#paul and the bartender staring at each other while thinking about making out while everyone else

[sqlmn]

The fact the bartender is just absolutely mocked by his own coworkers is really funny to me. They all just are like... betting on how long it will take for one of the guys to make a move (though like. very openly in front of him so he KNOWS)...

He was going to work five nights a week and then cover another night if someone needed it and it's fine, he's single and this is his social life. But when he gets a call one night like "oh hey wanna help us out? blonde guy just got here" and he's like "I will be there in ten minutes" ... until the bar owner is like "dude you have to stop working so much" and then he gets his coworkers texting him "if only you were here :c blonde guy is so sad :c" and he's miserable on his couch and reading updates in the work group chat.

[shrimpngritcakes]

Buddie prompt #3: 9-1-1 & Lone Star crossover idea

I’m putting this idea here for someone to claim if they wish. It was originally posted on Ao3 (now with additions), but deleted it due to ToS. If anyone wants this prompt, please comment below so I can delete it after you copy it to prevent similar stories.

His breaking point was a kiss.

One he knew he wasn't supposed to see. With anyone else he would feel like a voyeur, but all he could feel was a dark emptiness opening in his chest.

With Eddie’s truck being in the shop for a tie rod that had broken while at work, sending Eddie into a storm of cursing in Spanish, Ana had picked him up for their latest date.

And dropped him off.

If was a horrible fluke that Buck had stood up to look out the window at just the wrong moment. He should have been in the spare bedroom asleep after a grueling 24 surrounded by all the things he had brought with him when he moved in all those weeks ago.

Buck makes his excuses to leave while Eddie is completely confused and trying to get him to talk. Eddie tries to call Buck but he doesn't pick up.

Buck goes to see Bobby and Athena. It all spills out, including not feeling wanted by his parents. Bobby thinks Eddie is being an idiot but keeps this to himself. He suggests a leave of absence for mental health. Bobby receives permission from his superior to place Buck on open ended leave after giving him a brief explanation of the situation. Ending with him saying to Bobby, “That poor boy. If I ever meet that boy's parents…”

Bobby answers, “Get in line, but there may not be anything left after Athena gets them first.”

TK is surprised to find a sleeping Buck in his Jeep in the parking lot of the 126. An off duty Carlos takes him back to his place where he crashes on the couch. Buck has a nightmare and Carlos talks him down.

Owen calls Bobby saying he has his boy and they'll take care of them. He has a plan and discusses it with Bobby. The whole absence makes the heart grow fonder concept.

“Is it mutual?”

“I’m not 100% sure, but…”

“You can't tell Eddie. Even if he begs for answers for his son, you need to stand strong. It needs to be him asking for himself. If this goes wrong… We'll take Buck in here. He'll have a home with the 126. It will take a while, but we'll help put him back together as best we can until he's back on his feet. He won't be alone.”

Bobby wipes at his face, “Thank you."

“Let's hope this works.”

Eddie is worried and confused why Buck never came home. His phone is going straight to voicemail. Now he isn't there for his shift. Another man comes in and introduced as Buck's temporary replacement. Eddie asks Bobby where Buck is, but he won't give him a straight answer. Eddie is shocked as Bobby's tone is harsh and he glaring at him. Bobby later apologized and explains that Buck requested that only he and Maddie know where he is. Eddie tries to dig, but Bobby just shakes his head with a, “I'm sorry, Eddie. I can't tell you.”

Eddie asks Maddie, but she just slams the door in his face. Chim doesn’t know as she's refusing to tell them where Buck is. Chim delivers her handwritten apology the next day to Eddie. It states Buck needs space from everything, but mostly leaves out the part about Eddie (only one or two things that hint, but it goes over Eddie's head).

Athena almost breaks down and calls Eddie a fool before storming away to her police cruiser. She doesn't know where he is because Bobby refuses to tell her (which she finds annoying yet commendable), but she was there for the why when Buck broke down. She'll apologize after Buck and Eddie return. Hopefully together.

Filler with Buck and the 126 and Carlos. Judd takes him out on a horse like he did Capt. Strand. Fill a pothole on how Grace and him are so accepting of TK's sexuality despite being religious.

A Facetime therapy session where Copeland assures him its okay to get away for a while.

Eddie doesn't quite realize yet that he's slowly losing it, but the others can tell.

Paul and Buck have a conversation.

Christopher asking where Buck is because it's movie night. Eddie doesn't have an answer.

Eddie rages in the station gym trying to understand. He almost gets it, but he thinks Buck is jealous of Eddie, not Ana. Cue Hen groaning under her breath, "You almost got it, Eddie. Come on. Keep thinking."

TK, Carlos, and Paul take Buck out to a club. TK talks absentmindedly to the bartender, even showing him/her a picture of Eddie from Insta. Word spreads about the "new guy," Buck. Others keep the “creeps" away from Buck. Buck loosens up a little while there.

Buck Facetimes Christopher on Carla's phone, only for Eddie to walk in just as Buck is hanging up. He sees Buck's panicked/sad face right before he hangs up. He tries to call back, but doesn't get an answer. Carla huffs and shakes her head. "Figure it out yourself, hun. I can't give you this answer. You need to find it for yourself." Cue Eddie even more confused. This is all just about Buck's parents and jealous over Ana... Isn't it?

Roller derby to cheer on Marjan with the bartender flirting with Buck, who is all kinds of flustered. Carlos, TK, and the others tease him mercilessly.

A massive fire where Buck offers his help. Paul gives Buck as sidehug in gratitude.

Eddie almost punching the mechanic because his truck still isn't done.

Marjan takes Buck out to do something crazy because she's Firefox. (Buck is still starstruck). Maybe skydiving or they race each other at wall climbing? Cue competitive banter.

Owen keeping Bobby updated on Buck.

Buck eventually asks for a transfer. Owen asks if this is what he really wants. Buck just shrugs and asks helplessly what other option he has.

(Optional: Bucks gets up quietly at night for a glass of water and stumbles onto Carlos and TK having sex/making out in the kitchen. Buck either flees in embarrassment or is stunned into watching with Carlos and TK aware that he's there. All parties awkward and/or embarrassed the next morning until TK bursts into giggles and laughter.)

Eddie's relationship with Ana is rapidly deteriorating. Christopher has a full on tantrum. Eddie has to koala hug him on the floor, after Ana brings him back home from a not very good date as Eddie's thoughts were on Buck. Ana tries to help calm him down but Chris screams at her about Buck not being around as much as soon as she started dating his dad. “I hate you! I hate you!” He yells her to get out. Ana still tries to talk. Carla snaps at her to leave. She still tries.

Eddie is spiraling. Flashback of that kiss he really wasn’t ready for, but Ana had asked. It dawns on him that that was the night Buck disappeared. Why would Buck leave because of that? Chris is repeatedly asking her to leave, but she's not listening. She's not listening to his son. He finally snaps and demands that she leaves. She storms out. Relationship dead in the water.

Carla can only watch as Eddie breaks from it all.

The original plan has failed, so it’s time for the final attempt. A blatant hammer strike to Eddie's head to knock some sense into him.

Bobby calls Eddie into his office. He shows Eddie transfer papers from Buck along with a list of Buck's possessions to be boxed and shipped. Eddie is speechless. Thoughts of Christopher and losing Buck. He's losing Buck.

He shows Eddie an email he received and Eddie slowly scrolls through, It's full of captioned pictures. Such as:

-Buck staring off into the distance on a horse.

-Buck curled on a couch looking lost.

-Buck looking drool-worthy in club clothes. The caption: “Holy sh@t! If I wasn't already happily taken…”

-Showing Buck blushing as someone talks in his ear.

-Smiling yet not reaching his eyes while dancing.

-Sitting with his head buried in his hands on the engine’s bumper.

-Helping man a hose at a large blaze captioned with “Yes, we had permission for him to be there.” Followed by a picture of someone (Paul, but Eddie can’t see his face as he’s looking at the ground and hidden by his helmet) sidehugging a sweaty dusty still geared up Buck around the neck with a hand resting on his head.

A video. It's Buck spilling everything curled up in someone's arms (maybe Carlos or Grace). “Why am I always alone! What about me?” Mentions of Abby and Ali. His failed dates. Everyone pairing up. Losing part of his sister to Chim after finally having her back in his life after so many years apart. “And Eddie! Eddie… Why does love hurt so much?” mentioning Chris. Etc.

Eddie is shaking. It finally clicks why Buck left.

One more video. It's Capt. Strand and the 126 facing the camera. He knows where Buck is now - Austin, Texas.

“Buck doesn't know we're putting all this together. He’s asleep. We may or may not have knocked him out with sleeping pills.”

They all lay it out for Eddie. Eddie feels all kinds of stupid and blind. “Now, you have a choice here, Edmundo Diaz…”

“Why… Oh my god. This entire time… ”

“Do you love him, Eddie? As more than a friend? Or am I signing these papers?”

A few seconds after Eddie runs out of the room, a sigh comes from the speaker phone. “I'll get things set up.”

“Thank you, Owen. For everything.”

“You're welcome.”

The whole firehouse going up in a cheer after Eddie floors out of the parking lot in his thankfully finally fixed truck. Hen is shaking Chim or vice versa.

Carla agrees over the phone to keep Christopher after Eddie blurts everything out to her, ending with a “Go get him, Eddie.”

“Did everyone see this but me?” Carla is laughing as she hangs up.

Buck sees Owen call TK over and whispering in his ear. Tk has an interesting reaction before running out of the room with his phone already to his ear.

Flashbacks as Eddie is scrolling through his pictures on his phone while on an airplane. How he missed it. How he didn't understand himself. His fall had been so slow he hadn't even realized it until it was almost, or maybe is, too late. His seatmate makes a comment on his happy “family," and it’s a kick to Eddie's already flayed emotions.

Judd is there to pick him up at the airport, which surprised him.

He's dropped off at a club. Judd makes a snarky comment after handing Eddie a hotel room key card through the window. Eddie rolls his eyes as Judd drives off laughing. The bouncer, having seen the Diaz blazoned on the back of his LAFD shirt, waves Eddie inside, skipping the line. The whispering starts as soon as he enters. Word had spread and they had been hoping for Buck. “Is that…”

“I think so.”

He's shocked as the crowd starts to part for him. The music lowers in volume. People are staring and he's embarrassed, etc., but he sees Buck, who TK has made sure looks phenomenal. Taking a deep breath, he squares his shoulders and walks forward.

Buck is dancing between Carlos and TK. He feels Carlos start smacking TK on the back before they pull away from him. They’re both grinning so wide he suspects their faces are hurting. TK is not so quietly squealing in excitement.

A hand covers his eyes from behind. He immediately recognizes the body wash smell. “Eddie…”

Mini conversation/argument, neither realizing the club has gone dead silent, with Eddie yelling “Because I love you, you idiot!”

The entire club loses it with TK whooping, jumping with a fist punch, and laughing.

End there with a kiss, at the hotel room which may or may not get steamy, or Buck telling Christopher he's home with Chris tackling him to the ground.

[sgt-peppers-lonely-writer]

Love Me Do- Paul McCartney

Pairing: Paul McCartney x Reader

Words: 1023

Plot: There's only one reason why you return back to the Cavern Club

Warning: none

~

You were there again with your friends. They were just there for the drinks but you? You weren't much of a drinker but you stayed for the band.

You always stood out to him and he didn't know why. Maybe it was the clothes you wore. They were the same as everyone else's but they just seem to look better on you. Maybe it was how your smile would light up the Cavern even though it was perfectly lit. He just knew that he was in love with you.

The Beatles they were called. A small group of four with a bass player, two guitars, drums, along with the three guitarist singing. You always caught yourself staring at the bass player. You admired how focused he was while playing or how he would sing beautifully with his friends.

That and he was pretty cute.

You sat down at the bar, holding a glass of water when you noticed someone sitting down next to you. He had black hair and he was wearing a dress shirt and vest. You did notice that he had long eyelashes and you connected the dots.

The bass player.

You must've been staring for too long because he looked over at you and smiled with a wink. "Hello."

"Hi," you blushed while looking away.

"Name's Paul," he said holding his hand out for a handshake. You happily returned it, but we're surprised when he kissed your knuckles. "A pleasure to be in the presence of a pretty bird like you."

"Thanks," you said with a smile. "My name is (Y/N)."

"What brings you to a small club like this?" He asked as the bartender sat down a bottle of beer in front of him.

"My friends come here to drink and they drag me along. I'm just here for the ride."

He let out a laugh as he looked at you. He was about to say something but someone with a thick Liverpudlian yelled from across the bar.

"Paul, stop flirting and come on!" You recognized him as one of the guitar players.

"Will you meet me after the show?" Paul asked quickly, trying to dodge his friend from shoving him off the barstool.

"Yeah, I'll be here," you told him as his friend finally got him off the chair and dragged him towards the stage.

~

"The last song tonight is a new one that John and I wrote a few months back."

"It was more of Paul's idea," John piped up with pulling out his mouth organ.

"Yeah, well, anyway here's Love Me Do."

You stayed on the barstool all night, watching the boys perform. You noticed that Paul was getting more glances at you as the night went on.

The song opened with John playing his mouth organ and the girls went wild.

"Love, love me do. You know I love you, I'll always be true. So please, love me do," Paul sang into the microphone,l while shooting you a wink.

"Someone to love, somebody new, someone to love, someone like you."

Soon the song was over and people started filing out, but most girls stayed, trying to get a look at the boys and maybe try to convince the boys to buy them drinks.

Paul set his bass on his stand and sprinted towards where you were sitting.

"How was it?" He panted with a smile.

"It gets better every night! I loved the new song, it's catchy."

"Would you like to come on a walk with me? It's getting kinda stuffy in here."

"Sure," you laughed while jumping off the barstool. You followed Paul and you both began to walk around the block. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the orange glow from his match lit up his face. This time you noticed faded freckles across his cheeks and nose.

"Have you got a special boy waiting for you to get home?"

"Yeah, his name's Jack," you smiled. You saw a disappointed look spread across Paul's face and you laughed.

"He's my dog. If you mean a boyfriend then no. However one of my friends tried to make me hook up with one of the guitarists."

"George or John?"

"The one who pushed you off the barstool. George, isn't it?" You asked as Paul gave a nod. "Well, they dared me because they were drunk, but I didn't do it. I do have my eye out on someone though. You got any special birds?"

"No. They always come up to me after shows and they throw themselves at me but I'm just not interested. There's a bench up ahead if you want to sit."

"Sure."

You and Paul jogged over and sat down next to each other. There was a streetlight right next to it, which was nice since you could see him better.

"There is one of them that caught my eye though."

"Who's the lucky lady?"

"Oh, I don't think you'd want to know. You may get jealous of her, she's very pretty."

"Who?" You repeated while laughing. "Come on, don't leave me hanging!"

Paul looked at you and he had this look in his eye. You knew who he was talking about, but you wanted to hear it from him.

"Please, love me do," he sang to you quietly with a smile.

"You cheeky bastard!" You giggled. "Using your own song to get me to say yes."

"Will you?" 

You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "You tell me, lover boy. Now, I hate to run, but it's getting late and my parents are getting worried."

"Let me walk you home then."

"Your friends are probably waiting for you, I don't want to be the reason for holding you up."

"I don't think you will," Paul said while pointing across the street. There were the three other boys, waving and smirking at the two of you. One of them was even carrying Paul's bass.

"Use protection!" John yelled, making you blush.

"Come on, let's get out of here before they decide to follow us to your place."

"Agree," you said quickly while leaving, Paul following behind.

[laufire]

Supernatural s5

I finished it a little while ago, but I haven’t had the time to make an involved post about it -or watch that much of s6 yet; I’m trying to be Resposible and the time I have has been spent in advancing fics a little bit or answering short asks lol.

-I have really enjoyed this season for the most part, but there’s something I need to get of my chest LOL: all through it, the song “Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor)” played in my head xDD. Like, listen, I knew what I was signing up for with this show!! I didn’t expect NOT to find it offensive or regressive on multiple occasions!! But I guess s3-4 must have spoiled me lmao. I’m not saying those seasons are the height of feminism, but if you removed its most important female characters, ESPECIALLY Ruby, the plot of the season would fall apart. That’s not something you can say for s5 and preventing the Apocalypse, just sayin’.

It wouldn’t’ve been that hard to expand Meg’s, Anna’s or the Harvelle’s part (they had good material to go there -Meg as the faithful possibly opening her eyes, Anna as the betrayed and the juror jury and executioner, the Harvelles as normal hunters fighting something way too big for them-, but barely any time and like I said, no incidence in the actual plot of the season). Hell, I’m biased but bringing back Ruby would’ve at least taken care of the problem lol. Or if the show had indulged me and kept Bellamy Young as Lucifer, at least. But everyone with a real say in the plot is a dude, or at least wearing one as a vessel (angel’s conception of gender is clearly different from humans, but in terms of ~~representation the results are the same lbr).

-My constant frustrations with Supernatural’s bigotry-related stuff lol, like I said, I really enjoyed the season (that combination is one of the most frustrating things about the show lmao). Especially Castiel’s plot. The guy has reached Potential Hall of Faves status and that’s hum. A Problem xD

But seriously, he was breaking my heart in all the best ways. His search for God (the Absent Father that the show specifically compared to John añsldkfjasf. This show ISTG!!), his disappointment and sense of betrayal at being let down (he called God Himself “son of a bitch”!!!). I was especially fascinated by his Endverse version -that AU will have its own section lol-, although it resulted in making me reaaaally nervous whenever he was close to an addictive substance :). Like yes, those scenes were lowkey humourous and adorable (like when he drinks shots with the Harvelles and Ellen is fascinated and Jo delighted -... lowkey shipping this too btw. Lowkey shipping Castiel with lots of people-, or his combo with Sam when he got drunk), but also, you know, WORRYING xD

Some of my favourite scenes of his were, predictably, his interactions with Meg or Lucifer in 5x10. The Megstiel scene was SUPER HOT (both their voices are very unf-y lol), I can’t wait to edit it. And having Lucifer call Castiel “a peculiar thing” sure was something xD (although lbr, this Lucifer isn’t keeping with his rebel angel reputation, Castiel is carrying that all by himself smh).

Another scene I couldn’t get out of my head if I wanted to is when he uhhhh... completely LOSES IT and starts beating the crap out of Dean when he was ready to give it up to Michael. “I gave everything for you, and this is what you give me?!?” ooooooof. It was hard to watch, and fascinating and intense. I shamelessly loved it lmfao.

Though my favourite moment of his is one that can only be appreciated when you know certain things about s6. It’s the scene where, unlike everyone else, he shows appreciation for Sam’s plan of sacrificing himself to get rid of Lucifer. Because yes, at this point it’s the only thing that can save the world. But Castiel isn’t saying, “Sam’s life is a small price to pay in comparison”, because he will go into s6 and snatch Sam out of the cage immediately. s5 established Sam got out, so with that in mind, he didn’t bring it up because he didn’t want to create false hope in case he failed, but he backed the plan with the intention of saving Sam anyway. I love that. I love him.

-The entire season was Missing Ruby Hours for me lmfao. Like I said, some of the problems in the season wrt female characters would’ve been at the very least lessened if she’d gotten to be here wrecking havoc. But generally I just miss her and What Could Have Been with her here. I enjoyed some of the crumbs (Sam using the witchcraft skillz he learned from her! Sam immediately knowing Meg isn’t Ruby, unlike Dean! Her knife! The ARCHANGEL GABRIEL referencing her as “the demon Sam chose over his brother”!! The callbacks with Crowley or Brady!!), but I would’ve wanted her here, dammit xD.

-Aaaaand we’re finally getting to Sam, who is without a doubt the star of the season, if you ask me. His plan at the end, to let Lucifer possess him in the hopes he can fight back for just long enough to overpower him and throw them both into the cage, with no hopes for himself? This is the kind of Big Damn Hero stunt I’m a sucker for, I won’t lie. And I love that the show felt the need to confirm he was still alive at the end of the season hehe.

He really Went Through It this season and he held on lmfao. On top of everything (the apocalypse, the guilt of being its final trigger, the addiction recovery, etc.), he also had to deal with Dean’s usual bullshit, which is no small feat xDD. Like, sure, from an audience stand-point all those things are interesting (some fave/the fuck moments are when Dean is obviously peeved that Bobby still supports Sam because he wanted Bobby in HIS corner, or when he has the nerve to say he wants to say yes to Michael because he doesn’t trust SAM not to say yes to Lucifer lmfaoooo), BUT IT’S STILL A FEAT XD

One note: for all the talk about bi!Dean, bi!Sam is so SEEN this season xDD. AFAIC he totally hooked up with that bartender Paul (RIP Paul. At least in your last moments you enjoyed Sam, who’s clearly an energetic, attentive lover 😔). And Crowley refers to Brady as Sam’s demon ex-boyfriend and nobody bats and eye lmfao (that story is so angsty... the parallels to Ruby, how he ingratiated himself with Sam by pretending to have fallen off the wagon... ouch).

-I have mixed feelings on Crowley. On his own, I fell absolutely in love with the guy on his first appearance. A demon that DOUBTS Lucifer and doesn’t kiss his ass?? That wants to get rid of him and do his own thing?? And clearly enjoys ~earthly pleasures to the fullest (his complains about how the other demons ate his tailor had me rolling laksjdfa)? The way he turned the tables on Brady? OFC I love him. OTOH boy, does it annoy me knowing that fandom GLADLY embraced him when they condemned characters like Bela or Ruby for similar things. It’s not his fault so I still like him (he’s like Gabriel in that sense), but it’s annoying!

It also annoys me how Dean Must Be Right All The Time syndrome interacts with him lol. This season Dean decides they can trust Crowley (despite Crowley killing two humans in front of him and getting him beat up by Brady lol), so they can. Next season he decides they can’t, so Castiel will be WrongTM because Dean Says So. Ugggggh xD

-To be fair, however, this season has my fave Dean so far LOL. In the love/hate scale, this one has been almost solely in camp love, barring some of those moments of irksome hypocrisy that he’s so prone to xD.

But there was something about how this season’s plot chipped away at him, you know? For all the traits he has that drive me up the wall or unsettle me, I appreciate a lot of his personality because it makes him a unique and interesting character driving the narrative -his irreverence, his ability to think on the fly and get out of shitty situations, his disbelief. Seeing all of those things under siege this season made me hurt for him in a way I hadn’t anticipated LOL. By the time he was ready to give in to Michael (and I love that what made him step away from that choice was Sam showing a trust in him he patently didn’t deserve lbr), sometimes I felt terribly for the guy.

I also wonder if this season kind of marked like... the beginning of the end for him, narrative-wise? Making him Michael’s vessel (his angel condom) is the kind of thing that turns him from subject into object, and that can doom characters ime. The fact that he ~resigns himself to Sam’s death when his identity as a character came with being His Brother’s Keeper is another slight.

-I continue having mixed feelings about Destiel too LMAO. I’ve decided I’m just going to try to enjoy the good and interesting parts while I can, while trying not to think of future developments that’ll likely sour the ship for me lol.

Because in truth, yeah, I enjoy their interactions a lot here! The Endverse was particularly enjoyable for me (back to that in a moment), but the entire season had a lot of gems. That moment in the finale, when Dean is wounded on his knees after Sam sacrifices himself, and Castiel resurrects and heals him with a touch? And Dean is staring in awe and asks him if he’s become God?? Like wtf am I supposed to do with that. WHO SAYS THAT. XDD

-The Endverse. Omgggggggg. The Endverse. I doubt I can say anything about it that hasn’t been said a thousand times, but seriously. I loooove it, all of it. My favourite was endverse!Castiel, ofc. The way he was in No Man’s Land, not an angel and not quite a human, his ways of trying to cope with that, how burned he was... I uncomfortably related to some of it too lmfao, but let’s not get into that xD.

Seeing both Deans interact was gr10 too. They really couldn’t stand each other lmfao (do you understand me now Dean?? They actually reminded me of two OCs in an original WIP of mine that are in a similar situation -in this case it’s the future version purposefully traveling to the past though-, which made me even fonder of the AU). And the Destiel? *chef’s kiss*. The bitterness, like when Castiel laughs when present!Dean berates endverse!Dean about the tortures and then purposefully says “I like past you” to hurt him asñldkfjasf. Or those looks when Dean returns to the past and tells Castiel to “never change” d’aw.

I loved Lucifer!Sam in this episode too (and personally, I think in the finale Lucifer -and Michael- should’ve changed his outfit too. Sam’s clothes just don’t get to The Devil’s levels, but that white suit was perfect). He was terrifying xD.

BTW: I’ve decided that, since we never see endverse!Castiel die, well. He didn’t xD. I could see Lucifer keeping him alive and captive out of a sense of nostalgia, as Castiel is the only other thing close to a fellow angel left. Might even decide to return his powers with time, or to ~entice him with such an offer lol. And ofc I headcanon Sam is still inside, occasionally trying to fight. Cue in all the Castiel/Lucifer and Castiel/Sam fic ideas too (I have waaaaay too many of those for this mini-verse. It’s very inspiring).

-I’m still on the fence at Lucifer’s motivations but I can’t question how the family issues fit so, so well into this ‘verse. “Family is hell” is the show’s thesis, after all xD. IMO the angels in general don’t feel like a family, they’re a military body/cult lol, but the Archangels are another matter. I guess is the whole “only four angels have seen God-slash-Dad” thing, the rest were... well, the help, apparently.

But Lucifer, Michael, and Gabriel do feel like brothers when they interact (I’m guessing here Gabriel is the Adam: discarded by the other two like nothing :)))). Raphael too, but since he doesn’t interact with them... does he get to later? Or is he the odd one out? Did the others avoid him because he kept quoting Nietzsche at dinner?? LOL.

-There are no words to explain how terribly I feel for Adam. JFC that poor KID. Who was kind and helpful and intuitive, and only wanted his mother back and to help stop the end of the world. And that Sam and Dean will leave rotting in Hell for a millennia :))). It’s kiiiiiiiiind of hard to do for your show’s “heroes” when they do shit like that lmfao. It’d be different if they never tried to make him feel he’s family, but Sam tried to convince him with the bs “because we’re blood” and they did a half-baked attempt at saving him from Zacharias, and then... yeah. At least he had Michael in the cage, but still.

-I was already spoiled of this, but the reveal that cupids made John and Mary fall in love is so chilling (good on Dean for punching that cupid asshole, btw). It puts what Mary says about John in flashbacks, about how much she loves him and how perfect he is, in such a terrifying light. And I’m under the impression that the show didn’t bother to deal with this properly when they resurrected Mary and just... I hate that tbh. It’s a narrative choice that should have a huuuge impact, dammit.

-I kind of loved how bitter and angry Bobby was about (temporarily, thanks to Crowley, his new demon bf -watch out Rufus) ending up in a wheelchair. That there were no platitudes or false sentimentality and it just... was.

-The Harvelles’ had a good send off. I can respect Kripke for wanting his faves to go on his terms lol. Having Jo refuse Dean’s offer of a fuck on their possible last night on Earth with “I rather spent it with a little thing I have self-respect”? Not because she doesn’t have feelings for him, but because she thinks she deserves better from him? I love it. This guy knows his pettiness xD

-The fact that this fandom seems to have ignored Gabriel x Kali is one of the reasons I’m never going to vibe with it, sns. Immortal exes? Check. She tricked him and killed him... but then it turns out HE tricked and he’s alive? Check. BUT THEN HE STILL GOES BACK AND SAVES HER, DYING BY HIS BROTHER’S HAND?? CHECK CHECK CHECK. Ugh, why can’t they come back to me. I know, I know, Kali is a WoC and those are only allowed one (1) appearance before they’re killed off, apparently. So it might be a good thing that she doesn’t return xD. But gosh, they were gr10.

-Death the Horseman’s intro cleared my skin. I love him. I love how utterly terrifying he is and how chilling his and Dean’s scene was. And I yearn to find a picture of the guy a little younger and with a goatee, because he’s the most perfect Discworld’s Vetinari fancast I’ve ever found xDD

-I’ve seen tons of commentary over the years, and especially lately for obvious reasons, about how this season finale would’ve been a much better ending for the show. I’m not there yet, and it does sound like the finale was a mess and this one’s was a very well constructed episode (and, ofc, the Final Love Interest was NOT blurry!!). But even if by the end I come to loathe the finale, there’s one reason I already know won’t let me agree on the s5 ending being perfect: God xDD

The episode makes Chuck come across as a ~benevolent figure and no, fuck that, do NOT want, take it away from me!! Give me God as the Big Bad Wolf, the last evil to conquer any day. It’s like Dumbledore all over again: I enjoy the character a lot more if I feel canon and I are on the same page wrt his shadiness xDD

[jackjots]

#1 Podcast

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

Day #1 “Podcast”: 

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

There’s a driveway about one mile long that cuts into a foothill that surrounds Connor Creek. At the end of the driveway, is a small cabin with a garden that is as simple and as boring as a garden can be. 

When I, Shelby St. Ranger, moved there it had been an overgrown mess of something that had once been someones complex and colorful paradise. I’d left it for a little while, but eventually it depressed me to walk by the dead plants so I bought some gloves and gardening tools and tore everything up. It took up a weekend, which was good, since there wasn’t a lot to do in Connor Creek. This in itself was supposed to be a good thing, so I could work on my novel. Although my characters would often be battling each other and drinking mead in great viking halls, my own life was simple and plodded along. I’d moved from the city once I could afford to, and it was fairly cheap to live in Connor Creek so it actually had been a smart choice in many ways. But I hadn’t expected to be so deeply, deeply bored. I’d discovered the walk to town was pleasant, as not many cars went on the main road, and it helped when I hit writing blocks or just pure FOMO (fear of missing out) that was unfounded as the town inched along as much as I did. This was especially needed at night.

The only place open after 5pm was the Dead Canary. Despite my boredom, I’ve always been an introvert, so I kept to myself. Unfortunately, everyone already knew who I was before I had even moved in. It only took two visits before the bartender would greet me with my usual order and give me a quick “How’s it goin’ Shelby?” It became a habit for me to sit in the least visible place in the corner of a booth and write down little ideas that would pop into my head.

One night, a man with the energy of a rabbit came in and spotted me. “You’re the new one in town, Shelby right?” 

“Yes?” I had pushed my notebook aside, a very detailed doodle of a hexagon that had eyeballs betraying the fact that I couldn’t think of anything to write at the time. 

“My name is Ryan Reynolds. I’m running for town council, I was wondering if you’d heard about the race?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen the posters.” 

“Good. Can I count on your vote?” 

“I’ll have to do research first, I can’t just vote for you because you introduced yourself to me.”

His eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “Fair. Fair, very fair. Just do your research...how do you plan to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Your research.” 

“I imagine on the internet?”

“It’s so spotty. And believe me, if you google my name, it can be very confusing.”

“Right.”

“So you’re better off asking me questions directly.”

“Can I do it some other time? I’m working.” I sipped on my beer. 

“Of course! Anytime. You know, there’s people coming to record a podcast about what’s going on here at Connor Creek.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, tomorrow night?”

“Sure.” He went back to the bar and his voice became white noise as I started back to my notebook and slowly the characters in my head came back to me and I wrote a few paragraphs. 

Unfortunately, I never had that second talk with Ryan Reynolds. 

I had struggled back and forth with myself if I should go into town that next night. I didn’t usually go two days in a row, but I’d already written 20 pages that day and felt like a drink was well deserved. However, the idea of talking about local town politics did not appeal to me. I thought if I went early, I’d probably miss him. Which was true, but not for the reasons I thought.

I was almost done with my beer, and had taken to drawing those S things I’d mastered in elementary school when I heard the door and the voice of Sheriff Madison. I peeked around the corner and saw two people with their backs to me. I didn’t recognize them, and realized I was acting like a nosey local, so I went back to my doodles. 

That was when I heard they were working on a podcast. Intrigued, I jotted down their names and the company they worked for. I’d have to wait until I was back home to try to connect to the internet to look them up. It would probably be a frustrating endeavor, but my interest was piqued for the first time outside my novel in the months I’d lived in Connor Creek. Why would anyone from the city cover the election in such a small town? There had to be more going on. Or maybe I was just creating something to get excited about. I sighed and tore the page, crumpled it up, and put it in my pocket. It was an old habit to put trash in my pocket, from years of don’t litter training pounded in my head. 

I tried to sneak out, but as soon as I got through the door, I heard someone scream.  I didn’t meet with Ryan again, because he was dead outside. I saw the podcast people come out and I watched as the town started to spill out around the scene. I walked home, feeling a bit numb. I had been avoiding him, and now he was dead. I don’t know why I felt guilty, but I did. 

On my way home, there was a crumpled paper white against the grass, dimly lit by the moon. Above the paper was a bush of white roses that made the paper stand out even more. I picked it up out of habit, but before I stuck it in my pocket I noticed print on it and opened it up. Ryan Reynolds’ face stared up at me from his campaign poster. I folded it and put it in my pocket. 

I logged online and started looking up information about the election, but as Ryan had suggested, it was impossible to find anything about him. And the town was hardly on the net. I’d have to go to the library, I decided, like it was the 90s again. I sighed and slumped back in my chair. Something in my pocket poked me and I took out the crumped piece of paper that said “Artemis and Paul” and “APN”. I typed the names into the search engine and drummed my thumbs as the search went through. It took a while to load them, but I started to listen to Artemis and Paul’s old podcasts, and found four hours had passed. I learned they were twins, and that Artemis was always digging into even the smallest stories for some meat, while Paul seemed happy with making puns and observations that always gave the stories a lively feel I enjoyed. 

Finally turning it off, I saw how late it was and almost got up from the computer when I thought more about Ryan Reynolds. I didn’t know much about the town and had become expert at avoiding hearing gossip, which was also easy as they were still weary of me - except for the Miner Mole owner Titus Makin. He’d been very welcoming, but he kind of reminded me of a snake. He mostly wanted to talk about city life since he knew that’s where I was from, but was very disappointed that I didn’t share his views that the town needed to grow more. I’d been at the bar (a mistake I stopped making soon after and started hiding in the shadows of the booths) when Titus had sat next to me and waxed on about progress. I said I moved to Connor Creek for a reason, and that reason was peace, quiet, and trees. That’s all I had wanted. Now that I thought about it, that was the night Desmond, the bartender, started to treat me like a regular. That suggested something that started to put other pieces into place. I looked up Miner Mole, and found some talk online about them changing the face of Connor Creek through the silver mines. The idea of the town changing rapidly didn’t appeal to me, as I’d left all of the behind for a reason, and I found a new appreciation for boredom at the worry that I would soon find myself in a bustling budding city. But what did this have to do with Ryan Reynolds' death? And why was there investigative podcasters here before he was even dead? 

I set my alarm for a trip to the library the next day, and found some sleep deep in my bed covers. 

[joon-ipersgirl]

O2 - the bloody build-up

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, some mentions of blood, mentions of guns (someone does get shot, but nothing super crazy), some violence, mentions of alcohol consumption 

a/n: thank you guys so much for the love on the first part! i really appreciate it. i hope y’all aren’t confused about their nicknames and stuff, like which member is which, but let me know and i’ll clarify 😭 this part might be a little far-fetched towards the end, but stay with me lol. i’m still working on my masterlist, but please check out my updates page which includes my works-in-progress. i’m actually pretty excited about what’s coming up next. as always, feedback is always appreciated and encouraged. thank you again to @alversia​ for reading this and supporting my writing. pls enjoy! 

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next 

“You expect me to head to Spiral tonight? Dressed like this?” You look down at your white button-up and black pencil skirt. Laura was out of her damn mind.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun. Just some coworkers getting together after a hard week’s work. You haven’t been out with us in forever!” she exclaims, standing up from her desk.

“You know Amani doesn’t like us like that, Laura.” Paul does have a point. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them as people - well, that would be a lie. You didn’t. It’s just, who would want to spend their Friday night drinking with their coworkers when you could be at home, curled up with your cat, and tucking into whatever delicious dinner your roommate had prepared?

“I never said that I didn’t like you guys -”

“Out loud,” Paul says, interrupting you.

“- I just wasn’t planning on going out tonight. I’m not even dressed for the occasion,” you continue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll be dark anyway,” Laura tries again. “You said you had a good time the last time you went,” she reminds you.

You remember your brief run-in with Suga and the sleazy man at the bar. It’s been three weeks since then and the bruises on your arm have faded. Aside from that minor incident, you did have fun. The music was good, the bartender was attractive, and the drinks weren’t too pricey. In fact, Suga did say that the next time you came, drinks were on the house.

“Plus, you missed James’ birthday celebration 2 weeks ago.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Alright, alright. Fine, I’ll come,” You tell them.

“Great! Let’s go!” Laura squeals and grabs your coats.

It was going to be a long night.

The small group of you huddle together in front of the door to Spiral like penguins in the dead of winter. The wind is harsh but expected on a cold December night. You pull up the collar of your wool coat to shield your face as you wait in line and wish you had remembered to bring your scarf. Spiral was fairly new and you assume that more and more people were coming to experience the place with its modern goth vibe. Your feet hurt from the 4-inch heels that your manager, Mrs. Kim, insisted on young women wearing to “keep the spirit of professionalism going”. Honestly, you just thought she wanted to see you suffer the way she did all those eons ago. A rite of passage, if you will. After fifteen minutes, you’re finally at the door where the bouncer and two other men stand talking.

“Is everyone here ridiculously attractive?” Laura whispers to you. You glance up to look at her.

“Who are you talking about?” She points at the three men by the door.

“Ah,” you say, acknowledging them. It was on second glance that you realize Min is one of the men in the group. You groan as you remember your brief conversation the last time you were here.

“You okay there?” Paul turns to ask you over his shoulder. You nod. “Just making sure you weren’t thinking about bailing on us,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes and punch his shoulder as you wait to get your IDs checked. It seemed as though security had increased.

“Well if it isn’t my little snack?” You groan again as Min grins at you. His silver hair stands out among his dark-haired companions, though he’s shorter than the other two.

“Your who?” the man next to him asks, confused.

“My snack,” Min emphasizes. “Suga wouldn’t let me have her though,” he says with a pout as he turns to you again.

“I wouldn’t let you have me,” you mumble and shift closer to Laura who’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“What was that?” Min asks, his grin growing again as he steps closer to you.

“Min, leave her alone,” the bouncer says as he waves through the first half of your coworkers after checking their IDs.

“You guys really never let me have any fun.” Min’s laugh rings through the air as he steps back next to his friends.

“Do you know him?” Laura asks you. You shake your head. She doesn’t need to know that story.

“I’ve only seen him once and very briefly at that. Come on,” you say nodding towards the entrance after taking back your ID.

You brush past her and the three men and head down the stairs ignoring the eyes that follow you. The heat from the club hits you like a brick wall and you immediately pull off your coat. You follow Paul’s tall figure through the mass of people on the edge of the dance floor. The music is just as loud as you remember and you welcome the thumping bass music as it pounds through your veins and echoes in your chest. You slide into the booth next to Paul and Laura follows closely behind you.

“This place is so cool! We have to come back!” Laura yells over the music into your ear. You wince at the sound.

“Laura, we just got here,” you tell her while putting some distance between you though there isn’t much room as seven of you have squished into a booth probably meant to seat five.

“I know, but this place is awesome!” she yells back with more enthusiasm. This was going to be a very long night and you could not do it sober.

“I’m going to get a drink from the bar,” you say, excusing yourself and squeezing past Laura to exit the semi-circle shaped booth.

“Why don’t you just wait for the server?” Paul asks while holding up a menu from the stack placed on the table.

“Because I need something strong before I can sit down and socialize with you guys,” you reply with a sourly sweet smile.

Paul shakes his head and you head off to the bar ignoring his judgemental stares. You take the long way, bypassing the dancefloor to avoid any prolonged standing on your already aching feet trying to shuffle through the thick crowd. Though there are more people here tonight than the first time you came, you’re able to squeeze through relatively unscathed. Sometimes being small did have its perks. You find an empty barstool close to the spiral stairs that led to the second level and sit down.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks. You narrow your eyes at him. This was not Jin.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask him.

“He’ll be here later. Do you -”

“And Suga?” you ask, cutting him off. How were you supposed to get your free drinks when this guy didn’t know who you were?

“Who’s asking for him?” he retorts, his eyes narrowing at you. His tall frame takes up most of the room in front of you as he leans across the bar, inches away from your face.

You try your best not to cower as you stare each other down, but his presence is powerful. His platinum blonde hair shines purple under the fluorescent colored lighting and his brown eyes are dark. His lean muscles sprawl taut under his skin and his black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Your hypothesis was right: everyone who works here is fucking beautiful.

“A valued customer,” you tell him. “He told me the next time I came in, drinks were on the house.”

“Suga said that?” the blonde asks incredulously. He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Now I know you bumped into me pretty hard a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think my chest was that hard,” he says while slapping it.

“Bumping into you? I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask him?” You cross your arms. “While you’re at it, you can make me an Old Fashioned.”

“Bossy, aren’t we? Honcho!” He waves his arm to someone. You turn and see the other man from outside walk over with a tray in his hand. Of course, he works here too. The all-black uniform should have given it away. Apparently, all the attractive men who live in this city did.

“What’s up?” he asks while passing him a ticket most likely filled with drink orders. He isn’t as tall, but his build is athletic and you can tell he works out.

“This young woman says that Suga told her next time she came in, drinks were on the house,” the bartender tells him, a teasing tone in his voice. The second man turns to look you up and down.

“Suga told her that? Babe, I think you’re thinking about the wrong man. Maybe it was Min? I know we all kind of look alike in the dark,” he suggests.

“That’ll be $10.50, sweetheart. Definitely seems more like Min’s type,” the bartender agrees, giving you a once over. He sets the Old Fashioned down in front of you. You scowl at both of them.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You think I’m making this up? Fine,” you say, hopping off the stool. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll go get him myself.”

You hate most people and you hate most clubs, but one of the things you despise the most is being called a liar. You pride yourself on being a woman of integrity and you would not let these assholes paint you to be something you’re not. As you turn to head up the stairs, you feel someone grab your wrist and you whip your head around.

“Where are you going?” Honcho asks, his dark eyes sizing you up.

“Let go of me,” you tell him and yank your arm from his grip. You weren’t doing this again, not tonight.

“It’s okay, Honcho. Let her go,” you hear the bartender say as you walk away.

You climb the stairs and strut across the walkway. Below you, the blonde bartender and Honcho, arms crossed, watch you as you make your way to the office. Motivated by their doubt, you walk a little more confidently towards the office door. You stop short, take a deep breath, and then bang on the door. There’s no answer. You knock again. Nothing. Just as you go to knock for the third time, the door flies open.

“Who the fuck is -?! Kid? What are you doing here? You can’t just walk up here!” Suga yells at you.

“Your employees are being assholes and don’t believe that you said I could have free drinks for some reason,” you tell him, ignoring his outburst.

“You came all the way up here to tell me that?” he asks, eyes wide. “Do you even know - You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he finishes.

“I don’t like being called a liar,” you state.

“You’re bold, kid. I’ll give you that.” He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him, locking it.

He walks past you and heads down the stairs. You turn and follow him back to the bar. Though Suga is short and you are in heels, he moves much quicker than you expect. By the time you make it downstairs, he’s already leaning against the bar and signaling for the bartender to come over. Your Old Fashioned is sitting right where you’d left it. The bartender walks over and grins at you.

“I see you found him,” he says with a smile.

“Moon, why are you patronizing our customers?” Suga sighs. The bartender laughs.

“Always gotta check orders, boss,” Moon chuckles. Suga narrows his eyes at him.

“Look, just give her what she wants okay? You know I have other things to look at right now and I can’t have you fucking around.” You grin smugly behind Suga’s back, your short stature barely visible over his mint-green head. You didn’t like to think of yourself as cocky, but most times, when you were right, you were right. You saunter towards the bar and climb back onto the barstool you’d previously vacated. Moon’s eyes narrow and he glances over at you.

“Alright, Suga. I’ll stop fucking around and get the job done like you asked,” Moon spits. You survey Suga’s face as it falls and you feel the mood shift drastically as unspoken words pass between the two men.

“Can I have a new one? You never know what crazy people will do around here, you know?” You ask and add the please at the end, smiling sweetly at Moon, drawing the attention back to you.

“Y/N!” You barely hear Laura yelling your name over the music. “Y/N, are you okay?!” she screams over the music. You watch her hobble over to the bar with her drink in her hand. You know her feet hurt just as much as yours do and it shows in the way she walks.

“Paul and I saw you go up the stairs and I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she continues when she gets closer.

“Everything’s great. Hey, do you want another one of those? Moon was it? Could you make her a strawberry daiquiri along with that Old Fashioned?” You ask. You shouldn’t enjoy this as much as you are.

“She’s real bold,” Moon says, turning to Suga, the mood seeming to return to its previous vibe though you can sense the tension between the two of them.

“That’s what I said.” You grin at Suga.

Moon sets your drinks down and you take a small sip, savoring the taste of the brown liquor. Observing Moon and Suga over the rim of your glass, the two of them have hushed words in a corner. Though Suga supposedly owns the club, it seems as though Moon is calling the shots based on their body language. Laura sits next to you and interrupts your examination as she starts talking about work-related issues. Laura is a sweet girl and as much as you want to be an active listener, paying attention to her drone on and on about Paul asking Melissa to lunch every day instead of her can only be so interesting after 20 minutes of the same story.

“Look Laura, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and you leave her at the bar after finishing the last bit of your drink.

It wasn’t a surprise to see the line to the ladies’ room outside the door, soft chatter filling the hallway as you wait. This was one of those times when being a woman wasn’t fun. At the rate this line was going, you would have permanent blisters on your feet. The heat isn’t as stifling and you’re grateful you remembered a hair tie as you scrape your curls into a low messy bun. You shuffle forward with the rest of the women as the line advances and you thank the sweet gods when you can finally see the stalls. A few more minutes pass and then it‘s finally your turn. You practically run into the stall, slamming it behind you. Once you’ve finished and flushed, you exit the stall and hear screaming.

You rinse your hands quickly and peer around the propped open door. The line had disappeared and the small hallway and rest of the restroom was empty. This was not regular partygoer screams of fun. No, this is something much more gruesome. You peek quickly down the hallway again from your hiding spot. The music is still blaring, but now it sounds eerily quiet for a Friday night at one of the most talked about clubs in the city. Something is wrong.

You slip off your heels and tuck them under your arms. You sigh softly as the blood rushes back to your toes. If it came down to it, they could be used as a weapon, but only if you had the element of surprise. Sneaking a look around the corner, you immediately draw back. A gun. Fuck. You turn back and quickly hide in one of the stalls on the left hand side of the restroom and crouch over the toilet, holding onto your heels with one hand and using the other to stay in place. You shut your eyes and try to even out your breathing. How the fuck were you supposed to get out of this?

The sound of a walkie talkie alerts you to the second presence in the room. Their steps are even as the person systematically checks the stalls. There are five stalls between yourself and the first door and you need to figure out something fast. The person had checked the second door and was moving onto the third. Taking a chance, you balance your shoes on your lap and shift your weight gently so you’re holding one foot in your dominant hand. Just as whoever is pushing open the third stall, you throw your shoe diagonally across the room under the stall next to you and hear it skid across the floor.

“What the fuck?” A man. Fuck. You pray that he hadn’t been looking too closely to see the initial direction the shoe had come from and was only focused on its destination.

Peeping through the small crack between the stall wall and the door, you see that his back is towards you. You take your second shoe and slide it in the direction of the main door of the bathroom. Through the small crack, you watch as he turns toward it again.

“Where the fuck are these shoes coming from?” You knew you only had a few seconds before he would forget about the shoes and resume his search. You take your chance.

As quietly as you can, you hop off the toilet seat and bolt out of the stall. Before he could fully turn after hearing the banging of the stall door against the wall, you jump on his back and wrap your arms around his throat as tight as you possibly can. He lets out a strangled cry as he drops his gun where it clatters to the floor. You press on his throat harder using the muscles in your forearm to apply more pressure. His hands are desperately clawing at your own as he stumbles around the room. Your grip around his waist falters when he slams you back into the glass mirror mounted on the wall. You hope the music is still blaring as the shattered pieces fall to the floor. The force of the blow has you slipping to the ground and you feel lightheaded. You know you can’t give up if you want to live.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells out hoarsely while clutching his throat. He turns to retrieve his gun from across the room and you grab the longest shard of glass from the ground that you can find before you launch yourself at him again.

You stab him in between the joint of his right shoulder, praying you’ve shoved it deep enough to sever the muscles and ligaments holding it together, leaving him unable to use his arm. Blood pools in your palm and you bite my lip to stop yourself from crying out. His shout is loud and you dive past him to grab the gun while he tries to remove the glass. You flip over onto your back and aim at his left knee as he charges towards you, right arm hanging down at his side, limp. Missing, you hit him in the thigh as he falls on top of you, groaning in pain. You scramble from beneath him and stand as he clutches his bleeding leg wound. Your breathing is heavy as you realize you had just shot a man, the cut on the back of your hand evidence as the gun had kicked back and cut you. Granted you have every right as he was trying to kill you first, but you’ve never fired a gun before yet here you were standing over the body of a potentially dead man.

“Don’t move,” you tell him as he writhes around on the floor. “And shut the fuck up before I give you something else to scream about.”

You look down at your stained clothing and ripped stockings. Blood is splattered around the room and the stinging in your palm intensifies. You can’t have him calling for help. Tucking the gun into the back of your skirt, you remove your stockings and shove them into his mouth, creating a makeshift gag. His breathing is shallow and you roll him onto his side so the glass is no longer pressing into his shoulder. You grab the walkie talkie and realize your hands are shaking as drops of blood hit the floor. Your skirt is ripped and your hair has fallen out of its bun. Your adrenaline rush is starting to fade and you can feel the pain radiate from the back of your skull outward. The faint splattering of blood against your fingers makes your stomach churns slightly at the sight. Fuck. You were probably concussed.

Glancing back down at the man who now seemed to be unconscious, you walk quietly back to the main door of the bathroom and poke your head around. No one is in the hallway. You realize that the music is off but the strobe lights are still going. You assume that you shot the man while the music was still playing and that’s why no one had come running. Both hands on the gun and held at your side, you inch your way closer to the end of the short hallway. You’re trying to stay alert and keep your breathing even, but it’s becoming more difficult as time passes.

Crouching down by the entryway to the main floor, you try to scout the location of everyone. You can no longer see Laura, but Paul is across the room hiding under the table with some of your other coworkers. The rest of the partygoers are all laying down on the floor as the lights continue to pulse and flash. Min is by the door leading to the stairs to exit with the bouncer, a man pointing a gun to both of their heads. Honcho and the DJ are on their knees in front of the small stage below the DJ booth with another man holding guns to their heads too. The strange thing is neither Min, the bouncer, Honcho or the DJ look scared. In fact, they were staring at Jin, Moon, and Suga behind the bar, as if they were waiting for something.

“You guys mean to tell me that you know nothing about our loss of business?” the man in the center of the room asks. “Nothing at all?” You count three men pointing guns at the three men behind the bar, but know there are probably more upstairs.

“Nothing man. We’ve never seen you guys before,” Moon answers.

“Bullshit! That’s not what they told me,” he replies. He waves his pistol around aimlessly.

“Whoever gave you that information was wrong. We have no idea what you’re talking about. Just let the people leave and we can talk this out,” Moon says again.

The man in the center looks like he’s growing visibly agitated as he paces in the small open area of the dance floor. You can hear the soft whimpers from some of the people on the ground. You breathe out softly and try to keep your eyes focused on the man in the center. He’s tall and skinny with deep lines etched into his forehead as if he’s never experienced peace. His coat is thick and looks just as expensive as the suit he wears underneath it. You know there’s no point in taking any aim anywhere the coat covers because it would never make it past the first layer of fur.

“You little shits think you’re so smart, huh? As if I could let any of these people go after they’ve seen my face.” He chuckles. A horrified shriek echoes in the room.

“Shut up!” he screams and points his gun in the direction he thinks the sound comes from. Though he’s fairly young, you can tell he can’t hear very well as the shriek comes from the left side of the room and he was facing right.

“You fuckers moved to a big city and think no one would think to check you out and figure out what you’re really up to, huh?” You also realize he can’t see very well. Anyone looking at him would think he’s glowering at the three men behind the bar, but you can tell he’s squinting to try and see them better through the bright lighting; he’s nearsighted.

“Listen you crazy fuck, if you wanted to talk business, you could have walked in here nicely and asked about us instead of terrorizing our customers,” Suga spits. This was not going to end well.

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” The man roars, walking closer to the bar.

You watch as Moon’s jaw visibly clenches and unclenches as he tries to deescalate the situation almost in rhythm to the strobe lights. You know you’re running out of time before things potentially become bloody. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to hit a moving target; you’d figured that much out when the gunman charged at you and you shot him in his thigh instead of his knee. You try to stay calm and think of the best possible solution, but the lights are bothering your eyes. The fucking lights! If he could barely see with all the bright flashing lights, his range of vision should reduce with less light in the room. You have to shoot out the lights.

“Suga, shut the fuck up,” Moon grits out through clenched teeth. You squint and try to count the number of lights hanging from the ceiling.

“You gonna let him talk to you like that, sweetheart?” The well-dressed man cackles while holding his belly, his head thrown back. “Are you his bitch?” He sneers. Suga lunges forward and you hear guns cock. It didn’t matter how many lights there were, you just need to hit as many as you can.

“You think you’re tough kid? We’ll see how tough you are with a bullet in your brain,” the man says coldly, taking another step forward.

Just as he’s taking aim at Suga, you fire the first shot and miss the lights closest to Min. Your coordination is off. You feel seven pairs of eyes snap towards you and you make eye contact with Min from across the room.

“Fucking shoot her!” someone yells. You duck down as a rain of bullets fired toward your direction.

Screams echo around you as people try their best to get away from the danger. You ignore the guns pointing at you, firing, and stand up to take better aim at your target. You pray there are enough bullets in the chamber to get the job done as you squeeze the trigger repeatedly, aiming as best as you can. Your ears are ringing from the shots which are wild and you’re surprised as you manage to hit three sets of lights before you run out of bullets.

“Get down!” You focused back on the scene in front of me. You hear the shots fire and start to duck, but you weren't fast enough. With your arms still outstretched holding the gun, a bullet grazes across your upper arm. The skin burns and you cry out in pain. You drop the gun as Jin grabs you and pushes you closer towards the restroom, shielding you with his large body. Fuck, it was going to be a really long night.  

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[mickmarstookmyheart]

Long Time No See pt 2

Requested by @frostedsugarcookiemint ❤️

Summary: After last night, you discussed a few things with Mick.

When you woke up next morning, well rather at noon, you immediately opened your eyes and turned sideways. As you thought there was no one there, not even Mick. So you just dreamt? Then that was quite a vivid dream. Sighing you got out of the bed and headed towards the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. The only positive thing was that you were free and didn't have to go to work. You stopped and sniffed in the air. Coffee and pancakes? You rushed to the kitchen and saw Mick standing in front of the oven and flipping the pancakes. So you weren't dreaming.

"Good morning." You said while sitting down at the mini table.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Coffee?" He asked while making another pancake. When he finished with that he brought you some pancakes and a big cup of coffee. "Still without sugar or milk?"

"Yap. Mmm it smells good." You hummed and started to eat your food. Mick was just staring at you smiling with wide eyes.

"Hungry?"

"Mm. It's delicious, damn. Thank you." You mumbled with a full mouth. After the both of you finished eating, it was your turn. While you did the washing up, Mick was leaning on the counter, drying the plates with a towel.

"So Mötley Crüe, huh?" You asked and glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

"Well, yes. Don't you like it?"

"Of course I like it. Well to be honest I didn't really listened to the music. I was just staring at the lead guitarist with curious eyes cause he seemed pretty familiar." You laughed and Mick chuckled. "That bastard took all my attention away."

"What a rude guitarist." You two burst into laughing.

"So putting aside the fun, your music was incredibly good. The crowd went crazy about you. When I went out on my break I couldn't even the end of the queue!"

"So Whisky a Go Go, huh?" He asked in the same tone as you did so. You turn off the tap and handed him the last plate.

"Yeah. I have been working there for now 3 years so far. I heard thousands and thousands of groups, but your music will go viral! That singer guy..."

"Vince?"

"Yeah, he has such a unique voice. And those lyrics. And not to mention that bass player." When you see the disappointment in Mick's eyes, you cupped his face and leant closer to his face. "But you know that my favourite members are usually the lead guitarists, right?"

"You are just saying this..."

"No. And I will not stop this until you believe me." You said laughing while pinching his cheeks which you always did when he was sad or upset.

"(Y/N), stop. We are not children anymore to do these things." You weren't listening to him, just continued pinching his face and making stupid faces until finally he snickered. "Fine, you won. I believe you."

"Muhaha. Victory!" You said with a proud smile on your face tossing the towel in his face. You thought he would be upset instead he just tossed it back to you strongly. "Hey, that was rude." You pouted.

"Don't, don't make that face!" He threatened you playfully. You kept the face on until he sighed and went closer and put his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, (Y/N) I'm sorry."

"I knew you will say that." You said laughing and grinning.

"Are those morons not enough for me? You act like them. I thought you changed."

"Some people never change." You said in a serious tone. You were glancing at him. "But you sure did. Anyway, when will you tell me what happened?" You asked crossing your arms. He was rubbing his eyes as an answer knowing he have to confess one day.

"Are you working today?" He asked.

"Nope. I'm free so you have the whole day to explain to me why you ditched me years ago. And I will nag you until you tell me."

"Goddamn."

"So White Horse?" You asked looking at him with wide eyes, not believing how ridiculous this name was. You knew Mick was a bit obsessed with names since elementary school.

"I know it sucks and I even suggested other names but they didn't listen to me." He said gesturing while sitting by the sea at the beach. It was a bit overcast so it was pleasant to be there. Not many people were present, only a few couples enjoying the sight.

"Cool." You said pulling tighter the blanket on yourself. You were looking in the distance and was amazed by the beautiful beach and the sky blue sea. When you were frustrated or fed up with everything you usually pack up some blankets, food and books to chill. You and Mick were right sitting there, at your spot.

"And what about you? I feel like since we met I have been talking about only myself and I don't know a single thing about you. What happened after school?"

"Well, not a lot of things. I tried uni but I gave up after a few years. It wasn't for me. Then I had plenty of jobs, I couldn't even remember each of them. And then I found the bar...so that's all. I don't really have an exciting life as you." He looked down and smiled. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Just that I was always the one with whom nothing really happened. And now the tables turned." You were looking still at the sea, not turning to him. "(Y/N)"

"Hmm?"

"What is bothering you? And don't tell me nothing, because I can see it. You are biting your lip and you don't want to look in my eyes." You sighed and hugged your knees to comfort yourself.

"You know, after you were gone I couldn't really do anything with myself, with my life. Nothing went well, I couldn't succeed at anything. After school there was no one to play with or have a proper talk. I barely spoke to anyone." You finally glanced at him. "And I completely understand your reason, I just haven't really told this to anyone and I feel the urge now. I'm not mad at you for leaving. What bothered the most that you didn't even try to connect with me. You knew where I lived, you knew my number. When I went to school and you weren't there, I thought your back was messing with you again. But when 5 days passed and you hadn't showed up, after school I went to your house where your mother told me that you were gone." You felt a tear drop running down your cheek from recalling the memory. "You treated me like if I didn't even exist. That our friendship didn't even exist. So yeah. Say whatever you want, I don't mind. Shout at me if you like, I don't care." When you finished your monologue, Mick felt his mouth dry and was regretting his whole life. If he had stayed, he wouldn't meet his abusive ex-wife, but then he wouldn't have Stormy, Erik and Les Paul. If he had stayed he would've you, but wouldn't been in a band now. He felt many emotions at once; regret, sadness.

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't really help, but I'm truly sorry. I know it was a mistake leaving you, but several things happened after I left which I couldn't regret. I feel like a jerk ditching you, but you have to understand me.". He said turning your head towards him. "I can't change the past, but I would like to make things up. Be better, if you let me. He leant closer, your faces inches away. There was nothing you wanted better than to kiss him. When you felt his breath you pulled away.

"But, as I see you won't let me." He said sighing. He was about to get up when you stopped him.

"Mick, wait." He sat down back next to you. "I will try to understand you if you understand me. You need to understand that I will need some time. I want to trust you, but...but I need time. I hope you will and if not, then don't waste the time."

"Really? If it's the only thing then sure, I will. I don't want to lose you again." He said hugging you from behind and he rested his chin on the top of your head. You felt the stone disappearing from your heart.

After the beach, Mick had to meet with the boys so you went home. Many things happened in the last two days. You met Mick which is a huge thing. Then there were those jerks harassing you, and then the day at the beach. You felt light, losing all the bad feelings you had, you felt. You sighed thinking back to Mick's breath. It was so easy to be with him. You don't have to pretend and don't have to prove anything to be with him. He liked you the way you were, even being a little annoying.

Next day you have to go to work again. Arriving at the Whisky you glanced up reading the names. Your lips curved into a smile when you saw Mötley Crüe and already had much more energy to start your shift.

"Hey, John!" You greeted your co-worker.

"Someone had a pretty good day yesterday." He was smirking at you.

"Called that if you want."

It was full house again and the rockers just flooded the bar. The four of you have to serve the amount of people. You couldn't wait for the concert to start. Not just for the boys but you will finally have some time to rest.

"(Y/N)!!!" You glanced up from the counter when you heard your name. You smiled when you saw the blondie singer.

"Hey, Vince."

"How is our favourite bartender?" Nikki asked sitting down in front of you.

"I'm okay. But what about you? Are you ready guys?" You pured three cups with Jack Daniel's. You tossed two for each of them and one for you. You held up your cup and the boys also. "To Mötley Crüe!" You said.

"To MÖTLEY CRÜE!" Nikki yelled along with Vince. After flinching you started to search in the crowd for Mick, but you couldn't see him. "He is at backstage. If you are looking for old man." Nikki helped you out.

"He is not old. We are at the same age!"

"No way, (Y/N). You can't be 30 years old with a body like that." Vince smirked.

"I guess you should go. My boss is out of his mind searching for you at the stage." You told looking in the direction of the mentioned place. "Break legs!" You shouted through the music.

The boys started with Public Enemy #1 and then Take me to the top was on when the music stopped and huge fight broke out in front of the stage. Tommy literally flew in the crowd after seeing Vince was beat. Nikki was smashing everyone with his bass and Mick was just vibing with his guitar, giving the fight a background music. When the guards finally managed to stop the fight, a weird guy shouted the band's name. And after that the crowd started to cheer and show continued. Silly boys.

"(Y/N)!" Your boss called. "Call the ambulance. There are many wounded and there is a guy with a broken leg."

That's not what you meant by 'break a leg'.

tag: @leatherandheels​

[jawnjendes]

but i’ll show you my teeth | shawn mendes

chapter 7/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

“Did you do this?” Shawn asked in a stern tone. “Don’t give me that look, I asked you a question!”

Henry was sat on top of the couch cushion, green eyes wide but generally indifferent. She gave exactly zero fucks about the mangled, chewed up phone charger that Shawn was holding up. She meowed and stood on all fours, getting ready to jump off the furniture.

“Don’t talk back to me!” he scolded. “You know you’re not supposed to touch this!”

The cat jumped off the couch and ran into the recording room. Then, a fit of giggling came from the bathroom, and out came Alessia. “You sound funny when you try to be a disappointed parent.”

“I’m trying! I’m still a new dad!” Shawn said as he tossed the charger onto the table and plopped down on the couch.

Alessia giggled even more as she sat next to him. “Didn’t you get her some toys or a scratching post? She’s gotta get her ya-yas out somehow.”

“Her what?” He chuckled, though the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“I said what I said! And yeah, she needs things like that, otherwise she’ll scratch up the couch! Or worse, your guitars.”

The humor was suddenly gone. Shawn grabbed his laptop from the table and went to Amazon. “Okay, this shit better be here tomorrow.”

He could tell that Alessia was watching him through his peripherals, and he tried not to notice. She was a looker, meaning she stared quite a lot. Shawn wasn’t sure if it was only he who fell victim to this stare, and he wasn’t sure what it meant if he was. Alessia was very nice to him, she was his friend after all...

“How are your classes?” he asked as he browsed through various cat toys, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“I’ve gained at least one friend in every class,” she replied, running her fingers through her curly locks, “so I’m not suffering through coursework alone. Everyone I talk to seems to know you.”

“Really? That’s crazy,” Shawn mindlessly said.

“Some of them ask if I’m your girlfriend.”

That made him pause his typing. His eyes were still on the screen, but he wasn’t seeing cat condos anymore. Then he breathed out a laugh. “That’s funny. Wonder if people ask Ann the same thing.”

“Well, she’s not exactly easy to approach. One wrong look and she might shoot you on sight.” Alessia stuck her tongue out.

“You’re not wrong. Does she talk to you at all?” He was genuinely curious. The few times Shawn saw Ann and Alessia in the same vicinity they hardly acknowledged each other. He did want his girlfriend to know all of his friends, after all.

Alessia shifted in her seat. “I think she... tolerates me.”

Shawn couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, she’s like that. You can’t tell at first, but trust me, when she warms up to you, you will know.”

“How did you know?”

“She kissed me on the first date.”

“Oh, cool, so I’ll just wait for her to plant one on me.”

“Ha! You wish!”

The only sound in the room after that was Shawn clicking the keys on his laptop, placing an order for a cat condo and several toys. Then, Alessia spoke again, and something about her voice and the general air in the room changed.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if she just told you straight up?”

Shawn almost laughed, but he caught onto the sudden change. It would most definitely be easier if Ann practiced what she preached.

“Seriously,” Alessia went on. “Not to be mean, but I cannot figure out how you two came to be. You’re so… open and friendly and very likeable. She’s your literal opposite. Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who gets you?”

Honest to god, Shawn thought about that before. He thought about the qualities Ann had that he could do without, and how much easier things would be. She was so stubborn, and easily provoked. So was Shawn, but he knew better than to pick a fight. She’s a flight risk who will run at the first sign of trouble, while Shawn will sit down and talk about it for hours if he has to. She’ll nag him to do simple things like clean his apartment so his mother wouldn’t have to. She really didn’t want him talking about her to other people, like she was some dirty secret. Ann doesn’t want people to know her, while Shawn wanted to tell everybody about her. Ann bottled up her feelings, and Shawn aggressively felt his and didn’t care who saw.

He also knew it was selfish to think that way, and besides, he didn’t get into this relationship because it was easy.

“What are you trying to get at?” he asked as he closed his laptop. He finally looked at the girl next to him, like she better think about what she’ll say next.

Alessia didn’t falter her gaze, her brown eyes boring into his. “I’m saying, she’s not the only person who has eyes for you. You’re… you’re something else, rockstar.” Her hand fell onto his arm, and she offered a smile.

The two of them stared at each other for a hot minute before Shawn felt a fuse blow in his brain, making him lose his speech. He couldn’t explain the warm feeling in his chest or the smile that was growing on his lips. He didn’t know why his skin was tingling where Alessia was touching him.

That feeling lasted about ten seconds before reality went down the back of his neck like cold water. His expression turned serious as he pulled his arm away.

“Annalise is still my girlfriend,” he said firmly.

The look on Alessia’s face was obvious disappointment that she failed to cover up. She looked down at her lap, brows furrowed. “Sleeping with her twice a month doesn’t make her your girlfriend.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I accidentally led you on-”

“It’s not that.” Alessia looked up again, pursing her lips. “You’re just doing what she wants. You told me before that you didn’t want this break, did she even consider that? Did she ask you what you want? Or did she just wake up one day and decide to push you away?”

Shawn leaned in towards her, a hard look on his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about Ann. Or me, if that’s how you think of me.”

“I know enough,” she snapped. “I know enough to see that that crazy goth chick is not good for you! She doesn’t want anything to do with you, it’s like she dumped you without actually dumping you!”

“I don’t think I should listen to you anymore.” Shawn got up from the couch, trying to cool his temper. If it was anyone else, he would have ripped their head off for talking such shit about his girl.

“Why? Because I have feelings for you it makes everything I say invalid?”

“Because you don’t know anything about why she and I are doing this!” Shawn harshly told her.

“So enlighten me!” Alessia raised her voice, jumping to her feet.

“I can’t! She won’t let me!”

She scoffed, astounded. An annoyed smile was on her face as she shook her head. “If you can’t see why that sentence is fucked up…”

Shawn sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really did value and respect Ann’s privacy, but if it was making him look like he was her bitch... He needed to explain, so he did. He talked about Ann's chronic stomach issues, the trip to the hospital, and everything leading up to the separation.

Alessia listened, a serious look still on her face. “Okay, I didn’t know that. Never would have guessed just by looking at her, and I’m sorry that happened. I get that you worry about her."

"And she thinks us being apart will make me worry less," Shawn said, "but it doesn't. I just wanna know where she is, what she's up to. It's killing me, not being able to see her whenever I want."

"That's what I don't understand. Why would she just push you away when you need each other the most?" She began to ramble. "I mean, doesn't she see how loved she is? Does she not realize how goddamn lucky she is? Doesn't she know that the second she drops you, someone else will be there to pick you right back up?"

Shawn felt his face and chest warm up. He didn't know what to say to that.

Alessia's eyes met his and then darted away, cheeks flushing. "But my point still stands. She’s just messing with your feelings and your head even more by keeping you around this way."

"I know." He sighed. "I keep thinking she’ll come to me one day and break it off altogether. She’s the quiet type, but she hasn’t been this quiet with me in a long time. I don’t want it to be over.”

"You’re obviously gonna do whatever you want. But while you may not want it to be a breakup, you may need it to be.”

~

“Can I still win at any game ever if I’m high?” That was the only concern Annalise had as she walked through the doors of Bart that night. She had Patrick on her arm, and he was just as stoned.

Their pregame for the Bart adventure involved Patrick’s pen, and they both took pretty big hits before ordering their Lyft. Annalise felt surprisingly okay, given that she hadn’t smoked in a very long time. In fact, she felt fantastic. Her heart and soul felt light and fluffy… if souls are even real. Or if they are able to feel fluffy.

The two of them spotted Josh, Paul, and Chad at the bar. There were plenty of partygoers in the vicinity, so spirits were high, and plenty of spirits were being consumed. Annalise actively kept her face neutral as she approached the group, her arm linked with Patrick’s.

“You look constipated,” Chad said to her over the booming rock music.

“No you!” Annalise replied, poking his shoulder.

Chad smiled and placed his hand over where she touched him.

“Where are your bros?” Patrick asked him.

“Kyle is on a health kick, so he couldn’t come, and Jared is at a civil disobedience meeting,” Chad explained.

“At this hour?” Josh asked incredulously. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Making the world a better and safer place has no bedtime.”

“He’s right, you know,” Annalise piped up, poking his shoulder again.

Chad glanced at her again, still beaming as he took a sip of his beer.

“So, drinks?” Patrick said, flagging down the bartender.

He ordered a Sapporo, while Annalise stuck with water. She downed a whole glass to deal with her cotton ball mouth. Water never tasted so good. Music never sounded so freaking pretty. The sounds were seeping into every cell of her body. She felt like a ghost but she felt so alive at the same time. She didn’t realize how much she missed getting high like this.

After the first round of drinks, Alessia entered the bar. She had a dopey smile on her face as she looked around the vicinity, and she waved when she spotted her group. “Hiiii!”

The guys cheered, raising their glasses, and Alessia flipped hair and nearly tripped in response. She grabbed hold of the edge of the bar before she could face plant onto the hardwood.

“I knew I was gonna be late,” she spoke, “so I caught up before I left my dorm.”

“Damn, Alessia knows how it’s done!” Paul said, impressed.

She held up a peace sign and then ordered a round of shots from the bar. Meanwhile, the Nice Guys claimed a spot at the bar where Mario Kart was set up on the N64. The game was being projected on the blank wall above the bar, and the two boys were sucked in right away. Chad went over and joined them, not before giving Alessia one last glance.

“Oh, there’s Smash on the Gamecube over there!” Patrick pointed to the other end of the bar. He gestured for the only two girls to follow, and they sat on the stools in front of the controllers.

They fell into a five minute battle that seemed to take five hours. Annalise had her eyes comically wide as she tried to focus on winning.

Her Link was launched off the stage by Alessia’s Kirby. Then, she was knocked out by Patrick’s Captain Falcon. Okay, so Annalise had to focus on not dying. The colors and the sounds were just so vibrant and pretty, it was hard not being consumed by them.

Patrick won that round, and he was pleased with himself. “Beat you again, Flowers!”

“Whomst?” Alessia asked, looking around at the bar.

“It’s my last name,” Annalise said. “Flores, Spanish for Flowers.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Dude, that’s so cute and makes you less intimidating!”

“Dude, I know! I’m a bad bitch with a soft interior.”

“Hm, no wonder Shawn likes you.” Alessia patted her arm and then called the bartender, who had her plate of shots ready.

Annalise felt her heart shoot for the stars at the sound of his name. She placed her elbows on the bar surface and covered her mouth with her hands. Shawn is fucking beautiful… sculpted by Aphrodite herself… or something like Aphrodite. Fuck, he’s pretty. Fuck, he’s so fucking pretty.

“I got shots!” Alessia announced as she gestured to the plate of tiny glasses that seemed to come out of nowhere. Then she turned to the other side of the bar. “Hey, guys!”

The other three boys came over, clearly interested. Each of them took their own glass, along with Patrick. Annalise denied her glass, claiming she was fine with what she was already on.

“Oh yeah, you got a sensitive tummy!” Alessia said with a gasp. “Don’t want you in the hospital again!”

The group clinked their glasses and downed the strong liquid. Alessia took the leftover one as well, not showing any signs of slowing down. Annalise watched her, mildly surprised by her statement. How did she know about that?”

A belch came out of Alessia as she sat on the stool again. She swung from side to side contently, while Annalise continued to stare.

“Alright, I’m going outside for a smoke,” Patrick told them as he reached into his leather jacket and stepped outside.

Neither woman had any response. The Nice Guys and Chad went back to their side of the bar, leaving them alone. Annalise forgot what she was doing.

“I hung out with your mans today,” Alessia slurred. “Alone. In his apartment.”

“Henry wasn’t there?” Annalise replied, pouting.

“Oh yeah… I guess we weren’t alone. Anyways, he told me you were in the hospital and almost died! You’re such a strong lady, dude!”

If she was sober, Annalise would have felt her blood boil. But instead, her blood felt like cotton candy, so all she did was blink at the other girl. Her lash band was poking the corner of her eye.

“Oh, I also came onto him,” she continued, resting her chin in her hand. “Don’t know if you’ll hear about that, but you should know he’s obsessed with you. Like, I’m not even sure it’s healthy.”

Annalise still had a dumb look on her face, mouth open and blinking slowly. She processed every word, but all emotions were numbed out, so she really didn’t know what to do. She was looking at a girl who apparently hit on her boyfriend. What do?

“So, ladies,” said Chad, who had apparently approached them. “We having a good time?”

“I was,” Alessia said, her mood shifting completely. “But I just puked up stuff I wasn’t supposed to puke up. I’m gonna go see if Patrick has any extra smokes.”

She slid off the stool and went for the door. Annalise prodded at her fake eyelash, suddenly bothered by the itch.

“Annie,” Chad said, taking the empty seat.

“No!” she snapped.

“Ann?”

“Yes?”

He chuckled. “Okay, Ann. I gotta ask, are you single now? Haven’t seen you with your singer for a minute now.”

She looked at him with blank eyes. “Good question.”

Chad quirked a bushy eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a maybe. Are you guys seeing other people?”

Well… someone wants to see him. He was alone with another girl. This was just logic. Annalise tilted her head as she tried to figure that out. “Good… question?”

He let out another laugh. “You’re cute. You know, for a goth chick.”

“I’m a fucking catch.”

“You are. It’s a damn shame he didn’t see that. You’re so mysterious and beautiful. So strong. It’s his loss, really.”

Annalise nodded, still half lost in her static mind.

“Why don’t you smile more?” Chad asked her. “I bet I could make you smile.”

That caused a visceral reaction from deep within her body. “You smile, asshole!”

However, it was taken as a joke. He only moved in closer. “You’ll be smiling with my head between your legs.”

Normally, she would have stormed off, but Annalise only sighed. “Is that the only reason why you’re talking to me?”

He tilted his head in an almost condescending way. “Hey, you know I think you’re beautiful. And I never go out to a bar without getting some. I think you’re the same way.”

“Well, you’re wrong. You ain’t getting shit from me!”

“Oh, come on! All the other girls here saw me hanging out with some dorks, so they won’t talk to me! And Alessia looked like she wanted to shoot herself! You’re my last chance!”

Annalise laughed out loud, harder than necessary. “I promise you she doesn’t want you either!” She knew the high was starting to wear off, because the emotions were coming back with a vengeance. But she knew better than to start something in a public place. She stood up, but Chad grabbed her wrist.

“Hey-” he tried to say, but he received the palm of her hand on his nose before he could even blink. He staggered back in his seat, letting go of her to clutch his bleeding nose. “Ow! You’re fucking crazy!”

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me again,” she hissed, and she stepped away just as the bouncers came over to assess the scene. “Don’t worry, I’m kicking myself out!” she snapped as she speed walked out the door.

She spotted Patrick at a nearby planter, cigarette lit in his mouth. Next to him was Alessia, who was squatting down in front of the planter. She was retching and gagging loudly.

“You still got your pen?” Annalise asked. The emotions were definitely coming back. A lump of severe discomfort was forming in her stomach as she listened to the other girl hack her guts out.

Patrick nodded and pulled the device from his pocket. Annalise took a hit, knowing she would be the one to drag Alessia back to safety. She just didn’t want to be pissed off or anxious as she did it.

“We should go,” she said in the middle of blowing out the smoke. “I punched Chad and I’m worried he might come out here and kill me.”

The cigarette nearly fell out of Patrick’s mouth. “What the fuck? What did he do? I can kill him first!”

Annalise shook her head. “It’s best we leave. Alessia’s probably gonna need help getting back to her dorm anyway.”

“‘M fine,” she mumbled before heaving again.

“I’ll call a Lyft,” Patrick said as he pulled out his phone.

______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy@kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawmndes@shawnvvmendes @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @wronglanemendes@chillingbythesea @calyumthomas @someoneunimportantxx @ruinhoney

[velmalav]

sister: part three {r.t.}

warnings: swearing, some angst.

synopsis: continuation of story of the same name. find parts one and two here and here. reader is brian may’s sister and roger is secretly in love with her.

word count: 2.6k+

*** 

  “Remember leaving me to fend for myself down in Hampton when we could’ve been getting utterly wasted together? You still owe me for my eighteenth!”

 “Do I?” Brian asks, a hint of sarcasm dripping in his voice. He lets the bus door shut after you both step out, the hot air so thick it’s almost suffocating. “Because I thought you being here,” he gestures to the stadium in front of you, “was enough to pay all debts off for, I don’t know, the rest of our lives.”

 You roll your eyes as he throws an arm around your shoulder. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t use this as an excuse forever. How do you expect me to blackmail you in the future?”

 Brian chuckles as you both make your way inside the venue, the other band members a mere couple steps ahead. From the corner of your eye, you catch Roger glance over his shoulder, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Brian replies. “And consider letting you join us tonight.”

 You’ve been trying to go out with the band for ages. They always seem like they’ve had the best time of their lives after a night out – plus, it’s not exactly riveting to wake up at 3 in the morning to them drunkenly stumbling over to their bunks, or having to tie your brother’s hair back into a ponytail while he’s throwing up, and be completely sober. Those are two things that actually happened, and although Brian is somehow okay with letting you see that side of him, he still won’t let you see the side of him that’ll dance his heart out to “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tiffany. (You only know this because Freddie is a very talkative drunk).

 “That’s the closest I’ve gotten you to a yes, so I’ll take it,” you grin, bopping your against Brian’s shoulder.

 From there, you separate from the group and head over to the sound booth. It’s become your little safe haven in the midst of all the crazy, and you have Roger to thank for it. After the Manchester show, you two started a ritual where you scope out all of the venues early to avoid the chaos. The first time you guys did, you’d found your rightful place with the sound engineers, almost like it was fate. Everything about the way they worked peaked your interest; it was all just so mesmerizing. Roger had made sure to poke plenty of fun that first night you observed the sound booth, but every show after, all he’s ever been is supportive and excited for you.

 “Gonna make us sound orgasmic tonight?” Roger’s suddenly walking with you, shoulder nudging against yours. A laugh involuntary jolts out of you as you send him your most disappointed look.

 “Jesus, Rog, out of all the words in the dictionary, you pick that one?”

 Roger shrugs with smirk, eyes darting behind him for a moment and then back to you before his fingers intertwine with yours. “What can I say? It’s one of my favorites.”

 You pause just before the booth, allowing him to swing his body around to face you. For a second, you happily sigh down at your connected hands, and then look back at him. The shining in his eyes is an acknowledgement to you, to your drifting imagination. That’s a new thing that has emerged in the wake of your relationship with Roger – your mind goes wild at just the simplest glance, much more than it ever has before. It hasn’t exactly been easy, keeping away from each other, because now that you know he wants it to, you’re now so painfully aware when he’s looking at you like that, or what it really means when his hand rests on the small of your back. But so far, you guys have played it off well.

 “Shouldn’t be surprised by that, should I?” you challenge, making sure to match his snide tone. Roger steps a bit closer, bangs falling slightly into his eyes – he really needed a trim. He shakes his head, and you place a flat palm down on his chest. “Stick with somethin’ like ‘terrific’ or ‘amazing.’”

 “That’s boring, love,” at this point neither of you really care what you’re saying, just talking to talk. And it’s nice to have Roger near you, touching you, so you don’t notice.

 Roger picks up the hand on his chest and leaves a doting kiss to it, a softness clouding over the sarcasm from before. “You should get back to them, Rog,” you insist, knowing that if he gets any closer he’ll be toeing a line that you both had promised not to cross. You reclaim your hand to push his shoulder playfully now, smile blossoming on your lips.

 “Go, rock star, you’ve got people waiting on you.”

.

 Incessantly pestering Brian apparently goes a long way, because an hour after the Dayton show, you and the band end up at a bar a few blocks from the venue. You’re so giddy with excitement the moment you step foot inside, unable to believe that you are finally going to see what it’s like to party with your brother. He doesn’t seem the happiest, but you know why – the show hadn’t gone according to plan (Roger busted through one of his drums and Freddie nearly sprained his ankle from all his dancing). Not to mention that he surely wouldn’t be getting laid tonight with his little sister on his arm.

 The six of you – their assistant, Paul, included – steal a spot in the corner of the bar, away from the bigger crowds. Some immediately come up to the table to get autographs, and it isn’t until the fifth person that you realize pretty much everyone in the bar has just come from the concert.

 “Swamped in here,” Roger grumbles from across the table, elbow propped on it and his jaw in hand. The cigarette poking from the corner of his mouth falls onto his lap as he speaks, causing him to shoot up from his seat. “Christ,” he brushes it off and stomps on it before retreating to what you assume is the bathrooms.

 “S’been a rough night for all of us, I guess,” John sighs beside you as he sips his beer. You solemnly nod, but your eyes are still glued to the last place you saw Roger. He’ll get over it, he always does, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch him struggle.

 “Suppose you picked a bad night,” Brian says into your ear as he slides a drink in front of you. You finally tear your eyes away from the empty silhouette of where Roger was into the sympathetic eyes of your brother. “Don’t worry, though, we’ve got four more months for you to get the chance.”

 There’s a disappointing feeling in the pit of your stomach as you stare down at the drink. You’re not sure of its contents, yet you are still confident that it isn’t strong enough for you in this moment. “I’m gonna get somethin’ stronger, be right back,” you grumble and weave your way among hordes of drunken concertgoers.

 Despite the voice in your head telling you not to, you can’t help but scan the crowd for Roger as you arrive at the bar. Your arms fold across the top, you even rock onto your tiptoes to check every nook and cranny of the building. And he’s nowhere to be found. Must’ve needed some air, you think, but the pessimistic side of you is already churning up worse case scenarios.

 “How can I help you?” the bartender, a tall, lanky brunette, asks. Still glancing around, you part your lips to give your order when you finally set eyes on who you’ve been searching for.

 There’s already so many sensations running through you that at first you assume – you insist – that you must be seeing wrong. You had been right about one thing, he must’ve been on his way to the toilets at some point, but got side-tracked by a curvy blonde along the way. And now he’s circling an arm around her with the widest smile and leading her into one of the toilets. You can hear her bubbly giggle from where you stand. Just before the bathroom door shuts, you get a full view of his mouth on hers, and it’s enough to snap you back into reality so harshly that you’re wobbling on your feet.

 “Ma’am?”

 Snapping your focus back to the bartender, you force out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, sorry,” you swallow down the heaviness in your throat. “Just…um, just give me something strong please.”

 You’re at war with yourself while you wait for your drink. As upset as you are, you know you have no right to be. He isn’t yours, Y/N. He can’t be. He’s a grown man and he can shag whoever he wants, whenever he wants. “’Cept for you,” you groan to yourself, not even realizing you’ve said it out loud until a couple people toss you a strange look.

 “Here you go,” you exchange currency with the bartender and retire back to the table, wriggling into your rightful spot between Brian and John. Brian senses the shift in your mood almost instantly, eyebrows raising as he stares at the three shots lined up on a tray in front of you.

 “Go easy now,” he says, and although you know it’s all in good fun, you’re too ruffled to respond.

 You’re sinking into a mindset you know all too well – everything is heightened, every thought you’ve ever had about Roger now flailing around the front of your brain. It leads you into dangerous territory – Should I even be here? Why did I think I could pretend? I should just leave. I can’t be around him anymore. This whole idea was dumb and the only thing I’m going to get out of it is heartbreak.

“Y/N?” Brian revives you long enough for you to finally curl your hands around the three tiny glasses and respectively tip your head back for each one. When your glassy eyes meet your brother’s, his expression is a mix of concern and awe because even after you down them all, there’s no flinch or hesitation for a chaser afterward. “Should I even ask?”

 You shake your head and begin to laugh – it’s not a normal one either. It’s a loud, obnoxious belly laugh that’s even too much for Freddie, who makes a point to raise his glass towards you. “No, Bri,” you start, reaching for the drink he brought you earlier. “You really shouldn’t.”

.

 Things are definitely not normal anymore. You don’t even need to be the one to solidify it because Roger does it for you; he absolutely doesn’t know what you saw, but part of you thinks that even if he did, he would still be drifting from you the way he is now. There isn’t an obvious tension, it’s more of a thick, unsettling feeling every time you two are near each other. The worst part is that it doesn’t even start with the night at the bar, it’s the week after when Roger stops sleeping in his bunk and finds refuge at a different woman’s house every night.

 The first night he doesn’t return to the bus you write it off as a wild night gone rogue, but by the third you know that something is up. And thankfully you’re still being shady around him because you’re scared about what he would say if you ever asked, which is exactly what you would’ve done if everything was normal. Would he be honest or would he lie straight to your face? You’re not sure which one is worse.

 “Not at the sound booth today?” John asks you as you sprawl across the side stage, too exhausted to move and secretly enjoying the vibrations the music sends through it. You lower your sunglasses – Brian’s actually, you stole them ages ago – and flash him a weak smile.

 “Engineer’s out sick and I’m not too fond of his replacement,” you reply. “Besides, I quite like the view from here considering I’m always shacked up when you lot are playing.”

 John reciprocates your smile and offers a hand to you. “Well, as comfortable as you look down there, I need your help.”

 “My help?”

 “Follow me,” and so you do…all the way to the snack table.

 “I must admit, Deaky, I’m a bit confused,” you say as he picks up a bagel and takes the biggest bite out of it. You’re surprised to see pink filling oozing from it. “Strawberry?” you ask, suddenly distracted by the array of bagels filling the table.

 “Thought it’d make you feel better. And yes,” he chuckles with a mouthful of bread. And now you’re expecting him to ask you what’s been going on – it’s not exactly a secret that you’ve been rather introverted this week – but he doesn’t ask anything else of you. Except for which kind of bagel you want, and then picks it up with a napkin and graciously hands it to you. “Cherry. Good choice. Didn’t even know they had that kind.”

 “Mum used to make them a lot growing up,” you reply and then immediately take a bite. Both of you meet each other’s eyes in that moment – mouths overflowing with bagel – and bust out laughing. You swear you can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed like this – eyes glistening with tears, face beet red.

 And in a split second, all of the joy encasing your features is ripped away.

 “Roger?” a meek, high-pitched voice squeaks out behind you and John. You turn to see a significantly shorter, blonder girl looking around like she’s lost her mum in the grocery store. She catches your eye. “Is Roger around?”

 John senses the tension right away, stepping forward to help the girl out before you say something you’ll regret. You’re so glad there’s still so much bagel in your mouth, otherwise you’re sure you’d have a passive aggressive field day. An ingenuine smile curves onto your face as Roger appears from the stage. You tip your sunglasses back up so he can’t see the dejection you’re trying so hard to cover up.

 “Speak of the devil,” John announces, waving his hands in Roger’s direction. You aim your attention to your bagel as you take another bite, smile falling as fast as it appeared.

 For the first time since Roger’s been sleeping around, he knows you know and it makes the air in the building a lot more constricting. You physically have to turn around to avoid his stare as the girl begins blabbering about how he left his vest at her flat and had to drive an entire hour to get to him. You must look so ridiculous – clad in Brian’s over-sized jacket, dark Ray-Bans, and going to town on a cherry bagel. You’re falling further into the hole, the same one you dissolved into the night at the bar, when John’s hand lands on your arm.

 “You alright, Y/N?”

 His tone is so worried and mellow that you almost lose it right there. You’re not a little bitch, though, and you’re hyper-aware that getting this worked up is totally absurd and completely out of character, so you simply smile. “Yeah, fine. Just didn’t realize how hungry I was until you gave me this.”

 And in the pits of the cynical, gloomy black hole you’re reeling in, you think, I can’t keep doing this to myself. Something needs to change.

***

part 4 // masterlist

permanent taglist: @im-a-sheerheartattack, @queenbbarnes, @dreamerofzaldrizes, @idontbelievethiss, @sheridans-dynamos, @perriwiinkle, @culturefiendtrashqueen, @fangirlcore, @fatbottomedboi, @b-hardys, @alessandra-elle, @vee-ndetta, @getagriponmyboyracerrollbar, @anaaronescu-blog, @iminlovewith-rogers-car

sister taglist: @virtualsheepeat, @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark, @everybodyplaythegame, @jennyggggrrr, @obsessedwithrogertaylor, @captain–americanna, @sebbystrawberry, @scarsout, @shishterfackisback, @ixchel-9275, @yllwtaxi, @fangirlpterodactylnoises, @icantgetnorelief

[hypnofur1]

Seduction on St. Paddy’s Day

By Hypnofur

Winter in the Northeast is always a bitch. March 17th, despite the fact that it is so very close to spring, is still in the winter. So when there was a Nor’Easter (massive sea storm) on St. Patrick’s day, no one should have been surprised. Everyone was, of course, but they shouldn’t have been. All were certainly very disappointed.

Kelsea Stevens was definitely disappointed. She loved St. Patrick’s day. It had become the one day each year that she and her husband Cal went back to the Chelsea neighborhood of NYC where they first met and lived for a while about ten years ago. Back when she was known as “Kelsea from Chelsea”. Back before she was a mom, back when she was still working in advertising. Back when she was sexy and fun all the time, not just on special occasions like St. Patrick’s day.

But the storm ruined that. The snow didn’t care that she had been looking forward to this for the last three months. The snow didn’t care that she spent hours searching for a cool, but festive St. Paddy’s day top to wear. The snow didn’t care that she wore her best jeans to show she still had a great ass. The snow didn’t care that that she wore her white fox fur jacket that Cal got her for Christmas, so that anyone that they ran into from the old days would know that Kelsea from Chelsea was still looking super stylish and sexy even though she was really now “Kelsea from Connecticut”. The snow also didn’t care that it shut down the Amtrak line.

As the couple sat on the train, realizing that the trip to the city wasn’t going to happen, Kelsea focused most of her energy on not crying. She had spent so long on her make up, she couldn’t let that go to waste too. As usual, Cal stepped in with a plan. The train was going to let everyone off in Stamford. Everyone being the few people that were on the train at least. He  instantly hopped on his phone and got a hotel in Stamford. After all, they had arranged for an overnight babysitter. Besides, they couldn’t get back to their house at this point, even if they tried. He knew Kelsea was disappointed, and he was trying to salvage the evening. Not only because he loved her and cared about her feelings, but also because she looked so smoking hot that he couldn’t wait to fuck her. However, he knew he still needed a little bit of romance, despite their eight years of marriage. So, he found a local Stamford Irish Pub and called to ensure it was open.

His find did help cheer up his wife a little bit. It wasn’t Chelsea with all their old friends, but it would have to do. Hopefully, they’d at least have green beer!

They were able to get an Uber, and O’Malley’s was indeed still opening, despite the rough conditions. It was on the same block as the hotel, which made things a bit easier. They checked into the hotel, put their luggage in the room, and headed to the Irish Pub. The couple was understandably disappointed about the small crowd in the pub. Cal figured the owner was as displeased as they were. The place was all decked out in St. Patrick’s Day decorations. Clearly, the storm had kept what would have been quite a crowd at bay.

So instead of hoards of drunken partiers, the pub was filled with four people. Two of whom had the last name Stevens. The other was the bartender, and the last was a well dressed, slightly older gentleman at the bar. His name was Rory O’Roarke. Actually, his name was Paul Fitzgerald, but each year on St. Patrick’s day, when he came to America, he called himself Rory O’Roarke.

On the 364 days of the year that were not St. Patrick’s day, when Rory was Paul, he was head of one of the top accounting firms in Dublin. Well established and well respected, no one knew of Paul’s secret hypno fetish life. Fascinated by all things hypnosis since he was young, Paul had become an expert in covert hypnosis. In 2004, he saw a movie called Love Actually. In it, a young man from Britain came to America, and the ladies swooned over his accent. The next year, Paul took a trip to the US at St. Patrick’s day. He found he was immensely popular. All of the Yanks were itching to talk to a real, delightfully charming and witty Irishman on St. Patrick’s day!

Kelsea and Cal were no different frankly. The place was dead. The sound of the wind outside, made it seem cold and quiet inside. They hadn’t taken their coats off or even fully decided to stay for a drink when Rory came over to them with a Guinness in each hand.

Flashing a million watt smile, he introduced himself. His Irish brogue immediately noticeable. With the grace of a magician, he somehow was able to use Cal’s gentlemanly gesture of standing up to shake hands as an opening to skootch in between the two couple in the circular red velvet booth they were sitting in. Now Cal was on his left, and Kelsea on his right. Both of them were grateful for the distraction and conversation. And what a conversationalist Rory was. He was not only witty, but as smooth as the Guinness they were all enjoying.

The couple didn’t notice the affirmative suggestions he was burying into his conversation. Comments like, “A nice drink like this always relaxes me. Perhaps you can feel yourself begin to relax and unwind now?”

He subtly steered the conversation more and more towards the subject of relaxation. The couple was so transfixed on his brogue, his charisma, and his words that they didn’t even pay too much attention to the fact that he kept tapping Kelsea’s outstretched left wrist and Cal’s right shoulder. His pattern and cadence so purposeful and practiced.

Soon neither Cal nor Kelsea were adding anything to the conversation, it was just Rory speaking. All of their focus was on him, as he had subtly suggested it would be. Kelsea’s beautiful eyes completely focused on the charming Irish man who had her so relaxed and happy. All of her focus on him as he weaved his words into her unsuspecting mind.

Rory glanced over to the bartender. The music in the bar was loud enough that the Irishman was certain the bartender could not hear him from the distance he was at. Not to mention, the man had started hitting the whiskey himself, probably quite depressed over the financial hit he was taking from this storm ruining one of the bar’s biggest nights of the year.

Confident that he wasn’t going to be interrupted, Rory pressed on with his covert induction. “You find relaxation an interesting thing because as you relax that relaxation is a natural part of the way you think and behave. Everyone knows how to relax physically. It’s interesting that people don’t often think about how they relax mentally because when you relax physically you also find yourself relaxing mentally.

 However, the opposite is also true. When you relax mentally, you may find your body relaxing more and more, even without thinking about it. Just because you think about relaxation means you can relax more and more. As you enjoy this relaxation, you continue to relax even more deeply because you really enjoy relaxing.

Because you are so relaxed, you are enjoying this natural phenomenon and as a result, you relax even more deeply with every word I utter and every breath you take. Each word I speak relaxes you deeper and deeper. Each word takes you deeper and deeper. And you may begin to realize that I have hypnotized you, but that’s quite alright. That’s quite alright because it feels so good. It feels so good to go deeper and deeper for me. It feels so good to go deeper with each word that I speak. Each word I speak relaxing you deeper and deeper and deeper. Each word I speak bringing you deeper and deeper into hypnosis, but it feels so good. Feels so good in every way to be deep in hypnosis for me. Feels so good to relax deeper and go deeper into hypnosis for me. Deeper and deeper.” Rory said. He could tell by experience, and their glazed stares, that he had them.

“That’s right, deeper and deeper into hypnosis for Rory, it feels so good. So very good. It feels better than anything you have ever experienced before to relax so deeply and surrender so completely to hypnosis for me. You are both warm and safe and relaxed. So safe and relaxed with me as you sink deeper and deeper into hypnosis for me. Deeper and deeper for Rory. Feeling so good for Rory. No one makes you feel as good as Rory does. Being hypnotized feels so wonderful as you relax so much more deeply with each word I speak. My smooth, Irish tones are so nice to listen too. So nice to listen to Rory. So nice to be deeply hypnotized by Rory. You want to go deeper and deeper as you open up completely to Rory.

Your mind is so open to me right now. So open, that everything I tell you becomes true. So completely natural to believe anything I tell you and to do anything I suggest. Anything I suggest will be so completely natural to respond to and obey. Responding to and obeying my suggestions will bring you deeper and deeper into hypnosis for me, which feels so incredibly good. In fact, anytime you hear me say ‘Irish Eyes Are Smiling” you will immediately drop right back into this deep trance for me. In fact, each time you hear me say that, you will actually drop 100 times deeper.” Rory instructed.

He was rock hard as he realized how deep he had them under his power. It was time to play. Though first he wanted to find out a little bit more about them. He told them they would answer his questions with complete honesty.

“Kelsea, you are so very beautiful, you know that don’t you?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I don’t feel beautiful anymore though” she answered.

Rory didn’t want to get into some pity party. “But you look quite beautiful tonight, you know that.”

“yes, I put a lot into it tonight” she answered.

“You wanted to look beautiful and sexy. Have you felt sexy tonight?” Rory asked.

“When the bartender kept checking out my ass I felt sexy. And when you kept giving us so much attention I felt sexy. I knew you found me attractive.” She answered with complete honesty.

“Yes, I find you very sexy Kelsea, and that makes you feel even sexier, doesn’t it?” Rory said to her.

“yes” she said, her breath quickening.

“Yes, and being deep in hypnosis for me is so intimate, isn’t it Kelsea. Such a deep, relaxing, intimate connection between you and Rory. It feels so nice, so intimate, so sexy to be deep in hypnosis for me. Doesn’t it Kelsea?”

“Yes” Kelsea said, more exuberantly

At this point something was screaming in Cal’s mind. He was so completely relaxed that it was hard to move, but this wasn’t right. The conversation was getting not right. He felt so good, so relaxed, but he was starting to realize that this was not entirely safe.

He started to stir a bit. That caught Rory’s attention. The Irish hypnotist had all but forgotten about the husband to his left. All of the attention had been on Kelsea. He turned to Cal and said, “Cal, I was polite enough to bring you a drink. Go and get me a shot of the finest whiskey they have here.”

Cal felt his body immediately start to leave the booth and head to the bar. It was like he was on autopilot. It was such a weird, but still relaxing situation. By the time he came back with Rory’s whiskey, Kelsea had finally taken off her coat and was walking to the center of the dance floor, waking right past him without as much as an acknowledgement. Instead, she turned and stared right into Rory’s eyes as she began to dance.

Bringing Rory his drink, Cal watched as his wife started dancing so sexually for Rory. He hadn’t seen her dance like that since they were dating. He knew she could dance like that, and he knew that look in her eyes. It was the one that she had used to ensnare him in the bar in Chelsea about a decade ago. Now she was giving those eyes to this Irish guy? Cal noticed the bartender just staring at Kelsea’s ass as she slowly and rhythmically gyrated it to the music. This was all too much.

“Wait!” Cal forced out as he put the whiskey down on the table. He had not sat back down in the booth. This was too much for him. The realization of what was going on was shaking Cal from his trance.

Rory realized Cal was on the ropes. “Sit down Cal!” he said sharply. Cal’s body still obeyed, even though his mind was fighting. The hypnotist downed his whiskey and then tapped Cal on the shoulder again, before yanking on the back of his neck, and whispering hypnotic patter as he did so. The forceful reinduction stunned the husband, which was enough for Rory to get him back under. “Deeply hypnotized Cal, there is nothing to worry about from Rory. You have bigger problems though Cal. You have very big problems. There is a Leprechaun running around this bar. He wants to steal all of your gold Cal. These days gold is credit and assets. He wants to steal your wealth. If you can’t catch him Cal, he will steal everything from you! Go Cal! Go catch that Leprechaun!” Rory said.

Cal immediately darted up from the booth, his eyes now as wide as saucers. Desperately searching for that little Leprachaun, he started darting all around the bar. Looking underneath tables and chairs. The bartender noticed this too.

Meanwhile, Kelsea kept dancing for Lord Rory, she felt so relaxed, so sexy, and so submissive. She wanted desperately to turn him on. She could see from the look in his eyes as he downed the rest of his whiskey that it was working.

Rory was getting very drunk. He was the rare Irishman that couldn’t hold his liquor. He never drink back home in Dublin. It was only when he came to America each year that he partook. The Guiness was really enough to lower his inhibitions, nevermind the whiskey. He was not only drunk on the alcohol, but on his own power. Here, he had this incredibly sexy, mid 30’s milf dancing for him, and he had the foolish husband chasing an imaginary leprechaun like a goddamned fool. It was perfect. Well, almost perfect. The bartender was getting a little weirded out by all of this. Especially when Cal frantically jumped behind the bar, searching for the tiny thief who wanted his gold.

Gold! That’s what leprechauns wanted! Cal realized the little bastard was probably hiding in the cash register. He tried desperately to open it. This commotion was actually enough to cause the now drunken Rory barely to take his eyes Kelsea. He started laughing hysterically. It was enough to get the bartender to take his eyes off Kelsea too. He did not laugh. In fact, he grabbed his baseball bat. This was going to escalate out of control quickly.

“Run to the hotel Cal!!!” Rory shouted, impressed with his quick direction in his inebriated state. This was all going to hell. Kelsea never stopped dancing sexy. Rory grabbed her fur jacket and his coat and pulled her out of the bar as the bartender continued to scream at all of them. Luckily, the bartender was pretty hammered himself. He tripped coming out of the bar and was not able to chase the trio out.

Soon, the three were up in the Steven’s room at the Stamford Ramada. The commotion, the change of scenery, and the chase had started to clear their heads. Kelsea and Cal looked at each other. What was happening here?

Rory knew he had to act fast. “Irish Eyes Are Smiling!” he said, holding his breath a bit as he waited to see the couple’s reactions. Much to his delight, they both got dopey, glazed looks in their eyes as they felt the relaxation come on one hundred times stronger than it had in the bar.

Rory breathed a sigh of relief as he sat them down on the bed. He took a minute to compose himself, then started deepening their trances. Soon, they were both completely open and ready. Rory went to the mini bar for another drink.

The alcohol calmed his nerves, invigorated his libido, and made him feel more dominant. He started putting more ideas of submission and his dominance into the American couples’ minds. Now painting himself as “Lord Rory”, he spent over a half an hour molding their subconscious minds to see him as their master. Linking obedience with pleasure. Playing on Kelsea’s need to be desired and feel sexy.

Soon Kelsea was dancing again, as each man watched her. Cal in a deeply relaxed but still aroused state, while Rory was feeling wickedly horny and downright evil.  Kelsea’s attention was all on Rory. She saw him as her Lord and Master. Her mind was a swirl of hypnotized pleasure, submission, and desire. At this point, Lord Rory commanded Cal. "Take off your wife’s jeans. Then her panties”. He did this just to prove his own dominance. The relaxed, hypnotized Cal rose to action slowly. "Yes, Lord Rory," he said in a soft, deferential voice. Kelsea slowed her dance as her husband knelt in front of her and helped her out of her tight jeans. Then he pulled down the little satin panties that were originally meant for his excitement later tonight.

“Lay her on the bed” Lord Rory said as he took off his own pants. Cal complied and then went to stand up against the wall after the Irishman instructed him to do so.

Lord Rory descended upon her, his face directly in front of hers. His eyes boring into her own. "Submit to my influence, Kelsea. Submit to my hypnotic power. Submit to Lord Rory. Submit to hypnosis” he said as he again rhythmically put his cock against her body.

"Yes!" Kelsea responded, no longer caring for anything but the prospect of being ravished by her new Master. With one sharp thrust, the Dublin accountant invaded her with the full length of his cock, and Kelsea cried out in surrender at the explosion of pleasure. The feeling of his cock in her was wonderful. He brought his face down to hers, leaning in as if to kiss her, his alcohol laden breath hot on her face, and slowly slid his dick out, his rock-hard shaft grinding against her achingly swollen G-spot. His hands caressing her blonde hair, as he thrust into her. He brought his lips to meet hers and kissed her deeply, the lustiness of his tongue's exploration telling her that he was she was now his. His cock driving into her more insistently now, faster, even deeper it seemed. And she could feel herself getting ready to cum. And she loved it - there was no use denying it to herself as the hypnotist was pulling her head back by her blonde hair as he fucked her, running his tongue up and down her neck. Making her feel so owned. The pressure inside building now to unbearable intensity, the edge of orgasm too much to stand. "Oh... my... God!" she stammered. The man was now gripping the slats of the Ramada headboard, using it as leverage to drive himself into her with a force she thought not possible. His body smacking sharply against her pussy lips, the bed groaning under the force of his thrusts. The man wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him, her tits pressed against his chest, making her feel his strength as he continued fucking her just as hard. She wrapped her arms around his pale skin, her palms against the hot flesh of his back, feeling his back flexing with his exertions. In a burst of mind-shattering pleasure, Kelsea felt every muscle in her body react in ecstacy.  A long, wailing scream shaping the breath that rushed out of her lungs, forming finally into words..." "OH GOD, I'M CUMMMMMIIIIIIING!!!! I’M YOURS LORD RORY!!!!!!" Once again, Rory was reminded of why he loved his trips to America so much.

[headoverhiddles]

Bon Soir [Lafayette x Reader] Part One

Description: You, an American patriot from a loyalist family, catch the eye of the Marquis De Lafayette one night at a tavern. After your first night with the enigmatic frenchman, you realize how turbulent life can really get in a time as turbulent as this. 

Warnings For This Chapter: Smut, alcohol, mild swearing, and mild Lams, where I could slip it in ;) 

Notes: So, there will be five parts to this story. It will, if we’re being honest here, be updated probably once or twice a week until it is finished. This story is a mix of Hamilton’s characters and actual historical stuff, and there will also be lots of appearances from the rev set in this fic, so brrrah, brrrah!! Enjoy. 

||Part Two||

It's a beautiful night in the colony of New York, the moon full and the usual chill in the air slightly warmed. Besides it being a lovely night, it was also quite rowdy- but during these turbulent times, you couldn't expect less from the Northern colonies.  

You pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders... it's really not a night to be out for a lady, but you couldn't care less. Your family still clings to the proverbial olive branch, one of the less popular voices of loyalist reconciliation. You're a patriot, through and through, and any chance you have to escape your frankly shameful homestead under an anonymous family name at night to "cavort" with those who share your views on freedom, you take.

Slipping down a dark alley with the hood of your cloak pulled up, you find your way into the even rowdier Fraunces Tavern. Looking around, you smile. Men clinking their sloshing drinks together, shouts and jeers at the king tossed around liberally- this was the beginning of a revolution, and you’d be damned if you missed it.

"You lookin' for a good time, honey?" some guy with a heavy Boston accent asks you from the table next to the door, and you turn to him.

"I'm looking for a drink, and whatever good time I can derive from that." The guy still stares at you, waiting for a follow up, so you decide to win even more favour by voicing your views. "Fuck the king?"

The entire table bursts out in cheers and pounds their fists and mugs down repeatedly as you smirk and saunter past them. You get to the bar, and ask for a Sam Adams, before turning around and surveying. To answer the drunk man's question, you aren't actively seeking that sort of good time, really... but, nights like these were full of exceptions.

"Here you are, miss," the friendly bartender nods to you, then pauses, "I've seen you in here a couple times now, and I don't recall your name.” He looks genuinely confused. “Who's your husband?"  

"I'll let you know once I find one," you wink, and cross the tavern to occupy a booth. Just as you're lifting up your skirts to sit, the door crashes open, and in come four very loud young men.

"What time is it?!" one yells, and the other three yell back, "Showtime!" while cackling and slapping each other on the back.

You roll your eyes again, imagining all the fights they were sure to start tonight. The bartender seems to know them, and pours four ales for them as well. Snatching up his drink, the short one with the ponytail and goatee marches right up to the table in the middle, getting up on it and chugging half his mug.

"To the revolution!" he finally bursts out with, and almost trips off the table. The large one with the beanie catches him, shaking his head with a grin, and the second shortest one with curly hair and freckles joins the talker with a close arm around his shoulder.

"Now this is the place to be, amiright boys?!" freckles shouts, taking a long drink.

"Oui oui, mon ami," another voice chuckles, and your interest is immediately peaked. A frenchman in the colonies? The excitement of these taverns is incomparable, and it is exciting to say the least to hear someone from so far away- you know a little of the language, or what you had learned as a girl.

You watch in quiet admiration as a tall, athletically built man with dark hair tied up in a bun and a close trimmed beard steps out, carrying two mugs of ale. He hands one to beanie man, and plops his own down on the table. "We must tell the king casse toi with our war effort!"

"We will, Laf," beanie assures, "But first? Horses."

"What?" freckles and goatee both say at the same time.

"Corsets," beanie laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I meant corsets."

"Hercules, you are an idiot," Laf deadpans.

"I'm the most mature one here," Hercules shoots back.

"Easy, when tes amis are Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens."

Hercules lets out a booming laugh, and is soon joined by Laf's own charming snicker. Alex and John are too enamoured with their own private conversation to notice much.

Your eyes train on Laf. If he was french, he must have a longer name than that... you're determined to know it. He was undeniably a charmer- he was handsome, dashing as a prince, and very stylish. With the words he had uttered earlier, you found it safe to assume he's as passionate about American independence as you are.

You make an excuse to walk by.

"Heyyy there," goatee (Alexander)? calls, swivelling his head to look at you.

Bingo.

Hercules lets out a low whistle as you turn to face them. "I don't mean to be too forward, but madamn.”

"What the ever loving merde is that supposed to mean, Hercules?" Laf's face scrunches up, and Herc just shrugs.

"Works on most of 'em."

"I'm Alexander Hamilton, bastard, orphan, son of a whore," Alex jumps up, grasping your hands, and you can see the gears in his slightly drunk mind turning. "So I'd love to flirt for like, a really long time because you're pretty and everything, but there's a revolution to plot-"

"-And drink to!" John adds.

"-And drink to, as my beautiful lover Jackie just piped in and waaait, I'm probably not supposed to say shit like that in a tavern full of guys who will probably have me castrated for it, but hey, we die like men, right?"

"Yo, um, sorry 'bout him," John blushes with a slight slur, coming over to guide Alex back to his seat. "He gets- *hic*- chatty when he's tipsy." You just laugh, letting them know it's no big deal. John doesn't seem very interested in you romantically or sexually, only greets with a good natured- albeit tipsy as well- smile. Hercules gets up to introduce himself.

"Hercules Mulligan. I'm Irish." He drops his voice down to a whisper. "That's kind of my thing." Laf gets up to hip bump Hercules out of the way, take your hand, and press a kiss to it. You blush deeply.

"Bon soir, belle mademoiselle. I am Paul Yves Roch-"

"Heeere we go," Alex slurs.

"-Gilbert de Motier de Marquis de Lafayette," Laf finishes with a glare to his friends, then turns back to you with a gaze that could only be described as... lust ridden?

"Plaisir," you reply in french, and his eyes widen, his entire body straightening like an arrow in excitement.

"You speak my mother tongue, cherie?!"

"Only a little," you confess with a timid giggle, "I'm not French, monsieur Lafayette, only acquired some words from my studies."

"Gorgeous and intelligent," he flirts, "A lady after my heart."

"Handsome and bold," you volley back, "A man after mine."

"OHHHH SHIT!" John shouts, and Alex begins to laugh.

"GUESS WHO'S GETTING IT IN TONIGHT?!"

"Not you two," Laf growls, and John and Alex tumble over each other watching you both. Hercules just rolls his eyes, and downs his drink.

"Care to drink with us?" Lafayette offers, outstretching his hand, and you happily accept. Hercules gets up to grab you another beer, and slides it over to you. John begins to chug his second, and you smirk, taking it as a challenge. Downing yours to the last drop, you've finally earned the respect of Hercules Mulligan as he bangs on the table and shakes his head.

"You are getting better and better as the night goes on," Laf whispers, and you laugh.

"Is that the alcohol talking?"

"On the contrary, cherie, I am still on my first... though I may be thinking with something other than my mind," he alludes, and you feel a shiver run through you.

He is very attractive.

"What brings you to the colonies?" you ask Lafayette conversationally, and he takes a sip of his ale.

"Revolution."

"You're here for congressional duties?" you feign ignorance, though you know how to identify a congressman- powdered wigs, brightly coloured jackets, and stuffy mannerisms. Nothing Laf possessed.

"Ah no, mademoiselle. War is imminent- that is the talk here and overseas. I will fight as one of you for your glorious country!"

"Ayyy, to our fighting frenchman!" Alex lifts his mug, and John raises his as well.

"Very brave," you murmur, "I wish I could serve in the continental army."

"You can still do your part at home," Laf assures, taking your hands excitedly, "You can make gunpowder, you can sew uniforms, you can..." he suddenly hesitates, lowering his eyes, "Pray for and write letters to your husband."

"Why does everyone in this tavern assume I have a husband?" you tease, and he looks back up.

"Forgive me. No one has, eh… courted you yet?"

"Courted me? Oh, quite a few. I have yet to accept," you giggle, "I suppose I’m just as hard to please as the next young lady."

"I, too, have very specific tastes," he nods, and bites his lip, "Mais, it would be very nice to have a woman to boost my morale on the battlefield."

"Wait... hey, what's your name?" John laughs, "We didn't even ask!"

"Oh," you blush, eye contact with Lafayette broken, "Um..." You sigh. It shouldn't be any trouble to give them your real name. "(y/n) (y/l/n)."

Everyone repeats your name, raises a glass, and drinks. Lafayette smirks at you a moment longer, then drinks as well.

As the night wears on, you start to become even closer with the group. Stories are passed around, drinking games are played, and talk that would've sounded like treason in many other colonies flowed freely from your mouth with the boys. As the night begins to dwindle with the candles burning down close by, hands begin to wander, skirts began to lift a few inches, and blood begins to rise.

"Raise one last glass to freedom," John finally says, somewhat soberly, as everyone stands up, "Something they can never take away."

"No matter what they tell you," Herc adds, placing a hand over his heart.

"Raise a glass to the... five of us, here tonight," Alex nods, looking to you, "Our cause is a great one."

"King George will never stand a chance," you finish, and everyone downs their last sip and sits back down. With that, Laf takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckle. You turn to him, and take note of how he’s staring at your lips. Danger and adrenaline course through your veins, imagining just what he could be picturing right now. Practically in his lap by now, you shift your hips a little, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

"It is getting late, ma cherie," he murmurs, obviously holding back, and begins to stand.

"It is," you nod, moving to brush your fingers along the hem of his blue coat, and grasp your fingers firmly in his lapel. His eyes dart to meet yours, dark and warning, and his fingers find yours as he lets out a wistful sigh.

"(y/n)... I am a gentleman, and you have had too much to drink."

"I assure you," you grin, turning the tables and ghosting a kiss over his knuckles, "I have not."

He spends a long time staring at you, debating mentally. You can feel him hardening in his breeches under you, but despite his uncomfortable expression and beading sweat, he doesn't make even the slightest nudge to meet your grinding movements.

"Are you quite certain?" he finally asks, interest beginning to spark again in his eyes as he realizes that maybe you do want him like this.

"All I want is to feel your lips on my neck," you confirm with a whisper in his ear, and he slots his large hand around your wrist, standing you up. The three others don't even question it as Laf leads you out the back door, and the once the heavy wooden door closes, you’re both free. He immediately presses the front of you right up against the brick, pulling your hair aside and grazing his teeth over the back of your neck.

"Then, if there are no reservations on either of our parts, I will give you everything you need," he growls, and continues his attack on your neck, showering kisses up and down. You flip around so that you can face him, and he pins you back again, opening up the neck of your dress just a little more for better access.

Lafayette's gaze is hungry. Your excitement is known to him as he reaches under your dress, unbuttons your underclothes and realizes you're already wet for him.

"So eager," he groans, "Such an eager little kitten, desperate for her papa, hm?"

"Oh," you sigh, his words sending pulses down to your core. He pulls your underclothes off, but as his long fingers are about to breach you, he pauses.

"You... have been touched or taken before, yes?"

You bite your lip, look around, and nod shyly. If word of that got out around here, you’d be off the market, as it were…. not that you particularly desired to on the market, but that was a different matter entirely. His face blossoms into a grin, and he lifts your legs up to wrap around him.

"Hold onto me, cherie, do not let go," he murmurs, and once your arms are secure around his neck as well, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches. You can already see the outline of his large cock, and once he has everything undone, he pulls it out.

"Monsieur, you're so big," you whine, and he gazes at you, licking his lips.

"We can make it fit, ma cherie," he whispers, "Spread your legs a little wider for me... that is it, kitten... like that."

You keen under the pet name, and he positions himself at your entrance before finally pushing in, groaning together with you as you tighten around him.

"Oui, oui, yes..." he breathes, "That is good... so good for me..." He sucks his lip between his teeth, and after a few seconds, begins to move, nudging you back against the wall with each deep thrust. He's very large, so he has no trouble hitting that spot that drives you crazy, but he makes it even better when his fingers find your clit; Laf has a different approach than most men do, though- the select few you'd been with (if they make the effort to find it at all) rub with harsh, rough pushes... Lafayette massages you in slow circles, making you moan for him.

Leaning forward, the intensity between you increases as your foreheads meet, lips drifting close to each other and parting, almost kissing but not for minutes at a time. The teasing was getting to him, and he finally surges forward, breathing in your breath. You give his bottom lip a feisty bite, and he smiles, drawing away.

“You are a true northern belle, mademoiselle (y/n),” he mumbles, panting, “You are not like other ladies.”

“Oh, on the contrary sir,” you reply, “I simply don’t bother with the false customs. I say, fuck tradition, and fuck anybody who wishes to advise me otherwise.”

“There is a revolution on because of Americans who share your general mindset, ma chou,” he grins, and kisses you again.

As you both begin to race toward your climax, his thrusts increase, and you're soon being pounded into the wall, legs tight around his ass and cries being muffled in his blue coat.

“Please… ah, Laf….”

“(y/n), so perfect, j’aime votre parfum…”

As he whispers your name, you hear voices, and turn to see two men walking by the alley on the road, in hats and coats. They sound southern.

"What if th...th-" you gasp, and Laf strokes your cheek.

"They will not see us, it is too dark. Besides, why would anybody pay attention to a stray kitten, begging in an alley, like you?"

"Ah," you throb again at his dark laugh, and he shrugs.

"Also, the alleyway behind a tavern is where all the drunkards stumble out to vomit. No respectable man or woman wants to see that."

"What an arousing image," you scowl, and lean in for another kiss.

"You are so beautiful," he mumbles against your lips once you part, and licks a line up your neck to just below your ear; you're losing yourself to the pleasure. "Do you think you can come for me, ma (y/n)?" Laf rasps in your ear, stroking over your clit fondly, and you nod with a little whine, crying out his name softly as he slams in particularly hard. Circling his hips to guide you through a long orgasm, he lets out a little gasp of his own after you've finished. As you shake and pant his name, he sets you down carefully before quickly pulling out and taking himself in hand, jerking frantically a couple times and coming like a shot against the brick wall. Your name falls from his lips a few times like a prayer, and soon, you're both sated and exchanging lazy tongue kisses, tasting each other's mouths in the night air.

It's chillier than it was earlier. You should get home before your one of your sisters or father notices you're gone.

"When do you leave to join the ranks?" you ask, staring into his eyes. He does up his buttons precisely, patiently and one at a time.

"Very soon, I assume, cherie."

"How very childish of me, but... what you said, about having someone to look out for you..."

"Mmm?"

"Will you..." you look down, embarrassed, and take off a ring on your pinky finger. "Remember me over a couple beers with your friends?"

His eyes light up, and he presses a long kiss to your cheek.

"When I wake up and when I fall asleep, (y/n)."

You smile a little. "Thank you for your service."

He kisses your hand one last time. "If it takes fighting a war and, eh...” he leans in to your ear, brushing your hair back, “getting better acquainted behind a tavern to meet, it will, most certainly, have been worth it, ma chou," he smiles back.

You dance and sigh your way home, ignorant of every redcoat who gives you a second dirty look. With men like the Marquis de Lafayette and his friends leading the troops, those bastards’ll be back home where they belong in no time.

[sqlmn]

I'm just gonna... talk about OCs. A lot of text ahead (mostly under a read-more thing).

For a few of my OC plots, I just really like the characters and go "yeah okay AU time" and stick them in various situations and it helps me see what defining traits the characters retain. Like it's still them even with a job change or something.

For the "oops I fell in love" plot tag I use a lot, the main characters are Right and Brent. And they're just. Really awkward with a lot of personal struggles and are honestly just really good for each other. Then you get Chris who just gets along well with everyone (and is in a poly relationship in base-canon) and has a daughter. But while he is still friendly, I don't always picture him in a relationship shockingly. He always has his daughter though, she's very important. Then you get Karen, Paul, and now the bartender. Who I am never going to name it's literally just a thing now where he doesn't get named.

But like, looking at the base-canon: they (minus the daughter and bartender) all work as detectives or do desk-work/calls at the police station. Then there's the mafia AU in which almost nothing changes in setting except Brent is related to someone in the mafia and is sent to work with the police undercover and so he still has the same role at the station. He still accidentally falls in love with Right rather fast. And in the royalty AU Brent and his cousins are princes and Brent goes to stay with his cousins after some fighting breaks out near his home. So that's where he meets Right (and promptly falls in love). Then finally there is one I haven't drawn for: soulmate/reincarnation. I thought about it a lot though (and talked about it on discord a bit to a person or two...).

And honestly, I have been thinking about that one a bit more this evening. Basically, there are some beings who just get reborn. The live and die, get reborn, retain all memories of their past lives. Most of these souls are each other's soulmates. There's some that are tied to someone who doesn't remember the cycles. Then there are some that don't remember who are soul mates with others that don't remember. But because of this, after time, the idea of soul mates wanes as more and more people come around with no recollection of their past lives.

In this scenario, Brent retains all his memories from each cycle. The thing he struggles with more than having a soul mate that doesn't remember is that he doesn't feel the binding like most others do. He can't just look at someone and immediately know that's them, that's his soul mate. He doesn't feel a connection to people right away (and this is directly related to in base-canon where he suffered severe depression for most of his life and simply thought everyone felt numb to their surroundings so he never thought there was a problem). He also realizes after maaaaany lives, his soul mate tends to start off not liking him. Which is also discouraging and makes him stop trying to search. But when he begins work at the police station in that life cycle, he realizes Right doesn't like him. Which is fine, not everyone will like him but it also doesn't necessarily mean that's going to be his soulmate.

When Right stands up for him though to another coworker, Brent realizes 'ah, got it. there's the connection' but he knows that in this life Right is incredibly traumatized. So he decides to simply not mention anything about it. He just keeps working with him and finds himself somehow becoming friends with Right in Right's opinion. So when Paul demands Right and Karen join him for drinks, Right says Brent's gotta be included, too. Which Paul accepts cause he just wants to go stare at a bartender so whoever tags along is fine.

Then the bar. And Brent immediately groans inwardly because he might not be able to identify his soul mate on sight but he can identify other's that retain their memories. And of COURSE one of the bartenders makes knowing eye contact and smiles pleasantly. So as Right, Paul, and Karen go sit, Brent says he'll join them in a minute and approaches the guy who continues to smile.

"Not often someone like us walks in here," the guy says which Brent notices is vague on purpose. Not really advertising the 'I remember my past lives' deal. Got it. So they talk very briefly and Brent learns that the bartender is soul mates with Paul who, like Right, has no memory of his past lives. And Brent asks about if it bothers the man at all and he laughs and is like "of course not! I think it's fun to see what my soul mate is like every time. The fact they don't remember what happened before just means they have an unbiased opinion on their current life. And that's exciting. Buuuut while I find him pouting adorable, I find he's cuter when he's happy. So please give him this" and just hands Brent a card with his number handwritten on it.

And Brent is like "have you had this all night in case he showed up" and the bartender is very serious as he says "I have had it and thrown it away and rewritten it for two weeks because I don't know how to time it right. So you're the perfect catalyst" and Brent leaves it at that with a new perspective to the fact only he remembers for himself and Right.

But throughout the different universes I shove them into, I really just grow so fond of how Right and Brent are good for each other. And then in contrast to them slowly warming up to each other and having a sudden realization of 'oh no I love this man', you have Paul and the bartender (or gardener in the royalty AU). Those two are literally just horny on main for each other no matter what. It's really fun??? To just think about them? I love them all so much and they're all just good people trying to survive and do their best when together.

And since I mostly talked about JUST the guys here I'm giving a slight bit of info on Karen now.

In base-canon, she's the same role as Brent at the station. She mostly keeps things organized but is very good on the phone with people. In the mafia AU, she's still there but she's the one that shows Brent the ropes. And she is Brent's first "friend" in that AU and takes a whole lotta pride in that. In the royalty AU, she isn't a knight or a royal. She's more of a medic that visits the castle to check on the knights. (and in the mafia AU she does help patch Right up and shows medical competency there) In the reincarnation AU... I don't really have much planned for her yet. She's one of the few in the cast that doesn't have a romantic relationship with anyone so she's mostly there to support her friends.

So basically, hi I love my OCs a whole lot and there is way too much side story info for non-canon events.

[mushroom-slut]

5 Paul/Kaite

You’re gonna regret sending me this bish, and you know it *evil laughter* I should not be touching this so late at night  but anyway have your SUPER AU MESS may the happiness torment you

5. “I’ve wanted this for so long”

The rush of colors and people sweeping by was suffocating.  It was overwhelming to the point that I had pressed my back to the wall and tried to keep as far away from the commotion as possible, even though this was a task even I couldn’t handle.  I’d like to be able to say I knew what I was signing up for when I told Kaite I’d come to his cousin’s wedding.  Neither of his other friends could make it out of town to go with him, so I’d signed on as his plus one.

To keep an eye on him.  I had to keep reminding myself.  This was a safety precaution in case one of Dwhite’s men decided it would be nice to cause a scene here.  I looped my fingers around the heart of my tie and squeezed, rubbed the edge of my nail along the smooth material to feel the quiet zhwiip of the motion.

I’d never been to a wedding before.  The people sweeping in and out of the auditorium to check seats, check setup, check, check, check--

“Boo.”

I shuddered and snapped around to find myself face to face with Kaite.  He was closer than I expected him to be, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

“For somebody who insisted on coming here to keep an eye on me, you’re spending a lot of time doing exactly the opposite,” he said.  I dropped my eyes to his neck and watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.  His tie was crooked.

I straightened up and let go of my tie to grasp onto his.  His smirk faltered for a second, and he stood still as I worked the knot at his neck until it was perfect.  “I was making sure the area was secure,” I told him plainly.

“We’re at a wedding, in a hotel, with security.  Of course it’s secure Paul,” he shook his head at me.  I would have mistook that look for disappointment if not for the quirk of his eyebrow and the angle of his chin.  I’d become all too familiar with that expression in the past few months.  As he turned his head, I caught sight of his mangled ear and felt my stomach flip.  The guilt from cutting off his ear was still fresh and actually seemed to worsen the longer I was around him.

“Would it kill you to relax a bit and to have fun?”

I pointed at my tie.  “What about tiny sailboats doesn’t scream fun?”

Kaite laughed and held out his hand, palm up, in the narrow space between us.  I stared at the intercossing lines on the surface of his skin and decided they looked like a road map--somewhere I might be able to find myself.

“To be fair, hiding in a corner in a place full of strangers isn’t exactly fun,” Kaite said.  His voice was infuriatingly low and husky and set my hair on edge.  “Nobody knows you here, it can’t hurt to let go a bit.”

“But they know you.”

Kaite shrugged.  “It’s my second cousin, we’re not very close.  I’m only here because my mom couldn’t send anyone else,” he said.  He nudged his hand forward so that his fingertips were almost bouncing against my chest.

I hesitated.  “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

I placed my hand in his and he gave it a quick squeeze.  His face lit up immediately, and for a second I forgot to breathe.

“You won’t regret this,” Kaite said.

For a moment I almost believed him.

I’d seen weddings in movies and on television, but there was something very different seeing one in person.  You could almost taste the love and affection in the air, it was so thick, and it seemed bizarre to me to be able to share something so intimate like that with a whole group of people.  I never imagined ‘I love you’s in such an open setting not being used as weapons.  I was familiar enough with love and how it could be bent, but couldn’t find words to fit what watching the vows was like.

It was surreal.

Every time I turned to sneak a glance at Kaite during the ceremony he had a distant look in his eyes.  I had to wonder if there was somebody he was thinking about during the ceremony.

When it ended, there was applause and whistling and cheering.  The noise made me shrink in on myself.  Kaite must have noticed because he leaned against me, pressing his shoulder against mine.  I could smell the earthiness of his cologne.  He fumbled his hands while he clapped, and I wanted to be annoyed with the unevenness of the motion.  But I couldn’t be.  Something about how organic it was was soothing.

The crowd got up as the newlyweds came back down the aisle, holding hands and beaming as the went back to the front of the space.  I waited to stand up until Kaite rubbed a hand up my arm.  He smiled down at me and looked like he wanted to say something more, but there was no point with the noise in the room.

I got up, happy I was at the end of an aisle, and waited for an opening to slip into the stream of people headed toward the reception area.  Kaite’s warmth pressed into me; a calming yet overwhelming presence.

Being pressed in from multiple sides overloaded my senses and I did my best to focus on him.  Only him.  It mostly worked, when he stayed within two feet of me, but whenever he ducked away to speak with somebody or danced just out of my reach I felt small and lost.

Maybe agreeing to come to this wedding was a bad idea after all.

I decided to try and take Kaite’s advice and to loosen up, but the strangers didn’t take too much interest in me.  They were interested in the food, in the drinking, in the celebration of love shared between the newlywed couple.  Being surrounded by a room full of people happy about love only served to make me feel more alone.

The loosening up started with a mint julep, then progressed with straight up whiskey.  I declined the first tray of champagne that made its way to me, but accepted a glass from the second tray.  I was starting to worry Kaite had forgotten about me, and resigned myself to watching him weave between people and get lost in conversation.  

A few people seemed to ask about his ear, pointing and grimacing.  Every time I noticed it, I felt my stomach flip.  He could tell them what I’d done, what kind of monster I was, and it wouldn’t matter what kind of pressure I’d been under at the time.  Nothing would excuse hurting him.  And I couldn’t quite come to terms with it.

But every time somebody asked about his ear, he ended up laughing.  Deflecting.  He didn’t sell me out.  Maybe he still had a little faith in me.

Alcohol was a good idea.  It felt good.  I felt good.  Even though the music was loud and the crowd was getting drunker and dancing more.  I wasn’t drunk, but I had a solid enough buzz that I was warm and no longer too bothered by the crowd.  I’d made sure to eat something, so it wouldn’t go too much to my head.  But in doing so, I really lost sight of Kaite.  I was starting to worry, but maybe he’d just gone outside for a smoke.

That had to be it.

But I couldn’t stop fidgeting, or looking for him.  One of the servers stopped to ask me if I was okay, and I told him I was fine.

Another half hour or so eked by, and when I still didn’t see Kaite that was it.  I got up and made my way out of the reception area, into a smaller lobby.  It was empty aside from a few women resting at a couch.  Their curled hair was losing the styling and they all had their heels off.  One of the girls smiled at me, so I smiled politely back before scanning the room further for Kaite.

Before I could decide whether or not to explore further, a warm hand on my elbow stopped me dead in my tracks.  I thought I was going to leap out of my skin at the slight contact.

I turned to see Kaite flash a grin at me.  His hair was slightly tousled and his cheeks were flushed, but he looked happy.  “I was wondering where you went.  You have to come in with me.”

“You looked like you were doing just fine without me,” I said.

Kaite frowned and shook his head.  “Every time I tried getting back to you somebody else cut me off.  And then I got roped into making drinks because I’m a bartender,” he shook his head.  “But I want you to have fun, so you have to come with me.”

I wanted to tell him no, that I wanted to get away from all of the strangers that didn’t care a thing about me.  Usually that wouldn’t bother me, but the crowd was overwhelmingly happy and I couldn’t handle that.  I couldn’t handle being the only person nobody was happy with, and felt ridiculous for it.

But his smile was so inviting, and his eyes were too hopeful to shut down.  I nodded.  “Okay, Kaite.”

He grabbed my hand and I started to move back towards the party, but he tugged me away from it.

“I know where we’re going,” he said, reading the question from my face.

I gave in and let him lead me down the hallway, through a door that was likely meant for staff only, and through a small storage area out into another hallway.  I could still hear sounds of a party going on.  The music shook my heart.

We burst into a similar looking lounge to the one I’d just been it, but the furniture was arranged differently.  I shot Kaite a look.

“Are we seriously--?”

“Crashing?  Yeah,” Kaite laughed.  He seemed so nonchalant about this.  “This way really nobody knows us, and that way we can’t be interrupted from fun,” he said.  His logic almost made sense that way.

I sighted, but let him pull me into the party.  It was another wedding, apparently with a theme of blue, that made us stick out like a sore thumb.  Well, everyone aside from Kaite was wearing some shade of blue.  I at least had my tie.

Kaite tugged me onto the dance floor, and the music was so loud and deep I thought it was going to make my teeth break against each other.  It was a slow warbling song I couldn’t understand.

Kaite tugged me into position and I faceplanted into his chest.  I shuddered, despite myself.  Fuck me.  When I freed my face and looked up, Kaite was grinning down at me.  He almost looked smug.  I hated him.

We swayed to the beat and I was happy to find that he could keep time with the pattern.  He led us through the dance, keeping me held closer to him than necessary.  I kept time to the music by tapping my fingers against his shoulder.

“You know, I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said.

“For what?”

“To surprise you,” Kaite said, like it was the most sensible answer in the world.  “I think I finally surprised you.”

“Crashing a wedding will do that,” I told him.  I wanted to be cross with him, but he was too charming, too pleased with himself.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked.

I gave a small noise to tell him yes.

“Why did you look so sad earlier?”

I almost lost time with the music.  “I wasn’t sad.”

Kaite broke the connection between our hands and brushed his knuckles along my jawline.  It took all I had in me not to shudder.  He leaned in a little, cocked his head like a spaniel and said, “Your jaw clenches when you’re sad.”

“Weddings are weird,” I told him.  That was as much of an answer as he was going to get.  I hated him for being like this, for making it so hard to not tell him the truth.

“You’re impossible,” Kaite said.  He dropped his hand from my face and slipped it around my waist, tugged my back closer to him.  I felt his head dip against my ear.  His breath crested against the hollow of my neck.  He dropped his voice.

“And the craziest thing was I was starting to think you liked me.”

I stumbled and he caught me against him.  We stopped in the middle of a dance floor of strangers who were probably throwing us weird looks.

I tugged back from him, reaching frantically for his face to pull him back enough so I could look at him.  His cheeks were so warm between my palms.  I made eye contact with him, and he looked genuinely sad.  This was nothing like when I noticed him trying to hide his sadness in front of family.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you,” Kaite said.  He paused.  “I’m not drunk, but I’ve had enough to drink to be telling you this at all.”

I rubbed my thumbs against his cheeks then slid my hands back into his hair.  The texture was smooth and thick at the same time.  I found myself pulling him towards me.

I stopped when my mouth was just below his, almost touching his chin.  “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Something in the air between us changed instantly, like a switch being flipped.

Our lips crashed together in a frantic exchange of emotion and need.  I felt myself slipping out of a pattern, out of anything comfortable and into something that was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.  But I didn’t want to come up for air.  I wanted to stay in that moment forever, with the lights and music wrapping us into some separate place in space and time.

When we broke apart I felt like I had whiplash.  I looked up at Kaite.  He looked surprised, wrapped up in his wonder.

“I hate you a little bit,” he said.  They were the nicest words I’d ever heard.

I tugged him back to me, because it was easier than saying what was on my mind.