#Booze Dancing TV

[boozedancing]

Nelson Bros. Classic Bourbon Whiskey Review

Join us for a quick trip to Nashville’s Greenbrier Distillery for a taste of the Nelson Bros. Classic #Bourbon #Whiskey …

One of us loooooves to whiskey shop and is always on the lookout for something new and interesting. And one of us is a mooch that will gladly partake of whatever lands on the Murder Table for a tasting. I’m sure you already know who is who. The subject of today’s review is the fruit of one of these whiskey shopping excursions and it’s called Nelson Bros. Classic Bourbon Whiskey. While we’re quite…

[liveontelevision]

Tap Out Vox X Reader

Ok, I am in LOVE with this god dam TV head lookin ass, so here's a quick one shot of him being an absolute Sub! Mess!

------

The All-Mighty Vees were the central powerline for entertainment and technology in Hell, but even those three dorks liked to have fun. Sometimes, they would play poker games on their rare nights off that miraculously lined up. Of course, money means nothing to these business partners, so they like to bet on favors. There were times when Valentino would lose to Velvette, who would get to use his studio for a day, or Valentino would get to borrow some of Velvette's actors for a shoot, little things like that; things that would be considered a minor inconvience. Until tonight, that is.

•••

Velvette created a sort of dancing competition program, and it was booming in Hell. The show was spiced up with a stage covered in landmines, falling spikes, randomly shooting arrows, etc. Contestants were judged by their talent and if they came out in one piece by the end of the routine. The season finale was fast approaching, but Velvette was lucky to get a quick game of poker in between her packed schedule. With her cunning and wit (and some cards under the table), Velvette managed to weasle a win from Vox. He was never one to complain about carrying through with these favors, so Velvette took the chance to bring her program to the next level.

"You have to compete!" She declared with pride, her hands slamming on the table, with a sly smirk. "It'll be easy, i'll get someone to train and. but i need a hook for this finale, and your dashin' face would be perfect. And! I'll pair you with my best dancer, eh? How's that sound, love?" She explained, showing no sign of wavering. She clearly had this planned ahead of time.

"Fuck me, Velvette." He squints, throwing his cards behind his shoulder. "Fine.. i guess the publicity will boost viewers on both our fronts- " He groans and crosses his arms over his chest. "- Hate to admit it, but i haven't been tuning in, doll. So, who's this dancer i'm stuck with?"

•••

You arrived in hell after a life of drugs, sex and booze. You always joked about going to Hell. It was obvious you wouldn't make the cut into heaven. What you definitely werent expectingbwas for Hell to look just like the busy and messy streets of the ritzy cities you would party in. With absolutely no shame or doubt, you were quick to work your way up in the industry to work for the Vees. You started with Valentino, working up quite an audience in that field. And he didn't even make a contract! You said yes to anything, so really, there wasn't a point. That grew to helping Velvette with some small rolls in some shows, then moved up to you, performing and acting often. You were the lead singer of a band in your life, and you had quite a few talents hidden up your sleeve. Truly, a perfect byproduct of the Vees. Once Velvette pitched the show to you, you immediately auditioned as always and were quick to get in.

Weeks pass, and you're finally in the top 3 of the show! You were a solo dancer throughout, but with the routines provided, you were required to find a dance partner. Velvette to the rescue, somehow managed to bag the other Vee, Vox himself. You'd be lying if you said this didn't get you excited.

During one of the dress rehearsals, you were finally able to work your routine with Vox. Sure, you've met him before and said hi in passing, even going out with the Vees for some press events, but you never expected to get this close to him. Velvette would provide some amazingly embarrassing footage of his dance lessons. The two of you couldn't help but giggle at the powerful demon, getting so frustrated to music. Still, seeing his towering figure made you siddently nervous to have such intimate contact with him.

He came into the rehearsal space with a black turtle neck and pants, going along with some heeled boots that he'd have to wear during the performance. No matter how nicely those tight clothes hugged his figure, it was immediately disheartened by the scowl on his face. You couldn't help but hold in a laugh, picturing the compilation of videos that Velvette had previously shown you of his many failed lessons.

You weren't wearing much, a lilac cropped tank top and some yoga shorts that almost seemed too small, as well as strappy jazz shoes that you had to wear doing the final performance. This get-up made Vox look you up and down when he finally meets with you face to face. His unethusiastic expressions made him look more childish and grumpy than intimidating.

To you, at least.

"So! Pleasure to work with you, sir. Can't wait to see how you keep up with me." You commented smugly, reaching a hand out for a formal handshake. He scoffs and brushes your hand away before simply walking off to discuss something with Velvette. You crossed your arms across your chest and huffed, letting some random assistant tie your hair up as you glared in his direction.

After Velvette scolded him on something you didn't hear, the rehearsal began. Since your usual style was fast pased and almost always involved some sort of sexual overtone, the plan was to choreograph something intimate to create a sort of power couple for people to route for. This involved a lot of close contact that you and Vox were immediately struggling with. With movements that involved swinging you around, dipping you, and generally keeping you close to his chest, it was no simple task for two demons with a competitive streak.

After hours of eventually getting the choreography down, the main notes involved the constant glares you two were giving each other.

"Hey! You owe me this, I won game night! So make this work, fucker!" Velvette was getting fed up with Vox at this point and there was a scheduled photo shoot for some promo images coming up, so you had to break anyway. You went into your dressing room to change into your costume for the shoot. A slinky red sequence dress with a tightened corset that hugged your hips and stopped right at the point where you had to pull it down every so often as to not flash anyone. Paired with some fishnets and black shiney jazz shoes. It was simple compared to some of the stuff Velvette's had you wear, but it'll definitely draw some eyes when plastered on a big enough billboard.

Finally reaching the studio after hair and makeup battered your face, you got a look at Vox. He wore a white button-up that was neary opened down to his clavicle, where the red belt of a tuxedo hugged his waist, tying your outfits together. He cuffed his sleeves while waiting for some kind of direction. You couldn't help but pause to take in some of his features that you've never seen before. The bare skin of his chest and the strong arms that led into the same blue claws that were just around your waist during rehearsal. He caught you staring and knew exactly what was going on in your head. His first response was to send you a smirk that you couldn't decipher as harmless or not. You both snap out of your gaze when Velvette yells in some directions to push you into the camera's frame.

You were menuvered physically, someone essentially adjusting your position until it looked right. The final pose had your chest flush to his, and your leg hiked up his body as you swung backward to look at the camera. Vox was there to hold you in place by gripping underneath your thigh and having a tight hold onto your waist. It was difficult, but after multiple other provocative positions, the shoot was finally done. The two of you quickly pulled away from each other, smothered by the clashing energy.

"This'll have to do, i guess. Okay, flat face, you're good for today. The next rehearsal is tonight, now shoo." Velvette doesn't even look up from the screen in front of her as she nearly throws the two of you out of her studio. The door shut with a slam after you stumbled directly into Vox. He had grabbed onto your forearms, forcing your hands to lay on his chest to brace your fall. You quickly pushed off of him to stand straight, crossing your arms and stubbornly looking away. The tightened laces of your dress pushed your cleavage up a bit, giving a lovely show for the TV demon that towered over you.

He lets out a sigh of disgust after snapping his gaze away from your body. "Knock it off, will you? You're acting like a brat." He hissed at you, beginning to walk towards the hallway with the dressing rooms. You quickly stumbled in the same direction, attempting to keep up with his long strides.

"Fuck you, Vox! I'm just trying to do my job!" You quickly retorted, finally walking alongside him, your arms crossed again. He takes another quick glance at your body, unfortunately getting caught. "And stop that, you freak! You'vs been eyeing me up all day, you might as well fuck me in the dressing rooms if your so interested in my tits." You snapped at him, but your last response gave Vox a wicked idea. He wasn't one to refuse a challenge.

"Sure, we've got time, doll." He shrugs off the comment as you start to turn into your room. You quickly turned your body to face him, an angry yet reddened expression on your face.

"Seriously, fuck you." You muttered, turning to enter your dressing room. You go to open your door before you're cornered against it by Vox's arms, caging you in. You turn back to face him, trying to appear disgusted even with the heat crawling over your cheeks.

"If you think you can handle it, sweetheart." He smirked down at you, enjoying watching you squirm more than he'd like to admit. It finally evolved into an unspoken game of chicken. You took your doorknob and opened the door, letting the two of you fall in. Aware of your action, you slid back to keep Vox from falling onto you. He stumbled forward while glaring at you, still not planning on backing down. But neither were you.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips against his. It felt like a cold screen for a moment before quickly melting into the sensation of physical lips. He was shocked by the bold move but has played this game all too many times. It was always easy for Vox to charm or hypnotise his way out of a situation like this, but his competitive spirit was strong. He was quick to lift you up from under your legs and essentially drop you onto the vanity. The wood hit your tailbone with a thud, and you let out a flustered yelp into his lips. Your arms quickly found their way to his shirt, untucking it until it loosely hung around him. He lifted himself away from you but was still close enough for your legs to be nearly draped around his hips. He began to unbotton his shirt that you had so kindly untucked.

"You sure you wanna keep this up, sweetie? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you or worse -" he leaned in, becoming uncomfortably close to your ear. "- injure you before your big show." The threat only made your blood boil, but a flashing light caught your eye. His chest was dark, with glowing blue circuits that occasionally seemed to flicker.

"As if. You couldn't even keep up with me even if i was injured." You spoke smugly, trying to keep your cool while denying the heat pooling in between your legs. He scoffs and starts to undress you, while you assisted. It was aparently a two person job, with an unspoken understanding that Velvette would kill both of you if the dress was ruined in anyway. After it was safely tossed the side, Vox was quick to start running his claws along the curves of your body. You pulled him impossibly closer, your legs nearly wrapping around his hips. You tried your hardest to stifle any response to the claws trailing down the center of your stomach. Finally, you pushed him away, letting your hands lead him to fall back on some decorative couch that was nearby. You were quick to straddle him, feeling the buldge in his pants to gauge how much of an upper hand you had.

"Aw, was the idea of fucking me on my own vanity getting you all excited?" You asked him in a teasingly sweet voice, running your hands along the bottom of his screen, then tracing your hand down towards his pants.

"I could ask you the same thing." He muttered, taking a hold of your hips and pullimg them closed towards his groin. You were quick to lift your hips off his lap, pushing his back fully against the backrest and breaking that contact. You let out a deceivingly sweet chuckle, before planting a small kiss on his neck. His skin really was metal, no matter the heat you felt through his pants. It was cold to your lips, but once you noticed a reaction from him, you just had to keep it up.

His breath became a bit heavier as his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing his clawed fingers into it almost to the point of skin breaking. You tried your best to not let a noise out, luckily your face was hidden in the nook of his neck and his shoulder. Even with his robotic anatomy, his skin was melting with each mark, bite and kiss you left on his chest. The action of covering his chest in the bright red lipstick you wore, brought the both of you closer to together, your hips finally meeting his again. As your chests became flush, you looked back up to him, seeing the eyes on his monitor glazed over, somehow some dewy tears beneath them.

You were winning.

You tilted your head back for a moment, seeing the large mirror from the vanity was directly behind them, leaving the both of you entirely visible to Vox. You tip his monitor foward with a forceful lift, holding tight as you made him look over your shoulder.

"Look at you.. quite a sight, huh?"

You teased in a harsh tone, leaning back a bit for him to see the cluster of marks and stains you left on his collarbone. "What do you think? Red really is your color. You look soo pretty." Your words were meant to piss him off, but seeing how he melted and let out a breathy groan when you called him pretty was an even better reaction. He looked away from the mirror, flustered at the sight of himself.

"Ohh, is Mr. Bigshot here enjoying some tender love and care? Aww, well, all you had to do was ask, baby~" You crashed your lips against his again, shocking him back into the moment, as he held onto your hips to brace himself. You were quick to pull away, leaving him unfulfilled before peppering multiple kisses across his screen and making sure you were to leave as many vivid red lip stains as you could.

"F.. Fuck you..." he mumbled, "fuck this'll be a pain in the ass to get off.." You look down at him from your higher position, an almost dark look across your face.

"Then tell me to stop. Either give up and accept defeat-" you started, beginning to stand in front of him." Or give in. And let me take care of you." You ran your hand along his pants, your fingertips brushing across the stiff tent in his pants. He let out the smallest yelp, not expecting the sensation. You continued to just lightly touch his groin, reaching to fiddle with his belt buckle.

"So? What are you gonna do? You gonna give in? You want me to keep touching you, hm?" You teased, leaning towards his face by placing your hands on his seated thighs. Your bent position left a great view of your ass, still clothed with sleek red underwear and fishnets. He pouted, looking into the mirror momentarily to appreciate the sight. You looked over your shoulder, grabbing his screen to jerk him back to your eye level.

"Tap. Out." You hissed, glaring into his eyes.

"Fuck! Fine, whatever! I tap out.. I-I.. Keep touching me.. i want you to keep touching me." He let out, getting progressivly flustered as he spoke. You looked at him, trying desperately to hide a smirk by biting your loeer lip. Noticing that you still weren't making a move and definitely wouldn't let him take the upper hand at this point, he rolls his eyes and looks towards the ceiling to avoid your eyes. "Please." He blurted out, a cyan hue growing across his cheeks. You let out a confident chuckle, before immediately dropping to your knees in front of him and continuing to fully release his throbbing cock from his already dampened trousers.

"Good boy~ Now enjoy the show, okay?" You let out before taking a hand around the base and sending a long lick up his length, immediately drawing the head into your mouth. You worked your magic, running your tongue in circles around the head and pumping your hand across the rest. The heat of your mouth on his tip and the coolness of the room barely breezing across the rest of his hard on made him shutter. He was looking down at you, instinctively attempting to buck his hips. You were quick to use your other hand to push his hips back down, running your neatly done nails across his thigh to the point of leaving marks, clearly indicating don't try that shit again.

You start to take in more of his cock into your mouth. Bobbing your head to set a nice rhythm, nothing that couldn't finish him off just yet, but enough to make him lose his composure more than he already has. You look up to meet his eyes, seeing him stare down at your work. You slowed to an impossibly slow speed before quickly pulling your mouth away, a line of saliva still connecting your lips to his member.

"That's not what i meant." You spoke strictly, reaching up to tilt his screen back towards the mirror. He did enjoy the pretty sight of you on your knees, but his mess of an appearance and reactions embarrassed him."If i see you looking anywhere else - if i see that you're not enjoying the show-" you squeezed his cock that had cooled from your hot spit hitting the cold air of the room. Almost too tightly. He winced, looking back down at you with a wide concern. " -Then i'll just have to stop. I can't reward that sort of behavior, hun." You sounded almost threatening and continued to tighten your grasp. He reached down, squeezing your shoulder before fixing his weary eyes to look at his wreck of a reaction in the mirror. "There we go! See? Look how lovely you look." You switched almost immediately to a sweet voice, loosening your grip and nuzzling his cock against your cheek, right at the corner of your mouth. "So? Are you gonna play along? Be good for me?" You spoke with hot breath against his member, your lips hovering just over the head. He nodded reluctantly.

"Say it." Another sudden transition from that sweet tone back to a stern voice.

"Nng... I'll be g-good.." he spoke quietly, ashamed that he had to say that while looking into the eyes of his reflection. You let out a sly chuckle, immediately assuming a quick pace. You weren't quite able to reach the base, but you made up the difference in your hand, and your other still dug your nails deeply into his thigh. The combined sensations of pain and pleasure made him whimper, struggling to keep his eyes open and his head foward. Every time you saw him start to lose his computer, you either slowed to a complete stop, ran your sharp teeth across his shaft as a warning, or behan to squeeze at his base. Each warning was enough for him to realize he was losing his attention. As he got closer, still somehow managing to stare into the reflection, he reached for your hair, running his claws across your scalp.

You allowed this, he's been doing so good for you, after all.

Holding his hips down to prevent any involuntary jerks, you began to sloppily cover his cock with your spit, speeding up even more. You needed him. Now. He was quick to let out moans and groans, not very domineering ones, which almost surprised you. He was truly unraveling.

"I-I'm gonna.." he started to say in between breathy moans. As soon as you heard you sped up right until you felt his cum hit your tongue. But as soon as you felt the smallest amount, you stopped and held your grip tightly around his base, not stopping him from finishing but definitely making it more difficult to enjoy. You pulled your head back, catching your breath. You sit up on your knees and pull his monitor to reach your lips, kissing the small amount of his cum into his mouth with your tongue. His eye twitched at the new flavor in your mouth and was quick to pull away, wiping his lips ftom a combination of drool and his own fluids.

"That was good! You handled me so well.. But i didn't give you permission to cum did I? And you ruined my hair." You almost pouted, looking back to the mirror to attempt to fix your hair up as much as possible. You got a good look at his full body and smiled into the mirror. "God, you're beautiful, Vox." You said, your voice dripped with sweetness as you turn a decievingly genuine smile his way. It only made him blush more. The sight made you absolutely giddy. You finally looked down at him, seeing him begin to go soft." Ah ah~, you need to deal with the mess you made, baby." You took a hold of his still twitching cock, moving your hands along it again. It was quick to stiffen up again, but the overstimulation from just finishing drove Vox to lean his head back and let out more breathless moans. In a quick motion, you were back in his lap, just hovering your entrance over his member. You moved your underwear to the side, running your own fingers between your folds and lifting your hands back up to his view.

" See what you're doing to me? You lost your little game, and now, i'm left with this mess." You spoke matter of fact, licking your own fluids off your fingers. You quickly pressed another kiss against his mouth, the mixutre of both your fluids making this an especially messy one. His senses were overloaded. Every now and then, some moans would come out with a slight delay or glitch to them. He placed his hands on your hips, wanting to get at least one victory out of this. With one claw, he carefully ripped the fishnets covering yout entrance before forced himself into you, bottoming out immediately. You shot up, yelping at his sudden courage. Giving you time to relax into him, you gripped onto his shoulders. He led you up and down on his cock, barely guiding you before you began to move at your own pace, beginning to unravel yourself. He tilted his head to look into the mirror again. Seeing you from both angles made him drive up into you harder. He had to admit, it was a great view.

As you bounce yourself on his cock, you take his hand and lead his fingers to rub your clit. He immediately picked up the note and began to run tight circles with the sharp tip of his finger. The sensation made you shiver, his metal like claws a start contrast to the warmth you were amitting. Beginning to hit your g spot timed with the constant contact of his finger to your clit, left you breathy, a moaning mess. He was reaching his breaking point, making his body physically react to yours. Small and sudden shocks would amit from his finger and occasionally through his cock, causing a sensational pain. His voice continued to glitch, indicating how he was about to finish, which you noticed immediately. You slam down onto him, lifting his eyes towards you by grabbing a hold of his neck, lightly squeezing.

"You have to get permission to cum. Got it?" You said sternly, your sudden halt making his leg twitch and shift underneath you. "O-okay.. fine..! Keep going, i'm close-" you yanked him closer.

"Ask. Nicely."

"Fuck... C-can I cum for you..? Please... let me-" his voice began to trail off as you quickened your pace again. "Such a good boy. Okay, but only because you asked so nicely." You praised and tapped your finger against his nose(?) mockingly, then felt another shock run up inside of you. He finished almost immediately hearing those words. You felt his cum fill you up, but you guided his hand back down to your clit to continue rubbing as you kept up your pace. His sensitivity left a twitching static shock inside of you, which was quick to lead you to finish, the heated pain in your stomach finally releasing.

You fell onto him, your head resting on his shoulder as you simply stay seated om top of him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. He was nuzzling the side of his screen into your ear and kissing just along your neck. As soon as you regained your senses, you melted into his aftercare. You wouldn't expect him to be so sweet to you after this, but he was holding on to you like his worse fear was you getting up. You ran your hands along his back, enjoying how much comfort he seemed to need so desperately.

The sweet moment lasted for a while, before you pulled away gently and looked up towards the clock near the door.

"Fuck! Rehearsal! Get up get up!" You quickly lifted yourself off of him, before you looked at eachother. Your fishnets were ripped, some small bruises on your neck. He managed to plant a few, but that was nothing compared to the sloppy lipstick covered state he was in. "Ugh, god dammit!" You stormed off and quickly grabned some wipes, scrubbing the lipstick off his screen and chest." Velvette's gonna kill me..!" You groaned, nearly getting everything off.

"Calm down doll, I'll get some people from hair and makeup to fix up this mess." He snapped his fingers, which somehow alerted an imp assistant to knock on the door. You quickly reached for a nearby robe and tied it around your waist just as they entered the room. "-and they will have no problem with keeping this little secret, right?" His eye began to run hypnotic waves as he was quick to brainwash the assistant. You hesitantly sat and let the imp quickly fix up your messy appearance after finding new fishnets and hanging up your delicate dress to put back on later. Vox sat there, his shirt still completely undone, his legs crossed and arms splayed across the back of the couch. He simply sat there, watching you get pampered to perfection again. Every tine you made eye contact with him you began to turn red. Sure, you had the upper hand just moments ago, but the effect this demon had on you was immense, making the immediate poeer dynamic switching back to him.

Once the two of you had cleaned up a bit more, you headed towards the door. He spun you before pressing a quick kiss on your forehead, then turned you back and let you walk out in front of him.

"I told you i could handle it, and it for sure seemed like you couldnt keep yourself together. So, i win!" You clarified as the two of you walked down the hall, back towards the rehearsal space.

"Fine. Sure. Watever you say. Keep telling yourself that.. if that's what it takes to make you do it again." He shrugged off your obviously victory with that dumb invitiation. You punched his arm as the two of you continued to argue. It was still clear to you both. You came out on top this time.

[propertyofkylar]

spending new years eve with the dol LIs

minus black wolf and great hawk because they are animals what is a year to them anyway

cw: none! gn LIs and gn pc. happy 2024 :)

robin: if you’re spending nye with robin, you’re probably snuggled up together in their bed, watching the time change on their video game console. the two of you are trying to keep quiet to not disturb the rest of the orphanage. when midnight hits, robin gives you a tender kiss and tells you they love you.

whitney: you’ve been dragged to the pub, which is packed with drunk people so whitney has you on their lap. the two of you are wasted as well. whitney keeps grinding against you, whispering into your ear that you’re gonna cum right when midnight strikes. midnight kiss turns into sloppy making out, which gets you kicked out of the pub. whitney fucks you in the alley.

sydney: pure sydney is at the temple that late, so you spend the evening praying together and exchanging a chaste kiss at midnight. corrupt sydney is still at the temple, but drags you off to the prayer room before midnight so you can ring in the new year alone with each other. start the new year with a sin <3

kylar: they’re just so happy to be with you tbh. kylar stays up later than this daily, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary for them. very very eager to kiss you at midnight and is over the moon when it escalates into fucking. they whisper to you that their resolution is to get you pregnant/get impregnated by you this year.

alex: it’s gonna be another year of hard work, but alex is happy to stay up late and ring in the new year with you. is even happier because it’s an excuse to drink more booze. earnestly shares their goals for the new year, then ends up fucking you right there on the couch.

avery: spending new years with avery means attending a swanky party where everyone is dressed to the nines and drinking fancy champagne and eating little appetizers that you’ve never heard of. the countdown is on a big tv and when it hits midnight you and avery share a kiss, much like the other party guests. they give you extra payment for the holiday after, but only after the two of you fuck in their car like normal.

eden: honestly doesn’t care, but will do something if you want. they’ll pull out a nice bottle of liquor they have hidden somewhere in the cabin and share it with you. you’ll share your goals for the new year. they turn on the radio and the two of you will be slow dancing when the clock strikes midnight, and eden will dip you and give you a sweet kiss.

[libraryofloveletters]

Sing It With Me

John Stones x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of, the boys are so unhinged - especially john and kyle, ruben's in his vlogging era, sash are sooo over them, broken tables, terrible singing, jack and erling are attached at the hip per usual, reader is ready to go to bed and not deal with them, a few minor injuries.

Word Count: 834

Author's Note: I feel like this perfectly captures what the man city christmas parties would look like lmao

--

John’s Christmas parties were famous for being crazy and unhinged, much like their host himself; because who else would end up drunk on a table, singing Christmas carols? 

John's Christmas party was famous amongst the Manchester City players; a night of fun, antics and plenty of booze.

Coincidently, your husband's ideal idea of a perfect night.

It was a week before Christmas and it's nearing 4am. "Are you sure you don't want to wait for him? You'll be alright to get home alone?" You asked Sasha, walking with her to the front door.

The woman nods, "he's not gonna leave anytime soon, I'd be shocked if he was home when I woke up."

Both you and Sasha knew how Jack was, his tendency to party outweighing his logical decisions.

You laughed, giving her a hug. "I'll keep an eye on him, keep him out of trouble. Let me know when you get home, yeah?"

"Of course," she smiles and you watch her walk to her car and get in before you shut the door and rejoin the group in the living room.

The boys who were left; Ruben, Jack, Erling and Kyle, were all drunk and giggling about who knows what. Your husband was pouring another round of shots when you dropped yourself on the couch next to Ruben.

"Tired?" He asks, his fingers tapping along his thigh to the beat of Last Christmas by WHAM that was playing quietly.

"Exhausted."

John comes in, tray in hand as he passes the shots around to the boys. He sits on the arm rest of the couch, his own arm around you. "Cheers! Happy Christmas!"

The seven of you messily attempt to tap your glasses together and down the shots.

At that very moment, it seemed as if the music had bitten your husband. He began singing terribly off key. You groan, slouching back into the couch. "Johnny, please.. don't start."

"Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away," he gets up, pointing to you as he sings.

Kyle jumps up from his spot, getting onto the coffee table. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special!" He shimmed along to the music and you can't help but laugh.

John joins his friend on the coffee table, the two of them dancing and singing along; it sounded more like screeching rather than singing. You assume it's the thought that counts.

Before you know it, Jack's up on the couch and singing too.

"Once bitten and twice shy. I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye." He does his little dance, hips popping from side to side.

It seems to have become the Manchester City musical in here because Erling gets up, tv remote in hand as a microphone when he too starts to sing. "Tell me baby, do you recognize me? Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me!"

You roll your eyes, "oh my god."

"Y/n! Y/n! What do you think?" Ruben shouts from behind his phone, the flash on as he points to you - he decided to make a video of their lovely performance.

"It's fantastic, 10/10 truly."

Erling grabs John's arm, leaving Jack to bounce on the couch alone.

"It's not gonna hold, you guys. The table isn't meant for that many-" And before you could finish your sentence, and just as Ruben pans to them, there's a crack and the table collapses in on itself.

"Are you guys okay?" You're out of your seat as fast as they fall on each other.

"Erling!" Jack gets off the couch and helps his friend up.

Ruben is still standing there, phone in hand as he recorded all the chaos. You, on the other hand, help Kyle up and then pull John up off the floor.

It takes you a second to check all of them, making sure the broken glass and wood hasn't nicked them anywhere. Kyle slouched on the couch, Ruben was 'interviewing' him, asking him about his performance and what he thought of it.

Erling was sitting on the floor, his head on Jack's knee while Jack was trying to take a selfie of them.

John was lying on the floor still, next to the broken coffee table.

"I told you the table couldn't hold all of you." You tell them, coming back to put a bandaid on John's wrist. "It was fun though," John mumbles, his arm pulling you down onto his chest.

Kyle gives Ruben a shove, the Portuguese take that as a sign to stop recording. "I'll buy you a new table." Kyle mumbles, taking a sip of his beer that he had left next to the couch.

Technically, it was Erling who broke it, so..." You trailed off, looking at the man who was half asleep.

Erling gives you a thumbs up, "send me the link, I'll buy it."

You can't help but smile as you look around the living room; all you husband's teammates and closest friends were here, all drunk and sprawled out, chaotic as ever.

It's not the holidays without the chaos, is it?

[the-kr8tor]

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - five.one

word count: 4.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst. starting to get a bit rougher here, kids.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

four.

You’d taken some time off to get Bradley settled into the apartment after the incident. He was quick to try and convince you he didn’t need a babysitter, unless you had ulterior motives to spend days at home alone together, and he wriggled his eyebrows in that way that would make you giggle and roll your eyes, it was all very over-the-top and romcom.

But he could admit, he needed you to help him with little things that hurt more than they should and you freely admitted, much to his chagrin, that you wouldn’t be able to concentrate with him at the apartment by himself if something happened.

Not surprisingly, he was stir-crazy after a few days which didn’t surprise either of you. Bradley Bradshaw did not know how to relax. He wasn’t big on vacations (he didn’t have a big friend group and could find a million reasons to prefer time to himself than be wrangled into stuff with his work friends). He freely confessed he was easily comfortable in his own company, but it was pretty evident quickly it was different when he was banged up and more or less under house arrest.

He'd powered through the book you’d hoped he’d enjoy in about three hours (he had to assure you he really enjoyed it so it was easy to scream through) so you relied on Amazon to deliver almost daily, channel surfed relentlessly, he was no good at binging TV and napped off and on through the day. But it simply came down to idle hands. Fine in his company on his own terms, but with strict orders to rest his head and give his body and mind time to heal – no gym, no running (nothing that he could exert himself with... including sex), no booze, no fun, he had reasoned – Bradley Bradshaw was figuratively climbing the walls. 

Physically, aside from a few bumps and bruises, he appeared absolutely fine, but he couldn’t lie and pretend his head wasn’t still splitting and much to your annoyance, he was resisting the painkillers as frequently as he could. What he was trying to prove, you weren’t sure, but it seemed unnecessary to continue the discomfort for the sake of it and you let him know gently each time he refused the pills you held to him.

“My body, I’ll choose what goes into it,” he told you with a tight-lipped smile, ignoring his lunchtime pills and bopping you on the nose instead.

“Okay,” was all you could shrug kindly. What else could you say and do? Anyone who had met Bradley knew he was no kind of pushover. He could have a certain gruffness, an agitation to him. Quiet and reflective if you didn’t know him, but he’d talk you under the table once he was comfortable with you.

But push him; he will resist. He’d said years ago if he had to put his life into a song it would be Corduroy by Pearl Jam, you understood it implicitly these days.

I'll take the varmint's path Oh, and I must refuse your test A-push me and I will resist This behaviour's not unique

You wandered in to find him cooking a few nights later, the waft from the front door absolutely delicious. You loved it, Bradley was a wonderful cook just like he proved he would be and you loved coming home to find him whipping something up in the kitchen.

He was one of those freaks who could watch a 90-second YouTube clip and figure out a recipe easily, inspired.

It infuriated you that he might have been a better cook than you were too but you would never tell him.

But God, you could get used to this, you realised. He hadn’t heard you come in (you snuck in quietly without fanfare after you’d walked into him dozing a few times that you didn’t want to interrupt just in case he was getting some well-deserved zzz’s). You carefully wrapped your arms around him, feeling him jolt in surprise before chuckling quietly. You kissed between his shoulder blades over his tank, he gave a quiet moan in response and he reached back for you. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

“Welcome home, love,” he said, turning to face you. The cuts on his face were well on their way to healing, but the purple rims around his honey-drenched eyes from lack of sleep overnight were evident. You didn’t know why he wasn’t sleeping and weren’t comfortable asking him yet. He certainly wasn’t complaining of being tired but he didn’t mention each morning that he was staying up all hours.

His palms held your cheeks and kissed you gently, a series of loving pecks. “Missed you today,” you admitted. You quite enjoyed coming home to him and you hoped he agreed. This moving in with a boy wasn’t too bad in all honesty. Not one that cooked, was incredibly tidy and about the sexiest man you’d ever met... that happened to be as infatuated with you as you were with him.

“Me too,” he smiled, his lips kissing the arch of your brow.

“What are you making me for dinner tonight, Chef Bradshaw?” you peered under his arm as you saw your large pot with a rolling boil of water.

“Vodka pasta,” he said. “With a glass of wine?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry baby, but you gotta be patient a few more days until the doc gives you the green light, okay?”

He groaned. “There are too many OK’s I’m waiting for…” he muttered, a little restless. Maybe a bit petulant.

“I know,” you snuggled into him, your fingers tracing the elastic waist around his basketball shorts.

“I only really want one OK though. Just a tender green light,” he whispered, urging his hips forward to rest against yours. “Miss you, just wanna fuck so bad,” he whined.

You offered him a careful smile but didn’t answer. What could you say? You knew he was downplaying the pain in his ribs still, and his headaches weren’t vanishing as quickly as he’d like regardless of the multitude of ways you’d been fantasising about how he could please you while you couldn’t be intimate for now.

You’d offered a blow job here and there, and he appreciated the offer, but he admitted it wouldn’t satisfy him the way being tangled up with you could. “Whatcha get up to today?”

He raised a wary eyebrow at your abrupt change of topic, kind of hating being left hanging when you’d normally have fallen into some sexy banter with him that would always lead to something even more risqué. He sighed silently and turned back to the stovetop while you gave him space and propped yourself on the bench while he tasted the simmering sauce. “Netflix. Went for a run – ”

“Bradley – ” you tried as you saw his brawny, tanned shoulders tense.

“Love, please don’t. I needed the run – clear my head a bit,” he explained, not looking at you.

Okay. “Did you have the Telehealth with the shrink?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said quietly, a gentle nonchalant shrug creasing his features.

“Go okay?”

He turned back and sighed, resting his big hands on his slender hips, exasperated. “I just don’t wanna do the shrink, okay?” he confessed. “Please don’t give me a hard time about this.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, but he stared back, daring you. He knew you had something to say but he had years of trauma to work through and you weren’t surprised that he really didn’t want to go back to the start and overanalyse every horrible thing that had happened in his life again. Who could blame him? “I don’t blame you,” you conceded. “I know it sucks to feel so on display like that. Raw. But you and I both know it’s for the best.”

He hummed, but there was nothing pleasant about it, it was almost a growl. “You’ve had years of therapy… tell me honestly,” he straightened and guided you to the corner of the bench, where he pressed between your thighs, his hands massaging your quads, keeping you in place, well and truly trapped by his presence.

“What?” you asked softly, his imposing frame hovering over you.

“Tell me if the shrink is going to bring my parents back, or if it’s going to make my job any easier,” he watched your face so sternly and a dark sneer rose as your jaw gaped gently. He hummed, already pleased at your reaction.

Well, that was blunt.

“Bradley – ” you tried.

“No, really. I need to know. You come home once a week quiet and disillusioned after your session. I am watching you work through your issues, but really… what has it truly fixed? How has it healed you, love?” he asked, probing deeper. “You still refuse to talk to your dad, the mere mention of him upsets you – ”

“Bradley, please…” It wasn’t about you this time.

“My dad died when I was four, I barely remember it or any trauma from that time. All I recognise is the sympathy I get every time someone mentions me being Goose Bradshaw's kid. I’m nearly fuckin’ 40.”

“Yes, Bradley – ”

“I haven’t finished,” he muttered. “I watched my mother die when I was 17 and moved on with my life. I do things in my job that make me proud and shatter me all at the same time, but I still function every day. I know the weapons I use cause more damage than good, no matter what the leaders of this country say. No matter what my superiors tell me about the honourable peacekeeping I’m supposedly doing. Why can’t I just process these things on my own?” his voice was so even, you were finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I think I have done a fuckin’ great job to now.”

“Because you love what you do – ” You tried to remind him of the stipulations made to get him back in the air. Ribs healed, mental health functioning well. In the greater scheme of things, it made total sense he’d have those hoops to jump through.

“Why does someone else get to decide if I’m mentally fit to get back in my jet? That person knows nothing about me. Nothing about my childhood, school, college… Mav. Not how in love with you I am, how someone else now gets to dictate if we’re intimate – which is also killing me,” he added for good measure. In himself, he knew he was perfectly capable to please you, but each advance was delicately refused and while he knew you were only doing what the doctor ordered – he hoped – it was starting to eat at him too that you were keeping your distance. He volunteered to repeatedly go down on you, but you told him you were okay and looking forward to moments you could share together, just like him. He accepted that, but just because he couldn’t be pleasured didn’t mean he wanted you to go without too. It was a woeful cycle.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss you too.”

“I could just have you right here… I feel fine, and you feel so fine to me,” he whispered against your jaw, nose nuzzling your pulse. “But you’re just like them at the moment. You see that I’m still me. I’m healthy. My body is healing… but you’re resisting too,” he said, retracting his body steadily and moving back to the stove, checking the sauce as you recoiled, immediately missing his touch.

He had far too much time to think about things, with or without the shrink’s help.

“Bradley, just give your body the time it needs,” you tried although the way his body rescinding like that made you feel bitterly cold. You missed his warmth quickly.

“It’s in right working order,” he snapped your name. “I’m fucking fine and I don’t need a bunch of lab-coated douchebags, or you, to tell me different.”

You held your hands up, slipping off the counter. “Okay, okay,” you stood down… on many fronts. You walked to him and bunched his tank at the chest in your palms and brought his lips to yours. “I’m sorry. I see that you’re doing really well. You’re the best judge here.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I need you to hear me, love,” he pleaded, bobbing to rest his forehead against yours. “No one else seems to.”

Hearing a knock at the door, you gave Rooster a quizzical look and he gave a small smile. “I invited someone to dinner.”

“Better not be my dad...” you muttered as he shook his head, a weak, apologetic call on his lips.

“Of course not,” he pulled himself from you and stood to height, heading for the door as you poured yourself a cool glass of water, even if a half dozen tequilas seemed more appropriate. You’d been home ten minutes and your nerves were fucking fried. You clutched the sink, trying to centre yourself and upon hearing your name, you looked up at Bradley as he stood side-by-side, mountaining over the man that made his life miserable all those years ago.

“Maverick, hi,” you managed to say, biting back the choking feeling in your throat as he gave a slight wave and presented you with a half dozen burnt orange roses. They were beautiful and Bradley grinned at the gesture.

“Been a while,” he said softly and if age wearied him, he was certainly showing it. “What’s it been? Fifteen years or so?”

You shrugged, a little shellshocked, gazing at Bradley who was very interested in his tanned bare feet suddenly. “Could be…”

“How’s your grandpa?”

“He’s good. Usual Viper,” you supposed as Mav nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Maverick said as Bradley joined you, resting his palms on your waist as he held you from behind. “So, you weren’t kidding, kid. You two are very much together.”

“This is the love of my life, Mav,” he pressed a kiss into your hair as you pushed through with your smile, hoping it didn’t appear as confused as it was feeling and Maverick smiled, fondly. “Love, Mav is here for dinner if that’s okay with you?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you said, forcing the affirmative into your voice.

Where the fuck had this come from?

“I appreciate the invite,” Maverick said.

“It’s no problem,” Bradley spoke up

“I guess I’ll set the table…” you loosened Bradley’s grip and thought maybe, just maybe… you were going to need that wine to get through the night. “Mav, can I get you a drink?” you asked politely.

“I’ll just stick to water,” he replied.

Fuck.

“No problem,” you said, pulling away from Bradley to collect some glasses and busy yourself elsewhere.

“Bet you’re glad to have Bradley home?” Maverick asked as you collected the crockery. He held his hands out, hoping to help you. You let him, the room was far too small for a snarky comment not to be heard by all. Not to let Bradley feel your discomfort.

You gave a kind smile and contemplated your answer. “Of course. But I suppose not in these circumstances.”

He nodded faintly. “I understand. I want you to know I did everything I could up there to keep him safe – ”

“Mav,” Bradley cut in. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I guess it could have been a lot worse,” you agreed, and that tone of seeped through. Fuck it, you said. They might not have been drinking, but you were going to make this discomfort a little easier on yourself at least and went to the fridge for the bottle of rose you’d been resisting, not wanting to drink around Bradley while he was recommended not to.

“Good drop,” Mav said, calmly. He could feel the air around you – the confusion, the hurt. He knew Bradley probably hadn’t told you everything – regardless of what was classified or not. Bradley had said there were no secrets between you, he had told Mav how in love with you he was on the way home, evacuated to safety. Maverick wouldn’t leave Bradley’s side, regardless of his orders. He was going to make sure Bradley made it back to dry land, safe and sound.

Feeling a hand on your hip, Bradley tenderly kissed your temple. “Grub’s up, love. Take a seat, I’ll stand.”

The apartment was just not conducive for three. No room for a dining table, you generally ate together on the couch or at the counter on the stools when an effort was made. “No,” you reassured him, softening as he smiled at you, his palms cupping your jaw before he lightly kissed you. “I’ll stand.”

Bradley came to bed lightly later that night. You’d left him and Mav to chat for a while, before excusing yourself at a reasonable time to shower and take your leave. In your PJs, you had moved on to your book, what you were reading you weren’t quite processing, your head dizzy with your distraction. Each time you heard a laugh you felt more confused than before.

Pete Mitchell was in your apartment. And he’d been willingly invited by Bradley Bradshaw. When had this narrative changed?

“Lovvve,” he drawled, crawling into bed with you. He crept his body over yours, not daring to sneak between the sheets. “Thank you for tonight,” he pressed sweet kisses into your forehead, temple and finally the tip of your nose. He wriggled his thighs between yours and took your book, tossing it towards the bedside table – its crash suggesting it well and truly missed it, bookmark be damned.

“Hmm,” you replied, but he knew it was a more put-off sound as he chuckled quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sure seems it,” you replied.

“No, really. I’m sorry,” he said with a little more sincerity, but the fond grin and dancing eyes told the story. “Kiss me,” he whispered, nudging his nose with yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mav was coming over tonight?” you blurted out before his lips touched yours and he paused, jerking back slightly. “I didn’t think you could stand him.”

You searched his face. You could see his brain working and trying to find an excuse that would appease you. And when he said to you, “We’re trying to work on our relationship,” you almost pushed him off you. He had you pinned for a reason but sadly for you, he was under the microscope.

“What happened for anything to change? A month ago, you were dreading him as your CO… now your buds again? My brain can’t even compute the venom you’ve spat at him and then he’s in my kitchenette for dinner and I have to pretend he hasn’t hurt you - ”

“Our kitchenette,” Bradley correctly you gently. “I live here too, remember?”

Sighing, you ran your thumb against the faint gash healing on his neck and his eyes fluttered closed, sweetly. “Yes…” you corrected yourself. “Our kitchenette. But I still need some warning about stuff like this, roomie.”

He nodded. “Okay, you’re right. I fucked up there.”

“What happened for everything to change between you and Mav?”

He sighed and rolled to your side, his thigh still curled over yours. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Then spell it out to me. Because tonight over dinner, you two were as thick as thieves. You hardly missed a beat.”

He gave a gentle smile but his eyes begged for mercy. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Well, I could have asked when he appeared three hours ago, but I figured that may have embarrassed you both,” the sarcasm dripped from your tongue and you were trying so hard to remain calm.

“That’s fair,” he had to admit. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t give you any warning. That was wrong of me.”

“It’s just a fuckin’ text, Bradley,” you sniped quietly.

He nodded. “You’re right, I should have at least given you that much.”

“I felt like a complete idiot. You gave me no time to prepare.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you handled it beautifully,” Bradley laughed quietly at the grimace that shrouded your face and his face softened as he kissed your temple. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I’ll be more considerate of inviting guests.”

“It’s got nothing to do with guests,” you pursed your lips together, the fever burning under the surface of your skin simmering as you closed your eyes a moment and you felt Bradley move to his pillow. “It’s Mav. Singular. One guest.”

You looked at him as he crossed his legs; for a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too hard. He wasn’t angry, he was passive, and that might have made you more furious. “He helped raise me when Dad died. He tried to after mom died.”

“And he pulled your papers from the Academy. I know all this.”

“He told me he pulled my papers because I wasn’t ready to trust my instincts. I was too reliant on the rules and unprepared to break them if need be.”

Remaining quiet, you willed him to go on.

“Before I left, I know I was the worst to you. My moods were deplorable, I was a fucking asshole to you. And I wasn’t lying when I say Mav got to me every single day. The night Phoenix and Bob were caught in the bird strike…” he sighed. “I fuckin’ laid into him. I didn’t tell you. It just came out, I guess compounded with everything else that had happened that day. I wanted to take his goddamn head off, I hadn’t seen red like that in years. And I remember coming home and taking it out on you, my sweet girl,” he frowned sadly. “I should have been able to handle my business better and not take it out on the one person that I love most in this world. I don’t know why you stay by my side, because I know I’m hard to contend with…”

Sighing, you rolled over to face him, twirling a loose tendril that curled above his brow. “Think you’re the first grumpy flyboy I’ve ever dealt with?” you asked fondly as he flushed a little. “I just want you to be okay. And you’re only a few weeks away from returning to desk duty. But you know you need to go through the motions. Don’t take it out on me, they aren’t my rules.”

“I know,” he dropped his eyes. “I shouldn’t be lashing out, I’m just so frustrated.”

“Trust me, I know.” 

“The shrink thing is really bothering me,” he confided quietly.

“I know, sweetheart,” you pressed your thumb into his temple before scootching closer and wrapping your arms around his shoulder, cradling him tenderly in your arms. He breathed in your body wash, grounding himself. “You’ll get through this. I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly against your chest. His lips pressed against your tee until you could feel the sweet kisses against your jaw… then pulse. His large hands circled your waist, dragging you to him. You so badly wanted to resist, but he was so warm, smelled so good and felt so strong against you. “I love you.”

He nuzzled to your lips, those first slow steps of how to make you come undone. “Bradley…” you warned. He hummed in reply, but it was a dare. He was willing you to ask him to stop but resistance was futile as his long fingers walked under your nightshirt, grasping the meat of your hip and pushing his thigh between yours, opening you to him, his kiss relentless.

“Feel good?” he asked softly. He was desperate for you. He hadn’t felt so pent up since he was a stupid horny kid. He didn’t know how frustrated he could feel until the option for intimacy was snatched away from him. Your diligence to stay true to the doctor's orders was obscene to him. He didn’t realise how by the book you could be… from him, an irony.

And it had been so hard for you to resist him – your beautiful boy deserved to be loved but every time he touched you, you were positive you’d hurt him. And while he was healing, he still needed time, something he was unwilling to apprehend when he felt fine in himself.

Fine.

Fine.  

“You’re resisting,” he muttered, his tongue tracing your lips. There was a tension in his voice, it was subtle, but you could feel it to your bones. “Why are you holding back?”

You sighed and pulled back a little. His frown clouded his handsome face and he huffed, rolling back to his pillow and staring hard at the roof above him. “Come on, it’s only another few weeks, sweetheart.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, don’t you think I’m the best judge of my body?”

“Of course – ”

“Since I’ve gotten home, you’ve looked at me like I’m I should be wrapped in cotton wool. You won’t touch me, you won’t kiss me, am I that hideous to you?”

You sat up, a little insulted. “Bradley, no of course not – ”

“Christ, when did you decide I was so repulsive to you? I’ve always had these scars, you know,” he hissed, his tone sharp. “I knew you hated them.”

“Bradley, my God, you’re spiralling. What are you talking about?” you reached for him, but he moved wide from your touch. This man beside you, Bradley... he was reaching. You were only trying to be considerate of his injuries - 

“Can’t we just fuck? Jesus Christ. If you don’t want to be with me, just fuckin’ say it already.”

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, cowering on yourself. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I'm sorry, Bradley,” you said meekly. “There is no other reason – ”

“I said I feel fine. It’s a few bruises. Why won’t you fuckin’ touch me? I come near you, and you find every excuse under the sun to get away from like me.”

“That’s not true – ”

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“I don’t mean to, I’m just so scared to…” you replied.

He pulled his shirt off, a large, long bruise still over his right pectoral. You’d guessed it was from the seatbelt shunting him back into his seat when the jet -

When the jet crashed. When he could have died. 

“Please baby, I need to feel you. Please don’t be scared of me,” he begged.

“I’m not scared of you, Bradley,” you told him, moving closer and kissing his bruised though soft skin. He moaned immediately and laced his fingers into your hair. It was a reaction he couldn’t stop, even as he seethed at the same time.

“Then don’t be scared for me, either,” he urged, though the softness in his voice returned from your familiar kiss. “I’m really fuckin’ good at what I do.” The double meaning in his tone told you. “I’ll always come home to you.”

And while you believed it because he was with you right now, that was all that mattered regardless of his to tell you the whole story of what happened that day to get him (and you) stuck in this predicament.

hiatus.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii idk if u are taking requests or requests for Lords Of Chaos so if u aren’t feel free to ignore this!!

I was wondering if you could do a Faust x Fem!reader where they meet for the first time at a party and Faust thinks she’s beautiful but is to scared to talk to her. But she also thinks he’s handsome and completely ignores Vargs attempts to flirt with her and keeps asking him questions about faust before finally getting up to go talk to him. the ending can be all fluffy and cute with them like falling in love or something. :))

Dark Party with an Happy End

warning : poor flirting form Varg, alcohol, kiss, fluff

masterlist

Info : Hi dear @tilldeathripsusapart I'm sorry that you waited so long but I haven't had my request open until now. I hope you enjoy reading it and have fun. Everybody else too :)

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

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

It was actually an evening like any other. A weekend in which she had nothing planned and only watched the television with its infinitely boring channels. The silence of the room was only broken by the TV and the occasional sipping of the beer bottle.

But there wasn't really anything to do in this small town. ,,It's been a long night," she said as she sighed and laid her head on the soft pillows. She didn't even have a boyfriend to lean on, or a kiss to give, or even a bed to sleep with and pass the time. But she didn't have any of that.

So she could sleep just as well and actually wanted to follow this plan when her phone suddenly rang.Grumbling as she sat up from her comfortable position, she mumbled at the phone, ,,Coming, coming" as she picked up the receiver.

As soon as she picked it up she heard her friend Ann's voice. ,,Y/n come outside in ten minutes and I'll pick you up. Some wannabe musician is having a house party!" she heard her friend's voice shouting into the receiver, otherwise the background noise could only be heard. ,,Is your car exploding?" she asked, but by then Ann had already hung up and could hear the beep from the phone. Blinking apathetically and running her hand over her face, she looked back and forth between her television and her wardrobe.

Should she just stay here and sleep or would she get up and get some free booze and have a good time? Not even finishing the thought, she hung up the phone and hurried to the wardrobe. She just grabbed a pair of fishnet tights and a top with a short skirt to have as much freedom as possible while dancing.

Because she knew that when Ann meant ten, she usually meant only eight. She put on her clothes and hurried to her little make-up mirror, putting black lipstick on her lips.

Before she brought out her eyes with mascara and that had to be enough when she heard the horn of the car. ,,Coming!" she shouted, even though she knew Ann wouldn't hear her. She ran down the stairs without falling and grabbed her boots before jumping out of the house. ,,Finally, come on Euroynmous is there too" the blonde said and drove off just as the door closed.

After hurrying to the door, she smiled slightly and playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder. ,,Oh, Euonymous is there? Is the band there too?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in interest as she turned on the radio and smirked to herself. She saw the upset look on her friend's face as she muttered something under her breath before they both smirked.

A friendship with a rough tone in rough boring times nothing new and nothing old. ,,The black circle is there too if you want to find a cute little demon" Ann said as they pulled into the car park and both got out.

She could feel the anticipation building up in her, she liked the band had been to a few of the concerts and liked the whole group behind them. They were all a little strange, but the weirder the better, she thought.

As they walked together into the house, which had been taken over, they saw only moments later that at least the second vase had already been broken. ,,Ann! Come here!" shouted one with long dark hair who was definitely drunk when he recognised the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

Y/n knew the group, she had never spent days or weeks with them, but she had spent a few hours with them. But this time there seemed to be new people.

She recognised Euronymous, Dead, Necrobutcher and Hellhammer but the others were new. The leader of the group gave his girlfriend a kiss before putting an arm around her and pulling her close. ,,Y/n I'm glad you could come, make yourself comfortable," she heard him say in his voice, even though drunk, a charm she liked.

,,Thanks, I'll have a look around" she replied and saw a guy with a pentagram chain coming towards her. ,,Hi, I'm Occultus, I'll show you where the good stuff is," she heard him call, even though he was clearly drunk, he seemed to be more into it than he looked.

She was about to leave with her new acquaintance when she saw one stand out in the group. He was taller than the others not necessarily lanky he also had long dark hair. His dark eyes seemed to scan the room and yet she felt and saw him looking at her again and again.

There was something like fascination in his gaze and he hastily looked away when she gave him a small smile. One of the new ones, went through her mind as she walked with Occultus, who was babbling to her about some political views.

But she couldn't get this handsome new man out of her mind. He had something of a fallen angel about him, at least she found the idea that the forbidden was more beautiful than the real thing somehow pretty.

He was pretty, the long hair framing his face, the dark eyes silently observing everything, and yet the little blush on his cheeks that might have come from the alcohol or something else.

Who knows what they were feeling at that moment or whether it was just the alcohol. ,,So we're-" Occultus was about to begin, propping himself up on a nearby chair, when someone came up behind him.

One of the newcomers put his hand down on Occultus' shoulder, who seemed to almost collapse. The newcomer gave the chain-bearer a warning look and she thought she saw Occultus flinch.

Before he gave her a quick smile and went back to the others. Something had definitely happened between the two or Occultus would not have been so afraid and respectful of the newcomer.

Watching all this with an uncertain look she turned away from the new guy and started to mix a drink. ,,Hey sweetie, I see you know Mayhem?" he asked and she just nodded, ignoring the nickname and reaching for a beer from the fridge when she realised there was no such thing as a ,,drink and mix".

She ignored the look Varg gave her, she didn't like that kind of guy. It was clear to her what he wanted, it was clear that he was arrogant and probably wrongly so. Besides, he was not as cute as the stranger.

She saw him already open his mouth to say something when she said, ,,Who's the new tall one in your group?" before she reached past him and opened the fridge.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise and stepped aside to avoid being hit by the fridge door, which she slammed shut. ,,The long guy? That's Faust, he's quite a freak, only talks about death and watches horror films," he said and she could almost see something like unease flashing in his gaze. Both parties must have done things they weren't proud of, she thought.

As she walked past him and took the bottle opener to open both beers. ,,Hey sweetie tell me-" Varg started again and was interrupted by two beer mats and a flying beer opener that landed clattering in the sink as she walked out of the room. I wasn't here for you, sweetie, she thought for a moment, annoyed and hating the nickname he had given her.

Almost fleeing back to the group, she was saddened to see that Faust was not standing with the group. Looking around she was pleased to find the man she was looking for sitting on a couch watching a film.

Walking over to him, she saw him look from the television to her and smile at her hastily. ,,Hi," she heard him say before he slid to the side and made room for her. She shoved the beer into his hand and felt their fingertips touch. ,,Thank you," he said hastily and took a big sip of the drink.

She realised the film was Evil Dead and couldn't hide her grin. ,,Evil Dead a good one" she said and saw him looking at her, seemingly thinking about what to say. ,,The blood just makes it better and better," he muttered and she saw the redness still on his cheeks.

She nodded in agreement, seeing how this pleased him as he seemed to have finally found a kindred spirit. Nervous is even sweeter she thought and took a sip of the drink before turning to him. ,,Can I braid your hair?" she asked simply hoping he would say yes.

You had to make the best of what you had. Surprise showed in Faust's eyes as he looked around uncertainly. Before he nodded and slid closer to her mumbling a ,,Go on". Before she let her fingers wander through his hair and began to braid it. While they talked more and more about the film, horror and music.

Listening to him talk on and on about horror films, she heard him hum a few songs and yet the redness never left his cheeks. She was pleased that he gradually showed more trust and affection. That he overcame his fear and felt more and more comfortable.

At the end of the evening she not only braided his hair but they also exchanged numbers and he invited her to a film evening. ,,I'm looking forward to it," she said before she heard the sound of Ann's car.

Before she wrapped Faust in a hasty hug and gave him a final kiss on the cheek. ,,See you around, Faust!" she called happily before jumping into Ann's car and driving them both home. But the first movie date with Faust was the reward of the evening.

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

@mayhem-things , @icarus-star

[raz-writes-the-thing]

New Years (Broadchurch One-Shot)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Neither of you have had a New Years kiss before- it's time that changed.

BROADCHURCH: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @yeethaw13 @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

New Years holidays had never really been your thing, to be completely honest. The booze, the drugs, the partying- and don’t even get you started on how horrible the fireworks were for the environment and the poor animals. 

But this year was different. Sure, yes, you still weren’t a fan of the booze, drugs and fireworks, but this year you had Alec, who had promised to do his best for you. New Years was less a holiday for cops and more like overtime. The amount of stupidity out on the streets and driving around ensured that cops didn’t get to celebrate like everyone else. He’d had to fight for it, but he’d gotten there eventually. 

But Alec had done you a solid this year and applied for the time off. It was your first year as a couple this year, and you were excited to spend it together without his phone going off to call him into the office- which was becoming increasingly common lately with the crimes stacking up in Broadchurch. 

But tonight it was a no phones policy or you’d yeet it out the window into the snow never to be seen again and Alec knew it, too. 

It was a nice evening cuddling in front of the TV and catching up on some of your shows together. You were several episodes behind on Mad Men and were desperate to see how that was going to end this season. 

As it got closer to midnight, though, you found yourself thinking that maybe you would actually like to experience a little of that New Years energy that everyone was always going on about. 

“Would you dance with me?” You asked him suddenly, interrupting his focus on the television. 

Alec stumbled over his response for a moment before settling and agreeing, standing up to move out into the clearer dining area. You grinned at him and changed the channel to the local countdown. You muted the television and put some soft music on to sway too. 

Alec took your hand and your waist, the warmth of his hand bleeding through your shirt. 

“Bit out of the blue, love,” he said, shuffling a little closer. You shrugged and held on a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I just- I’ve not really done the New Years thing before but I wanted to do something small with you. New Years kiss, some dancing, you know.” 

“Truth be told, I’ve never really done the New Years thing either,” he responded, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling such an overwhelming sensation of peace. “Never saw the appeal,” he continued, twirling you around his arm softly. “But y’ken- I’ve never had someone special as you  t’share it with like this.” 

Your cheeks blushed the lightest shade of pink and you giggled. 

“Someone special, hey?” You asked. You would have elbowed him if your hands hadn’t been in his and on his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” His voice was so soft and quiet it was a wonder you even heard it. 

A flash on the television behind you caught your eye. You looked over to see the one-minute countdown starting. You chewed on your lip. All of a sudden you were nervous- why were you nervous? 

Alec chuckled and gave you another twirl. 

“Another year ‘a this shite, eh? Who wouldn’t want t’share that wi’ y’er, darlin’?” 

You had to tamp down your smile. Forty-four seconds left. 

“Another year of this? Sign me up, my love,” you replied giddily, resisting the urge to kiss him right then and there. Thirty-two seconds left. 

“Y’might come to regret that,” he chuckled, slowly coming to a stop and cupping your chin with his hand. The way he was looking at you was so intensely affectionate it was hard to keep eye contact with him. Thirteen seconds left.

“Never,” you replied breathily as he leaned in. A statement but also a promise. Your eyes flicked to the television briefly. 

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two. 

Faint cheering could be heard from the town centre, fireworks popping in the distance. Loud music only just managing to reach Alec’s place. But your brain was drowning all of that out, focussed only on his lips on yours. A first for both of you and a promise of commitment. 

A promise you both intended to keep for much longer than a meagre twelve months.

[prod-ddeonu]

TIGHTY WHITIES | p.js

episode 11: put my sneakers on!

pairing: college! Jay x fem! reader

CW/TW: enemies to lovers, smau, angst, fluff, smut, horrible comedy, slice of life, jay gets exposed BAD, kys jokes, assault, drinking, flirting hehe, NOT PROOFREAD!!, chef Jay, the note is a sort of vent and mentions death, skip to tl;dr if uncomfortable with those topics as it is important

synopsis: You and Park Jongseong have been enemies for years. Heck, the two of you grew up picking fights with each other. A hateful war of tricks and deceit turns from bad to worse, however, when you finally trump him. Nobody can come back from having a photo of themself in tighty whities sent to the entire school, right?

status: ongoing!

taglist: open! (fill out the google form to be added! your user should be tagged on the masterlist and the next chapter after you submit!)

wc: ~1.9k

You and your entire gaggle of friends were sitting around your apartment, save for Soobin nervously tidying up your counter for alcohol and setting the chairs neatly in the living room.

You laughed at the way he brought out your mini-duster from the pantry. "Soob," you called out. He turned to you with his brows creased. "You're freaking yourself out again."

He sighed and put the duster back down, rubbing the side of his face with his open palm. "I know, I know," he mumbled, "I'm just so scared of his friends not liking me."

"Soob," Keeho smiled happily, "If his friends love him, they'll trust that you're a good person and like you. It's how we feel about Heeseung, at least."

Soobin smiled even bigger and came to sit back down on the couch next to you. "Thank you, guys!" He hugged the two of you.

Beomgyu cleared his throat. "I'm here too, y'know," he jokingly rolled his eyes.

"I wish you weren't," Soobin joked back, opening his arms for Beomgyu to join the hug (which he did).

You sadly turned the TV on to play an old ITZY song. "I wish Chae and Yuna could have been here, they were so excited when you told us. They just had to have practice tonight."

"I know, but I'll take Heeseung to their comeback stage!" Soobin stood up and danced to the song. "I don't wanna take them away from making these good songs!"

You all stood up and began to have a small dance party together, easing your friend's nerves further before the doorbell rang.

It was around seven o'clock in the afternoon at this time, and the boisterous laughter outside told you that it was Jay's ensemble. "Late as usual," you tsked to yourself, swinging the door open with a big smile and holding your arms open to Heeseung.

He bent down and gave you a hug, confusedly, before standing up and greeting you. "Hi, you must be Y/N!"

"Yes, I am! You never figured that out after all the years of being friends with Jay?"

"No, I did, I just wanted to seem like we never laughed at Jay getting his ass handed to him everyday," he laughed. "You're much more welcoming than I thought, I honestly expected a box of snakes or something."

"No, of course not! This is a celebration, this isn't about Jay. And, plus, I only do that kind of stuff to Jay," you beamed, stepping to the side to allow them in.

They all introduced themselves as they walked in, and it shocked you how tall just all of them were.

Jungwon, the boy who seemed to have his wits together the most, pointed his thumb out the door as he began to speak to you. "Also, Jay is here, but he stopped and got some extra stuff for the party so he's trying to get it out of the car, if you were wondering."

You looked up and saw his form hunched into the backseat of his car, pulling out item after item. "I'll go help," you sighed.

You excused yourself from the apartment, going down the stairs and bouncing a little with every hop down.

"I didn't tell you to buy that much booze, Jay Park," you sighed with a small smile as he pulled out bags and boxes of alcohol.

He turned around with a smile, his hands on his hips in a mock defense. "I actually recall you saying to get lots of alcohol, Hwa Y/N."

As he faced you, you couldn't help but examine him. He wasn't in his usual all-black clothing, which took you by surprise. He was in jeans with a simple white tee and a light sweater, making him look softer and sweeter than the usual Jay. You had to admit, your enemy was very handsome and fashionable.

Jay felt your eyes on him as he spoke. He felt the way they checked him out. He couldn't be mad, though, because he'd done the same thing. The second he first turned around, his eyes were immediately oggling your own jean shorts and white tee, a dainty necklace around your neck. However, he could only notice the familiar jacket over your shoulders.

"You wore that jacket for me?" Jay asks, making it sound like more of a statement. He doesn't miss the way you get flustered as he laughs. "I actually bought food for all of us, too. I was gonna cook something so nobody got too sick in your apartment."

You reached into the car next to him, brushing your side against his and sending him into a flurry of warm cheeks and pounding heartbeats. He stepped to the side, giving you space.

You pulled back out with the bags of chicken and tteokbokki, holding them in your hands as Jay held the alcohol. The two of you made your way up to your apartment, stopping just outside the door.

"Jay, can I talk to you right here really quickly?"

He turned his head to you, putting the alcohol down outside the door as you put down the food. "Yeah, what's up?"

"I'm really sorry," you looked into his eyes. "I've wanted to apologize for pushing your buttons on purpose that day since it happened, you never would've did what you did if I hadn't, and I realized that you were the only one trying to make an effort when you came by the other day," you spewed the words out, rambling in a sense. Your head fell to the ground.

Jay grabbed your hands quickly, his eyes wide and a small glimmer in his eyes. "Y/N, you don't have to apologize. I was really in the wrong, I don't blame you for anything. I'm happy you enjoy the gifts, but that wasn't me trying to make you feel like you had to make any type of effort to apologize. I don't want you to think I need to forgive you for anything, it was a two-way street with out fighting. If anything, I should be asking for your forgiveness, still-"

You squeezed his hands, shutting the man up. You looked back into his eyes with a smile. "Jongseongie, I forgave you a long time ago."

You pulled him into a hug, his arms around your waist and yours around his neck. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, before Jay pulled back as the two of you stared at each other.

"I like when you call me that," he breathed out in a slow sigh. You felt your face heat up in a foreign, fuzzy way.

There was a similar beating in both of your hearts. If it hadn't been for the tight hug, the two of you would never have felt it. There was an invisible line between the two of you, but it was being erased further by the second. Every second you stared into his eyes, you felt your resolve grow weaker.

Jay's hand went to your chin, his thumb lightly stroking your cheek and tilting your head upwards. His other went to your waist, holding you steady as the two of you began to close the distance.

His face inched nearer, your eyes never leaving his lips. As they got closer, your eyes closed with anticipation. "Y/N, can I k-"

"Put my sneakers on!" Chaeryeong cheered loudly as she walked up the stairs with Yuna.

Both you and Jay shoved off of each other, awkwardly grabbing the bags, bottles clinking against one another in Jay's hands and a bright red blush on both of your faces.

The two girls made it to your door at the same moment that you two had decided to look away from each other in embarrassment. "What's up with you two?" Chae questioned.

You both mumbled, "Nothing." They shrugged and held out a similar bag to you.

"Look, babe! We got some liquor for tonight, too!" Chae smiled wide.

You hugged the two of them once you pulled yourself together. "How did you guys even make it? I thought you had practice," you giggled.

Yuna held a hand around her mouth to whisper, "We snuck out!" She laughed. "Ta-da! We weren't going to just stay in the dorms when we needed to celebrate Scooby Soobie finding a boyfriend! Especially not when his boyfriend also seems really sweet," she crossed her arms.

Chae nodded in agreement, a triumphant hand flying into the air. "And two beers, a whole lot of convincing, and I guess a romantic moment ruined later, here we are!"

Jay finally spoke after standing, gobsmacked. "Aren't you two from that girl group?"

They glanced at him, their faces going pale. "This may be a problem," Yuna stated.

"No, it's not," you smiled. "He's not going to ruin his friend's party or your image, right?" You turned to Jay.

He nodded. "I'm just very confused on why there are two idols here," he added.

Chae scoffed. "And idols can't be friends with their old friends from before they debuted? We've all been best friends for years," she jokingly rolled her eyes.

Yuna clapped her hands. "I'm getting thirsty. Let's drink!" She walked into the apartment without any other instruction, everyone following her.

Jay had finished cooking the meals rather quickly, as everyone challenged Chaeryeong and Yuna to dance battles and bullied Niki and Beomgyu. The latter had formed a small bonding over being the self-proclaimed "punching bags" of their friend groups.

The entire household was now closer to shit-faced than sober, save for Beomgyu and Niki.

"Why don't you drink as much, hyung?" Niki asked Beomgyu.

He held his glass of water up. "Last time I was drunk, I tried to beat the shit out of a cardboard cutout for looking at me funny. Then, I found out it wasn't a cardboard cutout."

"Woah, hyung," Niki gasped. "You couldn't waterboard that information from me, that's so embarrassing."

"Why, you!" Beomgyu went to flick the boy, who dodged quickly.

Heeseung and Soobin had been long asleep, both falling asleep on top of your bed. Everyone was told to stay over since they were "capital-F Fucked up", but the men of the night were given bed privileges.

Keeho, who had sat out after leading his fifth round of karaoke and stand-up comedy specials, looked around and pointed at the small futon he'd pulled out of his room for the night. "Dude, look at that," he gawked.

The two boys followed his finger and locked their eyes on his target of interest. "Someone take a picture, she's going to be so pissed," Beomgyu struggled to not laugh.

Keeho and Niki took their phones out, both taking a photo.

There you and Jay were in the photo, you asleep across his lap as his hand sat where he had been playing with your hair, and him asleep with his head against the top of the seat.

Maybe there was something that invisible line had been holding back all these years, or maybe there was something the two of you had refused to admit was there the entire time. Something fuzzy and warm, something that tinted the world pink around each other, something that felt like home. It was a force much too strong to accept in the moment, but the slow steps were enough to you.

notes: hey guys, this isn't a note I want to leave. I'm sorry it took this long to get this post out, I was intending on proofing this tomorrow and posting it but I decided to do it tonight due to unfortunate circumstances. I drove two hours out from home for the week for a job that I cannot leave on a whim, and my family notified me today that both my grandmother was brought to the er yesterday and that she passed this morning. I understand why they held off on telling me, but I cannot fathom why they felt that telling me everything at once and robbing me of my last chance to tell her goodbye and that I love her would have been better for me. I lived with her for ten years and decided to become her neighbor, so although I've been letting my family think I'm taking it better than everyone else I actually can't even look at a single thing without feeling my body shut down a little and think about how I'm coming home to a house without her. I feel guilty, I feel like shit, I feel like an awful grandkid because I was one of her only two and I wasn't around to help or say goodbye. I feel guilty for enjoying my time out of town still, and I feel even guiltier for sometimes letting her passing slip my mind and forgetting she's gone. I haven't had motivation for anything since I found out, and I feel I won't have the motivation to continue this smau for a few days. I'll be taking some time away due to this unforeseen circumstance, maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. Please forgive me for this, I know people enjoy the story and this isn't me discontinuing it!! It is still ongoing, however it may not be updated soon. Thank you for reading, I'll make the rest of the story very worth everyone's wait!!

TL;DR: Due to unfortunate circumstances, I won't be able to update this smau for a few days to a few weeks. Please forgive me for the sudden announcement, the wait for this chapter, and the possible wait for future chapters! This smau is NOT discontinued, only on a slight pause. Thank you for reading, enjoying, and supporting, and thank you for your patience and kindness as well!

BACK | MASTERLIST | NEXT

tags: @deobitifull @eladandan @rikakhairana-blog @igotkkaebsonged @222brainrot @sophiko22 @jungwon-xo @moonmoongi @nichoswag @smellypoopfarts @queen-klarissa @luvdroids @sunoosummernights @minl0u @justalivingperson @a-l-i-y-a @b1ndignity @koibiz @cosmiczen @mariji @s00buwu @rinkouzme

[labyrinth-runner]

Dead Girl Walking Version One

Summary: Reader bombs at a sorority rush party and decides she has to drop out... but not before she bangs her roommate, Lawrence “Beetlejuice.” 

Warnings: 18+ Only. This is like PWP. Reader has female bits. 

Pairings: Musical! Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count: ~2500

The smoggy haze of weed got to your head. You hadn’t even been smoking, but there was just so much of it at the party that you couldn’t escape the contact high. It made you giggly. And hungry. So you drank more booze, because you vaguely remembered someone saying that when you’re hungry you’re actually thirsty so you should drink more. So it only made sense to have another shot, right? But the booze table was over by the stoners, so you ended up smelling more of the ganja and well… it was a vicious cycle to say the least. A vicious cycle that ended in you hurling on the shoes of the sorority president. You thought movies were exaggerating when something happened and the music stopped and everyone gets quiet, but then you found yourself in that exact situation.

“You’re dead. Kiss any social life you think you had goodbye,” Heather said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t drop out by Monday, you’re going to wish you’d gone to community college instead.”

She thought she was sooooo tough. But, still, the threat of your social life’s demise freshman year was essentially the same as a mafia hit. Heather might as well have threatened to have you sleep with the fishes. Isn’t it weird how the plural of fish is still fish, but people say “sleeping with the fishes”? You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time for stupid thoughts like that. You wove your way through the crowd that parted like the sea (A-haaaa sea, home for the fishes… Fish) and slunk your way out into the street.

Steam came up through the subway grates in the sidewalk as your combat boots clunked down the road. Subway steam was always gross. It was a hot smog that seeped into your pores and stung your nose. The walk home was longer than the uber to the party had been, but it helped you sober up more as you kept going.

That was when the panic began to set in.

Your social life was over. You wouldn’t be able to set foot in another sorority house—not that you absolutely had wanted to join one in the first place, but it had been part of the deal you’d made with your mom so that she’d pay for college. If you at least rushed, then she’d pay for 75% of it. If you made it into her old haunt, she’d pay for it all. Now, you’d be footing the bill of your entire degree.

Fuck.

Maybe you should just drop out. It was early enough in the semester. You could transfer back to your community college and say you were homesick. That might just work. Mom couldn’t fault you for missing her. You crashed through your front door after fumbling with the lock for a bit.

“Shit,” you muttered, hitting your hip against the table in the hall. The house was dark, but you could see the shadows from the tv in the living room dancing across the doorway. Lawrence must still be up watching god knows what on the “boob tube” as he called it. Your room was down the hall. Posters were taped at angles on the wall because you thought it looked cool. Your duffel bag was still hap-hazard in your closet from where you’d chucked it after move in day. Fabric slipped through your fingers as you grabbed whatever you could from your drawers, shoving it into the bag as fast as you could. You could practically hear your mom talk about how wrinkles form by doing what you were doing but you didn’t give a flying fuck.

“FUCK!” You heard Lawrence say from the living room.

You paused in your packing. No one was going to see you here again. You might as well have one last meal before you went. Besides…. You always had a soft spot for Lawrence “Beetlejuice”, or “Beej” or “The Juice Man” as he sometimes called himself. You wouldn’t have to live with him if it went wrong. You might as well…

Fishnets snapped against your thigh as you tugged them on. You took a look into the mirror hanging on the back of your door. Black corset, check. Lacey, cheeky underwear, check. Fishnets, check. Combat boots, check. Still, you needed something. A robe! You pulled the gag gift from your closet. It was dramatic and sexy and your best friend from high school got it for you for your 18th birthday as a joke that you could finally seduce all of those creepy old dudes that would tell you to smile while you waited for the bus. Now, a whole year later, you found yourself pulling the silk fabric up over your shoulders. You tied the bow loosely, but still had enough to play with. Good. You wanted to toy with Lawrence. Give him a show.

You slunk down the hall until you were in the doorway of the living room. Leaning against the doorway, you tried to appear as sexy as you could, swinging the excess of your tie in circles. “Having fun?”

“Yeah, babes,” Lawrence said, casting a quick glance at you before fully starting to gawk at you. “How was the—” he trailed off, watching as you slowly started to undo your robe, revealing your cleavage. He swallowed a lump as you playfully trailed your hand down your chest.

“How was the what, Beej?” You pulled up off the doorway.

“The party?”

“Awful.” You watched as his breathing sped up as you strutted over towards him. “I’m dropping out. My social life is over.” You stepped, placing your booted foot on the couch between his legs, toe dangerously close to his crotch. Placing your elbow on your bent knee, you leaned your head on your hand and smiled at him sweetly. “Do you know what I am, Beej?” Your voice was almost sing-song.

His hand tentatively slid up your calf, his eyes almost rolling back into his head at the feel of your fishnet thigh highs beneath his skin. “What’s that, Babes?”

“A dead girl walking. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

Lawrence swallowed. He shook his head.

You smirked, swinging your other leg over his leg so you could sit on his thigh. “I’ve decided I must ride you ‘til I break you.” You dragged yourself over his leg, reaching out to grab hold of his sweatshirt hoodie to yank his mouth to yours. It was a hard kiss, full of need.

It was like a switch flipped in your roommate. He started to kiss down your chest towards the neckline of your corset as he pushed your robe off your shoulders until the fabric pooled around your waist. His beard tickled against your skin in a way that felt so delicious that all you could do was sink your hands in his green-dyed hair and hold him closer. He nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you. His hands slid down to wrap around your ass, one hand continuing it's decent down your thigh until it hooked behind your knee. He yanked you over, fully pulling you into his lap. Only then could you feel how hard he was for you. You ground into him, hard and slow. He leaned his head back against the couch, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. He eyes were wide with lust.

“Beej—”

He cut you off, kissing you hard. His tongue tangled with yours, fighting for dominance that you weren’t quick to give him. He left you feeling breathless and wanted, and something was hammering in your chest that you wished would stop because if it kept going then that would mean that you wanted this. You wanted Lawrence to fuck you because you wanted Lawrence, and not just because you wanted to fuck shit up before you dropped out. Had you been tiptoeing around these feelings the entire time? You kissed him back harder, willing it to mean nothing.

You took his hands, placing one on your ass and the other on your chest, encouraging him to squeeze and grope. Your own hands went to the band of his sweatpants, sliding your hand down into them. You moaned against his mouth as you felt his length in your hand. He was going to feel amazing.

You pushed him back, breaking the kiss to pull up his sweatshirt. “Strip, Beej.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He scrambled to pull it up over his head, along with his shirt. He looked at you weird before wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you.

“Beej, where are we—” He cut you off with a kiss, slamming your back into the wall in the hall.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time on the couch,” he said, pulling back. His eyes had softened slightly, and you didn’t know how to respond except with a nod. “Good.”

He kissed you again, harder, his one arm sliding up your back as your legs gripped him tightly. He stumbled backwards into your room, falling on top of you on your bed. You used your heels to push his pants down. Taking the hint, he pushed them down the rest of the way, kicking them off, standing in front of you in just his boxers. His hands reached for your corset, unhooking the front until you spilled out in all your glory and he could drop the garment onto the floor with his pants. Lawrence’s mouth was on you in seconds, sucking hot, wet kisses to your chest, leaving marks that you knew would still be there in the morning. He took your nipple in his teeth, rolling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Your back arched off the bed and towards him. You felt, more than heard him chuckle against your skin.

“You must really want me, Babes.”

You rolled the two of you over so that he was under you. “Shut up, Beej.” You sunk your hand into his underwear and gripped him, pumping agonizingly slow. “Come on, Beej. Fuck me. You know you want to.”

Somehow you needed him to make the first move, regardless of the fact that you had been the one deciding to seduce him. You needed him to take you because then you would be just another notch in his swiss cheese bedframe and you wouldn’t have to admit that you wanted to be more than just a conquest.

His hands came up your thighs, fingers splayed. His hands settled on your hips before snapping the band of your underwear. “These have to come off first.”

You swung off him long enough to shimmy out of them, laying on your side next to him. His eyes trailed your body and you felt awkward, like you should cover yourself.

“You’re beautiful, Babes,” was all he said before kissing you again. It was a different kind of kiss. It still left you breathless, but this was more passion than lust. You’d had your fair share of drunk lusty kisses. This… this was passion. This was need and want with just a touch more sprinkled in. His hand cradled the base of your neck as he pulled you back into his lap. You absentmindedly clocked the fact that he was no longer wearing his underwear either as you felt his dick brush up against your entrance. You whined against his mouth, feeling him slide himself back and forth through your slick before setting his head at your entrance. You were waiting in suspense until he slowly entered you, biting your lip as he bottomed out.

You had never felt more full in your life as he rolled you onto your back.

And then he started to move.

And Jesus Fucking Christ did he deliver. Lawrence pounded into you as if he could leave some internal mark that would permanently mark you as his. You tried your best to match his strokes, slamming your hips into his with the same velocity, but he was frenzied and you just wanted to give yourself over to the pleasure. But you also wanted to fuck him back. To make him feel just as needy as you. To help him reach his pleasure as you felt yourself ratcheting up towards your own. The familiar heat built deep in your belly as every muscle in your body began to tighten. It was imperceptible at first, but then even Lawrence was commenting on it.

“Fuck, Babes. Just like that. Fuck, I’m yours if you want me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight,” he was babbling into your shoulder as he relentlessly rocked into you. “Milk me dry, Babes.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He shuddered on top of you, and began to lose his rhythm. His hand came down and hooked around your knee, pushing your leg towards your chest.

“Beej!” You cried out with the new angle. It was almost too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You felt yourself hovering towards the edge of your inner precipice, just wanting to throw yourself over and crash into the abyss, taking Lawrence down with you. His hand slipped between your bodies. His thumb pressed fast, desperate circles around your clit and you lost it, unable to hold on anymore. It was as if every muscle in your body snapped like a rubber band. The only thought in your mind was Shattered. Shattered. Shattered. As you fell into an oblivion of bliss.

“Fuck.” Lawrence collapsed on top of you, kissing you hard as he found his own release. Your arms felt like Jell-O as they came up to circle around his back, holding him close. His breathing was ragged as he flipped you over so that you were laying against his soft, sweaty, dadbod chest. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said, drawing circles on our back with his thumb. His black fingernails titillated your skin.

“My social life is over. What else is there for me here?” you asked, tilting your head up to look up at him.

His blue eyes trailed down your face before looking away. He was blushing. “Me. Let me be your home, Babes. I’ll resurrect the dead girl and give her life.”

You kissed his cheek, hitting acceptance. “I love you, Lawrence.”

He hugged you close and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, Babes.”

[resident-simpleton]

My first attempt at writing fanfiction?

Resident Lover (BY TEAMAVIA) fanfic about either: Cassandra X Reader OR Cassandra X Reader X Donna I have not decided yet. This is also my first time posting on Tumblr in my entire life >:). Here is my draft of the first chapter: Chapter 1:

After hours of trucking around campus the day before classes start to better familiarize yourself with the layout, you decide to head back to your dorm. This campus was massive. ‘Much larger than your old campus’ you thought. Feeling your calves ache, you lazily push open the door.

Inside, you see your humorous roommates, Daniella and Angie, playing Just Dance in front of the TV in the living room. Solo cups and alcohol bottles are spread across the coffee table. Seeing this scene makes you forget your exhaustion. With an amused giggle, you say, “OOOO get into it, Dani. Dani with the Phanni,” teasing Daniella about her dance moves.

You then proceed to step next to Angie and do part of the dance with her. You realize they are dancing to Lady Gaga’s ‘Judas’. After a few minutes of dancing, all three of you collapse onto the floor, breathless and giggling.

Angie then says with a devilish grin, “Now it's time for an actual party, there’s one down the street.”

“A day before classes start?” You question reluctantly.

“Awww come on now, let loose, school will be rough enough once it starts,” Angie argues.

“She has a point, Y/N,” Daniella says in agreement.

“Ughhhhh, fine. BUT! I am only low buzzing,” you state strictly.

“YIPPEEEEEE!” Angie squeals, rolling over you on the floor.

With a chuckle erupting from your lips, you push the blonde off you and then head to your room to get dressed.

“Give me five minutes to get all ‘dolled’ up,” you say sarcastically as you plan on dressing pretty plainly.

You select black baggy cargo pants and a dark grey tank top, paired with a grommet belt and chunky sneakers. Running a hand through your short black hair, you slip on a light jacket before rejoining your roommates. Already waiting for you at the door, your roommates look at you with goofy smiles plastered on their faces.

“Lead the way, Ang,” you smile.

---

**[You all arrive at the party]**

Walking through the door of the sorority house, loud music blares, and your nostrils are suddenly attacked by the smell of booze and smoke. Breathing it in your nose and out your mouth, you sigh.

The pulsating rhythm of the music envelops you, reverberating through your bones. Bodies sway, and laughter fills the air, mingling with the scent of booze and smoke that hangs thickly in the atmosphere.

Almost instantly, Angie is lost amongst the crowd. Daniella follows in suit, quickly finding her fellow skater bros at the beer pong table. Time for a drink.

Navigating through the sea of people, you catch glimpses of unfamiliar faces and flashes of colorful lights dancing across the walls. Conversations blend together in a cacophony of sound, punctuated by bursts of raucous laughter and the occasional shout. Despite the chaos surrounding you, there's a sense of familiarity and warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

Taking a deep breath, you let the music wash over you, pouring yourself not one, but multiple shots, ignoring your original plan. The alcohol burns a familiar path down your throat, leaving a trail of warmth that courses through your veins like liquid fire. With each swallow, the chaos of the party slowly recedes, replaced by a euphoric haze that almost becomes a blur.

Now fairly drunk, you decide to go mingle on the dance floor. Without a care in the world, you let the music take control of your movements. All your worries dissipate as all you can feel is the rhythm put you in a trance.

Putting on a performance for no one but yourself, you let go. Well, at least you thought it was only for you. Across the room, a brunette watches you intently, her gaze fixed on your every move. Taking one last sip, she makes her way over to you.

Just as she is about to reach you, she is blocked by your tall roommate.

“Y/N, how are you enjoying the party?!” Dani asks, smiling and tilting her head.

The brunette speaks up, “Well, well, what do we have here? Dani?”

This causes Dani’s smile to quickly drop and turn into a slight scowl.

“Cassandra,” Dani states disappointedly.

“In the flesh,” Cassandra says smugly.

“Well, little sister, care to introduce me to your friend?” She asks, smirking.

“Sister?” you slur out, surprised.

“Y/N, this is Cassandra. Unfortunately, my sister,” Dani sighs, “Cassandra, do not get any funny ideas, Y/N is my roommate.”

“I have a few ideas, none of which are funny,” Cassandra states, looking you up and down, her smirk growing.

Your face, already flush from the alcohol, gets hot but goes unnoticed. You quickly, mentally shake this off. This is your roommate's sister. You have already heard of her within the first hour of being on campus.

The star on campus, the serial heartbreaker, and now you know her as your roommate's sister. Cassandra, one of many titles.

Ignoring her flirty comment, you say, “It's nice to meet you Cassandra. I heard you are in charge of theater.”

“Yes, I am!” She states proudly, “Why? Are you interested in joining?”

“Possibly,” you say, looking up to meet her gaze, “I am taking general theater, and in high school, we did Romeo and Juliet, I performed as Romeo…”

Cassandra’s eyes light up at this, and she interrupts, “Excellent, you should try out for my show!”

Your drunken mouth falls slightly open, “You want me to try out?” you question.

“I can certainly see why you were casted as Romeo. You have very handsome looks,” she exclaims, examining you in an analytical manner rather than flirtatiously.

This statement makes your face heat up once again.

“Come by the theater tomorrow,” she demands with a sparkle in her eye.

“Okay…” you trail off.

“Great! See you then,” she says waving you off, “Bye, sis.”

Dani lets out a large sigh as if she was holding it in that entire conversation.

“I am sorry about her,” Dani says waving her hand apologetically.

“No worries Dani, I am interested in theater,” you say honestly.

You came to this school unsure of what you wanted to major in, so you have your classes a little all over the place from Theater and Botany to Women in Art and Computer Science.

“Okay well tell me if she tries anything weird,” Dani says with a knowing look, “She has a… reputation as you have already heard. I don’t want her to hurt you,” she says protectively.

You move closer to Dani and pinch her cheek jokingly.

“Awww, my protector,” you tease.

This makes Daniella blush profusely. However, due to the now red lighting, you cannot tell, nor do you, in your drunken state, care.

“Let’s find Angie and get out of here… Please,” you say exhaustedly.

“Aye Aye, captain,” Dani says, pulling you alongside her to go find Angie. PS: ANY COMMENTS AND TIPS ARE HELPFUL PPS: I wrote this at 5am during a night shift. PPPS: Thank you Team-Avia PPPPS: AM I USING TUMBLR RIGHT?

Open for requests

Nah this shit is ass

[boozedancing]

Horse Soldier Straight Bourbon Whiskey Review

Here’s a new to us #Bourbon #whiskey that was picked up during travels last summer. It’s called @HorseSoldierUSA . Click the link to hear all about it.

During our travels, we are always on the lookout for the new and delicious. The Horse Soldier Straight Bourbon Whiskey was stumbled upon during last summer’s Senior League World Series travels up and down the East Coast. Since we’d never heard of Horse Soldier Bourbon before, here’s a bit of their backstory taken directly from their website: Having studied at some of the oldest distilleries, we…

[theonemeathead]

Spy x Reader, "Lovers Rock"

angsty songfic because i lauve tv girl so much. sorry for the lack of posts btw! tws for throw up, drinking. reader is gender neutral, enjoy! :3

Awkward, is how you would describe the circumstance.

Another victory, celebrated at a local bar full of cheap booze and loud music. And, normally, you would be there too, laughing and dancing the night away with the rest of your rowdy, drunken friends. Yet, you craved the quietness of an isolated night, and what better opportunity than to have the whole base to yourself until the return of the rising sun when the morning, unfortunately, returns?

Are you sick of me?

And just as you were beginning to get settled in for the night, the ringing of a wall-phone echoed through the empty halls. Sighing, you stare, contemplating for a second. Against your better judgement, you answer it, the bustling atmosphere immediately overwhelming your senses as you reluctantly raised the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Yo, it's Scout. Listen, ya need'a get here ASAP. If Spy stays any longer, it's not gonna be pretty, I can guarantee ya that."

Would you like to be?

The clicking of his line ended with a low beep, leaving you with no choice but to give up your chance at a peaceful night to, yet again, babysit a grown man. You hung up, frustrated, quickly throwing on some clothes and grabbing the keys to a spare breadtruck.

Which leads you to your current situation.

It had been a pain in the ass, getting Spy into the vehicle. He repeated that he was fine, that he was 'an adult' and could 'make his own decisions'. Yet, the slurring of his speech, the way his pupils dilated, it was apparent he was one drink away from ruining his suit.

"I promise you, I am... okay?" he sounded unsure, as if he couldn't remember the correct words to piece together. Spy hardly ever got tipsy, let alone where he's at now. It was concerning.

I'm trying to tell you something.

"No, we're going back to base," you insisted, pressing your foot on the brake as you slowed to a stop. You looked over, observing how he had taken his overcoat off and folded it over his leg, his tie messily hanging undone around the collar of his dress shirt, a few of the buttons undone revealing greying chest hair. He looked so handsome in the illuminating redness of the stoplight.

"I don't need you to take care of me, I am able to do it myself." He shifted in the uncomfortable leather of the truck, bracing as the car started moving when the light flickered green.

Something that I already said.

"Spy, you're very clearly far from sober. You couldn't walk in a straight line, let alone stand up on your own—" You started, punctuating your words with a tone of agitation. "—What's the matter? Nobody's ever.... Well, I've never seen you like this."

The air hung heavy. He stayed silent, opting to try and force the conversation to end. You shook your head. One night, alone, and now you were stuck in a car with the most arrogant asshole on the team. You took a deep breathe, speaking up again.

You like a pretty boy.

"I just— I want you to know I worry about you, Spy, okay? I don't care how naïve that sounds, but if you needed me to ever pick you up and take you home again, I would," your voice was small, almost meek. You glanced over, noticing how his steel eyes scanned you for insincerity, as if he was deciphering if you were lying or not. Your eyes briefly locked, causing you to avert your attention back to the road, encased by the darkness of the night.

"Je ne comprends pas—"

"In English, please."

"Ah, forgive me. I am afraid I don't understand you, mon chér." His accent was heavy, almost indecipherable. The roughness of his voice was therapeutic, in a way. There was an almost hoarsness to it, even though he sounded oh so sweet. One of the many things that you couldn't seem to get out of your head.

With a pretty voice.

"I don't understand you either. I wish I did." You and Spy had been close, the closest he had been to someone since his last wife, over two decades ago. Yet, one day, after sharing a glass of wine, he flinched away. Something changed. He shrouded himself in a cloak of mystery, once again. Except, this time, it wasn't alluring or intriguing, it was frustrating and so very painful. He had convinced you that there could be something more, a burning spark of something gentle and fleeting. Yet, he refused. "You really hurt me that one night, Spy. I'm sure you know that, too."

"I've hurt a lot of people, chér. That's what I do."

"But it doesn't have to be that way. We could've—" you stopped yourself, feeling a familiar sting beginning to form in your throat. The last thing you needed was to cry. You stopped talking altogether, opting to turn the radio up instead. Old love songs looped on the radio in an endless, hellish loop that seemed to be designed to torment you and only you.

Who's trying to sell you something.

Veering left, you drove slowly through the blanket of fake landscape, pulling into makeshift garage. You turned the car off, the engine coughing as it finally keeled, the damn thing wasn't worth a crap anyways. You slid out, walking over to the passenger side. Spy had already gotten out and had upchucked in the nearest trashcan. Good thing he had leaned forward. You saddled up beside the older man, wrapping one of his long, skinny arms around your neck and supporting him with a firm hand around his waist.

Something that you already have.

You pushed open the heavy, steel doors, the coldness of the metal searing at the soft and warmth of your flesh. Spy had almost fallen over twice now and you had barely walked 5 feet altogether. You sat him on the couch of the living room, watching as he seemed dazed about his whereabouts.

"Stay here, I'm going to grab you a glass of water," you gently told him. He seemed to get it, nodding his head slowly to answer you. You took a glass from the cupboards. The material felt heavy in your hands, as if no other cup had held as much weight as this one. The reality of the situation hit you. You would pick him up, bring him home, take care of him, make sure he was okay... but would he do the same for you? Would Spy, a trained assassin with over 20 years of experience, be able to get over himself to be tender with you—for you?

But if you're too drunk to drive.

You returned, handing him the glass. You watched as he clumsily brought it to his lips, getting more liquid on himself, rather than drinking it properly. Sighing, you opt to hold his head back, using a steady hand to aid him in drinking. It was almost silly, the sight. He was in his late 40s, struggling to do something as simple as take a sip of water.

And the music is right.

You hooked yourself around him again, this time escorting him to his quarters. You had to venture through his smoking room, a place you had come to resent since that night he pushed you out and away. You felt a painful ache as you watched the lone record player in the corner; The record player you would both listen to Paul Anka and Frank Sinatra on. You had reached the large, mahogany door that led to his sleeping arrangement, along with a personal bathroom that he had paid Miss Pauling under the table to implement.

She might let you stay.

You sat him on the silken linen of his bed, watching as he seemed to embrace the soft fabric of the sheets. You kneeled, taking his shoes off. And slowly but surely, you had gotten him down to just a pair of briefs. He seemed too buzzed to care, or, perhaps, this was an act of trueting you, otherwise you were sure this act would be filled with French protest and various other quips. You had folded his suit and put it away, sitting the dirty clothes on a near-by chair. You, gingerly, took a white wifebeater and a pair of red-striped pants and slid them over his thin body. You traced every scar the Respawn machine never seemed to fully mend, taking the time to admire how he turned and twisted beneath the tenderness of your hand.

But just for the night.

Lastly, you pulled at his mask. He seemed to have sobered up in milliseconds, a hand flying to grab your wrist. He didn't have a furrowed brow or anything scornful, but something that threw you off completely; Fear. He had been sober enough this whole time to realize what you were doing, sober enough to stop you if he wanted to, yet he didn't. You pawed at it, yet again, his grip loosening slightly. Spy lifted his head up, allowing you to pull it off with more ease. You gently tucked the fabric into the bedside table, where he kept a spare revolver just in case; 'The Ambassador', he called it.

And if she grabs for your hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he laid behind you. You turned slightly, your body facing him now. Reaching a hand up to place it against the bristles of his clean shaven face, you stroked at the aged skin. His cheek bones, high and defined, sat nicely against his long face. You gently trailed your fingers up to his forehead, subconsciously counting the wrinkles that had formed over the years. Your hands traced down the hook of his nose, sloping down fully until your fingers rested against his chapped lips, which were normally soft. You had both been uncharacteristically silent through this whole ordeal and it was apparent the reason why; You both knew what would happen. That dwindling spark that lasted for even months after was still there. You felt it and you know he did too.

And drags you along.

"Mon cœur—" he broke the silence, gaining your attention. "Every night, I regret it. I miss our talks, our secrets."

Immediately, you felt a wave of nausea and anxiety. He looked up at you, taking your hand from his face and holding it in his own boney one. He rubbed gentle circles across the back of your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly as if he were going to lose you if he let go.

She might want a kiss.

"What did I do wrong?" The way you said it broke his heart. Your voice shook with so much emotion, it could've rattled the Earth to its core. The way your eyes had grown glossy from approaching tears, your lip quivering slightly to hold back a waterfall of sobs.

"Nothing, ma petit chou. I was..." He hesitated. Still under the influence, he marched forward, vulnerable and, for the first time in years, nervous. "I was afraid."

Before the end of this song.

"I loved you, Spy. I love you, still." You blinked, a couple of tears spilling down your warm cheeks. He clicked his tongue, taking his free hand and wiping them away as he sat up to face you. He brought you closer, pulling you forward and resting your head upon his chest. His heart was beating fast and erratic, from nerves or liquor you couldn't tell.

Because love can burn like a cigarette.

"I... I love you too. Please, stay with me tonight." It sounded pathetic coming from him. But, yet, you slid your shoes off and you turned the lamp off. You laid against him, hearts thrumming in rythm as he finally drifted off into what was some of the heaviest sleep he'd ever had. You had gotten past those walls, once again. Thankful was an understatement for how you felt. You knew Spy was complicated, someone who couldn't allow slip-ups or complications, it could cost him as much as his life.

And when he awoke the next morning, groggy with a pounding headache, with you clutching onto him as if he would leave in the middle of the night, Spy knew he had done at least one thing right in his drunken stupor. All he hoped for, now, was your forgiveness.

And leave you alone with nothing,

And leave you alone with nothing.

[scoops-aboy86]

We see a lot of chubby Steve/weight gain post-high school but I think it would be interesting to see some fics where he’s still in school. Maybe he has to give up sports due to the concussions or something?

You're right and you should say it!! I have a bit of that in my love spell no go AU, before Starcourt happens and Steve goes full trauma-fueled must be able to protect everyone I know mode. 

So... might not be what you were hoping for but I wrote an almost 3k addition to that fic, during the part where Steve is still at Hawkins High. Swim is over for the year (and Steve avoids his pool now), and while he's still on the basketball team he's also smoking weed (helps with the nightmares, getting enough sleep, better mood, etc.) and snacking more. He's in the starter belly stage but has no complaints.

Part 1, (YOU ARE HERE), part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11 of the love spell no go au

The weed he bought from Munson is a godsend, and Steve wonders why he hadn’t thought of it before… only to remember that Nancy wouldn’t have approved. (Although she’s not a priss, exactly, she had barely even touched alcohol since the night Barb died. Until Halloween.) But he can sleep through the lonely nights now, which is worth even that hurtful pang of realization—that maybe, Nancy hadn’t been very good for him. 

(Sure, she had helped him study. And his grades had improved. But sometimes, too, she would smile and say, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” It had been cute at first, before Barb, when the smile had still been real.)

Whenever he thinks about that, or feels particularly lonely, he digs into his stash for a quick smoke out his bedroom window—never by the pool, not anymore. He gets into the habit of snacking after, even if it’s while doing his homework, because even when he’s a little bit stoned it’s somehow easier to focus on shit when he’s doing something else at the same time, and chewing works. 

(Nancy hadn’t liked it when he’d fiddled with his pencil or a rubber band or a Rubix cube or anything while she’d quizzed him with flashcards, even though he’d tried to tell her it helped. She’d fussed at him about it until he’d just… stopped.)

Other times, he zones out in front of the tv while working his way through a sandwich or a bag of chips or a sleeve of Oreos. Or takeout, a lot of the time, because his culinary skills pretty much stop at sandwiches, up to and including scrambling an egg for a breakfast sandwich. But a man cannot live on scrambled eggs alone, he’s learned that the hard way, so pizza or burgers or pasta in cardboard containers it is. 

It’s not just the munchies. After a while Steve gets into the habit of just… eating. It's not like his parents are around to notice, and Dustin and the other kids he babysits sometimes (for all that Mike protests that they aren’t babies and don’t need a sitter; what they do consistently need, however, is rides) don't care as long as he springs for enough that they can have some too. No one at school would dare say it to his face, and somehow it still doesn't manage to fully tank his slightly flagging reputation, but Steve is definitely starting to put on weight. He doesn’t care. 

He starts going to parties again half for a change of scenery, half for a change of food options. Pizza still makes a frequent appearance, but there’s popcorn and flavors of chips that he doesn’t usually buy and various kinds of snack mixes. (His favorites are anything that include M&Ms.) Sometimes, there are even cupcakes or cookies. He doesn’t dance, doesn’t even drink all that much and sticks to just beer when he does, never the punch. Most of the kids who come to these parties are there for the booze and the makeout opportunities, but he turns up to people-watch, bopping his head in time with the music if it's a song he likes, and park himself by whatever food the party has to offer. Sometimes Steve buys from Eddie if he's there, offers to share joints with him that Eddie, still wary, turns down. When the food runs out, Steve leaves.

Tonight, though, Tammy Thompson just will not leave him alone and he’s at a loss for what to do about it. She’s been talking his ear off about wanting to move to Nashville and become a country singer the entire time he’s been working on this extra large pepperoni and sausage with black olives—not his first choice, but it’s still hot enough for the cheese to stretch whenever he picks up the next slice, warm tomato sauce and grease dripping down the front of his polo more often than he can always catch with a napkin. 

“Did you want some?” he asks at some point, to be polite and hopefully indicate that he doesn’t care that she’s trying to tell him something. 

He can tell immediately that it doesn’t work, because Tammy lights up from simply being addressed, even though her answer is, “Oh, no thank you, I’m a vegetarian.”

“Right,” Steve mumbles, and crams nearly half of his next slice of meat-laden pizza in his mouth. Maybe if he talks with his mouth full. “More for me, then.”

The words come out muffled, but she still beams and offers to grab him something to drink, jumping up and scampering off before Steve even has a chance to respond. He sighs, downs the rest of the beer he’s been nursing, and takes the new one she brings him without saying thank you. Between the next pieces of pizza he pops it open, chugs it, and belches; she puts a hand on his arm. 

For a moment, at that, Steve feels a faint stirring of interest. He likes his food, did even before dropping swimming and picking up weed, and well before it started to show. Now that it has, he feels comfortable in his softer body. Good. And maybe… maybe he could handle dating someone who doesn’t mind how much he likes it. He imagines Tammy running her immaculately painted nails over his skin, places he’s noticed have been getting more sensitive lately, and suppresses a shiver. 

“Could you pass me that bowl of M&Ms over there?” he asks, testing the waters. Yeah, he could probably reach it if he stretched, but he’s starting to fill up and doesn’t feel like putting the extra pressure on his stomach. He sits back a little in his chair instead, shifting to get comfortable and laying a hand on his belly where it bows out over the waistband of his jeans. “Sorry, just, you know. Big appetite lately.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t mind,” Tammy says with a giggle as she fetches the bowl for him. “Besides, you’re an athlete! I’m sure you’ll work it off in no time on the court.”

And yeah, no, that vague interest curdles immediately. As far as Steve is concerned, the only parts of himself he wants to get rid of are all in his head—the heartbroken parts, the nightmare and trauma parts, the desperately lonely and needy parts. But he’s not so lonely that he’ll hook up with a girl who’s willing in spite of how he looks, because what else could she possibly be interested in? His personality?

He barely even has one. King Steve has always been bullshit, Nancy was right about that much. 

Through the crowd, he spots curly hair and a flash of dark leather—Eddie. Good, he’d been hoping to buy more tonight, and this is as good an excuse to exit this conversation as any. 

Steve grabs a handful of M&Ms to shove in his mouth and flips the lid of the pizza box closed, handing the bowl back to Tammy and taking the box with him when he stands. “Well, enjoy the rest of the party,” he blurts. “I’ve gotta go see a guy about some drugs. Bye!”

As he makes his escape, some girl that he thinks he might have class with or something just about shoulder-checks him, but he’s solid enough that she ends up stumbling from the impact instead. The glare she gives him could peel paint… which is actually kind of refreshing, after enduring Tammy’s simpering for the better part of an hour. 

To Eddie’s perpetual frustration, now that Steve Harrington has started buying weed from him he can never seem to be free of the guy. Case in point: the “Hey, Munson, wait up!” that follows him to the backyard of tonight’s house party slash business venture. 

He waits until he’s down the patio steps before whipping around, prepared to glare and snap an impatient what do you want, Harrington, but ends up staring at a pizza box that’s being shoved in his face. 

“Pizza?” Steve says. 

Eddie blinks at the box, then at the boy holding it. “This isn’t your party. Doesn’t that mean it’s not your pizza to offer?”

“It might as well be, I’ve eaten most of it,” Steve replies. “No one seemed to notice, that makes it fair game.” 

Once, Eddie had been selling at a party and been bitched out for touching a single cookie, because those were for guests. He wants to scowl, but then his gaze flicks down to the partly open box and sees that there aren’t many slices left, eyes fixing on the evidence dripped down the front of Steve’s shirt and the way it’s… tight, across his middle. “You ate all but three slices of an entire extra large?”

He’s not sure what answer he expects to get. Maybe something like Of course not, dickhead, or maybe just, What, like it’s hard? But all Steve says is, “Yep.” And keeps looking at him with those sweet hazel eyes that seem bight and not too clouded by alcohol. 

Still, Eddie is wary. “Okay… You first.” 

Steve just shrugs and pulls out a slice, taking a bite before Eddie snatches it out of his hand. “Hey!”

“Just making sure it wasn’t poisoned first, sweetheart,” Eddie retorts, sneering for the excuse to call a pretty boy sweetheart in semi-public, butterflies stirring in his stomach at getting away with it. “Don’t worry, the rest is all yours.”

“Who’s tried to poison you?” Steve asks in a perplexed tone, folding the last two slices together to make a pizza sandwich and tossing the empty box onto the deck. Still following Eddie, because of course this is Eddie’s life. Love spell was a spectacular failure, but he’s still got the boy of his dreams following him around like a lost duckling because he’s got drugs. Fucking fantastic. 

And Eddie doesn’t want to get into the whole thing—those rumors from when Eddie had been in seventh grade and Steve had been in sixth, for all that they’re both in the same grade now, about some kid who’d been sent to the ER from a bad reaction to itching powder. There were variations where it had gotten in his eyes and nearly blinded him, or on his food and made his throat swell shut, or in his underwear and turned his dick so red his balls fell off. In reality, he had only gone to the nurse with a bad rash and hadn’t even been allowed to go home, but it left a goddamn impression. 

He doesn’t want to get into it, not if Steve either doesn’t remember the rumors or hasn’t connected them to his present day self, so he just rolls his eyes and says, “Are you looking to buy or what?”

Steve immediately brightens a bit, like a golden retriever spotting someone holding a tennis ball. “Yeah, I smoked the last I had before coming here but it’s already worn off I think.” And takes a big bite of his two pizza slices. 

So Eddie leads him to a darker nook around the side of the house for the deal, trying not to stare at the way Steve’s cheeks bow out while he chews, like a damn chipmunk. It’s cute. He’s kind of angry that it’s cute, that there’s still a part of him that lights up when Steve looks happy, satisfied, content—and right now all of those boxes are checked. 

“Want to smoke a little now?” Steve offers, once he’s paid and taken the baggie one handed, popped the rest of the food in his mouth, licked his fingers clean, and pulled out a pack of rolling papers. And Eddie pauses too long before answering, long enough that Steve takes the lack of refusal as a yes. 

Which Eddie should correct, because he usually says no to that sort of thing, especially when he’s at parties specifically to sell. He’s turned Steve down before, even; it’s like the guy has a whole thing about offering whenever he plans on lighting up asap. Eddie knows better to fall into that trap. 

But it’s a nice night. The weather is mild for spring, business has been good, and Steve licks his lips to get the last traces of pizza sauce before his tongue darts out to wet the paper and finish rolling the joint. Nice and tight, like the denim hugging Steve’s ass and thighs tighter recently. So Eddie sticks around, breaks his rule and tries to keep his face clear of any evidence that he is fixated on the few degrees of separation between smoking and kissing, heart hammering the entire time. He tells himself it’s a one time only thing, but knows he might be lying. Recognizes how addictive this could be. 

“Thanks for being here,” Steve says after passing the joint back and forth a few times, his eyes glazed and drooping. “Really needed this tonight.”

“That’s what I’m here for, man,” Eddie replies. He’s leaning against the side of the house practically shoulder to shoulder with his crush, and the high washing over him is really taking the edge off the jagged yearning in his chest. Like, he still wants, but he’s happy just floating in the present moment, content with the indirect sharing of spit. And this is… This is okay. 

Surprisingly okay. 

It throws Eddie for a loop because it’s at odds with the whole King Steve image. The whole puppet master persona that isn’t a bully, but can with a few words cut someone down socially to where the bullies could reach them, if they so wish. Popular kids at Hawkins High walk around with their noses in the air like they’ve never smelled a fart and refuse to start now, but this is the guy they turn around and start brown-nosing. King Steve isn’t nice, he’s used to being waited on. Kings do not say thank you to the court jester for simply carrying out his profession. 

Just Steve, though, is different. Just Steve is chill and finished most of an entire huge pizza while mostly sober, is filling out his clothes even better these days in Eddie’s opinion, and currently looks the most at peace he’s ever seen a person. No walls, no guard… Just Steve. 

Okay, that one split joint had gone straight to his head, god damn. 

“Well, I’m gonna take off,” Eddie announces, and can’t tell if he’s said it too loud or not. He pushes off the wall with a shake of his head. “You snagged pretty much the last of my inventory, so I’ll just get out of here before someone starts handing out the torches and pitchforks.”

Steve chuckles. “Like any of those guys in there know how to make a torch,” he scoffs. He manages to say it in a way that almost makes Eddie lean in. Makes him feel like he’s been let in on some sort of inside joke, like they could but those losers couldn’t. 

Which is—Okay, so Eddie does in theory know how to make a torch, he’d looked into it for one of his earliest homebrew campaigns, but Steve Harringnton? The very idea of Steve whipping off his shirt, tying it to a branch, soaking the end in something flammable, and lighting it up is something out of fantasy. Out of specific fantasies that he has had. It snaps Eddie out of the hazy bubble of they that Steve had somehow created with just a few words, and holy shit. Was that one of the side effects of his wonky spell, or was that Just Steve?

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie scoffs back, putting more distance between them even though he does want to lean in, dammit, but he wants Steve to want it too. Even though it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask the guy if he has a ride home, or if he wants to swing by the mom and pop ice cream place on Main for desert or something; Eddie has been practicing swallowing down urges like that since he’d hit adolescence. “Find me next time you need to top up your stash, Harrington.”

He walks away fast enough that if Steve responds he doesn’t hear it, heading for the back gate that he’d left the house for in the first place. His van is parked strategically nearby for a quick getaway, just in case the party got out of hand and a neighbor called the cops. 

And if his dreams that night feature a completely relaxed Steve Harrington chewing on never ending slices of pizza and that blissful look of peace on his face, his lips shiny with spit and grease, it’s not like Eddie is ever going to tell anyone.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @lawrencebshoggoth

[jinx-s-things]

Thinking of you

Tara carpenter x Amber freeman

Summary: Tara can’t stop thinking Amber

It was a nice day outside Tara, Mindy, liv and chad were sitting on benches out of school talking. Tara was too deep in thought to notice Amber was now sitting next to her.“You coming to the party tonight?” Amber asked, Tara almost jumped out of her seat “umm…yeah sure”

“Cool can you bring some booze”

“Sure” Tara said staring at Amber.

While Tara was walking back home she kept thinking about Amber she had began to think of attractive she actually was. It started a while ago when they went shopping together and Amber tried on those outfits that made her look like a movie star and Tara’s heart fluttered in that moment.

The innocent crush has now turned into a very very serious crush and Tara is trying to hide it.

Tara was drying her hair since she had been in the shower. She picked out her most favourite top and skirt also some makeup.

Once she was ready she headed out and went to Amber’s on her way there she could hear loud music blaring from speakers and shouting. In one bag she had booze and the other a bunch of snacks there’s probably heaps in the house but she still took some.

She had finally arrived and seen some people that were already drunk and when she went into the living room she dogged cups flying at her and accidentally bumping into people then quietly apologising. Tara tried to find her friends but didn’t see them anywhere until hearing Chad shouting at the top of his lungs she followed the noise and found him in a crowd of people in the living room. Tara went up to chad “hey Chad do you know where Amber is?” Tara shouted

“I think she’s in the kitchen with Mindy or something I don’t know”

“Thanks Chad” Tara then went to the kitchen but neither Mindy or Amber were there. She asked everyone if they had seen Amber until finally she seen Amber walk into the living room.

She had on a red velvet dress on with of the shoulder sleeves she looked amazing. Amber had seen Tara and walked over to her, Amber was very drunk “come on dance with me” she said Tara danced with her the whole night. They went upstairs and into her bedroom both of them were now very very drunk. Amber was gazing into Tara’s eyes never taking her eyes off of her slowly she leaned in and their lips touched Tara suddenly breaks the kiss looking shocked she then turned around and ran downstairs and out the house.

She ran all the way back home and laid in her bed she felt so embarrassed. She wished she never left, that that was her chance Amber had kissed her but she was drunk and probably didn’t mean to she thought to herself. All she could of for the rest of the night was Amber and barely got any sleep.

The next day she woke up and decided not to go to school she was too embarrassed to go and if Amber remembered what happened last night. Oh god I hope she was to drunk to remember thought Tara, Tara got up to make breakfast she had a horrendous headache that didn’t go away once she had breakfast she laid on her couch and put on the TV there was barely any movies to watch. She finally picked a movie and went on her phone there were pictures of the party last night and again all

Tara could think about was Amber. The movie had ended and Tara decided to put her phone down and have a sleep.

When she woke up it was now lunch time but she didn’t have a headache now and now she felt hungry. All there was was some bread and pasta because she her mom forgot to get anything so that’s what she was going to eat. While she was making the pasta there was a knock on the door. “Coming” Tara shouted, walking up to the door when she had opened the door she got a surprise it was Amber what was she doing here. “Amber! What are you doing here? shouldn’t you be at school” Tara said Amber looked at her “shouldn’t you be at school a well” she replied

“I had a headache” Tara said “now bye” Tara was closing the door but Amber shoved her foot in the door. “I need to talk to you” Amber said

“About what”

“About what happened last night” Tara stared at her “okay” Tara slowly opened the door.

Amber sat down while Tara put some pasta into a plate “want some?” She said “no thank you”. Tara sat down with Amber not moving the plate of pasta to the side. Amber began to speak “look I’m sorry about what happened last night, I was drunk and didn’t mean to kiss you” Amber said quickly

“It’s okay I know you were drunk I accept your apology” Tara said.

“Really?” Amber asked shocked

“Yeah”

“Oh that was easy” Amber said

“I actually need to tell you something” Tara quickly said “it’s been something that has been on my mind for a while”

“Okay go on then” Amber said

Tara took a deep breath before speaking “ I have a REALLY big crush on you and I’ve been keeping it a secret and I couldn’t stop thinking about you, then you kissed me and I got shocked so I ran away” Tara said quickly. Amber stared at her for a moment. She waited for Amber to reply to what she said. “I have something to tell you as well” Amber said “I love you so much and I also couldn’t stop thinking about you” Amber also said quickly. Tara looked shocked

Then smiled “I love you too.” The rest of the day her and Amber sat together watching movies and talking.

[finnsanegg]

Misleading Dreams

〰️🎵 Wicked Game - Chris Isaak 🎵〰️

-> Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Female Reader

-> Era: Season 3 (at the wedding)

-> Pronouns: she/her

-> Warnings: alcohol consumption, brief mention of character death

-> Word Count: 2k

-> Summary: You're one of the magic kids. You possess the ability to travel through space, though unlike Five - your power lies in traveling through realities and timelines (basically, your superpower is shifting). You came into this reality to help with doomsday, which unfortunately didn't go as planned; even though you knew exactly what was gonna happen. You knew everything - because yes, the Umbrella Academy was only a mere TV show in the reality you came from.

---------------

“You know I actually dreamed about you, back in my universe,” you put your hand on his shoulder for better balance.

The liquor was doing its dutiful job, God forbid you would trip and fall right now.

“Really?” Five raises his brows in question, “do tell.”

With a smile, you shift your eyes to the side - then you look back at him. 

It was hard to look him in the eye for a longer period of time. All this slow dancing came hand in hand with you being just a little closer to each other, more than you were used to. Thankfully, enough whiskey was allowing you to just try and enjoy the moment. 

Because what else could you possibly have right now? 

“You managed to create a portal to the moon,” you said, “on my balcony.”

He laughs, grabbing your hand just a little tighter. Probably for balance.

You weren't the only one who reeked of liquor here.

“You were so proud of yourself,” you continued with an amused chuckle.

“How could I not be,” he thinned his lips into a somewhat triumphant smile.

Five was well aware his behavior was probably veering away from his typical characteristic self. He was really out here, dancing like nothing mattered. And not just that, he was dancing with Y/N. In his mind, he wondered just how the hell did the two of you get into this situation in the first place.

“Ahh finally, I did it!” you mimicked his words from your dream - as if you truly heard him say that.

His face grimaced in a pretended offense. 

You never noticed how green his eyes actually were. Now that you could look at them from up close, you realized just how much tenderness they carried. Or was it the booze?

Come to think of it - the last time you were this close to each other was when you were leaving. You were leaving and he most likely thought he would never see you again. And you really did plan to not show your face here anymore, which obviously didn’t work out for you.

Your reasons were rather selfish, but that didn’t make them any less real. Simply put,  you just started to love each and every asshole in the Hargreeves family way too much. In fact, you considered yourself a part of them. And now, they did too.

It really just became your conjoint timeline, didn’t it?

“And what happened after that?” Five narrowed his eyes with amusement. Oh he was loving this conversation right now. This must have been the most fun he’s had since… well, ever since he got himself stuck in the apocalypse.

As you reminded yourself of the very dramatic events that happened in your dream, you chuckled, “you were about to jump in it. But I wanted to stop you.”

He raised his brow.

“So naturally, I tackled you to the ground,” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and the portal disappeared.”

How else would you wanna stop Five fucking Hargreeves? Well to be fair, you couldn’t really stop him even if you tried. He was like an elder on a hunt for sales. Or should I say a soon-to-be young adult in a desperate need to get laid. Both things combined.

He lets out another laugh, “very professional of you.”

“Wait, do you guys see Five?” Luther looked in your direction. 

They were all sitting at one of the tables not far from the dance floor.

Victor soon followed his gaze, “he’s… laughing?”

“Five and Y/N!” Klaus smashed the table a little too hard, “I always knew he had a thing for her.”

“That’s so weird,” Diego proclaimed.

Klaus laughed, “I bet it’s the cute shorts that did the trick.”

You watched as he laughed, his eyes closing and opening again. He was shining especially bright tonight. Like the weight of the world was finally off his shoulders for a while.

“Even in your dreams, you just manage to harass me, do you?” Five joked.

For some reason, his chest felt like it was on fire. Maybe he didn’t mind your bullying so much, oddly enough. There was just something about you. And strangely, he could tell this felt very similar to how he used to be with Dolores.

It was your turn to burst out in laughter now, you threw your head back, as if it would help you regulate the amount of alcohol in your system right now.

Five couldn’t turn his eyes away at that moment. Honestly, who would? He absentmindedly eyed the curves of your collarbones - they looked especially nice tonight, complimented by the dress you were wearing. The skin of your neck, the sharp edges of your jawline. And he was thinking like a damn teenager. 

“There, did you see that?!” Klaus pointed his finger, “He’s so eyeing her!”

“Him eyeing someone?” Lila grimaced, “this is Five we’re talking about.”

Klaus ignored Lila’s comment of course, “they toootaly have the hots for each other,” he smiled.

Luther raised his brow, “or he’s just really drunk.”

“Alright,” you shook your head, “but in my defense, I helped you up right after that.”

“My hero,” he sighed dryly.

That damn sarcasm of his.

You scoffed, hitting the back of his neck lightly. Oh, this conversation would soon be the death of you.

He tilted his head then - a deadly move, too much for drunk Y/N to handle.

“I hope I repaid the favor.”

“Actually…” 

Yes, this conversation might actually just end you sooner than the apocalypse.

“You kissed me.”

His brows shot up.

Please kill me now, you thought.

“And let me tell you, it was one sloppy kiss,” you laughed.

Now that you think about it, whiskey probably wasn’t the best fit for you. Next time you could just down a bottle of kerosene instead. 

“Hey!” he breathes out, somehow offended. He couldn't believe where this conversation led to.

“You actually apologized for being so terrible,” you had to say it was amusing to watch his face switching through the whole palette of different emotions. 

Five’s eyes narrowed in an embarrassed glare. You had no idea how he worked his glare game up to this ridiculously high level. Maybe he used to stare holes through bricks as a sport back in the apocalypse.

“That doesn't sound like me at all.”

“It really doesn't.”

A few seconds of silence followed. Neither of you knew how to continue this conversation, so you just assumed (you hoped, in fact) you would just drop it.

“Well, now I know your dreams are total bullshit.”

Well, guess not.

“Hey!” you frowned. 

Five was asking himself just why on Earth did he decide to pursue this topic further. But his mouth outran his thoughts - something that seemed to happen a lot under the influence of sweet alcohol. He was already so close to you and something in him screamed that this was his chance.

“First off, creating a portal to the moon is nearly impossible.”

“Nearly?” you raised your brows, chuckling. To be fair, he probably would find a way.

“And second..." Five paused. 

He still wasn't sure if he should do this. But the odds were against you all, with the inevitable doom literally around the corner. 

And for some reason, he remembered the time you left. Or rather, how it felt. How he then started to realize that your shared objective wasn't the only thing he liked about you.

"...I’m not a bad kisser.”

You stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Or were you just unnecessarily reading into it? It was hard to tell.

As you swayed into the slow, seemingly never-ending rhythm of the song, you proceeded to furrow your brows and then raise them up again.

It was difficult to believe Five would make a move like this. That he would say something so strangely inviting. As if he would want you to fall into the trap hidden within this conversation. Nevertheless, that didn't stop your heart from fluttering a little faster. There was just something about his eyes that made you believe it just for a second.

“Really?" you asked, "Well, I don’t believe you."

A rather bold answer, you must say. But you needed to know if you were really picking up what he was putting down. If he was putting this down.

Five's heart was beating unusually fast. Guess all this second puberty deal was getting to him too much. In his 58 years he wouldn't have hoped something like this would ever happen to him. But then again, he didn't really get the chance to meet a lot of people now, did he? The apocalypse is a dark and lonely time to be in.

But being here and now, he felt so young again. You made him feel young again.

"And how's that so?" He narrowed his eyes, "dreams are often very misleading."

He did have a point. They were misleading.

Your suspicion grew stronger with every second you spent looking at each other in silence. You suddenly didn’t know what to say - a certain type of nervousness washed over you.

Come on, say something, Y/N.

Absent-mindedly, your eyes slid down to his lips.

You swear it was only for a split second. There was no way Five would have noticed that.

But he did.

Or at least - he hoped he did. It wasn’t his imagination, was it? 

Before this silence could get anymore intense, you shook your head slightly and gave yourself a mental slap across the face. Well, more like a mental punch in the guts.

“I guess you’re right,” you cleared your throat, “but it still doesn’t make me believe you.”

Now, you knew this wasn’t the end of times. You were well aware of what was about to happen. In the back of your mind, you plotted to prevent both Luther and Klaus from dying - your heart broke a little every time you remembered what was in store for them.

But, Five most likely thought this was the last day on Earth for you all. And if you thought so too, you would definitely not waste your time. 

Fuck it. 

“If only there was a way to prove it.”

You tilted your head then - a deadly move, too much for drunk Five to handle.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening ever so slightly. His smile faded, as realization hit him. He really did just hear you say that; what a bold push. It’s one he really didn’t expect. But it’s one he probably needed.

You witnessed as his face softened, he locked on you with a focused look. Now that wasn’t a sight you could see very often. But in a strange way, it suited him.

Ignoring the bundle of nerves in your stomach, you reciprocated the tender seriousness with which he was observing you. Now it was his turn to say something.

Please just say something.

“Can I?”

Oh.

Your mouth hung slightly open. 

You didn’t even notice you had stopped dancing. Neither did Five.

You didn’t dare to break eye contact. Neither did Five.

You both stood in silence for a few moments.

This time you weren’t really trying to hide the way you looked down on his lips. And neither did Five.

A slight smile formed on your lips, and at that moment he already knew the answer.

Next thing you knew, his hand rested gently on the side of your neck and he pulled himself closer. 

Your noses brushed against each other first - and somehow you both stayed in that moment of closeness just a few seconds longer than you had to.

And suddenly, you were kissing.

You focused on his soft lips. The way he gently breathed out when you parted. The way he breathed you in once more as you kissed again.

His other hand remained on your hip, as it did throughout the dance. Only it seemed more eager, his grip tightened ever so slightly, as if he needed to make sure you won't go anywhere.

And Five really didn't want you to go anywhere right now.

He was making sure this was truly real - that he won't just wake up from a drunk, misleading dream. He really liked the way this felt. And he must admit, at that moment, he let his guard down completely.

Maybe whiskey wasn’t so bad after all.

---------------

-> A/N: As you can probably tell, this is part of a bigger storyline. I thought up a lot of different scenarios thru all the seasons into my script, for when I shift there. Hope you enjoyed and let me know if you would like more from this universe!