my jester’s bells rather than my armor?’ she had asked dryly. ‘The Absolute demands loyal soldiers ready to serve obediently, True Soul. Not clowns.’

It was a reasoning that made perfect sense to Kyrene, despite the way her mind flailed against the influence of the very tadpole the Nightwarden pledged allegiance to. 

It felt dreamlike, too perfect to be true. 

A moment in time she could satiate that unending demand for blood gnawing at her insides until she felt hollowed out, fill it back with torn flesh and splintered bone and a flood of gushing crimson plentiful enough to drown anyone without the appetite to greedily gulp it downs. 

And yet, for the first time — and this was the most seductive part, what truly made her swoon — safe, contained. 

She could do it all without the fear prickling at the back of her neck that she would lose herself to it, lose herself before she’d ever really found herself in the first place. 

No, no. All those fears were smoke dissipating in the breeze. The tight vice of the Nightwarden’s authority would contain her, offer her warm embrace rather than rejection when she returned in blood soaked rags picked from slain bodies. 

She had worried, for but a moment as she walked through the threshold, that the second part wouldn’t happen, that she’d been foolish, so naïve as always, building her own world covered with a tint of rose that would never trickle past the domain of her own deluded mind. 

But now Minthara’s powerful arms circled her as she kissed her deeply, made her feel so tightly held and kept in place. 

It was all Kyrene had ever craved, more than she could have dreamed: to feel embraced and controlled at the same time, the promise that someone — 

“I’ve got you, little alvassun,” Minthara managed to finish Kyrene’s flurry of thoughts for her just as her knees buckled, grounding her back in her body as sure as the arm wrapped at the small of her back kept her in place. 

Kyrene stuttered out a pleasured gasp in excuse for gratitude, the term fluttering against her ears with a warm endearment despite her uncertainty as to its meaning. 

‘Little’ was itself enough to make her cheeks flush with the weight of fancy, with her spindly limbs draped awkwardly over Minthara’s shoulders. With boots of her armor kicked aside, the inches Kyrene stretched over the Nigthwarden became all the more obvious, making her feel even more clumsy and unwieldy. 

But Minthara manipulated her body with a fluid ease, guiding her back seated atop the table, long legs dangling as Minthara slotted herself between them. “In other circumstance I would find it disgraceful, possessing such frailty you’re incapable of even standing on your own two feet without wilting.” 

Kyrene’s graze dropped to the floor as lithe fingers slipped beneath her chin, thumb settling just below her lips. “But I suppose I cannot fault you for being overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of sharing a night with me,” she added before leaning in to kiss her again.

Kyrene sighed into her, melting and winding tight simultaneously — relief paired with another wave of prickling nerves, unsure exactly what to do. Unsure of much of anything other than that Minthara had her. 

Minthara had her, so she could do what she wanted, couldn’t she? Wasn’t that always it? 

Indulge. 

Kyrene had the vague inkling of memories of other lovers, of bodies pressed against hers in ecstasy.  But she couldn’t remember faces or names or whether it ended with spasming insides ripped out to be kissed by the light of the world. 

And for the short stretch of her life she could remember with any clarity,  Kyrene was far more familiar with desperately trying to ensure her hands were stiffly kept to themselves than she was with allowing them to go and do as they wished. She wondered where she should place them on Minthara’s body, how to let them be driven by desire to please rather than destroy the flesh they found. 

Unsure as they were, they explored to find soft curves and firm muscle, ridges of bone and wisps of silvery white hair. They found skin, so much beautiful, smooth skin her mouth watered to taste in wake of the glide of her fingers. 

They reached beneath the firm spidersilk of her clothing to feel more, fingertips brushing over pebbled flesh hugging pert nipple.  

She whimpered, a shudder running through her and causing her own nipples to harden and her jaw to tense — her teeth clamping down into the tender flesh of the lips she kissed.

Followed by the cold rush of fear swarming her for the first time since they’d begun their embrace, the sickening threat of losing control. 

She yelped and jerked back as if she’d been the one bitten, brow furrowing upward in apology as her eyes settled on the heavy throbbing of Minthara’s pulse — she felt it in her own jugular, blood leaping to the surface, pounding at the delicate layer of skin in which it came gift wrapped. 

But Minthara only smirked in return, a sharp curve of freshly flushed lips, crimson bleeding through rose bleeding through violet. 

Was it alright? Kyrene wondered. Could she let her body do as it pleased? 

Kyrene offered a sheepish smile and dropped to her knees, bone thudding with a painful smack against the stone floor, and laid fingertips at the hem of Minthara’s trousers. 

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered, raising her chin, her eyes lingering at the Nightwarden’s hips as she gripped the fabric and pulled. 

“Oh, you will do quite nicely indeed,” Minthara replied, dragging a thumb along Kyrene’s lower lip, pressing just past to its slick underside. “Already in your place, so ready to please.” 

She nodded eagerly, looked on with bated breath as Minthara’s thumb scraped past teeth to guide Kyrene’s jaw to drop, fingers curling around her chin to pull her closer as she widened her stance to leave no room for confusion. 

“Go on and taste,” she invited, sliding her hand around to cradle the back of Kyrene’s skull. “Lap up every last drop, until we’re both satisfied.”

Just as Kyrene thought her heart couldn’t pound any harder against her ribs, it became enough she felt as if it could leap between their gaps and pour right onto the floor at the fresh promise of gorging herself — perhaps it would have, if her body weren’t so driven and held together by the need to keep going, to have her. 

She opened wide on instinct to taste as much as she could of Minthara, as if the chance could disappear if she didn’t swiftly swallow it down — the feeling of smooth, plush skin against her lips and tongue only intensifying hunger. 

She pulled herself back to center, closed the clumsy gaping of her lips as if in a proper kiss. She pushed her tongue past pursed lips and buried her face further between Minthara’s legs, gave a few clumsy laps of her tongue along swollen skin before allowing it to travel to her center. 

The slickness she tasted felt like sparks against her tongue — sharp and sweet all at once. She curled her tongue in to savor, gulped hard. And the world seemed to grow fogged over with her. 

Her head grew light and her cheeks hot, she felt as if she’d been sipping wine. She unfurled her tongue to allow it to search for more. 

Her head swam, dizzied, all flashes of colors and hot cold chills, electric humming in her ears, down to her molars. 

Her stomach clenched and that wanting ache surged fresh just below, that feeling of being hollow and high charged, of needing to be fucked, filled, touched — anything to relieve the pressure. 

She felt a reflexive thrust forward of her hips in searching as she dragged her tongue back and forth, increasing pace until she was lapping greedily. 

She dared to reach down, to drag a thumb along the seam of her bloomers to test if the slight touch would soothe her or threaten to send the frenzy building in her boiling over. 

Her spine arched inward with the jolt of ecstasy that shot through every nerve from her own teasing touch, the featherlight sensation of cotton clinging to her from dampness suddenly overwhelming even as she jerked the hand away.  A moan quaked from deep inside her up through the column of her throat to spill from quivering lips, the only release of tension available.  

She slid her mouth upward along Minthara’s lips before parting for air, allowing hot, ragged breaths to fall against her clit. 

It was but a few heaves of Kyrene’s chest before Minthara spoke. 

She reached down to pull Kyrene’s arm by the wrist, guiding her hand between her legs, deep voice seeming to have gained its own subtle tremor as she instructed, “If your mouth fails you, put those hands of yours to work.” 

Kyrene was all too eager to comply. 

She inhaled deeply as she slipped her fingers inside of Minthara, her final effort to catch her breath before she tensed her lips into a ring and covered Minthara’s clit. 

Feeling Minthara on her fingers was almost as intoxicating as tasting her, luxurious satin wrapping tight around her touch to chase. She took the signal to suckle harder on her clit, the only thing still tethering her to reality the drive to give Minthara more, give her as much as she wanted. 

“Good,” Minthara gasped out in appreciation, timbre of her voice somehow as rich as ever despite her own increasingly obvious struggle for air. “Keep doing good for me, my girl.” 

Kyrene felt tears cling to her lashes as she squeezed her eyes shut tight in focus, willing herself to keep going rather than crumble to pieces at the praise, to once again seek more more more as much as she could handle. To suck until her jaw ached, thrust her fingers until her arm burned from knuckles to elbow. 

And even without words the telltale twitch and tighten of the Nightwarden around her fingers as she stroked a hand from the crown of Kyrene’s head down to the nape of her neck and up again was praise enough, made her heart flutter in her chest as it swelled with warmth. And when that tight grip around her fingers suddenly snapped loose and fluttered in the same rhythm, Kyrene willed her eyes to shoot open, rolling to the back of her head to glimpse Minthara tossing her head back and letting out a satisfied ‘ah.’ 

The brush of Minthara’s fingers slowed and settled at her neck as she rode out her finish, rocking against her mouth and hands. 

“Good,” she repeated, hoarsened yet still. She stepped back, leaving Kyrene’s outstretched fingers suddenly chilled in the air. “You’ve earned something for yourself.” 

Without delay Minthara reached down to slide arms beneath Kyrene, leaving her in awe of her quickly recovered strength as she lifted her up to prop her on the table. 

Kyrene could feel her own heavy pulse reverberate against Minthara’s lips as she trailed kisses down her throat, her own fragile life cradled in the hands that teased at her thighs. 

“P-Please —” she gasped, arching her back towards the Nightwarden, arms tangling around her neck. “Please — Give me —” She gasped, trying to make sense of what she wanted. Trying to make sense of the heavy throb that rattled through her very bones, made her feel every inch of her body with sudden awareness. “I want you, I want you to —” 

“You beg so easily,” Minthara rumbled against the slope of pale pink cleavage flushed to match the deep rose nipples she then flicked her tongue against. “But as lovely as it is, it is unnecessary. I won’t deny you. Not a single whim.”  

The notion ratcheted through Kyrene’s mind in a whirlwind, possibilities stoking themselves to life to one after another snatch her attention so quickly she couldn’t process one to its conclusion as a full thought, a cacophony of buried impulses shrieking in her ear. 

( — warm flesh pressed hard and harder still until — teeth and nails thrashing, spikes of pain rippling to — sweet taste of her lingering on her tongue taste of salt clinging to skin taste of copper as blood pooled in her mouth taste of — tight tight tight squeezing until — full, finally full and —) 

As Kyrene tried to blink away the shadows closing around her vision she realized Minthara was kneeling on a single knee between her legs, leisurely trailing fingers along her thighs before pausing to study the deep purple bruising that had bloomed to life on bony knees from their time pressed against the hard stone ground. 

“A lovely color on you,” Minthara said with a devastatingly gorgeous smile. “Made all the lovelier knowing how it came to be.” 

She bowed her head to press a delicate kiss to the skin before pulling down Kyrene’s ruffled shorts, parting her lips and dipping her head towards the place she ached most. 

“N-No,” Kyrene gasped before she could stop herself, the look of half-shock, half-offense the Nightwarden gave her at the word more stomach churning than the spark of fear that had moved her to speak. “No, I want…”

 (— want pounding blood want limbs falling limp want to keep — )  

“I want you up here,” she finished, fluttering her eyelashes. “I want you to use your hands.” 

Because she didn’t know what she’d do, if their bodies weren’t mirrored. If it wasn’t Minthara’s mouth against hers and rich crimson gaze staring back at her and her beautiful voice drowning out the noise of her thoughts. 

“I want the sound of your voice, want you to talk to me through it. Tell me when to let go,” she said, slipping into that second meaning with a slowly fading fear attached. “I want you to look into my eyes. I want you to kiss me. I want you.” 

She didn’t know what she’d do if they weren’t one in this moment, if she couldn’t feel her own body anchored by Minthara’s. 

Minthara’s expression softened, and she offered a thoughtful ‘hm’ and a kiss to the opposite knee before she rose to stand. 

“I promised you your every whim,” she rasped, pressing her forehead to Kyrene’s. “I’ll gladly indulge this one.” 

Indulge. 

Kyrene allowed her head to loll back as Minthara stroked knuckles along the length of silken folds, pinching her lower lip between her teeth as her heart raced at the idea of Minthara indulging in her, desiring her without restraint. 

It was all she ever wanted. 

“Take me,” Kyrene croaked out, a small squeak she was unsure could even be heard. 

Minthara gave her a single hum of a laugh as she pressed a firm finger into her, kissing the length of throat Kyrene exposed. “You were already mine.” 

Kyrene panted, she felt wine drunk again — a good feeling, she decided, all warm sensation that electrified her, but kept her too heavied and dazed to know what to do with it on her own. 

“You will be mine still, when you lay back in bed at your camp tonight,” she continued, teasing a second finger at her entrance to wet its tip before slipping it to join the first. “You will be mine when you close your eyes and drift away.” 

She bucked her hips forward as Minthara angled her hand to press its heel against Kyrene’s clit, grinding slowly. She curled her hands into fists until her nails sliced into the palm of her own hand, picturing the blood seeping half-moons that must be forming there. 

“You will fall apart for me, then beg to be mine again,” she leaned forward to whisper into Kyrene’s ear, breath near to scalding as it fell against her already blood deepened and friction chapped cheeks. “You will belong to me for as long as you can stand tonight.” 

Kyrene released the worried flesh of her lips from between her teeth long enough to let out a high pitched whine, then bit down harder. 

But before she could suck down the blood that trickled from it, Minthara’s tongue glided to whisk it away and nudge teeth to part. 

“There’s no need to be shy,” she coaxed between delicate kisses. “You may put your hands on me again.” 

“I want to,” Kyrene whimpered, feeling her stomach coil tight enough to push the air from her lungs. She could feel herself drawing close to her finish, to the point of inevitability, to an end that was still too unsure, too overwhelming. “I can’t,” she forced out, sliding her hands back. “I need — I want to —” 

Perhaps she should have warned Minthara, about the way she was prone to losing herself. That she was drawn to her by a trail of blood from the very beginning. 

Warned her before it was too late, before it felt too good to tell her to stop before control snapped. 

“I want to — I shouldn’t hold you,” she near sobbed, feeling far too raw and worn down to her very core, like bones laid bare then gnawed even further to their marrow. “I want you to hold me, I want to — I want —” 

She shook her head at the sound of her own incoherent words hitting her ears, tensed in tight — then relaxed fully, stilling herself and dropping the barricade of her mind as she looked into Minthara’s eyes. 

She floated in some no-man’s space, almost nauseous as Minthara stared back at her with a blank expression, stuck between terror and sheer bliss. There was knowing, in crimson eyes, but she couldn’t tell yet if that sickened or enticed her. 

“I see,” Minthara said plainly, the tension in Kyrene’s stomach feeling equally uncertain. 

But then Minthara smiled again, smiled that beautiful, elegant smile Kyrene thought must have brightened the whole underdark. 

“I know what it is you wish,” she whispered, fingers thrusting more forcefully, as if she was no longer holding back. 

Her other hand reached for Kyrene’s discarded bloomers, a flash of blinding white across Kyrene’s lust blurred vision as she caught their hem between her teeth — then jerked her arm to tear a long strip of cloth from it, left hanging from her mouth. 

“And you shall have it,” Minthara murmured around fabric, just as her hand pulled away to leave the overstimulated skin suddenly meeting only cold air. 

Kyrene’s desperate cry of protest was silenced by Minthara’s lips, her tongue slipping into her mouth to feed her the faint taste of blood from an unsure source as her arms circled around her. 

Kyrene heard the sound of fabric brushing against fabric and felt her wrists suddenly pulled together, pulse drumming against matching pulse as she made sense of the fingers darting about to tie the torn remnants of her shorts around her wrist to bind them. 

Minthara gave a final tug of the ends to fasten the makeshift restraint tight enough to cut into skin, a pleasant and reassuring sting that sent Kyrene’s blood boiling all the hotter. 

“There,” Minthara said as her hands circled around the blonde’s waist and back to center. 

It was a single but torturously slow rake of Minthara’s eyes down her body, settling with particular cruelty on hips desperately bucking forward in search of anything that could grant the return of friction, a stuttering plea her mouth couldn’t manage. 

“If only I had thought to do this sooner, so I could properly toy with you,” Minthara sighed, mercifully resituating her hand between her legs. “If I couldn’t already see just how pretty you’re going to look, coming undone around my fingers.”  

Thankfully, this time Minthara didn’t go one by one when she slipped fingers inside her — Kyrene realized she had in fact added a third as she felt the exhilarating stretch of tender flesh and muscle as they reached deeper than before while Minthara kept her free hand at the small of her back to push her to the table’s ledge, leaving her nowhere to go. 

Not that she would have wanted to go anywhere — she never wanted her heart to beat any slower or her skin to feel any cooler or the pull around fingers to be any looser or the thread she hung by to be any less frayed and thin. 

“I want to see it right now,” Minthara purred, her voice so dark and strong with that firm authority that had first made Kyrene swoon, made it all feel so undeniable. “Go on.” 

She lifted the hand from Kyrene’s back and brought it to her front, this time pressing only a single thumb against her clit — teasingly, at first, despite the unrelenting pace of her fingers, a slow back and forth swipe along the lips that hugged it. 

“It’s alright,” she reassured, eyes appearing almost soft as crimson darkened. “Let go, my sweet alvassun.” 

The movement against her clit was so suddenly forceful and focused that Kyrene couldn’t have refused even if she’d wanted to, a final deep thrust of fingers inside her before they curled to press in a way that made pleasure spark brightest.

The thread she hung by snapped with such a forceful rebound it felt as if it sent Kyrene hurtling through space, as if she were being tossed about in a flurrying storm of bliss, powerless against its winds buffeting her chapped skin. 

All that kept her anchored was the savoring delight flashing across Minthara’s face as she kept her gaze settled between Kyrene’s legs, thumb resuming its slow, teasing stroke over oversensitive clit as she pulsed around now resting still fingers. 

And she felt the chafing of fabric against her wrists as her body writhed, what she focused on most as she rode out those final waves. 

When she finally came down, those tied wrists were what Minthara reached for first as she pressed a kiss to Kyrene’s shoulder, pulling the fabric loose.

She brought a wrist to her lips, kissing the bright red ring that had formed on them from the friction just as she had her bruised knees. 

“I cannot decide,” Minthara broke the silence to say as she pulled Kyrene’s head in to rest against her chest, so that she could hear the heavy drum of her heartbeat. “If it is comfort or unease it brings me — the stillness and quietness I feel when I am with you.” 

Kyrene made a soft noise of agreement as awareness dawned on her how quiet her own thoughts had been, nothing but the warmth of Minthara’s body against her own filling her mind — and more incredibly, that the abrupt awareness didn’t shatter the serenity, send her back to a rush of unbidden wants. 

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other,” Kyrene mused, snaking arms beneath Minthara’s to hold her and reaching up to allow hands to play absentmindedly at the silver hairs falling along the nape of her neck. “It can be both, I think.” 

She had accepted that — that just as the boundaries between their minds didn’t have to exist, neither did the boundary between being at peace or at war with herself, between fear and excitement, between control and letting go, pleasure and pain, life and death. 

She she still couldn’t guarantee which the night would end with as Minthara nodded in a way that nuzzled her nose against Kyrene’s neck, her breath tickling as she rested there, seemingly content to stay. 

It didn’t matter, as long as it was her.

[raindownforme]

Hey! I don’t mean to bug but I have another Ted idea in mind, i wanted to send it in before I forgot it.

Basically reader and Ted are sort of rivals and try to out do each other in everything. Reader thinks Ted despises her with all of his snarky/witty comments and the staring he does when they’re in class. The reader is awfully confused when Ted knocks on their bedroom window asking her to sneak out and drive to the next city over and stay with him for the weekend. The reader is even more confused when she finds herself wanting to go and packing a backpack. She/her pronouns (This is a weird one and I completely understand if it’s out of your comfort zone, I just thought it’d be a cool coming of age rivals to lovers story) :)

Mean

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

y/n silently opened the door to the empty classroom. She knew she was late. Everyone knew she was late.

“You’re late.” Ted rummaged his hand around in his backpack, clearly searching for something.

“Gee thanks. I’m excused.” y/n set her bag down in a corner and turned towards the teenage boy. “Why aren’t you out there.”

“Because I get a script.” Ted flashed the stack of papers, waving them smugly before closing his bag. “Where’s your script?”

“Memorized.” She grabbed her water bottle and went onto the stage. She stood silently in the wings, waiting for a familiar cue to be called. Looking over to her left, she watched a group of freshman girls giggling in a circle, quite obviously fawning over Ted. She gestured at them to be quiet, and they did for a moment, but they soon went back to their antics.

“Off-book date isn’t for another three weeks. Little bit of a try-hard are you?”

“Maybe I’m just better.” Ted shifted his weight on his feet. He stood close to her, flipping through the pages in his script. She turned to him, pointing out where they were on the page.

“A know-it-all too then?”

“Forgive me for being nice to you.” She rolled her eyes as she side-stepped away from him.

“Oh never. I’m going to remember this for the rest of your life. How you just had to know what page it is.”

“Jesus. Fuck off would you?” y/n left Ted backstage, entering the ongoing scene with open arms.

———

The stage was quiet. By now everything was winding down. Underclassmen were waiting for their rides while upperclassmen discussed where to go for dinner. Techies were shutting down all the set pieces and electronics. Actors were putting away supplies. y/n was standing center stage. The soundtrack echoed through her head she hummed, pivoting on her feet. Today they had gone over some major choreography for the show, and she knew it better to practice now rather than forget later.

She ended her choreography, spinning with her arms upwards. She then let them fall down to her side, relaxing her entire body in the process.

“Need some help there?” Ted’s voice echoed through the almost empty space. y/n groaned, not turning to him.

“I’m doing just fine. Thanks.” She walked to the edge of stage right, grabbing her water bottle and bag from where it resided. “Don’t you have a curfew?”

“Don’t you?” Ted watched her walk upstage towards the green room. “I think you’re finally nailing that box step. I mean, it’s been what, three years?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Ted.”

“Oh don’t leave me hanging.” Ted followed after her, walking all the way to the door that lead outside of the school. “You giving up already?"

She turned back to him, holding the door open with one hand. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Ted, so good night.” y/n slammed the school door shut, leaving Ted alone in the echoing hallway.

———

y/n was still awake. She’d been up for a while now, going over her musical score, making sure every note change and accidental was circled. There were countless pages it seemed, her being cast as a main character, but it was nearing three AM and she was finally done.

She shut her script, stretching her shoulders as she stood from the desk chair. She meant to reach upwards to dim her lamp light, but paused as she heard a knock on her window. y/n thought it was a fluke, a tree scratching at the wall, but then it happened again. Three times in succession, definitely intentional.

y/n threw open the blinds. In the window she could see a lone stick being held up by a very short Ted.

“Hello?” She opened the window, poking out her head. Ted was indeed there. Her window stood six feet above the ground outside, and Ted’s extreme height poked just above that.

“Hey!” He smiled, which she found almost unusual, but she liked it. He dropped the stick he had been holding and looked up to her. She took note of the fact that he was fully dressed, even though it was an early Saturday morning. She could smell the dew in the air and the cologne on the hoodie Ted wore. She revelled in it for a moment, allowing herself only that moment. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time did I?”

“N-No. I mean, I wasn’t doing much. How do you know where I live?”

“Come with me. Right now.”

“Where?” y/n drew back a bit, confused by Ted’s sudden change of pace.

“The waterfront. Downtown. Please?”

“Ted I-“ y/n looked back into her room. She could pack a quick bag if she really wanted to. She could be gone and back at any time if she really wanted to. “Why?”

“Because. I want to go and you’re who I want to go with me.” Ted extended his hand towards her. “I’m parked across the street.”

y/n sighed, closing her eyes for a second. “Give me two minutes.” She turned back into her room, almost panicking. She threw on a pair of sweat pants and her sneakers, keeping on her comfortable t-shirt. She grabbed an empty backpack and began stuffing it with an extra pair of clothes, a phone charger, her house keys, and travel toiletries. She turned back to her window. Ted stood there expectantly. She tossed the bag to him, and he caught it with ease, throwing it over his shoulder. Next our the window was her, which didn’t come as easy. She started by sitting on the ledge, swinging her legs as she looked at the jump. Thankfully, on her way down, she landed on her feet in the grass. Ted smiled at her, leading the way to his car.

y/n shut the door after herself, inhaling the cold morning air. “We could go to the greenway. I mean the carousel won’t be open but everything else."

y/n nodded as Ted started up his car. It hummed as they drove through the neighborhoods and the freeway, landing them in the middle of downtown. She gazed out the window at the tall cement offices and shops. Ted took her down a series of main roads that gradually became smaller. y/n turned to him, watching the street lights reflect on his glasses.

“Ted, where are we going?”

“The water front! We’ll be there in a second.” Ted followed the paved roads a few minutes longer until pulling aside near a park. “Come on."

Ted hopped out of the truck, not walking towards the meter to pay for parking. He went to open y/n’s door for her, startling the girl. The two walked for a moment, ending up at a rail that over looked the river. “Ted this is-“

“Is there something wrong?” The street lamps danced in the waves of the harbor as they lapped against the brick retaining wall. She looked up to Ted and could see the lights reflect in the lenses of his glasses. Behind that, she could see the worry laced across his face.

“No. I just- I thought you hated me, and this? This is not hateful.”

“Oh.” Ted rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. y/n didn’t notice, instead focusing on not shivering. “Are you cold?”

“I mean yeah. Aren’t you?”

“No but- here take it.” He pulled off his hoodie to drape over y/n’s shoulders. She slowly put on the item, taking in the way it fit just loosely enough.

“Thanks. For not- y’a know- bein’ an asshole.”

“Right.” The silence between the two was uncomfortable as they stared out into the water. “I should’ve been nicer to you. Just- in general. I should’ve.”

“I could’ve been nicer to you, too. I mean, where’s the fun in that though?” She smiled, leaning over the railing of the waterfront. She let herself dangle for a moment, smiling as came back up.

“I could keep being nice to you.” Ted moved a step closer to her, the darkness barely hiding the blush growing across his face.

“Why?”

“I like being nice to you. I like-“ Ted paused, considering what he was trying to say. “Do you hate me?”

y/n whipped her head to the side, looking confusedly at Ted. “No. Ted I never hated you. I thought you hated me!”

“No never I-“ he sucked in a shaky breath. “I like you. A lot. Like, a lot. And I’m sorry I never told you I just- it was so easy to act like you didn’t like me and that you hated me but I- I’m sorry.”

y/n took Ted’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “I wanted to hate you. I really did.”

“I mean, I’m glad you don’t because really like you. Like I can’t emphasize it enough.”

“We’ll good cause I like you too.”

“Really? No wait really?” Ted turned away form the water towards her, a smile almost splitting his face in half. “Can I-“

“Yes.” She placed her hands on his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Ted kissed her almost roughly, pulling her closer every second. y/n smiled against him, feeling his glasses ouch against her eyebrows and the way his cheek molded against her hand.

Ted pulled away slightly, taking a quick breath. “Wow. That was- wow. You’re- wow.”

y/n laughed. “You got words there?”

“Whatever smart-ass.” He went to kiss her again, this one being shorter. “Where to next?”

“Anywhere.” She smiled, looking back towards the sleeping city beside them. “Take me anywhere.”

[retvenkos]

Hi! Congrats Olive! That's amazing! 🔥 please? Okay Part 1: Im an ISFJ/INFJ, 6w7 and 4w3(i know i know you are only suppose to have 1 but i swear I’m both lol), And a slytherpuff! Straight female. I am very smiley and bubbly but am an introvert(or extroverted introvert) and can be super shy. I am extremely ambitious and loyal My friends call me optimistic and the happy one of the group but I actually suffer from chronic depression, OCD,  and major social anxiety.

Part 2: Also have abandonment issues due to my dad leaving. Can be overly emotional and sensitive. But I I love to laugh and find the positive in situations!  I am a very determined person, if I want something I won’t stop trying until I psychically can’t. When Im in expert in something I sometimes get a slight superiority complex, mainly when someone questions me on it, trying to work on that.I’m a Christian and my faith is very important to me!

Part 3 I LOVE to cuddle and hold hands and hugs but innocent otherwise. I have danced and done theater my whole life and love it and being on stage so much but ultimately decided to into video editing. I LOVE broadway and musicals but can’t sing for crap. I love pink and Disney(worked there twice) and nerdy stuff. Child at heart and old soul at the same time.  Oh and for Disney, Marvel, and Harry Potter please! Thanks so much!

Disney:

I ship you with Flynn Rider!

alright, we already know that flynn has a secret soft side to him, and i 100% believe that you unlock it without trying, on like, the second time you meet flynn.

i want to say that you met flynn fairly early on in his life - when he first got out of the orphanage and was still a thief in training. he probably made some dashing rescue when you were cornered by some thugs, and you thanked him with some coin and maybe a dinner? who knows. both of you are young and neither of you well off financially, so you share what little you have. when he leaves, you noticed he let you keep your money. so he’s a gentleman, huh?

he continues to find reasons to stop by your village, his excuses getting increasingly worse over time. on all of his visits, flynn seems to have the mission of getting to know you better - and you’re not going to easily reveal your secrets. after all, a girl’s gotta look out for herself, doesn’t she?

flynn learns that you are a very ambitious person with a lot of smarts that you’re proud of, and he likes your confidence - it’s something he’s had to build over a lifetime, so he loves the fact that it comes so easily to you.

he also loves your optimism. he used to have it, once, and it’s refreshing to find someone who truly and honestly believes in the world.

getting to know you is slow going, but it also takes time to get to know him, so fair is fair. and the more you learn about each other, the more you want him to stay. you, of course, know about his life on the run as a master thief, and he has hidden in your house plenty of times before.

what’s most interesting about your relationship is that flynn talks about the future with you. you know what you want to do with your life and are working towards it with all the tenacity in the world. you are headed in one direction and nothing can stop you, and that inspires flynn and reminds him of himself. and both of you are going to do all you can.

(if you want to get some angst in this headcanon set, maybe your ambitions take you to the castle - maybe you want to be a healer or someone who offers intellectual council, idk. anyway, your ambitions put you in direct opposition of flynn, and the two of you probably have a few run ins. and while there isn’t animosity and you always let him run free, there is a distance between the two of you. BUT, your time at court doesn’t work out and you have to go back to your roots - to flynn.) 

or! maybe you’re an actress in plays! you know that if you were, flynn would sneak into your shows to watch you and would leave you a single flower after your performance. 

you’re relationship is a lot of fun! it involves a lot of sneaking around, a lot of stolen, soft moments, and then talks at the kitchen table, with the candle burning low and all the world between you two.

ugh, i just love this concept.

Marvel:

I ship you with Peter Parker!

you and peter are the sweetest couple ever, two nerds who probably had feelings for eachother for a long time, but were too shy and awkward to mention them. 

since you mentioned video editing, can i propose the idea of you taking videos of spider-man, not knowing it’s peter? may i propose the idea of you making youtube videos about spider-man and kind of being his hype man in the early stages? may i suggest the idea that you are the reason why spider-man blew up online, and it stresses peter out to no end?

i really want peter to bring you into the fold and tell you that he’s spider-man because you’ve been bringing him a lot of attention and have started making theory videos on who he is and how he got his powers, and the stress of you possibly figuring out and telling the whole world is literally killing him.

then you can work to steer the evidence away from peter and to someone else, lol.

alright, but back to basics - you and peter both have altruistic goals! peter wants to make a difference and you do, too. you’re both kind of quiet in your goals but work toward them with a fervor, and it’s good for both of you to find someone with so much drive and willingness. 

also, the two of you are nerds! you can be nerds together! you would never have to hide your interests from peter and that is honestly such a relief. you definitely geek out over harry potter and all sorts of movies - you’re still trying to sell peter on paying attention to the full lore of star wars, but he really only listens for you and ned.

you both are a little sensitive, but you are able to work through that together. you both are unafraid to lean on the other and be vulnerable with each other, and that’s an exceptional trait to have, so the fact that you employ it so early on is good. 

peter, too, has that young at heart yet old soul vibe to him, and that’s because he’s had to struggle in life. he’s lost a lot of people and is poor, all of which ages him (mcu peter doesn’t really have this vibe, but other spideys do), and yet he is still a teenager! he’s still trying his best and wants to see the world! he has wonder in his eyes, and that makes him young again. you understand how he can be simultaneously both, which is good, because explaining that can be rough, and he also understand that in you. lots of mutual understanding is good for you - esp. since his life is so complicated, being spiderman.

oh! peter also loves watching bootl*gs of musicals with you. the two of you will hang out at his place, eating microwave popcorn while trying to enjoy the shaky video. peter talks a lot through movies, but it’s all good, because if you kiss his cheek, he gets flustered and goes very quiet for at least 10 minutes.

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Draco Malfoy!

okay, you gotta stick with me here, because i promise you i have some thoughts about this

i mostly get post-war vibes. i imagine the two of you didn’t interact a lot at school, and if you did, it was in passing - partners in charms once or twice, nothing that could make the two of you especially hate each other later in life.

i’m going all out and saying you both work in the ministry - in the same or similar departments, both of you working late into the night. you, because of your ceaseless ambitions and draco because working clears his mind from all the horrors of his past.

it first starts out that the two of you pass by each other at night, almost shutting off the lights on the other because you thought you were alone. i imagine that draco approaches you first - he has a problem that you can help him solve, and he’s pleasantly surprised by your pride in what you know and the vehemence with which you state the facts. he didn’t know you were so strong willed. it vaguely reminds him of himself, and that’s where the interaction ends.

after that, though, he’s bridged the gap. now, he’ll come over to you for advice on how to do some of his ministry work - you’re really good in a lot of areas, and you’re incredibly concise. when he comes over to your desk, you now ask him about some of your own challenging problems, and the two of you are work friends, now.

it’s a slow burn to end all slow burns, but eventually draco brings you a cup of tea/coffee/hot chocolate one winter's night when the two of you are working late - his way to say thank you for all of your help. he’s not used to this - reaching out and being nice, but you inspire it in him.

one night he helps you walk some paperwork back to your house - some work you still have to do over the holidays - and he offers his help, if you need it.

i imagine that you don’t exactly want to call draco malfoy over to your apartment during the holidays, so you don’t, but when you realize how far you are behind, you call him over on a saturday and the two of you work all day. it’s mindless filing, mostly, so the two of you have time to talk, if you want to. draco’s pretty silent this whole time, but you are talkative and you eventually get him to crack. you talk about your earliest years at hogwarts. draco rolls his eyes at how dramatic he was and groans at some of his actions. (”remember when you made those “’potter stinks’ buttons? you had a button press in the slytherin common room and gave them out to everyone. i can’t believe snape let you keep a button press!”) the two of you have a lot of tea and you go to get lunch at a restaurant nearby, and when you’re walking back after your meal (where he laughed - actually laughed at something you said) he turns to you and sincerely apologizes for all that he was in his hogwarts years. and because there was never too much bad blood between you two, you shrug off his apology.

and it takes a lot of time for both of you to open up - and i mean a lot of time. you guys steadily become friends who tell each other everything, and it’s you who drags draco to parties with other school mates whom he reconciles with (although he still gives apologies to the main trio, quite often). because you’re a little more extroverted, you bring draco out of his shell while still being introverted in your activities.

you also take draco to your favorite muggle places - the theatre being one of them. i want to say that you go to see les mis or hadestown, because i feel like draco would actually really like those musicals. you also do a lot of movie watching, which draco loves. he gets to set aside his troubles for a few hours or so, and it’s nice.

a few more ideas - you teach draco to cook, you realise draco has a love for poetry and find it very sweet (but you lord it over him, of course), you gossip about your coworkers together, and you star gaze.

EVENTUALLY the two of you get together, and it’s just really sweet. draco’s not big on pda, but he will always give you his arm, or he will hold your hand, and the love is in the gentle stares and soft smiles.

[southsidepey]

Way Down We Go // self-para

Who: Peyton July, James July. Mentions with @northsidesebastian, @serpentevans and Sebrina Smythe.

When: Sunday, November 3rd, 2019

Where: July Estate

Notes: Peyton goes over to see what her dad wanted and gets an ultimatum.Kind of.

Triggers: Violence, abuse, nausea, panic attack.

Word Count: 1,676

Peyton could name a better place to be at than being back at her parents’ house again. She could’ve been in bed with Sam on the Southside or being at her flower shop. Peyton tapped on her phone, glancing at it, and hoped that her dad would tell her that he had paid the back payments in full, and Peyton would no longer have to see him or deal with him. That way, she could use the money that she had been saving up at the club, towards a new building for the shop.

James walked down the stairs with a grin, holding the envelope and knew that he had Peyton where he needed her. Especially after what went down at lunch between them a month ago and the fact that the flower shop wasn’t in her name like she had thought it was. Once he was downstairs, he saw her sitting on the couch and grin as he stepped into the living room. He didn’t say a word, turned around and closed the doors behind him. Then he proceeded towards where she was sitting and sat across from her. He placed the envelope down in front of her, pushed it closer to her, and then poured himself a Scotch.

“Go ahead and looked inside, I would say its definitely my best work,” James said as he took a sip of his drink as he kept his back towards her. Peyton felt sick to her stomach as she stared at the envelope, which she had a feeling it contained pictures of her with her clients, including Sebastian. She swallowed hard, let out a shaky breath, and knew that she was close to tears. She reached forward, grabbed it, and opened it up carefully, pulled out all of the pictures before she went through them. With bad luck, she was right. She hated it when she was right about this kind of thing. There she was, dancing on the stage and throwing a wink to the crowd, then there were pictures of Sebastian by himself and then finally, pictures of them together. Peyton saw herself whispering into his ear about something, then her on his lap, them being friendly, and she didn’t look at the last picture. She was already sick to her stomach.

“I think I should hang the second to last picture, you two being oh so chummy together, in the main foyer. That way, every time your mom has guests over, they can see how trash our daughter has become.” Peyton looked up from the pictures to her dad and watched him turned around to face her. “A Southsider and an Elite, touching each other like they have feelings for each other. Actually, I should send that one to the Smythes residences. That way, they can all see how their son acts on the weekends.” Peyton closed her eyes as she rubbed her forehead carefully, feeling like she stepped into the Twilight zone.

“Why are you doing this to him? He has done nothing to you.” Peyton said softly as she looked at her father. “He’s innocent in all of this, he was looking for a good time, he got it. So please leave him out of it.” James let out a chuckle as he shook his head and placed his glass onto the fireplace.  “Look, I’ll do anything, just leave Sebastian out of this.” She could feel the tears start to pool and let out a breath. “H-he already has too much on his plate.”

James let out small awe when he heard her beg to not bring Sebastian into this and grabbed the pictures from her, placed them back into the envelope then put them back onto the table. Peyton eyed them, and then looked back at her father. “Oh, honey, how stupid can you be? He will never have feelings for you, so no reason to protect him. I would say, get out of the way of protecting your “lover” boy and let his reputation burn to the ground.” She let out another shaky breath as she swallowed and rubbed her hands together.  “I know that he has gone through a lot, hell. The entire town knows that, but there’s no reason to protect him, honey. He’s a big boy. Besides, the minute these pictures are published in the newspaper, your flower shop will be closed, his reputation will be over, and his parents would be no more.”

Peyton could feel herself start to have a panic attack, but she began to ground herself by began to think about what would calm her down. “H-how long have you been keeping tabs on the both of u-us?” She asked, once she was calmed down and didn’t know if she wanted the answer after all. James took another swig of his drink, let out a small hmm, and placed it back onto the fireplace.  “I have to sit down for this. “ James sat down onto the chair across from his daughter.

“Since you came back, so early July. Then with him, since August. Yeah, we’ve been keeping tabs on this ‘relationship’ you, or I should say, Scarlet and he have.” Peyton leaned forward after she wrapped her arms around her midsection and closed her eyes. “Figured ever since his sister’s disappearance, he had been letting a certain person in, and I wasn’t expecting him to let you in since you’re a Southsider, but I sure was wrong. We both know would happen if he finds out it was you who he had been touching, whispering those sweet things too. An Elite would never touch someone who was below them, even if they were born on the Northside.” She bit down on her inner cheek to hold in a sob and placed her hand to her mouth as she took a deep breath. The more he talked, her blood boiled. 

“You’re only good for one thing, Peyton. And that’s being Southside trash.” She looked away as she wiped away the tear and let out another shaky breath. “Did you seriously think he would actually develop feelings for you once he found out that you’re Scarlet?” James paused as he rose an eyebrow, couldn’t believe she would. “You did, huh?” She closed her eyes as she counted in her head and tried to ignore his words. “Honey, you will never get a happy ending, especially trash like you. So if I were you, I would cut off all ties with him and wouldn’t talk to him unless it’s in Church.” Peyton looked at her father with furrowed eyebrows, slightly confused. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, if you want to protect Sebastian, then you would have to move to the Northside and nearby us.” Peyton looked at him.

“Do you realize that no one will accept me back as a Northsider?” Peyton replied as she shot up from the couch as she looked at him. “I will have a bigger target painted on my back. I-“ James raised a finger to stop her from speaking.

“That’s why you have to go to church with us, every single Sunday.” James replied as he moved his drink around and took a sip. “If you don’t, then the newspaper would receive a picture, every time you skip church.” Peyton swallowed hard as she ran a hand through her hair and started to pace as she tried to calm herself down.

“Everyone would maybe remember what the two of you were doing while going by an alias.” Peyton rolled her eyes as she placed her hand on the back of her neck and licked her lips as she stopped for a moment. “Maybe it will be still talked about by next Fourth of July.” James paused as he took a sip of his drink and stood up to get close to his daughter. “If you think about it, it’s quite fitting. Its the first anniversary of Sebrina’s disappearance, the death of his reputation, and the death of yours. Well, what’s left of it anyway.” James snickered a little bit.

Peyton couldn’t handle it anymore, so she threw a right hook to her father’s face. She groaned when she pulled it away from his face, which James let out a laugh as he noticed that his drink spilled some onto the floor.  She looked up from her hand and clenched her jaw. “Keep, that family’s name, out of your mouth. Keep both Sebrina’s and Sebastian’s names out of your mouth.” James chuckled before he backhanded her so hard that she fell onto the ground.

“Don’t you see? The old Peyton would never stand up against me or even stood up for that family.” Peyton started to get up, but then James pushed her back down onto the floor with his foot, which knocked the wind out of her. “Stay down, you belong down there.” He fixed his tie and cleared his throat before he glanced down at his watch as he placed the glass onto his fireplace. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go. I’m meeting your mother for lunch. By the time we get back, you better have left this house.” He stepped over her, then headed towards the door and stopped to face her.

“You might want to put some makeup on that, or you might have the neighborhood talking, and we dont want.” James started to walk away again, and then he stopped once more. “Oh, and we want you to move back to the Northside by the end of this month, or I will start releasing those pictures. Starting with the chummy ones.” Peyton watched him walk out and heard his car take off before she started to sob as she laid on the floor, not moving an inch, just in case he would come back.

Once she knew she was in the clear, Peyton picked herself up from the floor, grabbed the pictures, wiped her eyes, and hoped that it wouldn’t look like she was crying. She placed the images into her backpack and knew that she needed to look for the negatives, but that would have to wait until later.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Load Out

strawberryfields-forever said: Could you do a roger Imagine where it’s really early / late smile days the reader is at the boys gig in like a shady pub and when they finish he comes and checks in with her but then has to go back and pack up his kit and what not and then then a drunk comes up and is handsy with the reader and making her uncomfortable (you can do as much as you feel comfortable with ofcourse) and finally rog comes and saves the day, please and thank youuuuu

“I’ve been in some prime sleazy joints, but I think this takes the cake,” you muttered, staring at the backstage bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since King George III was still a fresh household name. Letting the door swing closed, you made your way back to the small dressing room where the boys were gathered.

Tim was perched on the armrest of the couch while reading something in his notebook, and Brian was seated on the lumpy, short couch that made him look like even more of a giant, for it had seen some better years. It looked like his knees were practically in his chest, and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

Roger, however, didn’t seem to mind the couch, instead just drumming on his thighs and staring off into space. His bob length, mostly straight blondish hair was covering his face slightly, and stuck up in odd places as he scratched it every so often, trying to work out a difficult part in one of the songs he’d been struggling with the past few nights.

Sighing at the cramped room, you maneuvered around the doorway and sat yourself in Roger’s lap, leaning back against the armrest. Roger smiled and wrapped his lean arms around your waist, stealing a quick kiss from you before sitting back.

“That was quick,” he noted, resting a hand on your thigh and rubbing it as he gazed at you, his head rested back on the couch.

“Didn’t work out, the toilet looks like I could contract the plague and syphilis all at once,” you giggled softly, shaking your head. “Were you the one who wanted to have a gig here? I feel like I’m in Heroin Central.”

“Yes, this place was the only one open for tonight that knew who the fuck Smile is,” he admitted regrettably, and you noticed Brian’s eyebrows raising as he cocked his head to the side and let out a frustrated exhale. You hadn’t any idea why he made that face, but you figured it had something to do with the bugs he’d seen earlier on the way in. Looking back at Roger, you raised an eyebrow as well, and he smiled innocently, which made you giggle once and shake your head.

“You start soon, I should probably get out of here and grab myself a drink before you’re up,” you stated, climbing out of Roger’s lap. He was quick to hook a finger into the belt loop of your pants, and he stood as well, following you out into the hallway. Once you got there, he stepped in front of you and impeded your progress, wrapping his arms around you to rest his broad hands directly on your ass.

Giving him a warning look, you leaned in for one last kiss before you meant to go, your hand cupping the side of his face as he pulled you flush against him. You giggled into the kiss, and he grinned, gently taking ahold of your lower lip with his teeth and tugging playfully before letting go. “Don’t go yet, love,” he pleaded, pressing another eager kiss to the corner of your lips as he coyly slipped a few fingers between your waistband and your skin, but you swiftly intercepted his hand and pulled it back out before he could get too frisky. There were plenty of people in the corridor who had most likely seen, but you still didn’t want to get too wild with your boyfriend right before he played.

“Rog, I’ll see you afterwards, go back in,” you laughed, nodding back towards the poor excuse for a dressing room. That made Roger’s soft, dainty lips go into a pout, and he grumbled melodramatically before stealing a quick kiss and pinching your ass, then stepping aside so you could get to the front. His knowing smirk taunted you as you passed, and you flipped him off before grinning and going out the doors that led to the main bar area.

As you emerged, you rolled your eyes at the state of the pub. The crowd looked mighty sketchy, and you carefully crossed the room to approach the bar as you made a mental note to remember the name of this establishment so you could never, ever come back here again. You got yourself a pint and made your way back over to the stage area, taking up a position where you knew you’d be able to see Rog, then taking a sip of your beer.

No sooner than you got settled in, the boys came out and started their set - Roger was the first to emerge, followed by a mildly stiff Brian and an always-drony Tim. Roger shot you a wink when he spotted you, then let himself get into the zone and off they went. They were full of a different energy tonight, but the crowd ate them up nonetheless, for they couldn’t notice the same nuances that you could. You’d seen night after night of their performances, and their surroundings definitely affected their performance. Tonight was good, but other nights in bigger pubs with proper lighting were far more involved on the band’s side.

This pub’s audience didn’t seem to be concerned too much with how they looked on stage, because they still played quite well. That’s all that mattered to them, and they got a hearty applause once they’d finally finished, Roger jumping straight off stage to saunter over to you and finish off your second beer that you’d retrieved during their set.

“Hello, love, enjoying yourself?” he asked, obviously teasing you about how out of your element you felt at the moment. He sat your glass down on the high top next to you, and you shot him a look that said all he needed to know. A devilish chuckle escaped his lips, and he was about to give you a filthy kiss that would have you two out of there in record time when he heard Brian’s voice sternly calling him from the stage.

“Rog. Load out.” Roger’s face dropped, and he rolled his eyes before kissing your cheek and tucking a hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be back in a moment, get me a pint, will you?” he asked, and you confirmed with a nod as he smiled gratefully and took off again to load up his drumset. You smiled after him, shamelessly checking him out and wiggling your eyebrows when he turned back and caught you after a moment. He pressed a finger to his lips and played innocent, posing like an idiot as he bent over to put his snare back in the case with the stand.

You giggled, wolf whistling at him before finally heading for the bar to get his drink for him. You had to shoulder your way through the crowd a bit more as you headed there, because it was getting more and more dense, but you managed to snag the last bar stool before they filled up.

While you were waiting for the bartender to take your order, you felt a hand on the small of your back and you assumed it was Roger, so you turned around with a smile on your face only to see a strange older man with glazed-over eyes and a lecherous smile staring straight at you, his hand still on you.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol as he was jostled a bit from behind, which forced him closer to you. You visibly recoiled, wrinkling your nose as the man’s hand slid up your back torturously slow, coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re new, I’ve never seen you here before.”

The fact that he was here often enough he could pick out fresh faces in the crowd was all that you needed to know about this man. You took a shaky breath, then tried to force on a fake smile. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend, he should be here any second.”

“I don’t see him?” the man said, looking around before raising his eyebrow at you, his crooked grin widening. You were absolutely repulsed at this point, not knowing whether you wanted to flee or throw up on him more – the smell of his breath was making you lean more towards the latter. His bony fingers dug into your shoulder as time passed, almost demanding an answer.

“He’s coming,” you firmly reiterated, shrugging off his hand and trying to figure out the most polite way of telling him to fuck right off. Although you were raised to be scrappy, you knew not to mess with drunkards – it could get really violent, really quick.

The man was unbothered, though, and rested his hand on your knee, giving it an overly-friendly squeeze as he forced himself into your line of vision. You gagged a bit at the gesture, and it took all of your strength to not smack him directly across the face as he continued dragging his leering eyes all the way down your body. “You’re a pretty thing. Sure your boyfriend won’t mind if we go dance?”

“I, uh,” you stammered, feeling a bit overwhelmed as you struggled with what to do, what to say. You didn’t want to anger him, that was for sure, but you were conflicted as every bone in your body screamed at you to give him a good walloping for touching you. “I don’t dance.”

“Oh, that don’t matter,” he dismissed, his grin threatening at this point as his hand continued to rest on your knee. “I can show you some moves, get the blood flowing.”

“Oh, Christ,” you muttered, your gag reflex triggered again as you turned to the bar and forced his hand off your knee. Calling the bartender over, you ordered two more pints and fished out the money as you pretended to ignore the man leaning against the bar next to you, visibly annoyed that you’d rejected his advances yet again.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get out of here,” he demanded this time, gripping your upper arm as you handed the money to the bartender. You stared at the bartender helplessly as they rolled their eyes and took the money. They had obviously dealt with this guy before, and this was a common thing.

“Listen, George, lay off,” the bartender said, starting to pour the pints while keeping an eye on the both of you.

“No, she’s here with me,” the man you now knew as George lied, and you scoffed, about to let him have it when you felt another hand on your other arm. This time, it actually was Roger, and you’d never felt such a sudden rush of relief in your life.

“Hello, love,” Roger said to you, offering you a quick smile before pointedly looking at George, who chuckled back at him.

“Is this your boyfriend? Looks more like a girlfriend to me,” George sneered, Roger rolling his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that he looked like a girl, and it sure wouldn’t be the last, but it still irked him a bit.

“Why’ve you got your hand on her, mate? Kindly fuck off.”

“Watch yourself, pretty boy, before I knock your precious little teeth out,” the man practically growled, his grip getting tighter on your upper arm.

“Over my girlfriend? I feel like that should be switched around,” Roger mused, pretending to think about it. “Nah, I think I’ll just have to take you down if you don’t let go in about 5 seconds.”

“Let go?” the man laughed, a smoker’s cough peppering the sound. “I’m going to borrow your lady friend for a second. We’re going to dance.”

“Like hell you are,” Roger laughed, which made you panic. Why was he so calm about this situation? You felt like your left arm was practically being ripped off by this troll of a stranger, and here Roger was laughing? Before you could lay into him about it, Roger’s hand quickly reached around your back and he grabbed ahold of the man’s pinky, pressing hard against the base of the nail bed and making him cry out in pain as he sunk to the floor. Thanking the bartender, he tossed a couple extra notes up on the bar before grabbing your drinks and handing yours to you, then wrapping his arm around your shoulder and quickly ushering you backstage again.

“What in the fuck did you do to him?” you asked incredulously, having not seen what made the man crumble completely. Roger chuckled and shook his head, opting to not answer as he took big drinks of his pint, thirsty from the set.

So, you resigned to being in the dark about it as you took a drink of yours too, wrapping your arm around Roger and slipping your hand into his back pocket as you went down the corridor. “Did you miss me?” he asked instead, bumping your hip with his as you both approached the back of the building, where the other two were waiting to take off.

“Miss you?” you scoffed, giving his ass a quick pinch and making him yelp, then give you a feisty look as he opened the door for the both of you. “Always.”

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