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literallymitch · 3 years

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𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 || 𝐃.𝐃

requested: no

summary: the first part of the reputation series in which the reader first meets Damiano

pairing: Damiano David x famous!reader

word count: 2k

what kind of content: fluff

warnings: drinking

passages written in cursive are flashbacks

some of the lyrics were changed so they would fit the story

Please don’t steal any of my conten and release it elsewhere. Also all of this is fiction. I don’t know these people in real life nor do I know how they act

a/n I I hope you all enjoy this one, as much as I do. I’m so excited about this series jdhidcuheu. What song do you guys think is next? As always please keep in mind english is not my first language. I’m super happy about feedback!!

With a buzzing head I woke up. I shouldn’t have drank so much yesterday. Feeling the after effects of the alcohol I consumed yesterday, I looked at the sleeping figure next to me. A gorgeous man with brown hair and tattoos that fitted him perfectly. I smiled to myself, knowing he was the reason I probably drank a little too much yesterday. There was no way I would have found the courage to actually talk to him otherwise. He looked like an angel sleeping so peacefully in my queen-sized bed. As I looked at his sleeping figure, an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my notebook and went to my balcony that was connected to my bedroom. Looking at him one last time through the huge window in front of me. I opened my notebook and started writing down some lyrics in memory of last night.

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong

“We wanted to start working on our next album soon too.” , the gorgeous man in front of me said with an Italian accent.

After a few drinks I was finally talking to him. I was too busy taking in his beauty that I didn’t really listen to what he just said to me. All of a sudden, I started giggling.

“You know, your accent is so funny, I love it. Like the way you pronounce some words? Hilarious”.

“Thanks, I guess?”

I cringed a little thinking about this specific moment. If he knew the only reason I was making a fool out of myself in front of him was his magnificent appearance, he would take it as a compliment. He probably already knew that was the reason. How could he not know? It’s not like he has never looked in a mirror. Also, there is no way, I am the first person that had to suffer from his magnetic self. By now he should know what his whole existence is doing to people.

And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be here as well?” the beautiful Italian boy asked.

“My wha- Oh you mean Andre? He isn’t my boyfriend. The media just made that up after we went out once, and I was caught at two of his games. We haven't talked in months. He’s probably at some club right now, annoying some poor girl.”

At that moment I thought I’ve seen a small smile appear on his face. He then just turned to the bar tender, ordering another beer. God, how could he just keep his cool like this the whole night. Usually it was the other way around. People would stand drunk in front of me trying to make a move, while I just stood there unimpressed. He really made me feel like an insecure fourteen-year-old girl again, and I hated him for that

Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life, by not being mine

“The sunset is really beautiful today” Damiano stated sipping on his glass of Whisky. I nodded in agreement while I ate a grape from the vine that was placed on the bar counter.

The bar were at was on top of a small mountain somewhere outside Rome. From there we had a great view over the whole city of Rome and how the sun met the city's skyline. It really was beautiful, still it was nothing compared to him. I wish he would’ve been mine, so I could’ve rested my head on his shoulder right there and then, but he wasn’t.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talking to everyone here but you (but you, but you)

“I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk after you talked to, well, everyone else at this bar except me.”, the handsome man called me out while he sat down next to me.”

Feeling a bit caught, I just gave him an awkward smile. I tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, that was less embarrassing than ‘Yeah sorry about that, I was just too scared to talk to you because you look like you’re straight out of my dreams.’

“I’m really sorry about that! It was just that every time I was done talking to someone, the next person already stood behind me wanting to talk.” I lied.

“It’s alright. I guess that's what happens when you’re a world-famous singer.”

And you should think about the consequence Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

It was now 11pm and the sky outside was completely dark. The lights in the bar were also dimmed a bit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Damiano and I were in the middle of our conversation, as he accidentally grabbed my hand, that was resting on the bar counter, instead of his drink. It felt like an electric shock. An electric shock that woke up the butterflies inside my body. My hand started to tingle, and I’m pretty I was full on blushing now.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her But if you're single that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

“So do you have a girlfriend?”, at this point I was so drunk I didn’t even care how this question came across anymore.

I was pretty sure he in fact had a girlfriend, I mean how could he not looking like this?

“No I don’t.” Thank god. “It’s kinda hard building up a real relationship with someone when you're always busy, but I guess you can tell me a thing or two about it too.”

Oh, yes, I could. Still I would drop everything I was doing right now, just to be with him.

Chocolate brown eyes looking in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

Just as my confidence made a small comeback, I made the mistake to directly look into Damianos beautiful brown eyes. There really wasn’t a single thing about him that wasn’t extremely beautiful. I started to feel a bit dizzy as a wave of heat rushed through my body. What is this man doing to me?

Just thinking about it again made my heart beat three times faster.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

For like the million time this evening, he made a laugh. Great, so he wasn’t just incredibly handsome, but also extremely funny. I didn’t realize how happy I was in his presence until I remembered he wasn’t mine. Suddenly I felt kind of sad, thinking about how I maybe would never see him again after tonight. I just wanted to grab his hand and run away with him. Somewhere I could be alone with him. Somewhere he would be only mine.

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along

I looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall behind the bar tender. I was shocked when I realized it was already midnight. There was no way we’ve been talking for like three hours now. I scanned the room for my friends, I went here with in the first place.

“Looking for someone specific?” Damiano asked, now also looking in the direction I was looking in.

“Just my friends, but it seems like they already went home. I’ll check if they texted me” I picked up my phone, checking if I had a message from my friends.

‘Hi babe, we already went home, we were kinda tired. Have fun talking to handsome stranger. You better tell us everything tomorrow ;)’

“Did they text you?”

“Yes, my friend texted me that they already went home. Guess I’ll have to go home alone then. At least my cats are waiting for me.” I stood up and tried to make my way over to the wardrobe to get my coat. Unfortunately I forgot how drunk I actually and almost tripped as I tried to walk. Alcohol and heels really are not a good combo. Thankfully Damiano grabbed my arm helping me to stabilize myself.

“You’re sure, you’ll make it home alone?”

“Yes, I am a big girl. Unless you wanna come along.” I said with a cheeky grin on my face.

Damiano left out a soft chuckle. He paid for our drinks and then accompanied me on my way back home.

“It’s already pretty late, if you want to, you can stay over.” I told him after he brought me up to my bedroom.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

After I got myself ready for bed, I basically fell into my cozy bed, cuddling myself up in my soft sheet.

“You mind telling me where your guestroom is before falling asleep?” the Italian boy asked with an amused look on his face.

“Mmh, I don’t know. Just sleep here, it's fine.” I answered him, already half asleep.

After that, I probably fell asleep, since I don’t remember anything else that happened.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (to your face) 'Cause look at your face

“Good morning.” I heard a raspy voice say.

I looked up from my notebook and came face to face with Damiano gorgeous figure. His hair was messy, and he still looked a bit sleepy. Since he just wore a pair of boxer shorts, I could finally see all the tattoos that covered his upper body. All of a sudden I felt the same way as I did last night when I saw him for the first time. The words were stuck in my throat and I felt the anxiety build up in my body. How does he manage to make me feel this way by just existing?

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I somehow managed to say.

“Yes I did thank you. What are you doing?” he asked me curiously as he sat down on the garden chair next to me.

“I’m just writing a song. The idea came to mind when I woke up.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive that you’re able to write a song now after you could barely walk yesterday.” a small laugh left his mouth. “Can I see it?”

“No, it’s kinda awful. I’m to hungover to write something good now. I just wanted to write the idea down.” I lied, I actually really liked the stuff I wrote so far, but he would probably think I’m a freak when he found out I wrote a song about after knowing him for a day.

“Can you at least tell me what it is about?”

“So you can steal my brilliant idea? No, thanks.” we both started laughing. “I can offer you breakfast though”

“I’m fine with that too” he said flashing me his beautiful smile

And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

We were now sitting on my roof garden eating breakfast. Damiano told me some things about his life and what interests he had. As he did, so I looked at him in awe. I really started crushing on him as he continued to talked about his last tour with a huge smile on his face. I hated it that I was practically on my knees for him already, but how could I not? He’s perfect.

“I could really get used to this, you know?” he said out of nowhere.

“Me too.” I responded, not really questioning what he meant.

I also didn’t care as long as it involved us spending time together. I would make him mine no matter what.

#damiano david #måneskin #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david fluff #damiano maneskin #maneskin #måneskin imagine #taylor swift #reputation #reputation series

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imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs · 3 years

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Qrowin Week 2021: 6/21-Childhood Friends AU

Two little snowbirds sitting in a row

They met in the garden at one of her father’s lavish parties. She’d gone outside because little girls didn’t like being told to sit still and not talk nor do anything fun, so she decided she didn’t care if the dress daddy bought her got messy, she’d go outside and spend time in the hedge maze.

They’d gotten it installed, in the shape of the Schnee family crest no less, because the Marigolds had one in the shape of their family crest and daddy could be silly about when people had things he didn’t.

The white roses that grew from the foliage walls, fragrant and delicate, were always calming to her, especially on a cool and cloudless night like this when the moonlight was at its brightest.

For Winter, to get lost in its lush corridors and marble statuary, it’s hidden gardens and fountains would be enough to get the annoyance of her father’s party out of her mind.

Most of that went out of her head when she found a grungy boy in a cape stuffing his face with what looked like a rabbit.

He stared at her, like an animal in a vehicle’s headlights, bits of his meal hanging from his mouth.

He couldn’t be older than her, gaunt with gunsmoke-colored hair stuck up at odd angles and eyes like carbuncles.

The clothes he wore were grubby and layered and obviously used long before he’d begun wearing them, especially that tattered cape.

For a moment, neither spoke, merely staring at one another in the moonlight.

Finally, Winter broke the silence.

“That’s disgusting.”

The boy dropped the rabbit from his mouth.

“Sorry if I’m not fancy enough for you, Miss Uppity.”

Winter felt her cheeks heat with indignation.

“How dare you!”

The boy threw back his head and laughed, a sound that reminded Winter of a pair of birds she’d once heard fighting in the yard.

“Is that all it takes to get under that pale skin!” he laughed, a sound which soon died in his throat when his stomach made a loud groan.

Winter huffed as he reached for the dead rabbit.

“Wait here and don’t touch that,” she said, turning on her heel.

She returned with two plates piled high with hors d'oeuvres.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” she said, handing him one, “so I got you one of everything.”

The boy said nothing, just shoveling food into his mouth in a way that probably promoted choking.

“You’re welcome,” Winter said, sitting down and spearing a piece of salmon on a toothpick to eat.

The boy coughed, pounding his chest.

“You shouldn’t eat so fast,” Winter said, “you’ll get sick.”

“Well, some of us don’t know when our next meal is gonna be,” he said.

His words brought back to Winter the memory of her father sending her to bed with no supper when he found she’d invited a faunus over to play, with threats of no breakfast if she didn’t break it off with the girl tomorrow.

“You might be surprised,” Winter said.

The boy said something through a mouthful of hummace.

“What was that?” Winter asked.

The boy swallowed.

“I’m Qrow,” he said.

Winter smiled.

“I’m Winter.”

One named Winter

She saw him on days when it wasn’t raining or snowing after that. The family he lived with (his “Tribe” as he called them) were camped out in the woods behind their house, the ones nobody would let daddy cut down.

At night, he told her, they danced and played instruments and drank until the early hours of the morning.

Winter never really cared for people who drank (her mother’s growing dependence on liquor was a factor in this) but Qrow never really showed up smelling like wine, so she supposed associating with him was no trouble.

It was also refreshing that he never stood on ceremony.

He never rolled his eyes at her when she spoke of wanting to learn fencing or told her how things were supposed to be when she complained about how someone (usually daddy) was being unfair.

He also taught her new games that were much more fun than anything that the boys and girls daddy introduced her knew.

Kick the can, stickball, and he played hide and seek and tag with her. And he’d tell her all about the places he’d been. Mistral, Vacuo, Menagerie, his tribe had traveled all over Remnant.

And while he could be crass, she still remembered seeing the way he rescued a baby bird from a stray cat and returning it to its nest with the tenderest care.

Or how when she complained of how her father was so bossy and so dumb, that he listened. Didn’t judge, didn’t criticize, just listen.

And sometimes, it was enough to know that they’d meet once a week, at night, in the hedge maze.

One named Qrow

She wasn’t what he expected.

Sure, she told him annoying things like “don’t slouch, eat slower, no burping, don’t pull up the flowers—no! I don’t need them, put them back!”

But she never called him weak. She never said he should practice more like his sister did.

Winter gave him food, and listened to his stories and ideas, and never asked if he wanted to fight. Sometimes, they would even just sit together.

She even taught him how to read; starting with big letters scratched in the dirt with a stick, before lending him books that they could read together.

Mr. Bruin is a Shoe-in was the first he read all by himself. And he was so happy when she let him keep it afterwards.

And she never told him to stop being so dumb, like his sister did.

And sometimes, it was enough to know that they’d meet once a week, at night, in the hedge maze.

Fly away, Winter!

Their shouts bring the servants running. All they saw was Winter on her knees, face in her hands as she wept piteously.

If only they’d come a few minutes earlier, then they could have seen the argument in all it’s glory. Voices rough from the volume and occasionally cracking, tears streaming down their faces, they weren’t that little boy and girl anymore.

He’d grown lanky and lean, she taller and with longer hair.

But they didn’t care right then.

She’d told him she was joining the military.

He said his tribe would be moving and asked if she wanted to join them instead of some stupid army.

She said it was a noble profession.

He said only for assholes.

She defended her position.

He reiterated his opinion.

She shouted at him, asking why couldn’t he be happy for her.

He shouted at her what would be wrong with going with him.

She said something about duty.

He told her to shut up, that he didn’t want to hear duty again in his whole life.

She told him that if he was going to act like a filthy little boy, then he could go off and sulk like one.

He said he wished he’d never met her and hoped she enjoyed killing people.

Arguments like that, they learned, ended with no winners.

Fly away, Qrow!

That was the end of the time Qrow considered himself happy. Life seemed to plan for him a long drawn out death, bracketed with disappointments and tragedy’s.

Transformation

The death of friends.

The death of family.

The horrors of war.

Secrets and betrayal.

Abandonment.

And the drink

So, so much to drink.

It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t make him feel more human. But it kept the nightmares at bay. It kept him as a predictable disappointment rather than an out-of-the-blue-never-seen-that-kind-of-train-wreck-before disappointment.

But the worst part of the drink, thought, was that no matter how many shots he took, no matter how many chasers. Black liquor, brown liquor, red wine, white wine, it didn’t matter. Melancholy brought back visions of that girl from that time he had been happy.

Come back, Winter!

First impressions had never come easy to Qrow. So really, it should be no surprise that impression number 15 the horrible sequel nobody wanted or needed.

But really, denying common sense by chucking an empty whisky bottle at James Ironwood’s head was not only pointless, it was utterly puerile. He was drunk. He was upset that his latest search for intel on Salem had turned up next to nothing, he was itching for a fight and if that pompous wannabe hero wanted to take it up with him, that was fine.

Except he hadn’t expected the woman by his side to turn out to be someone familiar. Someone he hadn’t seen since he was a dumb, romantic, fifteen-year-old kid.

Someone whose reappearance upset his stomach enough that he emptied it onto the general’s uniform and shoes. With enough force to make his eyes water.

The woman in the Atlesian uniform said she would take care of him and asked another girl, another white haired girl, where their room was.

As they walked towards Beacon, he thought he heard her say “Qrow Branwen, what has the world done to you?”

Come back, Qrow!

Qrow awoke to a cold rag on his forehead.

“Lie still,” she said, “I think you got a hold of some rockgut.”

“More like rockgut got a hold of me.”

Qrow’s attempt at humor was met with a scowl.

“Gee, you got frosty.”

“And you became an alcoholic,” she said, wringing out the cloth into a nearby basin.

Qrow looked away from her and to the wall, as if a better retort than her’s existed there.

“It eases the pain,” he said.

“No it doesn’t,” Winter said. She threw the rag into the basin, causing the water to splash.

“Qrow, my mother is an alcoholic. It doesn’t fix anything! It just makes you want more of what’s essentially fermented grass!”

“You don’t think I know that!” Qrow snapped. Tears pricked at his eyes and his heart sank when he saw the hurt in her eyes from his tone, something he hadn’t seen there since their last meeting.

“There are nights when no matter how much I drink, I still can’t forget the loss of all the people around me and how--”

He paused and swallowed.

“How everyone is just one day going to leave me!”

Tears were starting to fall as all the regrets he’d kept at bay with drink and fighting and everythng else he could find came rushing back into him and coiling around his lungs.

“I’m bad luck, Winter,” he said, “I lost my sister, my tribe, I lost the people I care about, and every day, it’s missions, missions, and missions to find an enemy I don’t even know exists.”

His shoulders were shaking and he remembered his sister, back when they were little, telling him how ‘boys don’t cry.’

God, Winter must think he’s so pathetic.

Instead, she took him by the shoulders and gently brought him into her embrace.

“It’s alright,” she said, “just let it out. Get it all out.”

Not knowing what else to do, Qrow gripped the back of her uniform and sobbed into her shoulder, years’ worth of pain and loneliness deep inside him rising to the surface and finally escaping. And the pressure went with it.

At some point, they ended up lying together on the bed (wait, were they in a bunk bed?), still in each other’s arms.

“We all have regrets,” Winter said, “things we said. Things we wish we could take back.”

Her hand tightens on his shirt and his hand closes around it.

“But, if you really want to know, if I could do it over...”

Please say it, he wanted to think, but every time he had thoughts like that, life saw fit to swat him down again.

“I would go with you. Even if after the first day, I went back home, I think I would go with you.”

Qrow felt his heart swell and suddenly, he didn’t feel so sick anymore.

“And... if you wanted to start over... I would like that too.”

“I still have Mr. Bruin,” Qrow said.

He didn’t know why he said that. She never asked about the book, never said “Qrow, what kind of literature do you normally read?”

Whatever the reason, Winter looked up at him, shocked.

“Still? I thought you would’ve thrown that away.”

Qrow looked down at her, eyes glassy.

“I tried a few times. But I just couldn’t get rid of something that reminded me of you. It’s missing the page where Mr. Bruin loses his boot, but I tried to keep it safe.”

Winter’s hand rises to his cheek and Qrow leans into it, the human contact easing the hole in his soul he’s tried to fill with booze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t turn out as someone you could be proud of.”

“The fact that you kept that book tells me everything I need to know.”

Later that night, Winter’s sister and Qrow’s niece would get the shock of their lives when they enetered their room and saw the two of them sleeping on Weiss’s bed together.

#My Writing #RWBY #qrowin week 2021 #qrowinfest #qrowin #qrowinweek #Childhood friend AU #AU #Qrow Branwen #Winter Schnee

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minthysugamon · 4 years

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Why'd you only call me when you're high? (J.JK x Reader)

Drummer! Jungkook x Manager's daughter! Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex,drugs and alcohol. Usage of foul language (like in most of my writings bc i talk like a roadman). Friends with benefits type of relationship. Kinda angsty but also fluffy if you search for the fluff with a magnifying glass.

Word count: 2222 (hehe,angel number go brr)

A/N: I promise,i will try to do some smut but i don't feel comfy enough to write it bc idk...i just cringe when i see my writing. So sorry if it isn't what you guys expect...

3:03 am

Your phone buzzed once again. It was for the 6th time tonight in a row,so even without looking at the device,it was safe to assume that the rockstar your dad managed was probably at some pub,hammered and not even being able to call a cab for himself so he called your number. Like usual. 3:04 am. It rang again. "What? It better be an emergency cause i swear to god if you're calling because you're dru-" his laugh was as intoxicating as the liquor he had sipped on some minutes ago. "Doll,listen...i need a ride...and since your dad is our manager,it would be greatly appreciated if you came for me..." a sigh left your lips as you hang up on him.

But Jungkook didn't stop pestering you. The drummer of V2J was a pain in the ass. As shy and awkward he was in his sober times,his horndog behaviour was equalising if not surpassing his normal behaviour when he was thrashed.

You picked up the call one more time when the familiar ringtone went off. "Hey,why are you so rude,dollface? Don't you know hangin-" your words cut off his as soon as he was trying to do his monologue. "Jungkook. Like how you said it so cleverly,MY DAD is the manager. Not me. Pester him at 3 am if you have some difficulties to go home,not his daughter. Thank you. I have an exam in two days, i have to study tomorrow. Or today because at this point of the night i can't say tomorrow,so let me get the 2 hours of sleep i could still get tonight if i go to sleep in less than 10 minutes.. Leave me alone. Call Taehyung or something,i don't care. Now please don't call me again. Thanks." Then the tune of the "Hang Up" option resonated in your room once again.

Truth be told, if it would've been the first time he calls you and asks you for help at 3 in the morning,you would've helped his dumbass out,but it wasn't the case. Whenever Jungkook had some nightly problems, you were the first target in his contact list. It wasn't the first time he called you to pick him up from somewhere or to let him stay at your place for the night because he lost his keys to his appartment after a wild escapade with his bandmates to the nearest club. And it never ended with him only sleeping on your couch. It usually started at the front door and ended with him sleeping an arm around you after fucking your brains out. If he had been serious about this whole weird relationship you had, it would've been official for more than a year now,but he has to keep his rockstar persona intact. So of course,you were nothing more than the daughter of his manager who was good enough to be fucked when he was drunk or high.

At 3:36,someone rang at the interphone of your home. When you got up from your bed with a huff,you were already seeing the tatted up boy's smirk on the camera in a mental image. And you weren't wrong. His smirk was present as soon as the little screen had lit up with his face so close to it,you though he was a toddler seeing an interphone for the first time in his life. "You really came here at 3 and a half? Jeon,for fucks sake. If i get down there,i'mma beat some sense into you,so you better start running now." He simply laughed,a noise of exasperation leaving his throat. "Aw...come on (Y/n)...let me in,i lost my keys..."

You pushed on the key button,you let him in again. At this point it was exthausing because you knew what this meant. And even if you wanted to deny it,your brain wanted this to stop,but your heart was yearning for him. "I swear to god Jungkook,if you come here again at 3 am,i will stick a pipe up your ass." You unlocked the door for him and let him enter your home.

Fatal mistake because he didn't even answer,he simply pushed you against the wall and looked into your eyes,foreheads touching. "And why would you do that sweetheart? Hm? I thought you liked when i come here...for you." You can't deny it,you fell for him over the months,you fell for this idiot who liked banana milk more than anything else,who drank whisky with more cola than he should because he hated alcohol but wanted to keep his bad boy persona. But the smell of a woman on him made your heart sink. "Jungkook,please...just go and take of your shoes,i will bring you a blanket and a pillow so you can sleep on the couch."

He took your words in a hurtful way,his expression changed from flirty to genuinely hurt. "So...we aren't sleeping together like always?" You scoffed and got out of his grip. "I don't even know why i let you in. If you wanted to get your dick sucked again,you could've called one of your groupies." You disappeared in your room to search for a blanket and pillow,not that you deemed him deserving of such comfort,but he was also keen to be shivering at night without a blanket so it would be better for him to get some warmth during the dark hours. With a shaky breath,you went back to the living room and placed the pillow and comforter on the couch. "(Y/n)...what's the matter?" No answer. You didn't want to answer his question,he wasn't worthy for an answer,but his insistance was made clear when he took your hand into his and brought you closer to him. "Please...(Y/n)...answer me,i'm getting worried at this point,what's the matter?" Inhaling some fresh oxygen as the lump in your throat was only getting tighter,it finally dawned on you. You were in love with him. "Why'd you only call me when you're high?" The tears started to sting in your eyes,the drummer looked at you with a questioning expression. "High? What do you mean?" "Why'd you only call me and come here when your high?" After repeating your previous question,your voice cracked and all tears were let to flow down on your cheeks. "What? (Y/n) i really don't understand what you're talking about." "Why are you only showing interest in me when you're drunk and need to empty your balls. Is it more clear like that?" Jungkook's heart cracked at the sight of you crying because of him. He didn't want you to fall for him,not when he's at the peak of his career,but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel something for you.

"(Y/n)...come on,you know i can't be with someone. I thought that we both made this clear." His tattoed arms were still securely wrapped around you,stroking your back in the hopes of the action giving you some comfort,but as soon as you looked up to him with teary eyes,he couldn't help but let his waterworks flow too. Truth be told,Jungkook hated to see you sad,as awkward as the situation was right now,he hated seeing the one he fell for sad. "No,you made it clear for yourself. You're always acting nice with me,always closing any distance we had between us...no matter how hard i try to stay away from you,you suffocate me...if it was with hatred,it would be better,but it isn't. You're always here to fuck me up then rebuild me once you're sober. I fucking hate you for making me fall for you but i hate myself more for letting myself fall for you."

Your words were stinging. Even poisonous to his ears. Did you really hate him? And as much as it hurt him,it hurt you the same. You never really saw someone else in the hopes of being his one day,you won't blame it on him because you were the one in control of your own life,but every step you declined from someone else was to aliment the hope of being his one day. "I'm sorry...(Y/n)...i...i know you like me...but it won't work out. I do see you as more than just a friend with benefits,i do like you too...but...i can't be with you when i don't even know what tomorrow is made of." You tried to get out of his grip,but it only tightened and he brought your chin up with two fingers. "Listen,don't think i don't like you...if i didn't..you wouldn't be the first one i call to help me,fuck,i know i sound like an asshole for saying this but i do like you...i just..." he was getting ridiculous at this point and he knew it. "You just what? You don't want to miss out on someone else. I get it. You want your target list to be finished then crawl back to me when you're done." "(Y/n) it's not like tha-" you finally got out of his grip. "No. Don't say anything. I get it. But i won't be a second choice to anyone. Let alone you. Good night." You quickly wiped your tears away and went to your room,closing the door behind yourself,leaving Jungkook alone,in the dark living room.

He was tossing and turning for more than an hour now. You could hear it from your room how he was walking up and down the hall. 'I really fucked up.' he thought to himself and he wasn't wrong. You were probably the only person who would really go to hell and back for him and you were the only person he would do the same for. Then why was he acting like an asshole towards you now? Now that he was sure of your feelings,why did he have to break everything he tried to build? It couldn't end like that.

He softly knocked on your door,even if you told him to go away,he opened the door and lied down next to you,taking your body in his arms,nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck. "I'm sorry..." his soft lips placed a kiss on your neck and hands grabbed yours. "Sorry for what? For at least telling me the truth?" "(Y/n)...it's not like that...i just don't want to fuck things up. I prefer to fuck it up now than once we're together. I...i do love you...i heard the bells and the fireworks as soon as i saw you...but i don't want to fuck this up. Simply because i know how fans are,how groupies are. I prefer you seeing my fuckboy image than the real me,as much as i hate it though." You turned around,facing him,still in his clutch. "Well too late dumbass,i fell for the awkward and nice you,the one i see during studio hours,during practice,not this...whole flirty fuckboy persona that i get to see at every thursday at 3 am." He inhaled then kissed your forehead,bringing you closer to him. "It's too late for me to ask you to be my girlfriend...right? I don't want things to end...and,if the only way for me to stay with you is to put that image aside,i'm willing to do it." You sighed. He was still in the wrong. You didn't want him to change for you,but for him. To be himself again. "Jungkook,you don't understand...i want you to be you. I don't want you to rush into things because you don't want to lose me. Plus,you might not like a relationship,so if you don't want one right now,then leave me alone and don't make me fall for you more."

He shut you up before you could go on your monologue with a kiss. Not a rushed one like usually. But a soft one. One that tasted like cigarettes,monster,alcohol and love. "I love you...and starting a relationship now...or in 5 years...it won't change shit...no matter what i think now. I...after thinking about it...what you said...you're right. If i don't jump in right now...what will it change in 2 or 5 years? Nothing...i will still be the same if i don't change now." His frown turned into a small smile when he felt your nose in his neck,a light peck on his skin and your hands on his back. "So...you really want to start something with me...out of love and not out of pity?" He smacked the back of your head,out of habit but also out of outrage,he didn't want you to think he was doing this out of pity. "You dumbass,i want to be with you. I really want to. Out of love. Not because i pity you. You are probably the only person who would accept my headassery...and i love you. So please...don't ever think i would do this brcause of pity." You simply laughed,still sniffing a little bit and cupped his cheeks. "Good,because...i love you too." He kissed you first,again. Now with more passion though. His hands roaming around your back and ribcage,then on your waist,he couldn't help but pull you closer,until it couldn't be done anymore. "I know you do...now...shouldn't we sleep..? Because it's half past five...and you have to wake up at 10 so you can study..." You kissed his neck once more then placed your head on his chest. "It's already almost 6..might as well watch some cartoons and eat breakfast,no?" Jungkook's face lit up like a child's at the candy store. "Now i know why i heard the bells and the fireworks when i saw you."

I hope you guys enjoyed this,i kinda made it longer than most of my writings,but i still hope it's okay!

My requests are always open,so please,if you have something to request,i am more than happy to do it!

#bts #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook #bts au #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #rockstar bts au #drummer au #bts drummer au #jungkook drummer au

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darkerdeariegold · 4 years

Note

I have a sudden urge to know any food related headcanons you have for rumple.

Ooooooh thank you for this ask, I am EXCITED to get in to it.

I apologise now for how long winded this is going to be but you know I love my man and I have feelings about him and his story.

So I’m gonna do food and drink because they’re linked.

Food

As a boy, money was tight thanks to the way Malcolm managed their lives. It seems clear that he wasn’t starving as a boy, but he was a skinny kid. I think that as a child his diet mostly consisted of cheap and easily accessible foods. Things like flat breads (usually a little hard and unpleasant but filling), root vegetables like potatoes and whatever fruits were in season. Especially if they were small enough to fit in to a pocket so things like apples, berries and pears.

It’s that start that means he’s not fussy when it comes to food. Even when he became the Dark One and had the ability to produce a feast out of thin air - and he did, wanting to make sure Bae never went with an empty belly like he had - he didn’t look down on any sort of food. Food is survival, and survival is what he’s good at, despite any odds against him.

When he began to live with the Spinsters - and did so until his adulthood - he learned what a good meat pie was and that rapidly became his favourite food. It was cheap cuts of meat - because as spinsters they had enough to live a comfortable but never affluent life - but the way it was cooked, slow and low for hours just made the meat fall apart and become the juiciest, most tender cut.

He always asked for a meat pie for dinner, and because they loved him, they indulged him a few times a week if they could, at least once if not. (They would go without for him and he only realised that when an adult himself).

Vegetables were always a staple of his diet simply because if you could grow it, you could eat it and it cost barely anything to maintain. He likes stews and soups, easy food that you can put any combinations of vegetable in. His favourite is the humble potato, because he knows just how much you can get out of it and how filling it can be. He learned how to bake them on the fire and always finds comfort in that.

He learned that he has a sweet tooth when he was able to begin to conjure food. He already knew he did from his love of strawberries growing up - always his favourite berry to pick and eat - but when desserts like sweet rolls and cakes became a staple of his life, he was a little addicted.

He does, after all, have an addictive personality.

Not that he’d never had cake before - the spinsters liked to make him one for his birthday but a shortage of sugar usually meant it wasn’t as full of sweetness as it could be. Still good, and always appreciated.

Until Zelena’s abuse of him for a year a meat pie was his favourite food, along with a hamburger. Something he only discovered in Storybrooke, as well as pickles. Now, he can’t even think of it. The abuse has tainted what once had been a comfort to him. Now he feels physically sick whenever a meat pie is near him.

Thanks, Zelena.

He’s definitely not a snob about food; he’ll eat anything really, except for those meat pies now. He likes sour food, he likes sweet desserts. He isn’t one for too much spice (he just doesn’t have the tolerance for it) and the first time he bit in to a chilli pepper his entire face felt like it were on fire). He’s been seen to eat apples, ready noodles and hamburgers on the show to name just a few foods that it’s canon he is fond of, or at the very least will eat.

Though he’s a meat eater he’s used to having a diet rich in vegetables and genuinely enjoys those. Simple roasting of them is perfection.

So his favourite foods are;

Hamburger (he loves the bread in this world, how much more taste it has)

Pickles (he likes sour food, used to that flavour because of the absence of sugar in his diet when younger)

Strawberries and other sweet fruits.

Desserts in general; he has a sweet tooth but has to limit himself.

Bacon and eggs.

Potatoes, especially baked with butter.

Meat pies USED to be. Eventually he’ll work through that trauma and be able to enjoy a good pie again. He just needs to focus on the initial positive thoughts he had surrounding it.

He loves a good condiment - ketchup, mustard (mild) and ranch. Not a huge fan of mayo in anything more than a small quantity.

Drinks

Tea is a little different here than it was in the Enchanted Forest, but it’s certainly his favourite drink. He especially loves the way Belle makes his tea; a dash of milk, no sugar and brewed to perfection. Even he can’t make a cup taste quite as well as she does.

He doesn’t have a lot of milk in there, and he never has sugar; mostly because he was a tea drinker before he was the Dark One, and so he was a tea drinker when he couldn’t really afford the luxury of sugar.

Coffee was a revelation in Storybrooke and, when cursed and needing to sleep each night he found a cup of black coffee in the morning before his breakfast was the perfect set up. He still likes a cup of black coffee every now and then.

Also likes a hot cocoa- that was always a treat when a lad, and he loved the nights he would be tucked up in to bed with a small cup of it. Leaving him - and his belly - feeling warm enough to drift off to a peaceful sleep.

He doesn’t like fizzy drinks. Doesn’t understand the need for them. As sweet as his tooth is, most carbonated drinks are too sugary for him. The kind of sugar that sticks to your teeth isn’t pleasant to him.

Alcohol is a strange little bedfellow that he has a very difficult relationship with. He grew up seeing the negative effect it has on his Papa and it’s a drink that genuinely scares him. But it also helps to numb things. Numb the pain, numb the guilt. He has a small flask of scotch or whiskey hidden in his shop, a bottle too - always the finest stuff when it comes to drink - for those moments when he is feeling that he needs a support.

Why the finest? Because psychologically, even if he can just conjure a bottle when he wants, it feels like a luxury. Something to not rely on consistently. If he drank cheap whisky or spirits he recognises that his addictive personality could lead him down a path as dark as his Papa.

You only ever see him with alcohol when he’s struggling with something, namely guilt or a decision that he’s afraid of. We see him with a flask in the Enchanted Forest after losing Belle. We see him with alcohol in the Underworld. We also see him drink in Hyperion Heights when he’s clearly going through the pain of grief. If it numbs the pain, even for a moment, it’s alright. A small moment of respite is better than nothing.

His favourite drinks;

Tea, dash of milk and no sugar

Black coffee

Iced tea, either with or without sweetener.

IF he’s self medicating, expensive whiskey or scotch.

#brave-heart-juliet #honestly thank you so much for this ask #feel free to ask any headcanons hahaha #i apologise for how long my answer got #rumplestiltskin #rumbelle #headcanon

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years

Text

Roses In A Storm

Part One of Three: We’re Not Done Yet

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,777

Warnings: Sadness, grief, blood, violence, excess drinking, anger, murder, talks of weed use, I think that may be it.

Request: By so many but mainly @missmonsters2. Happy??

Summary: Unhinged and grieving. You get a very special guest.

A/N: This is the ending to “Soulmates”.

Ko-Fi

(Not my GIF)

***

To say you became unhinged after Tony's funeral, was an understatement.

Your entire being crumbled. And you became a shell of the person you used to be.

You cared about nothing and no one. Not even yourself.

You had told Fury he could, respectfully, shove your job up where the sun doesn't shine. And stormed out of his office, with him calling after you.

And that wizard dude.

What was his name?

Stanly?

Sherlock?

Samantha?

Fucking, Benadryl Copypaper?

You didn't know, you couldn't remember?

But that wasn't the point. What was the point, however, was how much Socriteis-Harry Potter bothered you- Stephen Strange!- That was wand-boys name!

Anyway!

He had been bugging the shit outa you ever since you left the lake house.

You could kill him.

Texts, emails, letters, calls, fucking popping out of nowhere. With all this "we're not done yet" bullshit. Yada, yada, yada. To be completely honest, you didn't listen to a single word he ever said, so you wouldn't know.

Luckily, he didn't randomly pop out from one of his orange portals, as much as the other things. So, you didn't have to actively try to dodge, escape, and punch him the fuck out evade him all that much.

But you could still fucking kill him.

Currently, you were stood, overlooking The Hudson River, staring at The Statue Of Liberty. The cold had just started to settle in, Autumn slowly turning into winter, frost visibly coating the ground.

Natasha loved this time of year.

It wasn't too hot that she would feel like she was melting, and it wasn't too cold for her to have to bundle up too much to step out. It was just perfect. She always liked it on the chilly side.

You remember once a few years ago before you had even met Penny and started this whole heart-breaking spiral. Natasha had dragged you out of the tower, her hand in yours as she literally dragged you. And towards the coffee shop she had recently found in the Soho area, what she was doing there in the first place, you didn't ask, out of fear of being threatened. Because you knew Natasha would never, actually, hurt you.

It was a fantastic day out.

One of the best times of your life.

The day had started off early, at around ten AM at that coffee shop, which you had to admit, was amazing. Followed by a store Natasha wanted to check out for Clints Christmas present. Then you had lunch, followed by more shopping.

You were pretty sure this was all one big day for Natasha to find out what gift to get you. But, none the less, you spent the entire day together. Even ending the day by staying over at Natasha's apartment, after walking her home. Because you were a gentleman like that. And also, there were way too many bags for her to carry.

Who knew that the Black Widow could shop like it was a sport?

At the end of the day, you came to the conclusion that she would win gold in the Olympics for it if she could. She could win gold in the Olympics on most of the sports if we're being truly honest.

It was a date.

Not your first one, by far.

But it was a date.

You realised that now.

Way too late.

That wasn't just Natasha's way of finding out what to get you for Christmas. She wanted to take you out on a date.

And you were way too fucking clueless to realise that.

You just wish you could make up for that now.

You wished you could hold her in your arms again.

The way you were always supposed too.

Not as friends. But as lovers.

But now, you had to live without her. So you did what you always did to get through the day.

You drank.

You found the closes bar that was open at the early hours of the morning, sat down on one of the dingy stools, and drank.

Little did you know, that sitting at that bar, would change your life forever.

***

The sound of glass smashing behind you caused your eyes to snap wide open, startled at the sudden noise. But you didn't care enough to turn around and check the commotion out, from your place leaning on the bar, with your glass of whisky pressed to your temple.

"This is bullshit!" Came a gruff voice.

"Hey," that same voice said. It's owner shoving against your shoulder harshly, "Avenger."

"That's not my job anymore," you replied coldly, to the scruffy man, with a long dirty blonde beard.

You had seen him around this bar, that you had quickly made your regular, but had never caught his name.

"No, but you were one," he spat out drunkenly.

"Well done," your tone was sarcastically chipper, "Would you like a sticker for being such a big, smart boy?" The sickly sweet smile that was on your face fell, as you turned back to take a hearty swig of your drink.

"You motherfucker."

Just as he was about to shove you off of your stool, the bartender spoke up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you really want to go up against an ex-Avenger?"

"Shut up, Weasel!"

"Yeah," you told the bartender, smirking as you did, "He's a big boy, remember. He can make his own mistakes."

"'Mistake'?!" the bearded man barked out, "Ha! No. This is going to be the best thing I've ever done."

"I think you've drank too much there, dirtier Hagrid."

He slammed his fist down onto the bar, furious at your calm state.

"You see that up there?" He pointed up to the long chalkboard above the bar. "That's the Dead Pool, and you're the highest one to win-"

Without even sparing the board a glance you quipped, "Yes. I am able to read."

You didn't even flinch when the man flicked out a switchblade right by your cheek, just continued to drink your burning liquor.

"I want that money. And I'm gonna get it. But first, I'm gonna cut out your tongue so you can't say any more smart-ass remarks."

"Wow. 'remarks'. That the smartest word you have in your vocabulary?"

A laugh sounded from behind you. One, predictably, from your new-found friend, Wade. Just as the man to your lefts anger bubbled up, flowing from the brim.

"Oh, you motherfuck-"

He brought his blade back, intending to stab you in the back, as he spoke. That is before your almost empty glass smashed into the side of his face, glass flying everywhere, especially into his face and your palm. The man yelled out in pain. And before he could retaliate by trying to stab you again, you quickly disarmed him, fracturing his arm as you did so. Then plunging the switchblade into his right thigh, making him scream out in pain. Ad finally, you delivered a crushing blow to his chest, by kicking him down to the floor, along with a couple of barstools, breaking a few of his ribs in the process.

Most of the people in the -once nunnery- bar, sounded out their happiness at witnessing a fight, no matter how outmatched the people were to each other. While the man groaned on the floor, trying his hardest to stand up, while a few of his buddies helped him up.

"Told you so," Weasel said offhandedly, his face sporting a cringe.

"You sonofabitch!" he spat out -like, literally spat... gross-, as he tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

"You- You stabbed me," he stuttered, pointing at you.

"That's right, Einstein. I did."

"You'll pay for that. You'll fucking pay!" He hoppled closer to you so that you were now face to face. Leaving his buddies behind.

"I can't wait." You smiled.

"There's no fucking wonder the bitch you drank overthrew herself off of a fucking cliff." Your smile dropped. "Anything to get away from you. To never have to see your face again."

Bad idea.

Your sight turned into an intense hue of red, so much so that the man's beard turned ginger.

Rage boiled up within you. The only other time you had felt this angry was when you found out that Natasha was gone, and she was never coming back, and that it was all that purple Titan's fault.

You hit him.

Of course, you fucking hit him.

With all your might.

No one said that kind of shit about Natasha. And especially not to your face.

But you weren't fighting a titan this time.

You were fighting a drunken burly man.

A drunk burly man who could take a fucking punch.

But you chalked that up to his adrenaline and how intoxicated he was.

He was sure to feel it all in the morning.

He stumbled from your punch. The knife, still in his leg, tearing against his flesh, causing more blood to spill from the wound.

And for Weasel's skin to tingle green, when he saw it.

The bearded man's friends rushed up to him, as yours did the same to you, holding you back from the man. As you roared at him.

"You're one stupid motherfucker, you know that?! It's like you've got a fucking death wish!"

He spat blood at you while laughing, "You really think she loved you! Wouldn't she still be here if she did?!"

You exhaled hotly. Fury pouring from your every pore.

The familiar cold metal filled your hand as you pulled the trigger of your concealed gun, shooting the man between the eyes.

Okay... so, maybe he wouldn't feel everything in in the morning...

His friends were just as idiotic as he was. Them all moving to pull out their own guns, but you made quick work of them.

Two more head shots. And one shot to the neck.

Even drunk, your marksmanship was impeccable.

"Well..." Wade said slowly, as the whole bar grew silent. Patting you on your back, he continued, "You just won yourself ten grand."

"Awesome," you muttered, "I'm buying everyone their drinks for the rest of the day!"

That got the bar cheering again.

"What the fuck, Y/L/N?!"

You turned around at the new voice. Coming face to face with Nick Fury, who looked beyond angry.

"Nick!" you cheered, "Take a seat, have a drink.- I'm paying!"

"Yes. I heard."

The man watched you for a few moments, noting how intoxicating you were. But was still able to see the coldness behind your eyes, that wasn't there before.

But a lot of things had changed since then.

Fury sighed.

"We need to talk."

***

"Hey, Weasel! Can I get another drink over here, please?!" you called over to your friend and bartender, who nodded at you.

You sat at a small table in the back of the bar, with Fury to your right, and Wade to your left.

The bodies of the four men you had shot down, already cleared away, and the drinks you had promised the patrons, poured.

"You still shot down four men in cold blood, Y/L/N," Fury continued on with his rant, that had been going on since you first sat down with him, not even fifteen minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, just as Weasel cam over, placing a full bottle of whisky down in front of you.

"If it makes you feel any better," the bartender began, facing Fury, "Those guys were plotting to kidnap some kids for ransom."

Fury just starred at the fidgeting man, with a blank eye. No emotion showed on his hard face, which only made Weasel more anxious.

"Right. I'll just go then."

"It makes him feel better, Weasel!" you called to the retreating man.

Even after months of not seeing the man, you could still read his, almost always, blank face, like an open book. It was a skill you wore proudly like a badge of honour. You doubted if your skill would ever fade.

Fury 'humphed' at you. Knowing full well that you were right, as he watched you take a swig of whisky straight from the bottle.

"You've changed, Y/N."

"No shit," you said harshly, "Wouldn't you?"

Fury sighed, for the umpteenth time since you've been talking to him.

"Listen Y/L/N-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Weasel said, "Making you smile into your bottle of alcohol, "But not really- What happened yo your eye?"

"He won't tell you, trust me. I've been asking him about it for years."

Wade hummed, squinting his eyes at the scars coming from behind Fury's eye patch, from his half rolled up mask, while taking a sip from his pina colada.

"My eye is not the focus, right now," Fury barked.

"Oh, but can it be?"

"Yeah, I beg to differ," Wade carried on, waving his finger at the fore talked about eye, "It looks like you got scratched by an itty-bitty kitty-cat."

"Bold words from the man whose lips look like a gaping asshole," Fury fired back, causing you to laugh so hard that tears started seeping from your eyes.

You wiped at your eyes as you regained as much of your composure as possible at that moment. Muttering to yourself, "I'm so drunk."

"Okay, listen. I came here for a reason- Don't." Fury pointed at both you and Wade, glaring at you in warning as to not interrupt him, with your remarks, or just in a general. "Strange has been trying to contact you, Isn't that right, Y/L/N?"

"Yeah. He wants me to work for him, go back to work for you, or something. I don't know, I didn't listen to him. He can go fuck himself."

"Strange?" Wade asked

"Yeah." You nod. "The portal guy I told you about."

"Oh. Shitty Harry Potter?!"

"That's the bitch!"

"Okay, that's enough!" Fury yelled, slamming his hands down onto the table, causing the drinks upon it to shake.

"Okay, damn. What's up you dating him, or something?" you asked.

"No, I'm not dating him," Fury growled.

"It's okay if you're gay." You nodded at Wade's words. "We don't care. We're both gay as fuck."

"I'm not!" Fury stopped himself from fishing his sentence, taking a breath and then exhaling it before he started speaking again. "I'm not dating Strange. But you do need to talk to him."

"Yeah, not gonna happen."

"Just hear him out."

"There's no reason for me too! What? He's gonna ask me to help him out with some hero bullshit. Well, I don't do that anymore."

"Yeah, I've noticed with all of the vigilante work you've been doing with your new friend here." Fury nodded towards Wade, who placed a hand over his heart.

"Oh, you've heard of my work. You flatter me."

"I'm not a vigilante I'm a hitman," you spoke at the same time.

"You're a what?"

"A hitman. If I'm gonna do this shit, might as well get paid for it." You shrugged.

"Or you could not just do it."

You shrugged once again. "It's what I'm good at. And it's the only thing that seems to distract me from this unbearable pain- Well. That and drinking. Also, weed. So much weed."

Fury put his head in his hands, shaking it against his palms, because of your words.

"Good job, Y/N. You broke him!"

"Stop it, both of you," Fury muttered.

"I know, it's so easy. It's a skill really."

"Stop," Fury ordered.

"What's up, Nick?" you asked, "Someone bugging you? Need me to kill ew? I'll give you a friend's and family discount."

"Just listen to strange!"

"Okay."

"Wait. Really?" Fury asked.

"For the right amount."

You smirked as Fury groaned.

"I'm not paying you to listen to Strange."

"Then I guess I ain't listening to him then."

"He wants to talk about Natasha!" he yelled.

Slowly pulling the whisky bottle from your lips, you placed it back on the table.

"What about Natasha?" you asked blankly.

Fury sighed again, thankful that you were finally listening to him. "Listen to what he has to say."

"What does he have to say?"

"It's better coming from him. I don't know everything and I know you'll have a lot of questions. Most of them stupid."

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled deeply. "Fine... I'll talk to him."

"Thank, God."

"You gonna set up a meeting for us?"

"No need." Fury smiled."What do you-?" Suddenly you screamed, plummeting down the portal that just materialised on the seat of your chair.

"Now we're playing with portals!" Wade joked.

Fury shook his head, picking up his drink. "I hate you."

"So... what is the story with your eye?"

"Go fuck yourself, Wilson."

"Well, if you insist."

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

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Companions Drunk

(In any news, I’m working on that elder maxson smut and should have it up within the next day or two 😉 but for now have some companion debauchery)

Cait:

"Keep staring and ya won't have any peepers."

You think she's angry on psycho, boy do you have a storm coming.Don't get me wrong, she isn't necessarily an angry drunk towards you but let one person say an off comment- fists will fly fuckers. And she means business, once knocking the teeth out of some muscled up raider that grabbed your ass.

Curie:

"I don't understand? You mean I'm not supposed to..."

She was oddly confused? Yeah that was a good word for it. The alcohol didn't have much of an effect on her besides a sudden listlessness. For instance never had you seen Curie be able to misplace so many items until she drank, next thing you knew she was taking cover under a coffee table.

Danse:

"Have I ever told you just how beautiful you really are?"

For someone so stuffy and prude, the rare times the paladin gets enough liquor to take the edge off he becomes extremely flirtatious and needy. Lord help you if you’re in public because it’s only a matter of time before he starts bugging you to “go somewhere comfortable for the night.” And yes, the first time he got shit faced with you, you were terrified.

Deacon:

“No seriously, I’m like one eighteenth ghoul, ask my great-great-great-great grandpa.”

Usually the smooth talker, he becomes anything but when he goes overboard on the liquor. You thought he was wacky before, you hadn’t seen nothing yet. The amount of bullshit that comes out of his mouth is astronomical.

Gage:

“*sniffle*....promise you..you won’t leave me boss?”

There isn’t a single time in gage’s life he has had a pleasant time being drunk. Sure, stereotypes would point otherwise but he despised it, only indulging you once and regretting it the morning after. The entire night he couldn’t stop the overwhelming emotions he fought so hard to bottle up from erupting- leaving him a crying, yelling desperate mess until sunlight.

Hancock:

“Relax, I’m a pro”

And true to his word he is, being somewhat of a king of composure when most would probably be dying of alcohol poisoning. You couldn’t help but wonder if ghouls even processed liquor the same? God a piece of you hoped not because there was no way in hell downing two full bottles of whisky, one vodka and a pint of moonshine back to back would have no affect on someone.

Macready:

“Come on sole, it puff puff pass, now stop hogging and pass me the sugar bombs while your at it.”

Never knowing when to stop, mac takes it a whole other level. So long as Duncan is in trusted care he’ll keep the drinks and cigarettes flowing, eating probably twice his body weight in junk while he’s at it. So long as you share and play along with his debauchery he is one happy merc.

Maxson:

“I...call Captain Kells.”

He’s pretty good at hiding when he’s intoxicated from practice at the ripe age of 11. However there is times even he can’t take it and throws in the towel, calling in “sick” to Kells and retreating to his quarters. That’s where the real fun begins.

Nick:

Can nick even get drunk??? You’ll never know, because he refuses to drink.

Old longfellow:

“I know what I’m doing, don’t worry your pretty head about me.”

Much like Hancock, he is a veteran drunkard. Despite his age he is still in his full prime of debauchery, downing pints left and right and continuing on as though he had been drinking water.

Piper:

“Hey, you think McDonough would notice if we graffitied the Great Wall?”

Trouble has always been something piper has gotten herself firmly into, her drinking only made this worse. Without her better judgement she could give a single fuck what the outcome of her harassment would end up being, so expect spit balling ideas that usually run the lines of arson, destruction of property and slander.

Preston:

“I sure hope..someone else is *hic* standing guard”

No matter how intoxicated you get your precious minuteman, he still can’t stop thinking of the safety of those surrounding him. Sure, he’ll loosen up- won’t make a peep about settlements- and relaxes but after everything that has happened...he can’t give it up.

X6-88:

“Sole, hold my glass”

Hope you love surprises because you’re in for a big one. Whenever you finally coaxed him into drinking, the synth just couldn’t stop. Next thing you know there is a crowd gathered around him and he’s viciously break dancing to “the wanderer”.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #fallout 4 #paladin danse #curie #danse #macready #porter gage #elder maxson #x6-88 #old longfellow

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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LUCY vs TIME

June 22, 1973

The publicity photos, from the movie set of Mame were unrecognizable. Unrecognizable! Why, they were unbelievable. Either somebody had shot them through six layers of soft-focus gauze - or a time machine.

Who was this frisky redhead hoofer kicking up her heels on the distant reaches of some resplendent soundstage, cannily avoiding a camera close-up?

Who was this svelte eyed lady fluttering from beneath a fringed rug of false lashes, not a wrinkle, sag or bag, not to mention even an expression line, sporting her famous face?

Well, clearly the lady was a star. And as star of Warner Brothers' new $8 million musical version of Mame, Lucille Ball had veto rights over all still photographs.

The trouble was that obviously nobody had had the nerve to tell her that if she could order reality rubbed out of a picture with a wave of the retoucher's brush, she couldn't pull the gauze over the eyes of an interviewer ushered into the Mame set to confront the living flesh, unretouched.

Time has not been unkind to Lucille Ball. No, beneath a billowing wine velvet and cream satin lounge suit, the svelte one-time chorus-girl's curves are still obvious. Despite a badly broken right leg from a skiing accident that had left the shooting of Mame stalled and the star in a cast for nearly a year, the shapely former showgirl's gams had now already carried her through a dozen dance routines up on top of pianos and down banisters that would have taxed a tap-dancer half her age.

At 61, Lucille Ball could pass for a dozen years younger. But only a dozen years.

The outrageous, outsize eyelashes now stick like pine spikes out of a swamp of tucks, puckers and bags etched around her shrewd big baby-blues. Her plastic face is a relief map of over-made-up wrinkles, the big bright red Cupid's-bow mouth lipsticked in a smile outside her own spidery upline.

But you don't survive 22 years on TV in the top ratings, get renewed once again this season when all about Bridgets and Bernies and Dean Martins (1) are falling to the network's chop, practically bear a baby and outlast a broken real-life marriage on the TV tube, take over a foundering corporation and build it into the single most powerful independent TV production house, without it showing in your face.

One look at Lucille Ball's face and you don't doubt it for a minute when Hal, her make-up man for 32 years, says she used to limp on to the Mame set in excruciating pain. Then, the minute the cameras clicked on, burst into a dazzling and seemingly effortless song-and-dance.

Not that the lady would admit it for a minute. "It was excruciating pain," she dismisses the subject airily.

But then these days she's not admitting much. It was a lesson learned the hard way. One recent fateful February day, over perhaps one too many Pouilly-Fuisses on the rocks, she was admitting so much so freely to the New York Times that the story read like a Hedda Hopper monologue.

On Desi Arnaz Sr., the Cuban bongo (2) player-bandleader she met and married out of a chorus line in 1940 and divorced 22 years later after a marriage that was even stormier off -screen than on: "He drank too much and he couldn't stand success."

On Desi Arnaz Jr., their 20-year-old son and his much-publicized romance with actress Patty Duke: "I had my doubts if the baby was Desi's at all. I said to him, "You feel responsible? Boy, you're all of 16 1/2 years old and you want to spend the rest of your life with this neurotic person?'"

On Liza Minnelli, then Desi's current fiancée: "They took her for over a million and a quarter more than her mother's debt. Just for beginners..."

One mention of the story now is enough to send sparks flying. "Why, that man should be..." she sputters over the reporter, "...spanked!"

It's a first burst of spontaneity from a lady who, once burned, is now so careful that she sounds at times as if he's dictating to the Library of Congress.

"I never thought I'd get this far, do so much, have such beautiful children," she says, chain-smoking in her dressing-room, all the wide-eyed telephone lineman's daughter from upstate New York. She knocks on wood.

"All I ever wanted was to get to vaudeville and I never made it."

When she hit New York to take acting classes at 16, the school sent back her mother's money, saying. "No talent." And now, refund in hand, 81-year-old DeeDee Ball, as the whole family calls her, sits in a front-row seat for every “Here's Lucy” show, just as she has done non-stop for the last 22 years.

Still it wasn't till 1951, when the Amazes dreamed up the “I Love Lucy” show, patterned after their own lives, as a way of keeping their marriage together and bandleader Desi home from the road, that success came.

But when it came, it was she who stole the show.

By two years later, 68 per cent of TV viewers in America were tuned in to see her show-by-show birth to Desi Arnaz Jr., whose arrival vied with the U.S. presidential election results for front-page space under the headline, "Lucy's $50 million baby."

Everybody, it seemed, loved Lucy except perhaps Desi Arnaz. Despite her insistence that "the series was happy there was no fighting. It was the greatest time of my life," she admits, "the trouble came much later. Only the last five years were hard."

Which means that the greatest time of her life lasted only a scant six years. When their marriage broke up officially in 1962 (3), friends introduced her to a stand-up comic named Gary Morton, now her producer, vice-president of Lucille Ball Productions, Inc., official show warm-up man and for 11 years now, Mr. Lucille Ball.

As her daughter Lucie, 22, and still a performer on the show, puts it. "She may be the king of stage 12, but at home she's queen Gary's the king!"

She indulges his passion for golf and a garage full of classic cars, but with the warning: "If he ever looks at another woman, I'll kill him."

She says she never makes a business move without him, but when she was left to head up the giant Desilu Corporation after her marriage break-up, it was she who was known as the woman shrewd enough to snap up “Mannix”, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek” when they were apparently doomed pilots, a comedienne who was not so comical in the executive suite.

But as for her much-vaunted business acumen, she is all denials and femininity.

"Me? No way. Desi did the whole thing. He was a fantastic businessman. I only took it over to build it up and sell it. I mean, there was a certain amount of building up to do."

When she took it over from Arnaz in 1961, Desilu had lost over $600,000. When she sold it seven years later, for $17 million in Gulf and Western stock, making her the conglomerate's largest stockholder and, some say, the wealthiest woman in Hollywood, the company had grossed $30-million and made a profit of ever $800,000.

"But everyone in the know knew I wasn't tough," she says. "No, the men I surrounded myself with were."

Still there a flinty glint behind the false lashes, a shrewd imperious purse to the painted lips, a ring to the wise-cracking whisky voice that's used to being heard. She moves around the Mame soundstage in queenly command, dispensing Norman Vincent Peal-doms, part star, part super-mother.

When it comes time for a scene featuring co-star Bea Arthur, she practically takes over directing from Gene Saks, Miss Arthur's husband. "Now did you tell her what side of the camera to be on?" she asks Saks, who looks like he might explode. "Now honey, toe your mark," she fusses over Bea, who grows quiet, explaining later:

"Lucy's really a dear. But sometimes it can get a little overpowering."

She doesn't talk to people without picking lint off their clothes, and straightening their collars, a habit that comes naturally enough to a woman who has her whole retinue, hairdresser, secretary, make-up man and driver of the last two decades - even her little picket-fenced French-provincial dressing-room trailer, with its false shutters and plastic ivy - picked up and transplanted wherever she strays from Lucy Lane where she presides at Universal Studios, year after year.

With her kids, she was, as daughter Lucie says, "Strict - and you want to believe it. We were the only kids we knew who had to work around the house for whatever money we'd get." Lucie still gets paid only scale for her mother's show.

But Desi Jr. wasn't exactly a natural. "He'd be asleep on the sidelines and I'd be ready to smack him," Lucy says, "When he said he was interested in serious acting, I said, 'Oh, really?' But he got out and worked. He surprised me. He surprised everybody. He even surprised himself."

Still, for all her talk about the joys of getting away to her Colorado ski lodge where she does "the cooking, the washing, the socks, the things I miss - not to mention the leg breaking - there's not much chance that Lucille Ball is going to be sitting the next round out, wallowing in domesticity, In the old rocking chair.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) “Bridget Loves Bernie” was a 1972 sitcom about a mixed marriage between a Jewish man and a Catholic woman. Like Lucy and Desi, stars Meredith Baxter and David Birney were also married in real life. Despite excellent ratings (it was the highest-rated new show of the 1972-73 season) the show was cancelled after only one season. The official reason for its cancellation was that it was scheduled between two mega-hits, “All in the Family” and “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, and its ratings weren't strong enough considering its choice position in the line-up.

Also, that same season, the long-running “The Dean Martin Show” (1965-1974) was cancelled. Lucille Ball had made three appearances on the show, and he also appeared on hers.

(2) Conga drums, not bongos. It is slightly dismissive to call Desi Arnaz a bongo player.

(3) The editor makes the error of assuming that Lucy divorced Desi and Married Gary Morton the same year. She divorced Desi in April 1960, and married Gary in November 1961, a year and a half later.

This article was published in the Leisure section of The Vancouver (BC) Sun on June 22, 1973. The article was written by Marci McDonald and illustrated by David Annesley.

#Lucille Ball #Mame #Vancouver Sun #Marci McDonald #David Annesley #Bridget Loves Bernie

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mesangelique · 4 years

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Part 1/2 of a story with a pairing no one requested : JOHN MARSTON/KIERAN DUFFY (I will post it on AO3 tomorrow)

Rating : R / 18+

Warning : alcohol, drunk sex, SMUT (but not in this part)

Thanks to @bluesilksilverspurs for the beta reading 🤠, I hope you will give this pairing a chance and like this first part ~

It's been a long day, an exhausting one. Arthur, John, Bill and Kieran went to Six Points cabin, hoping to find Colm O'Driscoll, but they found nothing spare a little cash, and Arthur's life had been saved by the « ex O'Driscoll boy » - otherwise known as Kieran Duffy. In doing so, Kieran had earned the right to be able to stay with the gang like any other member, doing chores and taking care of horses. Oh, he is well aware he won’t be able to disappear for days on end as Arthur or Micah do, but at least he won’t be tied to that tree anymore.

When the group got back to the camp and were explaining to Dutch what had happened, Lenny had arrived, panting, terrified, babbling about Micah waiting to be hung in Strawberry’s jail. At that point, Dutch suggested Arthur take Lenny into Valentine to relax a little, and now, hours later, John noticed he himself was drunk as he stood up from the stool in the saloon. The world started to turn around as if he was on a roller coaster, but all he managed to do was order another drink.

Arthur and Lenny had the great idea to invite John and Kieran to their little "having only one drink” thing. John was invited because he was standing there when Dutch suggested the outing, and Kieran mostly because that kid saved Mister Morgan's life - and desperately needed a bath. Hosea had also told Arthur that they had to accept him in the gang. John didn’t care much for stuff like that as long as this O’Driscoll was getting a good wash first.

And speaking of the O'Driscoll boy - he had just taken a whiskey and sat right next to John, drinking thirstily straight from the bottle. John couldn't help but look at him, squinting his eyes. Now that he was clean, smelling of soap and tobacco instead of horseshit and piss, with his hair framing his thin face, he was not THAT disgusting… Actually, it was maybe the first time John was really looking at him; at his thin beard, his worried dark green eyes, his nose. John frowned. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that. But he was drunk.

Yes, that's why.

"Think ye can drink better than me, O'Driscoll boy?" He chuckled deeply, his laugh raspy like his voice. He didn't have to find anything else to say to have Kieran looking at him with his scared deer eyes, a rabbit about to run for his dear life. "C'mere I'll show ya how WE drink."

Not giving him time to answer, he grabbed Kieran's whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips, taking big gulps, the whisky running right down his throat, burning and warming him up, and once he had run out of breath he handed the bottle back. John had to admit he was quite proud of his performance - he didn't choke or end up coughing.

"Dare you to do better than that. O'Driscoll." He whispered, leaning a bit towards Kieran, smirking arrogantly. Why was he like this suddenly? Why did he suddenly want to impress that O'Driscoll boy? Ah yes, he was drunk, maybe he didn’t have to search further for a reason, maybe …

Kieran’s eyes were wide, seeing his bottle being stolen like that. He was already tipsy, so he didn’t react like he normally would. Actually, he had been focusing on John Adam’s apple, the way it had bobbed up and down as he swallowed the alcohol… That ride earlier, where his body was fully pressed against the other man’s had made him look at John Marston differently.

And here, now, he was mostly drunk, and his initial shyness was gone. He was just chuckling, cheeks red like a teenager, a happy one, the one he never was. Being alone like this with John should be quite embarrassing, to be honest, and at first he had been afraid. But now... John was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight. He was giggling and evidently really proud of his drinking performance.

"Gimme that- you'll see I can!" Kieran retorted, reacting to John’s arrogant smirk and trying to avoid looking too long at the man’s lips and at that drop of whisky on his neck. Without much more thought, he took the bottle and emptied it. A delicious burning sensation in his throat, his head feeling so light he could float. All his anxiety, all his problems just drowned in the liquor, and so he laughed, pushing the bottle away, proudly looking at the other man.

"Ah ah! See Marston? Was able to follow you on this!" Kieran chuckled, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows (or trying to do so at least). He closed his eyes for a few seconds and suddenly, a hot wave was spreading all over his body, thickening his saliva. Now he was looking at John, at his dirty hair, his three days old beard, his scars … How fascinating are these scars, how marvellous they are … That very one on his lips.

"Pheeew, it’s so hot in here." The ex-O’Driscoll breathed out, looking at the ceiling, taking his dust coat off. He felt like he was on fire right now. He would love to jump naked in some river... or in some horse's trough. His cheeks were red and burning, and he could almost feel sweat droplets forming on the back of his neck. He continued, "So hot in here…. So, what we doin' now – ya know, since I finished the bottle" Kieran chuckled, trying to get rid of his neckerchief.

Oh he is a mess, a fucking mess right now, unable to talk properly, babbling shitty stuff that is ricocheting about in his head. He must be mad - drinking that whole bottle hadn’t really been a good idea. Even if he thought it had impressed John… John had watched him emptying the bottle, mesmerized, in fact, by the sight of that boy drinking like he hadn't drank in days.

"Ain'tcha a thirsty one, eh?" John had given a husky laugh when Kieran lowered the empty bottle and then started whining about the temperature. He can feel a warm feeling in his groin, spreading up his spine right now, and it is making him feel like he is burning too. That very same feeling he has when a pretty lady walks by and he pulls her onto his lap. The only problem is that he ain't looking at a pretty lady right now. He is looking at a very drunk O'Driscoll boy. Well, an ex-O’Driscoll boy. He is looking at Mister Duffy. Kieran. Kieran Duffy. What kind of a fool is he, John Marston, to be looking at a guy like this? The last time it happened was a decade ago. But he is drunk tonight, so that must be why. That’s obviously why.

"I suppose you're pretty hot now what with all that booze you've been drinkin'. C'mon, let's get out of here and take some air" John grumbled, pushing away from the counter and bumping into some tables before finally making it to the back door. He opened it roughly, almost knocking an old man backwards while doing so. John could hear Kieran behind him, trying to act naturally, as if they hadn’t just been drinking like two sailors, and as he held the door open for him, he was able to clearly see that Kieran was having a hard time even walking straight.

As Kieran drew level with John, he even tripped, and although John did not know how, or why, his reflex was to react fast, fast enough to grab him. The amount of alcohol in his own blood was sapping away at his strength though and ultimately he found himself pinning Kieran against the nearest wall with the weight of his whole body, his hands on each side of Kieran’s head and his face almost buried in his neck. His body felt spineless and he was suddenly very tired. Both of them were giggling like teenagers after their first beer. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. In fact, neither of them could feel their legs right now.

After almost collapsing on at least three occasions, they were both outside proper now. Navigating the tiny step outside of the saloon almost pitched both of them over, which was no surprise at all seeing as how drunk they were, but now they were here, leaning against another wall. How did they even make it this far? No one will ever know.

"You alright?" John asked in a thick voice, their noses nearly touching. They are close. Really, really close. Kieran can feel every piece of the wood behind him snagging on his shirt and scratching his back, he can feel how muddy the ground is, how cold the air is but how hot he feels, like he is burning inside. He tried to focus on everything but their sudden closeness. Because the problem is the ex-O’Driscoll is far more into men than the church wants him to be, than society wants him to be – it’s a problem he has known about for a long time, and has tried to hide for even longer… people get hanged for it. Kieran could hear his heart in his ears, his blood pumping roughly, and his lungs running out of air, his tongue heavy in his mouth but most importantly that warmth waking up in his lower belly, spreading in his groin, curling up his spine. Having John Marston, drunk, his nose almost against his, his body flush against him... He swallowed thickly, looking at John’s lips as though hypnotised, and managed to nod, his green, greyish eyes glancing over John’s scars.

"Y-es. 'Am alright, Mister." He whispers.

John's breathing was suddenly deep and fast. He could feel Kieran's warmth mixing with his own. Strangely, he didn’t mind. He knew damn well he was already growing hard, mostly because of the alcohol, of course. He always got so horny when he started getting drunk, so the fact that it was Kieran and not another cheap whore isn’t so surprising, right? The fact that he found Kieran’s eyes fascinating and his lips kissable right now, and his so thin, fragile collarbone beautiful – that was just the alcohol. This closeness wasn’t helping, creating friction on his - their - cock under his – their - pants, having him - them - hum deeply, both acting like they did not hear or feel the other.

"Yea? That's good then. Yea."

There was a silence then when John met Kieran's eyes, and his mind was filled up with dark fantasy and desire and want and that need of possession. He rarely felt that with a girl, that possessiveness rising. But he had really drank a lot tonight, they both had really drank a lot, and Kieran looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf to eat him.

"Thought you were hot? Gotta do something about that, right?" John whispered thickly, lowering his eyes to Kieran's throat, almost able to hear his thundering beating heart when his hands went to the collar of his shirt and started working on the buttons. The alcohol doesn’t help his fingers at all, but he was slipping one button free and then another…

"Yeah- I'm… I'm hot - but w...whatabout you ?" Kieran whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, but freezing immediately, unsure. He could feel John’s hands on his shirt, feel his fingers working on opening it – the way his breath was coming quicker and his eyes had grown significantly darker. Kieran couldn’t help but bite his lip, and couldn’t decide if he hoped John would notice it or not, the way he himself has noticed John’s hooded lustful gaze and the way he is staring at his face, his neck.

#rdr2 #van der linde gang #read dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #odriscoll #john marston #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #bill williamson #johnxkieran #Marffy?#i need to find this relationship a name #Duston?#rdr2 fanfic

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missnxthingg · 4 years

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𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕨𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 • 𝕥𝕨𝕠

SUMMARY: It’s the first day of senior year. Harrison and Tom got everyone’s eyes on them, but Tom only has his eyes for a certain someone and she’s willing to get to know him better.

Based on my one-shot, Flawless.

PAIRING: Rich!Tom Holland x Rich!Reader (Best Friends to Lovers AU)

WORDS: 9.2K

WARNINGS: Swearing, mentions of sex, underage drinking.

main masterlist | series masterlist | taglist | main blog | playlist

⋘ previous chapter // next chapter ⋙

𝕥𝕨𝕠 • 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕪

“I can’t fucking believe it!” (Y/N) cursed and pressed her pillows on her ears, groaning in anger. “This is just disrespectful.”

It had been a long day for (Y/N) and the thing she craved doing the most during the whole day was having a chill and early night, but things started to go sideways from the moment she stepped into her apartment. It was the same old chaos, with all the people hired to work for your family running around the house and your mom smoking a cigarette and checking some emails in the living room. She didn’t give two fucks about how her daughter was feeling or even took a good look to see her face. She only mumbled ‘I got a date, so don’t wait up’ and disappeared hours later with a pretty red dress.

The whole night was hard, trying to take care of herself and staying hydrated. Also, it was one of the nights her mental health was getting the best of her. She was feeling lonely and weak, but that was just something that happened a lot and she was getting used to it, even though nobody should get used. She tried to wash it down with hot teas and solo movie night with scented candles and a bubble bath. While she emerged in hot water, she started to think about her life, it was completely shitty and there was nothing she could do about it. Her mother didn’t care about her and her father was never around when she needed it. Also, she didn’t have any true friends and that was what she hated the most because that meant that no one liked her enough to stick around.

And then she remembered the boy she met earlier today. Tom was different than anyone she had ever met and something about him made her want to know him better like she was supposed to know him somehow. The boy didn’t leave her mind during the whole night and it was funny how he just appeared and didn’t leave. There was nothing special about the way they met, he was just nice to her and it made her feel better. Maybe after today, she would have a friend. That was too good to be true, who would want her as a friend anyway?

When tiredness hit her body, she went to sleep or at least tried to, because half an hour later her mom and she could hear the loud giggles and the whisky bottle hitting the edge of the glass. (Y/N) already knew that it was going to be a long night, as usual. But things only started to get worse when her mom got to bed with the guy she was dating. The bed hitting the wall, loud moans and screams, it was like they were the only one in the house.

“Ugh, when I bring boys home, I try to be as quiet as possible. But no, she has to do the loud screaming. That’s not even a turn on.” (Y/N) mumbled to herself as she got up to circle her room as she thought of something to do, but what was she supposed to do? She knew that interfering wouldn’t work and she was too sick to go out and look for somewhere else to stay. So she decided to walk around the house, after all, her mom was too busy to care what she was doing right?

She drank at least three bags of chamomile tea that night, trying to calm down and maybe not shout at her mother once she woke up the next morning to go to class. Now she was even considering not sleeping at all because it would be much worse to sleep for such few hours. God knows at what time her mother stopped screaming and she finally got to sleep, the only thing she knows is that when the alarm clock rang, she was very tired and her head was exploding in headache.

“Ugh, fuck me.” She cursed under her breath and made her way to the bathroom to find some painkillers and take a shower. She might be looking like a fucking zombie, but sure as hell won’t give them the small chance to see that. Makeup helped a lot and she was an expert on making it look natural. She was almost done with her mascara when a knock on the door interrupted her.

“I need to borrow your new Prada heels for a meeting.” Her mother came into the room wearing a silky robe and holding a cigarette between her fingers.

“Good morning to you too, mother.” (Y/N) was clearly in a bad mood, as she always was, not a morning person. “Did you sleep well? Because I for sure didn’t.”

“What got into you?” Josephine searched through her closet for the heels.

“Uhm, I don’t know… Maybe only three hours of sleep on a school night with my lovely mother having the time of her life with God knows who.”

“His name is Garold and he’s a fine man. Be nice to him.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and started to get dressed since her mother was taking forever to find those heels. She dressed in her common pencil plaid skirt, a white blouse with a bow neck, a black sweater and black oxfords. “Those schools uniforms are always horrible.”

“At least the school is flexible and I can wear it however I want.” She finished her hair in the mirror and took the heels out of the closet to make her mom go away. “I am going to be very clear with you, mom. I don’t ever want to go through this situation again because it’s embarrassing and gross. If it happens again, I’m moving in with dad.”

“Pft, please… You would never go live with your dad because he’s never home.”

“Try me.” (Y/N) threatened. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go to class.”

“What about breakfast? I was thinking about some croissants with you and Garold...” (Y/N)’s mouth fell agape as she gathered all of her things inside her purse and rushed outside the bedroom.

“Never in a million years.” She shouted before rushing downstairs to avoid talking to her mother. “I seriously need to be accepted in a university far away from her.”

Living close to the school was a privilege in New York due to its natural bad traffic. It didn’t take less than 15 minutes to get there, but it was long enough for (Y/N) to settle her breathing and calm down. It had been a long night, but it was her first day back in school and it was her senior year. Everything about it was supposed to be fun, right? And things would always remain the same, her getting there early to eat breakfast from the café across the street, sitting by her window table to read her latest book discover over waffles and a very hot latte. Of course, she had someone to make her breakfast back home, but morning routine was so agitated around her apartment that even on weekends she decides to go out and find herself some breakfast or brunch.

Everyone knew who she was, even the café's barista, who rushed to make her usual order as she walked into the room and mumbled a polite good morning at him. Joey, the barista, was an old fling of hers that nobody knew about, probably because nobody ever knew about who she dated or hooked up and because he was a Columbia kid, working at the café to pay for his bills. Joey was the kind of boy that wasn’t breathtaking, but his cute smile and his introverted side that enjoyed books, hanging out at the bar and having deep conversations was what attracted (Y/N) the most. He was one of the nicest guys she ever went out with, although it didn’t last long. Turns out that he only talked to her in the first place because he knew she had money and he was drowning in his college loan. But it was a nice relationship, one where they would read books to each other, have long conversations by the café window, she’d spend the whole weekend having a sex marathon in his flat. With time she got bored though, it wasn’t her type to be a homegirl. When they broke up he remained respectful, although he still flirts with her every morning as he serves her breakfast.

"Morning, (Y/N). It's been a while." Joey mumbled as he rested her latte in front of her, followed by a plate with a large waffle.

"It's been a while since I've last been to New York." She grinned as she put her hair back in a bun. "I was in Paris."

"I know. You're everywhere. In every magazine, every fashion adds on the internet." He chuckled as he poured the syrup on her waffles. "You look pretty today. A little different than I've ever seen you."

"Different how?"

"You're not wearing big fancy coats or too much makeup. And you look more mature. Flawless, as always." She knew Joey had a hard time after their breakup and maybe he still felt something for her, but he was only a good friend and that was it.

"Thank you."

"I have to go back, but have a nice say." He waved as he walked back to the balcony where customers were waiting.

"You too, Joey." She smiled sympathetically and drove her attention back to the food in front of her. Right now, she wasn't feeling so good to read her newest book. There were days that the only thing she wanted was to sit there by the soft rock music playing in the background, the sound of the coffee machine, the amazing smell in the air and the agitated New York morning routine outside their windows. It was better than having breakfast with her mother and her newest fling.

(...)

Tom woke up from a late night with his brothers and his best mate. After what happened at school, Harrison drove him home and stood over when Nikki invited him for dinner. Also, he knew that Tom needed support after the day he had and to discuss a little more about the girl keeping a smile on his face ever since he left the nursery. After a little confront in the car, Tom opened everything up to Harrison, like he always did, and spared no details. Haz couldn’t swear he never saw Tom so excited about a girl before and he instantly knew that there was something between them. But he didn’t mention it for the rest of the night, too busy with poker and the twins bad jokes being shot through the air. It was past midnight when Harrison left for his apartment and Tom got to bed.

The morning wasn’t generous at all with him and it was like a truck had hit him during the night. He would’ve done anything to just stay in bed, but it was the first day of senior year and he for sure wasn’t going to miss it, especially after the day he had yesterday, meeting a lot of nice people. He wanted to cause a good impression, as always, but there wasn’t much to do when you’re reduced to a uniform. He decided to go with social navy trousers, a white blouse with the collar popping out of a sweater and to finish, a tie, which was mandatory. He’d never used a school uniform before, but he had to admit he looked extremely hot on them.

“Morning mum, dad.” He kissed Nikki’s cheek when he made his way to the kitchen and she was making sure all of her boys were fed up before going out. He tapped his father’s shoulder and gently poured some tea in his cup to sit between Harry and Paddy.

“Morning Tommy. Are you feeling better?” He nodded sleepy and she smiled at him. “I guess poker with the boys helped you.”

“He just loves to lose to me.” Sam pocked his tongue out and all the brothers rolled their eyes. “You’re all just jealous because I won twice.”

“You cheated twice, Sam.” Harry said before attacking the eyes in front of him.

“Do you want something to eat Tom?” Nikki asked and he shook his head.

“Tea is fine mom, I’m not 100% better and I don’t feel like eating.”

“Okay, rush boys. Tom, you still have to pick Harrison at his apartment and I still have two schools to drop the twins and Paddy.” The boys nodded and rushed to finish their breakfast. “Dom, you sure you’ll be fine taking the subway to work?”

“Everybody uses the subway in New York. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of her head. Dom and Nikki were a team, making it easier to raise four boys, even though there were moments that definitely weren’t easy. But when they look at their kids, they know they’ve made a good job. “Okay, I gotta go. Have a good first day, boys.”

“You too, dad.” They mumbled as they watched the old man walk away from the kitchen.

“Okay, bye. I have to rush.” Tom waved and they all said their goodbyes to the boy.

Being the only one with a car, Tom had to drive to the Upper West Side to pick his best friend, even though he lived right next to the school. Luckily, it didn’t take long until he got to Harrison’s apartment to find him leaned against the building’s walls in his pretty uniform. He dressed up differently than Tom, ditching the sweater and opting for a blazer instead.

“Morning, mate.” Harrison sat inside the car and Tom quickly started to drive again. “Feeling better?”

“A little. But I still can’t eat, too sick to do so.”

“Or are you nervous to meet the pretty girl? What was her name…”

“(Y/N). And no, that’s not because of that.” Liar. It was all he could think about ever since he woke up. Actually, it was the only thing he could think about ever since he left that nursery yesterday. How did that girl shake him up like that after one small conversation? “I’m not sure she’ll talk to me today. She doesn’t seem like the type of girl that likes to hang with lads that aren’t like her. We’re not extremely rich, or famous.”

“Come on, mate. You’re hot, she’s not stupid. At least I think you can hit that.”

“No, I don’t wanna hit that. This one is different.” He sheepishly smiled as he remembered her from yesterday, sitting next to him and keeping her voice soft and low, just for him to hear it.

“You like her.” Harrison smirked and Tom sighed loudly.

“I don’t. She’s just… a friend. Yeah, I think maybe less. She’s pretty, but I don’t think I want to hit that.” He tried to avoid that subject, but Harrison wanted to know more about the girl that made Tom’s eyes shine for the first time in his life. “Because she’s the first girl that made me feel different and I don’t wanna ruin that.”

“Just… be careful mate. She might be nice, but don't forget that she’s a spoiled kid like everyone else in those schools.”

“I’ll be, promise you.” Tom found a parking lot next to school and left his car there.

His new school was cool, but the people were a little… different. They were rich kids, raised as one, so it didn't match either Tom's or Harrison’s personality that much since they couldn't stand those type of people, being raised to use their money wisely and never feel like they’re better than someone because of what they materially have. Still, some people were nice enough to talk to them on the first day. Others looked at them up and down with disdain and arrogance.

Parties were already being planned. The Welcoming Party hosted by Noel Kaim in his big Long Island summer house and there were whispers all around the school that this one was going to be epic since it was Noel's senior year. Everyone in school was always invited, but only a few selected people showed up. Of course, (Y/N) was the most expected to be there since she never misses a party, especially when it’s hosted by Noel.

"I don't know if I'm doing Noel's party this year. Not in the mood." (Y/N) commented when she met up with her friends after a good breakfast. They were all reunited at the restroom getting some final touches in their makeups.

"Come on, (Y/N). Noel is like… your guy. Aren't you gonna show up at his party and claim for what's yours?" Courtney said as she applied some lipgloss in the mirror.

"First of all, he's not my guy. We make out sometimes, and I take him to red carpets and events with me. But that's because I can't show empty-handed." (Y/N) started to braid Stacy's hair as she asked earlier. "Also, I'm getting tired of him."

"Why?" Stacy frowned and (Y/N) shrugged.

"Too clingy." They all laughed together. "S, you should go after him at that party. I know you always flirt, so maybe this should be the best opportunity."

"Won't you be mad about that?"

"No, I swear."

(Y/N) always tried to be sweet with her friends and they normally were sweet back, especially Courtney who is the sweetest girl in the world. But sometimes Stacy seems like she just wants to be (Y/N) and she was tired of it, maybe her hooking up with Noel will get her to stop.

"And Court, you know basketball's team Lamar, right? He seems like your type, you should go for him."

"What? No, no, no. Lamar is way over my league." Courtney chuckled nervously as she changed her lipgloss for mascara.

"Are you kidding me? You're amazing, he would be lucky to be with you."

"It's not like I'm you, (Y/N)." She said in a low tone and before (Y/N) could question it, the bell rang and they had to rush to class.

Classes were just like any other day. It was the first day of the school year and still, things didn't change at all for those who were used to the school. Tom and Harrison had a hard time to pick up everyone's pace, but soon they realised that it wasn't so different from their school back in London. Still, being new in school is always hard and everyone needs some time to adapt.

"So what are you thinking about?" Harrison asked Tom when they sat down to eat lunch together.

"Everything's so different, right?" He grinned and shrugged. "I'm kind of terrified."

"Why would you even be terrified?"

"Everyone around here seems to be working hard to become someone. Great college education and a proper major. I just want to be an actor."

"And aren't you working hard to become it?" Harrison arched his eyebrows and Tom shrugged. "Tom, you're not inferior just because you don't want to go to an Ivy League university and become a lawyer."

"Well, maybe I am."

"Well, if you say so, then so am I. Did you forget that I'm also trying to be an actor?" Tom didn't know what else to say and just concentrated on his sandwich.

"I'm sorry mate."

"It's okay. If you ever wanna talk about this, I'm your guy." Harrison gave him two taps in the back and went back to his food. "Oh, what about that (Y/N) chick?"

What about her? Well, at this exact moment she was sitting in her usual spot by the stairs in front of the school, eating with her friends while they commented on people's dressing. That's something they normally do when they're bored and didn't have much to talk to each other. It always worked to fill the blanks and they didn't need to talk about something deeper or anything else.

"Noel looks good today." Stacy commented and Courtney nodded.

"He looks the same as every day." (Y/N) siped her lemonade as they all observed Noel passing balls with his friends and laughing a lot.

"His hair looks different." Courtney commented and (Y/N) frowned.

"No, it doesn't."

"Not Noel's. Lamar's. He got a buzzcut." She pointed to the boy standing next to Noel, passing a hand on his shaved head.

"It looks ridiculous." Stacy said with a laugh.

"I like it." (Y/N) said and Courtney agreed with a nod. "It gave him a mature look."

"He looks so pretty, doesn't he?" Courtney had full heart eyes when she was looking at the boy, and (Y/N) liked her, so that's why she shouted next.

"Hey, Lamar. C'mere." She signed to the boy as he looked their way. He pointed to his chest and she nodded. Courtney looked like she was about to burst into flames as he approached.

"Hey, (Y/N)." He sat down with them and sent a smile on Courtney's way. This was too easy.

"Hey Lamar, you remember my friends." (Y/N) pointed to the girls and they waved shyly.

"Courtney, right?" He pointed and she nodded with a blush. "And… Stella?"

"It's Stacy." She groaned and started to gather her things.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized and she shrugged.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter anyway. I have to make a call." Stacy walked away as everyone frowned at her attitude.

"So, are you guys coming to Noel's party?" Lamar asked.

"Sorry, I only go to Long Island on vacations." (Y/N) said putting on some sunglasses. "Plus, I have a thing. But Courtney's going."

"Really?" He opened a little smile for her and she nodded with a shy smile. "Cool."

"I have to go, but I'm sure you're gonna take good care of Court, right?" (Y/N) rested a hand on his shoulder and he nodded, looking at Courtney.

"Yeah, of course." He had a playful cheeky smile on his face.

"Are you going to be okay, baby?"

"Yeah. Lamar can keep me company." Courtney pointed at him and that was all (Y/N) needed to hear before stepping up and walking away.

She took the time alone to sit on a bench and read her book since she wasn't in the mood earlier that morning, but after a whole day of boring classes, she was dying to get a little time to just be alone and relax over those thousands of words while eating peaches as she loved to do. But her quiet moment of peace was disturbed by someone sitting next to her and passing an arm behind her back. She knew who's touch it was by now.

"Noel, I need some time alone."

"Hey baby, why are you avoiding me?" He removed a hair from her ear and she rolled her eyes.

"First of all, I didn't give you permission to touch me." She removed his arm from her shoulders and sat away from him. "Second, I'm avoiding you because you're annoying."

"You never called last night."

"I got food poisoning. And thank you for asking if I'm good."

"I didn't know that you were sick."

"Yes, you did. You have a Twitter, everyone in school was commenting about it." She crossed her arms and they remained in silence.

"I missed you when you were gone."

"Yet you didn't call me once." She avoided his gaze, which she knew was locked on her. "You were probably too busy getting wasted in Rio."

"It was Fernando de Noronha."

"I don't even know what that means." She shot up and started to walk away, but Noel followed her. "Stop following me."

"Are you coming to my party?" He asked and she ignored. "Come on, baby, talk to me." He reached for her wrist and pulled her back to him, making her wince in pain.

"Noel, let me go. You're hurting me."

"You can't avoid me forever." His voice sounded harsh and commanding. (Y/N) was trying to remain though with a tight grip on her wrist.

"She asked you to let her go, mate." They heard a voice from behind them and they looked its way. (Y/N) smiled when she saw Tom standing there, eyebrows furrowed and folded arms.

"Hey new guy, you shouldn't get your nose where you were not invited."

"Yeah, I don’t care. I’m not letting you do anything to her."

"Let me fucking go, Noel." She forced her wrist out of his hand and after a lot of debating, he let her go.

"Our talk isn't over." He pointed out before walking back to his friends.

"Don't fucking talk to me." She massaged her wrist and walked Tom's way. He still looking at Noel with an angry face, making sure he walked far away from her. He slipped his hand on her back and pulled her away from the guy, walking towards Harrison waiting in the back.

"You okay?" Tom asked and she shook her head no. "Should we go to the nursery again?"

"No, I'm fine." You didn't dare to look up to him or you would cry again and you were sick of crying in front of Tom. "Noel's an idiot."

"Is he always like this?"

"To me? No. This is new." She shot an angry look at him, now back to playing with his friends. "We used to date. Well, nothing serious though. But he never was aggressive with me before."

"I’m gonna keep an eye on him, okay?" Tom looked angry and full of concern as he analysed her wrist carefully, holding it like it was made of glass. "Come on, let's sit with me and Haz. We'll keep you away from that idiot."

Tom and Harrison were getting out for some air when they spotted (Y/N) fighting to get away from a boy who had a strong grip on her wrist. Tom immediately interfered and got her safely with him and Harrison on another bench.

"Hey, you alright?" Harrison asked her and she nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so." She sighed and fixed her hair. "Sorry, uhm… I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

"I'm Harrison Osterfield. And it's nice to meet you."

"I met both of you in the worst situation." They laughed together and Harrison sat aside, patting the space next to him so she could sit down. “I’m so sorry, I’m not usually this messed up, I promised.”

“It’s okay. We all have some bad times and it’s not your fault.”

“Especially this one.” Tom still looked angry and was having a hard time to calm down. He was still facing Tom with a red face, crossed arms and eyebrows furrowed. Harrison shot a glance at his friend to make him calm down a little. Tom rolled his eyes and sat next to (Y/N).

“Is that the Noel everyone in school is talking about today?” Harrison asked and (Y/N) nodded. “They are all saying his parties are epic.”

“I’ve been to better ones.” She said. “Noel is one hell of a popular guy and everyone thinks he’s nice and powerful, but he’s so dirty. Ugh, I want to punch him sometimes.”

“Do you know him very well?”

“Better than anyone else in this school. But no one truly knows him, it’s frustrating. You have no idea what he’s capable of. I just thought I was the limit.”

“Well, I guess we all just saw what he can do.” Tom said and Harrison nodded.

“But it’s okay. We’re gonna take care of you.” She smiled at the boys. She didn’t know them very well, but something was telling her that they were very trustable and she could be comfortable around them.

“Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, anytime.” Tom softly smiled at her, making her heart warmer.

“I know we met at the worst time possible. But I would like to hang out with you sometime.”

“That would be great.”

“Do you guys drink?”

“Yes.” They answered in unison, making her laugh. “You wanna make us happy? Get us a pint.”

“I know the perfect place to go to. Maybe Friday night?”

“Oh, it’s my mom’s birthday and we’re going out for dinner. But you two should go and have fun together.”

It was a complicated matter for both of them. They’ve never gone out with another person alone if it wasn’t for a date. Tom didn’t even remember the last time he even befriended a girl without second intentions and he knew that Harrison was trying to get him alone with (Y/N) after long hours hearing him saying that Tom was in love with this girl. And it’s been a while since (Y/N)’s last relationship, but even when she was in France she used those fancy restaurants for quick late-night dates ending up back in her hotel room at the end. What it was like to sit in front of each other with two drinks and just talk without any second intentions?

“I would love to.” Tom said first, trying to take a leap of faith and being confident about going out with her.

“I guess it’s a date.”

(...)

(YN) never invited someone on a date before. She was usually asked on them by other boys. But when she was standing right there in front of Tom, something just made her say that it was alright to go out with him and that’s why she was going through her closet to find a good outfit for her date. Well, it wasn’t exactly a date, was it? Everything just made you so confused. Not knowing what it was made her question about what to choose for wearing, and she nearly emptied her wardrobe to find something nice, which considering its size, was not an easy job.

“What’s wrong with you?” Her mother asked as she came into her daughter’s closet, finding almost half of her closet on the floor.

“I can’t find anything nice to wear.” (Y/N) sighed as she sat down in the chair place right in the centre of a sea of clothes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You act as if I’m not your mother.” Josie stepped into the closet and started to look for something fresh.

“Well, we’re not exactly on speaking terms.”

“And that’s on you, sweetie. You’re the one not talking to me.” She went through many skirts that were already on the floor, throwing some of them back when she wasn't satisfied.

“You had crazy monkey sex with some guy and kept me up all night.”

“You’re mad because of that?” Josie did an ugly face looking back to her daughter and (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“What did you think I was mad for?” She frowned and her mother shrugged.

“About the event the other day. And well, in that case, I should be mad at your for running away and for the day that followed that one. You got yourself inside that hole Noel Kaim calls his bedroom and didn’t come back for two days.”

“You’re friends with his mother.”

“Cornelia is a lovely woman. Can’t say the same about the boys in her family.” Josie threw a leathery black skirt over her daughter and kept searching to match for the uppers. “Well, that woman is wearing the horns of a cuckold, and they’re probably Prada’s.”

“You’re one of the women George Kaim had an affair with.”

“Yeah, and I regret it deeply because that man doesn’t know how to make a lady cum. I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife is also having an affair.” (Y/N) almost choked on her mother’s words, there clearly wasn’t a limit in the words that came out of her mouth.

“Oh God, get out of here!” She pointed the door and Josie rolled her eyes.

“I’m almost done, Jesus…” She threw a black tank top over her daughter’s lap and a leather jacket. “Try these with black high heels or Dr Martens. Also, pretty lingerie underneath it, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“You’re the world’s worst mother.” Josephine showed her a middle finger on her way out. She came back a couple of seconds later with a cigarette lit up. “What did I ever tell you about smoking indoors?”

“Yeah, whatever. My apartment, my bills, my business.” Josie rambled before taking the cigarette again. “I’m going out with Garold tonight, and will probably stay at his place. So don’t bother about waiting for me.”

“Would never bother about that.” (Y/N) started to change into her clothes. She could say anything about her mom, but she had to admit that Josephine knows how to dress someone up. “At least I can have a proper night of sleep.”

“And if you want to use the apartment later…”

“Please leave.” (Y/N) said as she pointed out the door, already grossed out by that conversation.

“Use condoms.” She shouted from the back and (Y/N) continued to get ready, trying to forget the inappropriate conversation she just had with her mother.

While (Y/N) was finishing getting ready, Tom was trying to find the perfect outfit for tonight, just like she was doing before. See, the thing is that Tom heard many things about her during the week. A lot of people said that she was the kind of girl who doesn’t usually befriend with a boy if she doesn’t want anything else, but she also doesn’t want any commitment. And that kind of made Tom nervous because he didn’t know what tonight meant. Was it a date, or was it just two friends hanging out? But most importantly, did he want it to be a date?

“What are you doing?” Harry asked popping his head into the room.

“Trying to find something nice to go out tonight, but it’s not an easy task when all my stuff is still packed inside many suitcases.” Tom chuckled as he removed many t-shirts from his bag.

“Mate, I’m so glad my closet is already finished.” Sam popped inside the room with his twin brother.

“And now we have a crowd.” Tom chuckled and his brothers stepped into the room, taking their seat in Tom’s mattress since he didn’t have a proper bed yet.

“You already have a date. You’re lucky.” Harry said. “The girls in my school are so hard to get.”

“That’s because you give them the impression that you want something serious.”

“But I do want something serious.” Tom rolled his eyes and took a black shirt to match his jeans. “Sam found someone great, and I want that too. I don’t want to end up like you, miserably chasing after girls.”

“First, chasing after girls is fun. Second, I’m not going on a date, I’m taking my time.”

“You already said to me that you hooked up with a girl after class on Wednesday. That was your third day of classes.”

“Come on, Sam. Look at me, I’m irresistible.” Tom pointed down to his body, which made the twins laugh.

“Oh, do me a favour and tell Haz that I want my Xbox controllers back! He has it ever since we were in England.” Harry mumbled as he replied a text on his phone.

“I’m not hanging out with Harrison. Today’s Phil’s birthday.” Tom said, voice a little lower than before. The twins shared a look once Tom looked away, frowning to each other.

“So you’re not going on a date, but you’re not hanging out with Harrison. Who exactly are you hanging out with?” Sam crossed his arms and frowned. Tom shrugged as he put on his jacket.

“You’re hanging with (Y/N), aren’t you?” Harry asked and it was Tom’s turn to frown, quickly turning his head to the twins.

“How do you know who she is?”

“Harrison told me everything about you two.” Harry shrugged and Tom’s mouth fell agape.

“That bitch.” Tom cursed under his breath.

“So it is a date!” Harry jumped excitedly and Tom took a long breath, clenching his jaw.

“No, it isn’t. I’m hanging out with (Y/N), but we’re going as friends.”

“Yeah, we’re not going to believe you. And honestly, I don’t care.” Sam said and Harry laughed. “I still don’t know who’s this (Y/N) chick.”

“She’s just this girl I met at the nursery on my first day and she’s cool. Like...stupidly cool.” Tom opened a small smile on his lips as he talked about her. “And you know, she’s pretty and everything, but she’s different from anyone I’ve ever met. I’m not wasting that with a meaningless hookup.”

“I can’t believe this…” Sam started with a grin on his face. “Tom actually likes a girl.”

“What?” Tom turned around angrily to find the twins laughing. “I don’t like her.”

“Yes, you do. You talk about her with a big smile on your face, it’s priceless!” Harry pointed and received dirty underwear on his face. “Hey, not cool.”

“Remember me to kill Harrison later. Now, does this looks cool?” Tom showed what he was wearing and the twins analysed it closely. A black t-shirt, dark washed jeans and a leather jacket. He always dresses up simple, but he looks hot with them.

“If you’re planning on getting laid tonight, I think it’s good.” Harry nodded and Tom adjusted his jacket.

“But don’t forget your cologne, since girls are always falling for it.” Tom rolled his eyes and started to push the twins out of the room.

“Yeah, you’re pissing me off. Goodbye!” He slammed the door at their faces and took a second to breathe.

As Tom finished his final details, (Y/N) texted him saying that she was already leaving the apartment to meet him there. He rushed to get his things and come downstairs to find his mother cuddled with his father and younger brother, Paddy. They looked so comfortable that it made Tom want to cancel his thing and snuggle in his mother’s arms.

“Oh, what a handsome young man.” Nikki got out of the couch and walked to her son, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Are you going out with Harrison?”

“He has a date, mom.” Harry interrupted and received a death glare from Tom.

“A date? That’s lovely. I hope it’s a girl that makes you settle for good because I hate having to memorize all of their names.”

“First, even I don’t memorize their names. Second, it’s not a date. I’m hanging out with a girl, but we’re only friends.”

“That’s new.” Dom commented. “Well, take some money from my wallet. Make it a nice evening for her.”

“And be safe.” Nikki kissed his forehead and he smiled before looking for his dad’s wallet to take some money to take off.

New York was beautiful at night, just as much as it was during the day. (Y/N) didn’t make it a secret when it came to love the city and anyone could see it in her eyes, how they shinned as she glanced out the window to watch the lights and the movement around her. Tom was learning to love it too. He came from a big city, probably one of the most popular cities in the world, but New York was slowly owning a place in his heart. It’s been less than a month since he moved here and it’s been such a nice time, especially when he got to meet nice people, just like the one he was about to go meet.

He never would expect that his first outing with a girl around the nightly city would be as a friendly date, but he was so happy to be doing this. It was almost magical the way she made him feel, it was almost like a soulmate connection that pulled them together somehow and he couldn’t help but like it. Even though he loved Harrison and they had been together for years now, Tom had this feeling that (Y/N) was something special in his life. Maybe she had the potential to be his best friend.

"Oh, sorry love. Have you been waiting for long?" Tom said as he stepped out of the taxi to find her standing outside the bar. He only saw her twice with clothes that weren't school uniform and he was pretty sure she doesn't wear fancy dresses all the time, but right now she looked like a real supermodel fashionista. Everything on her matched and fit like they were meant to be worn together.

“Don’t worry, I just got here.” (Y/N) fixed her hair and smiled at Tom. “I liked your jacket.”

“Really? It’s like… super old.”

“Vintage, darling.” She pinched his stomach and Tom smiled. Maybe that was something she always did to people she’s intimate with and now she was doing it with him like they’ve known each other for a long time.

“Well, thank you. Coming from a girl who’s always dressed up flawlessly, it must be pretty good.” He fixed his jacket and she chuckled.

“The perks of being Josephine (Y/L/N)’s daughter.” She shrugged and pulled him inside the bar.

Tom felt like coming home from the moment he stepped into that place. The brick walls, the green leather booths, warm lights and a lot of people united on the tables having a good time. The big bars full of drinks, bartenders and stools so they could sit closer to the drinks. And to finish the decoration, a big neon sign saying “Vertigo”. It was a full pub right in the middle of New York. Tom was fascinated by that place.

“Well, this is familiar.” He pointed out and (Y/N) chuckled, pulling him to sit on the stools.

“I figured you’d like this one because it’s just like a London pub. Maybe this would make it feel like home.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She shrugged and sat on a stool by the bar. “I bet you always come here with your friends.”

“No, they would never come here. Not fancy enough for them. They prefer hotel bars and fancy clubs, I can take you there someday.” He sat right next to her and they waited for the bartender to come. “Also, the other bar doesn’t have good beer. The owners from here are British, so it’s supposed to be good.”

“Good evening, miss (Y/L/N). Seems like you brought a friend.” The bartender asked with a strong accent very similar to Tom’s, maybe a little heavier. By his tag name, Tom knew that his name was Oliver.

“Hey, Oliver. This is Tom, be nice to him.”

“Nice to meet you, Tom. What can I get you?”

“Fish and chips and a pint.” Tom said and the bartender smiled with the accent that came out of Tom’s mouth

“One of my lads from England.” He winked and Tom nodded with a smile. “It’s always nice to see someone from back home. Where are you from?”

“London, mate.”

“I’m from Sheffield. And what can I get you, love?” The bartender asked (Y/N) after she went through their drink menu.

“I’ll have a lemon and rosemary gin tonic, please.” The young man nodded and walked away to prepare their order.

“Okay, I officially love this place.” Tom said excitedly, which made (Y/N) laugh. “Harrison will love this one. He’s the one who was always buried inside the pub even before we turned eighteen. The only thing we were against while moving here is that the drinking legal age is 21 and we weren’t ready to stop going to pubs. Even before, we used to hide in a pub that allowed us to drink there and keep it on the low.”

“Yeah, kind of like this place. Although I’m the only one allowed in here. The owners are friends with my dad.”

“That’s why the guy knew your name.” He pointed back to Oliver filling a glass with beer.

“Yeah, that’s Oliver. He’s cute and always serves me the best drinks. I always tip him well, that’s the key.” (Y/N) winked and crossed her legs. A couple of guys sitting on the next table looked her up and down, which made her roll eyes. Tom followed her look and furrowed his eyebrows at the guys.

"They are like twice your age."

"Yeah, unfortunately, it happens all the time. It's disgusting." Oliver served their drinks and told he would be back with their chips. "I'm lucky that Oliver is serving us tonight, he's the only one that's respectful with me. You see the guy over there." She pointed to a guy organizing cups in the back and Tom nodded. "He always tries to abuse me somehow, hands on my ass or waist, never with consent. But he's quiet tonight because I'm here with a guy."

"That's fucking pathetic. I get so angry about those things." Tom then remembered the situation that happened earlier that week with Noel. "What about that Noel Kaim? He seemed pretty abusive with you."

"Noel never treated me like that before. Sure, we like to tease each other because that’s how our relationship was built. But never with anger, never with aggression. I got really upset when he did that to me." She sipped on her drink and felt her throat burning with the strong drink.

"If he ever does anything to you, even if it's small, you can tell me and I'll break his face."

"Thank you." She smiled softly and he finally drank his beer.

"Oh my God, this is fantastic." Tom said almost rolling his eyes in pleasure. "I officially love this place. Do you want some?"

"I'm not a fan of beer, but my dad brought me here the first time and had me drinking one beer and it's really good."

"Thank God your dad brought you here.” He sipped his beer again and sighed. “And well, you look like someone that doesn’t like beer. You look very fancy, like everyone in our schools.”

“Yeah. I was raised on champagne with two strawberries on the bottom of the glass. But you know, when I visited London, I went plenty of pubs with some friends, sometimes with my dad and I enjoyed their beer.” She took a big sip on her drink and did an ugly face when it burned down her throat. Tom laughed at her and thanked when the bartender came with his chips. “Mom got pretty mad that day. Mad at me, at my dad, at the world, honestly. As always.”

“You seem to have a pretty disturbing relationship with your mother.”

“With my family, in general. My mother is… peculiar. She never wanted to be a mother, at least that’s what she tells me now and then. She only did it because of my father. He wanted to be a dad and back then, they were very in love. That’s why I think I’m the reason their relationship fell apart.” She brushed the tip of her finger around the border of the glass. “Sorry, that was too deep. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night.”

“No, tonight was supposed to be a night to get to know each other.” He smiled softly at her and took some chips before he continued. “You can tell me more about your mom.”

“Uhm, we’re always fighting. She doesn’t care much about what I do and at the same time, she cares too much. She wants me to be perfect, to be the best student, the best dressed, the most desirable. But she doesn’t care about how I feel or what I wanna do.” She glanced down, maybe to tried hold some tears forming on her waterline. “But hey, tell me about your mom. I owe you some minutes to listen to you ramble on about your life.”

“I love my mom. She always supports me and takes care of me. She’s my best friend, honestly.” He smiled to remember his old mum that right now was cuddled with all of his brothers in the living room. “My family is everything to me. I don’t think I can even show how much I love them. They are the best part of me.”

“You have a big family?” She had a small grin on her face and he nodded.

“My parents are still together and I have three younger brothers, two of them are twins.” He smiled when he started talking about them. (Y/N) saw a sparkle in his eyes when he started to talk about his family. He talked with such adoration that it was almost hard to believe that someone loved their family this much. That was what she wanted all her life. “And I am so lucky to have them in my life. You will know when you meet them.”

“I would love to meet them.” They both opened a big smiled when their eyes crossed.

“Sam and Harry are really fun to hang out with. But being friends with them requires a big appetite for food and for talking photography.”

“I love photography! I’m a model, the camera loves me.” She posed for him and he laughed. “And I’m always hungry. That’s something you need to know if we’re gonna be friends.”

“Noted.” He winked and they fell into a brief silence so they could drink a little more. “Do you like being a model?”

“A little. I love fashion, I do. But my mother always tried to put me into a certain beauty pattern because that’s how she was raised, my grandmother is just like her, maybe worst. And I have many self-esteem issues because of that. She even had me wearing tight corsets when I was 12, it was horrible.” ”

“I’m so sorry darling.”

“After a while, I started to speak up and tell her no. So I only model for her sometimes and decided that I wanted to be a lawyer instead of going to a fashion school and being a part of this messed up world that excludes those who aren’t inside the beauty pattern.”

“Well, you could try changing it from the inside.”

“That’s why I still model and I try to stick to my true self, nothing aesthetically different.” She took some second to breathe and continue. “I got tired of doing what I was told. My mom even controlled my relationships at some point.”

“Really? How did that work?”

“She broke me and my last boyfriend. Well, we weren’t serious but when she found out I was going out with a guy that wasn’t rich and worked at a coffee shop, she lost his mind. Well, Josephine is very found of Noel Kaim and his family and Noel was the one who told her I was going out with that guy.”

“How did he know you were dating?”

“The boy worked at the café in front of the school. Noel saw me kissing him goodbye once.” She rolled her eyes. “I was never lucky in the relationship department.”

“God, me neither.”

“Really?”

“I tried to date a girl once, but it didn't work out because I don't feel like I ever truly liked anyone. Never felt head over heels, in love like a fool for someone. Also, I don't like serious relationships.”

“Me neither! Ugh, I don’t like being tied down. I love sleeping around and hooking up with a lot of guys. Even though I’m very subtle.” She signed Oliver to bring two more drinks and he nodded. “I love sex.”

“Yes! Sex is the best!” He giggled with her being so open about it. But again, he was also very open about it.

“And you know, most of the guys I truly dated never made me cum. Just Noel, and I guess that’s why I keep going back.”

“I don’t like being tied down to only one girl. I like flirting and meeting new people all the time, and Harrison is the same. I guess that’s why we’re best friends.” Oliver came with more drinks and they got drunker with every sip, opening their hearts to each other about every aspect of their lives.

“What would make you stop?”

“Meeting the right girl, I guess.” Tom smiled down to his beer and they fell into silence. "It will only stop when I truly feel how it's like to love someone. But I'm not desperately looking for them."

“Yeah, me too. Although, I want to find someone special so we can grow our own little life together.” She smiled, already feeling a little tipsy. Gin was much stronger than beer. “I want a family so I don’t be lonely.”

“I’ve never told any of those things to anyone.” Tom admitted.

“Me neither.” She agreed. “But I’m glad to share this with you, Tom. I feel like I can trust you. Like I can be vulnerable. That’s new to me.”

“I feel the same.” He extended his drink and she raised hers so they could toast. “And (Y/N), one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“You don’t have to be so lonely. At least as long as I’m here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible by now, Tom.” She buried her face in her drink to hide her sad face and he reached for her hand resting over the counter.

“Yes, it is. You’re waiting for the right guy to not be lonely, but you can’t spend the best years of your life looking for that someone. That’s not how life works.” She left her to drink behind to pay attention to what he was saying, maybe trying to hold some tears when touching in such a delicate subject for her. “I’m your friend and I’m here, right now. You don’t have to be lonely.”

“Why are you so fond of me?” She frowned, letting some tears fall on her cheeks and he shrugged.

“I guess I can’t stand to see someone crying.” He cleaned her tears with the pad of his thumb and she sobbed. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I’m sorry for crying.” She tried to suck it up but didn’t move his hand from her face, which was now just rubbing her cheeks gently, trying to give her some comfort. “Thank you, Tom. For tonight. I needed to have this talk.”

“Do you need a hug?” He asked and she nodded, throwing herself in his arms with no hesitation. Tom was probably the best hugger she’d ever met, he could pass confidence and calmness through his touch. She could already feel her mascara ruining. Tom pressed her against him and rubbed his hands on her back, trying to give her some comfort. “I’m here for you, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded her head, resting on the crook of his neck. “Do you want to order another drink? I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“Yeah, sure. Another gin tonic?”

“I think I’ll have a pint.” She winked and they laughed together. “Just to try it, you know.”

“Okay. Oliver, two pints please.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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livingmybestfictionallife · 4 years

Text

Live Wire --The Dirt--11

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Motley Crue is born.

A/N: back with some more!!! Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve gone from working, to getting furloughed and prepping for potential interviews to getting laid off and applying for everything I can think of in my field, but I needed a break from all that, so we have some more Motley. Another part will be coming soon (less than 2 weeks). Please leave me some feedback or reblog! I live for that shit. Also, Motley requests are open. I also have MGK and Chris Evans stuff in the works as well.

Previous Chapters: Masterlist

Watching her friends struggle to come down from the high of their first show should have been an indication for countless events that would shape Wren’s future, but being young blinded her from those potential dangers. Instead, she focused solely on helping her friends through the band’s first three performances at the Whisky. She began with an attempted apology to Tommy, which he refused to let her finish before immediately forgiving her for almost missing the show; he’d known Wren long enough to truly know her and her heart. If she was going to miss the show, it was more than likely due to something important, and besides that, he owed her an apology.

Tommy and Wren were family long before she moved in with him and his family, and long before the Crüe became a family of their own. For about half of her life, Wren had Tommy, and somewhere around their first major heart-to-heart, the pair made a promise that Tommy ended up breaking that night. He knew the emotional manipulation Wren’s parents put her through—the constant shaming her for her passions and bringing about an immense amount of guilt in order for her to abide by their wishes—just as much as she knew how silence to Tommy was a punishment. As young teenagers, the pair promised to never, deliberately make the other feel weak and unempowered in the way their parents had—whether it be intentional, like Wren’s, or unintentional, like Tommy’s.

The next three days and nights went without mention of the incident that happened when Lovey was over the night before their debut, and it went without saying that she wouldn’t be allowed back in the apartment if she couldn’t keep her trap shut, however Nikki still felt the need to make that clear with Vince. The day of their final performance at the Whisky, Tommy, Wren, and Nikki had woken up earlier than usual. At eight in the morning, Wren sat outside the front door, sipping coffee from a mug Tommy had gotten her for her birthday the previous year, and reading aimlessly through the paper. She didn’t expect to see any of her roommates until around noon or even later considering how frequently the boys slept in, however she was surprised to hear a grumbling Nikki speaking on the phone in a frustrated and exasperated tone.

In an attempt to mind her own business, Wren adjusted her position in the folding lawn chair she sat in outside their apartment, rested the paper against her now bent legs, and drank from her mug. Her eyes skimmed an article about yet another celebrity who has passed away that year and Wren could hear the huff and puff of a tired and grumpy Nikki Sixx as he stepped onto, what she referred to as a patio for lack of a better word, and dropped himself into the folding chair beside Wren.

“I take it you’re in a bad mood because you woke up too early,” she commented without pulling her eyes away from the paper.

“That was Vince on the phone,” Nikki dully stated as he lit a cigarette in frustration. “He wants to practice some specific voice stuff with us before the show tonight.”

“Okay, what’s the problem then, pissy pants?” Wren continued to skim the article with little interest in the world around her other than the coffee she continually and leisurely sipped on. Nikki pulled the cigarette from between his lips and let out a steady stream of smoke. His eyes had slowly drifted from the jagged horizon of rooftops to the soft, brown waves of Wren’s hair as it fell gently around her face. He watched as her bottom lip curled beneath her top teeth as she read couldn’t help the urge he had to smile at her. She looked peaceful sitting there in what he assumed used to be one of Tommy’s old t-shirts, her usually pale skin glowing in the golden rays of the sun, and her light eyes dancing across the pages of the paper with an intense focus that required her to chew on her lip. Nikki hated himself for wanting to reach across the empty space between them and snake his fingers between hers. It seemed stupid, cheesy, and cliché, and he hated all of those things. He’d never known love, so love didn’t exist; it was a fabrication concocted in movies to force everyday people into believing that some sort of superior feeling can exist within you, so he rejected the desire to take Wren’s hand in his and dismissed it as him falling victim to Hollywood’s attempt to play god.

“The problem is that he wants to bring that bitch over again.” Nikki noticed the soft curve of Wren’s jaw harden and the curious gaze with which she read the paper fade and be replaced with a cold, calculated grimace.

“If she’s—” Wren’s threat was quickly cut short by a reassuringly curt Nikki.

“She’s not.” Those two words coming from his mouth was enough to cause her posture to relax and her eyes to soften. Wren hadn’t even realized how tense she’d been at the mention of Vince’s girlfriend until Nikki put her mind at ease. “I told him that after last time she’s not welcome here, and if she treats you like shit at a show, Tommy and I aren’t going to step in to hold you back.” Unsure of what to say, Wren allowed her lips to curl into a small smile of gratitude before she shifted her attention back to the paper. She was thankful she had it with her; it gave her something to look at other than those damned eyes of his. Wren tried not to let her mind retreat back the night she pummeled Lovey, but she was young and weak. She could still remember how Nikki held her, how safe she felt with him, and the thought that ran through her mind when wrapped in his arms.

“Why do you do this?” The words fell from her mouth without caution and her eyes flashed up at the man beside her.

“Excuse me?” Nikki cocked an eyebrow at Wren and offered a small, forced chuckle in her direction. He knew damned well that she could see through him, yet he was still stupid enough to try and change the conversation’s course.

“Why do you do this?” she repeated, this time assuring her eyes never left Nikki’s.

“Are you mad right now?” he asked after looking over his shoulder back toward the apartment’s window to see if Tommy was awake or approaching. Both Wren and Nikki had tempers and the tendency to quickly lash out at those around them as a result of their tempers. After an incident involving a misplaced remote and Nikki and Wren yelling at one another for an hour before either of them realized they were saying the same thing, the pair decided it would be best to flat out ask one another if they were angry rather than try and gauge the other’s temper. Wren smiled to herself when Nikki asked her this, mostly because they were each a bit drunk when they devised that plan and she knew that, normally, Nikki never remembered anything that happens when he’s drunk.

“No, I’m just curious,” Wren sighed before she continued. “Why do you always defend me?”

“Tommy defends you,” he retorted.

“Tommy knows me and has known me for a very long time. He knows my birthday, my favorite food, favorite songs, he knows what I’m allergic to, knows the bullshit I’ve gone through…my regrets, fears, weaknesses. You don’t know me that way, at least not enough to constantly be jumping to my defense.”

“Just because I don’t know you like Tommy does doesn’t mean I don’t know you at all,” Nikki scoffed, “and it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know you.” Upon noticing the quick furrow of Wren’s eyebrows, Nikki inhaled sharply on his cigarette and spoke again to clear up her confusion. “I know you hate cigarette smoke, that’s why I’m sitting down wind from you. I know you can’t stand it when Tommy makes coffee, which is why you always get up earlier than us. I know you eat chocolate and peanut butter in the living room after Tommy and I go to bed, or when you wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares—yeah, I know about those too. I know you discredit yourself way too much, but for the life of me, I don’t know why, because you’re probably the smartest and most talented person I’ve ever met. So maybe I don’t know you like Tommy does, but I know you enough to know what makes you mad and what upsets you, and if I can do something to keep that from happening, then I will.” As the words fell from Nikki’s mouth, Wren was as still as the morning air around them as the golden rays of the sun slowly disappeared and daylight took over the world.

“Nikki, do you how hard it is to trust another person so completely?” The man beside her shook his head and his dark hair flicked slightly against his neck. “Neither do I. Tommy’s my best friend, but he’s also more than that; he’s my family. I don’t just say that shit because that’s how it’s like between us; I say it because I’ve never felt a familial bond with any human being—one so complete and unconditional that you know, through anything and everything, they will be there—other than Tommy. We’re family in the sense that we have to love each other no matter what; that’s what and who Tommy is to me.” Silence fell over the pair as Wren lifted her coffee mug to her lips and leisurely sipped from it as she thought of her next words. Nikki’s eyes fell from where he had held his gaze on her to the ground. Did she trust Nikki in one sense or another? Yes. Did she feel safe around him? Yes. Did those feelings of trust and safety terrify her to wits end? Hell yes! Wren didn’t know why she felt so comfortable around Nikki, but she was certain of one thing: he could turn his back on her, and she’d made the decision long ago that if she could avoid getting hurt, she’d do so at all costs.

“You’re not the only one here with a fucked-up past,” Nikki said softly when he noticed Wren shift in her seat, as if she were about to retreat from the awkward, raw, naked vulnerability of their conversation. “I know it’s hard to get close to people—why else do you think things didn’t work out with London? And I’m serious about what I said; just because I don’t know you like Tommy does doesn’t mean I don’t want to know you.” Wren rose from her seated position and stretched her spine out before responding to Nikki’s comment.

“What do you want to know, Sixx?” With a playful smirk across her face, Nikki half suspected her walls were back up, but the way she rested her back against the railing, her elbows propped up behind her rather than crossed over her body in defense, made him realize she was opening herself up to vulnerability.

“How about tomorrow, we work on some new music and hang out, just the two of us?” The smirk on Wren’s face fell into a soft smile as she nodded in agreement.

“That sounds nice,” she admitted. Nikki’s eyes fell over Wren’s face in the overly inquisitive way they had when he had walked outside, and as she noticed his gaze change, Wren reached for her newspaper and then pointed at the coffee mug.

“You can have the rest of that if you want; it’s my second cup and I have to piss.” Nikki chuckled once the door became a barrier between the pair then picked up her mug to taste a bold, black coffee with hints of mint, and once again he was faintly reminded of what her lips would taste like.

Inside the apartment, Tommy had hung up the phone with Mick, who was calling to let him know he was on his way over. “Is Vince coming too?” Tommy asked once Nikki filed back into the apartment. “Wait, what were you guys doing outside?”

“Reading the paper and drinking coffee, like I do every morning,” Wren returned and lightly thwacked a portion of the paper against Tommy’s chest and placed another part of the paper in Nikki’s hands.

“Oo! Cartoons!” Tommy cooed as he dropped onto the couch and began to flick through the pages.

“I highlighted the equipment I found for-sale. I thought we could show Vince and Mick and see if there’s anything we want, or anything we can trade,” Wren’s intonation turned upwards and her eyes widened into those of a doe as she tried, yet again, to convince Nikki to trade the extra guitar amplifier that Rick had used for a second bass drum for the drum set.

“Again, with this?” He huffed with a smirk before dropping the folded papers on his amp and grabbing his bass. He tried to be genuinely mad at her suggestion when she first brought it up, but failed miserably in doing so. Since then it’s become a bit: Wren would bring it up, Nikki would feign frustration, they’d discuss it for a moment, but both parties knew that, in the end, neither would budge. At the end of today’s rendition of the bit, Wren rolled her eyes, picked up the papers, and dropped onto the bass amp as Nikki turned his attention to the fret and began to tune his instrument to precision—a feat Wren was incredibly impressed with since he had done the same thing merely a few hours ago, just before he went to sleep.

“It’s collecting dust,” Wren retorted as she pointed the papers in the direction of the extra amp and then dropped her arms as she returned her attention to Nikki.

“Maybe you can use it as a seat,” Nikki sneered as he eyed Wren up and down where she sat; her back was upright in an impeccable posture, and Nikki rolled his eyes at the sheer knowledge that Wren’s posture was due to her practicing yoga in her room early in the morning or late at night to calm whatever nerves overcome her enough to have frequent nightmares.

“Wren sits between us so she can make sure we’re on tempo,” Tommy commented without looking up from Calvin and Hobbes. “She also likes sitting near you so you two can make your judging comments about each run through.”

“Tommy only has two feet! One for the bass drum and one for the hi-hat, what is he going to do with a second bass drum?” Nikki stated as he moved his tuning to the next string and continued to flick his eyes between his fret and Wren.

“See, judging comments,” Tommy muttered dryly as his interest in the conversation between his friends faded and was replaced by that of a blonde boy and tiger.

“What about getting Vince a better mic? He always gets tangled in the wire. We could get a cordless one,” Wren suggested as Nikki tried to strum his bass strings harder to overpower her voice. His attempt was fruitless when Wren leaned over and turned off the volume on his amplifier.

“Why does everyone else get something from this except me?” Nikki complained as he moved on to the next string on his guitar.

“Fine, what do you want, Sixx?” Wren huffed as she let her legs down from their crisscrossed position and leaned herself backwards, supporting her weight with the heels of her hands and bringing her shoulders back. Nikki swore she was pushing her chest higher to get her way, that her posture had changed as a means to manipulate him, that she had set this whole thing up, that her kindness and slight vulnerability outside being just a ruse to get him to agree to trade in something he had no physical or emotional attachment to other than it being a constant conversation piece between him and her. Before he spoke, Nikki narrowed his eyes at Wren and smirked.

“I want my extra amplifier.” His cocky tone only enhanced the smug look over his face as his eyes refused to move from Wren’s narrowed brows and sharp jaw that jutted his way. Tommy laughed at the pair’s interaction and only dropped the antics of Calvin and Hobbes when he heard the familiar chug of Mick’s car pull up to the curb, with Vince’s true love—his girlfriend’s cherry red whatever-the-fuck car—visible not far down the street.

Taking this as her last chance to mess with Nikki before witnesses appeared, Wren gave him the same up and down examination he routinely gave her. He noticed this and the smug, arrogant smirk on his face fell to an almost equally arrogant smile. Cautiously, he walked towards where she had positioned herself on his amp—when she first started doing this, it drove him insane because he assumed she didn’t have any respect for his things, then he realized she only did this because she felt safe near him, and then it drove him insane because he really liked seeing her there every time he turned around. Honestly, during the past two performances at the Whisky, if he turned his head toward his amp, a strong disappointment would overcome him when he realized she wasn’t there. Seeing her now, in a way he’d imagined in the wildest of fantasies—legs draped, arms leaning back, chest high—he bit his lip as he bent over, his face becoming microscopically close to hers, as he turned his amp’s volume back on. He had rested his hand against the side of the amp, forcing his arm to cross behind her back, and when he rose again, he could see her sharp eyes cutting into him as her teeth cut into her bottom lip.

“Your D string is a half-step sharp. You should probably fix that before the guys come back in,” Wren stated with a smirk as she slid from his amp and paced out of the apartment to welcome Mick. Nikki grabbed his instrument and strummed the second thinnest string without hearing the discrepancy Wren had mentioned. It wasn’t until he thought about her eyes trailing over him and the smirk on her face as she spoke that he caught her innuendo.

Continued Reading: TBA

Tags: @prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree , @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @motleymachinegun, @motleycrueee, @motley-queen, @american-satanxx��

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four-straykids-apocalypse · 4 years

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Jisung

⚠️CW: abuse, neglect, ophanage, talks of alcohol, mentions of substance abuse, low self esteem⚠️ (if I miss something that could trigger someone please lmk and I will immediately add the warning)

War

Noun

A state of competition, conflict, or hostility between different people or groups.

Young childhood (6)

“The child has been though hell! They found him half dead in that rundown dirty house and you have the audacity to try and put him out?” Jisung hears and freezes looking between the office doorway and the kitchen, the glass in his hand almost falling from his hand, his curiousity getting the better of him. He peeks around the corner and sees one of the nice ladies that helps take care of them and the scary lady incharge of the orphanage. He quickly ducks back behind the wall, trying to hear what was going on.

“That boy is nothing but trouble, if I were his parents I’d of abandoned him too” Jisung heard as he hid around the wall in the orphanage, feeling his heart drop and shame fill his chest. “His parents had the right idea of leaving him for the wolves”

“His mother abandoned them because she was an addict and needed a fix, his father beat him half to death for months and left for liquor and never came back! He was left at 6 in a rundown house, his body weak covered in bruises and blood, with nothing to eat and broken whisky glasses covering the floor, he’s seen more then we know. Give him a chance, he’s a kid! For Christ sake he had glass marks and cigarette burns on his skin, his ribs and arm were broken and he had a concussion! He’s only been here a few weeks, give him time!” Jisung hears knowing it was him they were talking about, and scurries off wiping at his eyes as he grabs some snacks for the other kids and goes to the room he shared with some of the other boys; hiding in the corner. He hugs himself as best he can with his slinged arm, his body shakes and he starts to recall all that happened. The beatings being the worst, the memory making his hand go to the scar on the back of his head. A terrible reminder of the whisky his father drank and the terrible words spewed at him. Reminding Jisung that had he not been born his mother would never of gotten pain pills, never would’ve gotten addicted, never would’ve left. Jisung starts to get flashbacks, his body shaking and trembling harder as he starts to have trouble breathing, his weakened lungs not being able to keep him conscious for long, the room turning black as he loses consciousness.

Teens (14)

“We are better off without him here, I don’t care how long he’s been here, he’s a nucince. All he does is get picked on by the others, cry, get sent back to us, and sit in his room. He’s an issue, a nucince. The five families that adopted him and returned him will agree with me.” He heard as moves towards the bookshelf on the end of the hallway, his feet stopping as he listens again, he knows she’s talking about him, that she wants him gone. Just like everyone else.

“Just last week he got in a fight with another school boy, he’s not worth it. He’s not loveable or adoptable, and I don’t want him to be my problem....” he hears and lets a few tears slip from his eyes. “She’s right” he says softly and wipes at his eyes, the fourteen year old walking out of the house, and down the cold street. His arms freezing cold as he walks in the snow, hugging himself. He wonders until he gets lost, the cold making his teeth chatter as he sits in a frozen alley, snow wetting his clothes and hair. Jisung rests his head against his knees and hears the sound of boots crunching in the snow making him look up.

“Young man, what are you doing out here?” He hears and looks over to see an officer, “n-no-noth-nothing” he chatters out, and sees the officer get closer and flash his light, blinding Jisung. “There you are, son, had me worried” he hears and makes out the outline of a man with a horse walking towards them, the man moving the officers light off Jisungs face. The man speaks to the officer convincing him to not detain Jisung and that Jisung was just the mystery mans son. The officer asking a few questions before departing and leaving them be.

“W-who are you?” Jisung questions and tries to slide away, scared of the much taller man, but not having the energy to run; his body frozen in fear, him not having the want to fight anymore.

“Your life has been a war, all you’ve known is pain and battling, which is why you are coming with me. Jisung, you don’t need to fight to fit in or to be cared for anymore” the man says and Jisung eyes him, fear filling his body “N-no-no” he chatters out and slides further away, “Jisung, I’m not going to hurt you, now take my hand, please” the man orders and Jisung does so timidly, the man helping him up and wrapping him in a coat, “we need to take you to meet your brothers and get you some dry clothes” the man says and helps Jisung onto a horse, before they take off.

Please remember admin isn’t a writer, so I’m sorry this sucks

Background Story Taglist: @cb-museclub @mafiaxnct127 @skz-cb @mafia-svt @serialkiller-skz @leextaeyong @doll-hyunjin

#cw: abuse #cw: substance abuse #cw: alcohol #cw: abandonment #cw: neglect #Jisungs backstory

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doctor243 · 4 years

Text

Alcoholism

So this is a sequel to Stretched Too Thin by @you-guys--are-losers and I wanna thank her for letting me write a follow up^^

Summary: Once bitten twice shy, even if the Spider is the one who was bitten.

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Warnings: MAJOR angst, hurt/comfort(??), cheating, alcohol

People often got drinking wrong. The movies, the stories, the memories – all wrong. College parties were never as much fun as American Pie or 21 Jump Street or your friend Brad made it seem. The truth is that everybody was drunk off their rocker and more nauseous than happy. Even their happiness was more of an effort than an expression. They tried to be happy because when they inevitably left, they knew that they wouldn’t be. Drinking away sorrows was another thing that everyone got wrong. Nobody actually successfully drank away their sorrows. It is literally impossible because alcohol is a depressant. Your mind doesn’t get numb, your body does, and if it is numb enough, you could perhaps convince yourself that you weren’t hurting as much as you are. A mind can indeed trick itself.

Peter stared at the polaroid of MJ and him in his wallet as he sipped at a bottle of Wild Turkey. Irony was a terrible thing. “I was drunk,” was all that he could hear in his mind. He wasn’t drunk yet, and it wasn’t particularly good whisky, but it gave him a little buzz and that’s all he craved at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he remembered hearing, through her sobs and hiccups.

“MJ?” he had practically yelled into his phone, his heart sinking further with every second that passed. “What happened? Are you alright?”

A muffled sob had come through the phone line before a stuttered voice spoke through. “I…I fucked up, Peter.”

“What do you mean you fucked up?” he had demanded. Well he had meant it as a demand, but it had come out as a choked whisper. He knew what she had meant, but he needed to hear her say it, to verbalise it, to eliminate the one percent chance that he could have been over-imagining things. How he dreaded that he was all the way with the Avengers in Siberia with no way home except for the quinjet flight in a week. How he hated that he couldn’t see her face to face. “What did you do?” he’d asked again when she offered nothing but silence.

“I cheated on you,” she finally answered.

His world had immediately come to a halt. The feelings his suspicions gave him were nothing in comparison to the feelings he felt rushing into his body. He clenched up as rage and sadness and jealousy and pain invaded his heart and wreaked havoc. He wanted to scream but he was in the hotel Falcon would definitely hear him from next door. He dared not ask her to repeat herself lest the emotions came again.

“It’s only been three months since the last time, MJ,” he heard himself say through gritted teeth.

“I know,” she has whispered, evidently still crying. His heart threatened to rip in two as one side roared and demanded to know what right she had to cry. The other longed to be by her side and wipe away her tears. Count to ten, Peter, he told himself. Breathe…

“Did you fuck him?” he asked. Well that was unexpected.

The silence that had followed was louder than anything he could have yelled. He forced every muscle in his body to keep still before he started screaming into the empty room.

He had hung up soon after, unable to utter any more coherent words, but he knew the conversation was not over. Now, he sat in hangar of the quinjet at 3 in the morning, away from the rest of the team who were still recuperating in the hotel rooms after a three-day mission, taking occasional sips from a bottle of whiskey. There hadn’t been any on the jet (of all times, Mr Stark), so he’d hopped down to the nearby liquor store as Spider-man and offered the store clerk an autograph in lieu of an ID. His first sip had burned his throat and he nearly spat it out, but forced himself to swallow instead. This was how people felt better right? This was how people stopped thinking about all the shitty things in life?

By the time he started his second bottle, he’d gotten used to the burning in his throat and was starting to feel a little woozy. He pulled out his wallet and looked at the polaroid in his wallet. There was no significance in the photograph; they were testing the camera and had decided to take a selfie. But he’d kept it precisely because it was so unimportant, a small snippet of normalcy, and it was just so beautiful.

He snapped up when he heard footsteps coming towards him, but deflated in relief when he saw who was entering the quinjet. “Mr Stark,” he breathed. “You scared me.”

“And you’re intoxicated,” his mentor replied, more amused than anything.

“Lay off me, man,” Peter groaned. “It’s been a rough week.” He took another swig. “…or month… or year…”

“I’ve noticed,” Tony took the bottle from his hand and took a sip before wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Ew kid, if you’re drinking whiskey, at least get the good stuff.”

When Peter made no effort to retort, Tony sighed and sat down on the floor, opposite the Spiderling. They sat in silence, occasionally passing the bottle to each other, but otherwise just offering each other the comfort of company. Tony would, in the near future, question his decision to condone drinking with a minor. He would then follow that thought by memories of himself at Peter’s age, and then excuse Peter completely for consuming copious amounts of alcohol.

“Have you ever…” Peter finally spoke up. “Have you ever trusted someone with your entire heart, and then been betrayed?” Yeah he was definitely getting drunk. “And then forgiven them, trusted them again, and been betrayed again?”

Tony sat up a little straighter when he heard this, and his heart ached at how defeated Peter looked. The kid was nineteen, for crying out loud. “I have,” he replied tentatively, unsure of what Peter actually wanted to hear.

“Could you forgive them again?” he all but whispered.

Tony sighed and took another swig from the bottle before smiling ruefully. “Well, I’m still on the same team as Cap, aren’t I?”

Peter fell silent again, and they carried on, drinking slowly and sighing every now and then.

“What’s going on, kid?” Tony whispered finally, as if a sound louder than that would break the roof that was protecting them both from all the terrors and suffering that the world could throw at them.

Something flashed in Peter’s eyes and he seemed to wake up a little, before choking out a sob. “MJ cheated on me,” he croaked at last, hand bunching up his hair. “Twice.”

“What the fuck?” Tony hissed in disbelief. He knew MJ really well, since Peter kept bringing her to the tower during their high school days, and even more after the snap. She was a god girl, and hearing that she’d betrayed the trust of his, for lack of better words, son, was absolutely unthinkable.

“I thought that drinking would make me feel better,” Peter continued, as though he hadn’t heard Tony. “But now it’s worse. It just hurts so bad.” He was crying at this point and Tony made a point not to pass the bottle back to him.

“Come here kid,” Tony said as he got up and pulled Peter into a hug. He knew that no amount of words and condolences would comfort him, but he still had to try. Peter accepted the gesture wholeheartedly, fingers digging into Tony’s jacket as he sobbed, the dam that held his feelings broken and his heart flooding with emotion.

“I don’t know what to do, Mr Stark,” he hiccupped. “I don’t know what to do.”

Tony continued to rub Peter’s back as he tried to soothe his shaking child. He whispered acknowledgements and apologies to keep Peter in the present, but nothing could help Peter feel better.

After a little more than half an hour, Peter’s sobs reduced to intermittent gasps, and eventually, occasional sniffs, and Tony decided it was time to get some rest. He made a mental note to hold off on calling Peter in for any missions, but would make sure his attendance was required at the tower, if only to make sure that Peter wasn’t alone. “C’mon kid,” he grunted as he struggled to pull Peter up from their seats on the floor. “You can sleep in my room tonight.” The boy nodded and stumbled out the door of the quinjet, arm around his mentor for support.

“What do I do?” Peter whispered as they entered the elevator of the hotel.

Tony sighed, unable to find the right answer to this impossible situation. He knew how much they loved each other, and how much they fought to stay together and keep their love alive. There was no correct answer, and no mathematical equation that could solve this dilemma.

“You’re going to take this one day at a time,” he finally answered. He took a deep breath and tried his best to find the words. “I can’t tell you what to do about MJ, but you’re going to be alright kid. Whatever decision you make, I’ll be here to keep you standing. You will be happy again one day.”

Master List: Here

AO3: Here

@you-guys--are-losers @irondadofficial @irondadfics @spideychelleforever @kage-e @dej-okay

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sidehowriting · 5 years

Text

Death’s Door

Masterlist in Bio!

A/N: So, I got a request months ago and because of who I am as a person it has taken me this long to do it. I even entered a challenge to try to get me to write it faster. That obviously failed but better late than never?

This is for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Multi Fandom Celebration! It’s also for fulfilling a request that was based on Supernatural 14x8 Byzantium.

Also, in case anyone is wondering as you read, it takes about 14 hours to watch the first 6 Harry Potter movies back to back. I have done this many times.

Prompt: “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

Request: Well, can you do one where Jack is sick and the reader is so concern (when like he is dying) and turns it to fluff?

Pairings: Jack Kline x Reader

Summary: You have a lot of unresolved feelings after Jack dies.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, character death (not permanent), drinking

You’ve reached Dean Winchester’s other other other phone…

“Son of a bitch Dean!” You threw your phone on your passenger seat as you continued to zoom down the highway. Your fingers were tapping rapidly against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “Can’t just tell me Jack’s sick and then not pick up.”

Dean had called you yesterday and with all the studying you were doing you didn’t notice the voicemail until today. Then every time you tried to call him back it goes right to voicemail. All his cell phones. Sure, you could call Sam, but you found Dean to be better at giving bad news then his brother. Sam tended to sugar coat things more and that was not what you needed right now.

Pulling up to the bunker you slammed the door shut and raced inside. “Hello!” You called, jogging down the stairs. “Sam! Dean! Cas!”

Cas was the first one to greet you, trench coat flowing behind him. “Y/N,” he said, his voice grave. “You came.”

“‘Course.” You tossed your coat onto one of the chairs. “How is he?”

Castiel exhaled long and loud. “Not good.”

Pushing past him you called back, “Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”

“There wasn’t time,” Castiel said, easily matching your pace. “It all escalated quickly.”

Groaning in frustration, you headed down the hall towards Jack’s room. You could clearly hear his coughs echoing in the corridor.

Sam and Dean were in the room when you entered. Jack was lying on his bed, looking absolutely horrible. His face was so pale, forehead sweaty, eyes sunken in. What the hell had happened? But the moment he saw you, his eyes lit up. “Y/N!” He started to smile but that quickly changed to a coughing fit.

Tentatively, you went to his side, Sam moving out of the way for you. “Hey, Jack,” you smiled sadly at him. “How you feeling?”

“Not good,” he said between coughs.

You looked up from him to the two brothers. Both of them wearing matching grim faces. Dean stepped out of the room, muttering to himself how he can’t do this. You ignored him, taking Jack’s hand in yours.

You lightly stroked your finger across his palm. “Yeah, I heard,” you said so softly.

“Shouldn’t you be away at school?” He sounded more concerned for you than he did for himself.

“You’re way more important than that right now, Jack.”

He strained to smile; lips tainted red with blood. “You’re so nice.”

Despite the tears that were starting to form behind your eyes, you laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

His sweet laugh was cut off by another coughing fit. “Have you died before?” He asked, trying to catch his breath.

Shaking your head, you said, “No. I haven’t. I think that’s more Sam and Dean’s forte.”

“It’ll be an adventure then.” He sounded at peace with this which just made your heart ache more. He closed his eyes and that was that. He was gone.

It was decided that Jack would get a hunter’s funeral but first, you guys wanted to drink and celebrate his short life. There was no way you were going to be able to drive back to school tonight, regardless of how much you drank. And you drank a lot. Anything to numb the pain of losing one of your best friends.

“Can I stay here for the night?” You asked, several drinks in and suddenly worried that you never officially asked to stay the night. The brothers had made it clear beforehand that you were welcomed anytime but you were getting too drunk to fully recall.

“‘Course you can, kiddo,” Dean said kindly. “You know you always have a place at the bunker.”

You smiled, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. The alcohol hitting you hard and making you just want to lay down and rest. Pretend like today didn’t happen. You got up from the bar stool, unsteady on your feet. Your legs wobbled under you, making it hard to stabilize yourself.

Sam, being the giant he is, grabbed you easily, helping keep you steady. “Easy there,” he said, still holding onto your arm. “Alright, you’re wasted.”

“Am not!” You denied but knew you were. “I’m just not good at balancing.”

The smile on Sam’s face wasn’t as forced as you thought it would have been. “You’re not completely wrong about that. C’mon, I’ll make sure you get to your room alright.”

You didn’t fight him and said your goodnights to Dean and Cas as the younger Winchester helped you walk. He didn’t seem as impaired at all. You were such a lightweight compared to the three men. It wasn’t fair.

“Sam,” you whined, halfway to your old room. “I miss Jack.”

“I know you do,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner he was sick?”

“Honestly, Y/N there wasn’t time. He hid it from us for so long that by the time things got bad, it was too late. Dean called you the moment we knew something was wrong.” You believed him but that didn’t make the pain any better. It just made you hurt worse.

“It’s just… god this really sucks, Sam,” you said, starting to feel the tears fall again.

“I know, kiddo.” He placed his large hand on your shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry you didn’t know sooner.” Making it to your old bedroom, Sam pushed open the door and the two of you stepped in.

You sniffled and hiccupped, the alcohol still swimming around in your bloodstream. You sat down on your bed, still feeling lightheaded. You were going to have a hangover in the morning. But that didn’t matter now.

“Jack…” You whispered, “He’s dead. He’s dead and I… I, just…” Memories started swimming around in your brain. Days spent with Jack in the bunker while the brothers were out hunting. Taking rides with him with one of the cars at your disposal. Staying up late with him while you studied for college entrance exams. They were fuzzy from being drunk but the emotions behind them all were still there. “I think I’m having a feeling…” You felt a knot in your stomach as the memories continued to crash down on you. It felt warm and tingly and made you wanna puke-or maybe that was the booze-but you didn’t like it. “How do I make it stop?”

Sitting down next to you, Sam laughed to himself. “You can’t really,” he said, the bed sinking under his added weight. “Love doesn’t work like that.”

“Love!?”

“Yeah. You’re in love with him.” Sam said it so matter-of-factly you were sure he had to be as drunk as you.

“Pardon? I’m not in love with him?” Saying it made your insides feel funny again.

Sam gave a slight chuckle and stood up. “Yeah. Right. You totally are.”

“I’m not!” You said, louder than you intended. You jumped up from the bed, the quick motion making you lose your balance and you ended up falling back onto your ass. “I’m not!” You said again, deciding this time to stay sitting.

Sam turned towards you, a smile still on his stupid face. “Everyone can see it, Y/N. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Uh, no it’s not,” you countered. “Because there’s nothing to see. We’re just friends...were just friends.” His death, the finality, hitting you full force again. Whatever feelings you had for him; it didn’t matter now. He was gone.

“Get some rest,” Sam said, changing the subject. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” you said meekly, throat constricting with sobs again. “You won’t do the pyre without me, right?”

“‘Course not.” Sam patted your shoulder before leaving your room, closing the door behind you.

You were left alone, drunken thoughts and feelings swarming inside of you. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel. Jack’s dead. You’re in love with him? That history paper you were supposed to be working on is going to have to get turned in late.

Climbing under the covers, tears started to roll down your cheeks again. You were not in the right state to deal with any of this at the moment. Instead, you got comfortable and shut your eyes, hoping the whisky would make it easy for you to fall asleep.

You walked into the bunker, Jack right behind you. “C’mon,” you said, laughing. “We have all the snacks, we gotta start the marathon soon if we wanna get to the sixth one by midnight.”

Jack followed as you lead the way to your room, bags of candies and chips and other junk food in your arms. Sam had shown the boy the Star Wars trilogy, and now it was your turn to show him the Harry Potter movies. He was excited about this, already a fan of sci-fi, you couldn’t wait to show him fantasy.

You booted up your laptop and started with Sorcerer's Stone, breaking open the first bag of chips. There would be many more to come as the two of you watched and laughed and you answered all the questions he had.

Sam and Dean left the two of you alone for the most part, only yelling about dinner when the time came. As the night progressed and you made your way through the series, you started to get tired. This wasn’t your first Harry Potter marathon and it was always your goal to finish through Half-Blood Prince the first day and do Deathly Hallows 1 and 2 the next.

Except you were struggling to keep your eyes open as the sixth movie started. You remembered Dumbledore requesting Harry to help him get Slughorn and then the next thing you knew the headmaster was falling from the astronomy tower.

You picked up your head from Jack’s shoulder (when did you lay it on him?) and squinted at the too bright screen. “Did I…? I’m sorry,” you said, peeking up at the half angel. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked really peaceful,” he said, his attention now fully on you. “And you’re a human. You need more sleep than I do.”

Pushing yourself back up into a sitting position, you said, “That’s really nice of you, but you could have woken me up. I wouldn’t have minded.”

You thought you could see some red spreading across his cheeks. “I liked how you were laying on me.”

No, he couldn’t be blushing, and his tender words definitely weren’t making you blush either. “You’re comfortable,” you commented and placed your head back on his shoulder. “I could probably sleep like this all night.”

And you did.

You couldn’t believe you got accepted to your first-choice college. It was like a dream come true. And you got a partial scholarship for your SAT scores. Sam and Dean were so happy and proud of you, offering to go out and celebrate...as soon as they come back from their hunt. That left you and Jack alone in the bunker to wait for them.

“So,” Jack said, reading your acceptance letter again. “You’re going to be going away to school, like Harry Potter did?”

“Kinda,” you said, suddenly feeling sad you would be leaving your makeshift family behind. Especially Jack. The two of you had gotten so close and really bonded. He was your best friend, your confidant, and you were his. “I’ll still come back and visit though, a lot more than Harry did.”

Despite the fact that he was smiling, Jack’s eyes looked really sad. “I’m really happy for you, Y/N.” He handed you back the letter and you tucked it away in your jean pocket. “Sam and Dean told me you’ve been working hard to go to college.”

“Yeah, it’s been a dream of mine. I thought...after the hunt that went wrong and I lost my dad, I’d never be able to go. But you know Sam and Dean. They took me in and have done whatever they could to help.”

There was a moment where neither of you spoke. You knew Jack was happy for you. The boy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body, but then why did his eyes look so sad? It couldn’t be because, in a way, you also felt sad. You’d have to leave the brothers and Jack and be forced to make new friends.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and embraced him in a hug. He welcomed you in warmly, holding you tighter than he normally hugs. You felt safe in his arms, not only because of his ever-growing powers but because of how close he held you.

“I’ll miss you when you go,” he said, the sadness now coming through in his voice. He tightened his hold on you, head resting in the crook of your neck.

You stood up on your tiptoes, trying to wrap your arms around as much of him as you could. “I’ll miss you too,” you said, suddenly second guessing if this was what you wanted.

As if sensing your new hesitation, he spoke up. “You’re gonna have a great time, though.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your emotions in check. So much excitement and happiness and now confusion and hesitation and maybe longing. You didn’t want to think about any of that anymore. You just wanted to focus on this moment with Jack.

“I will,” you said, closing your eyes and getting lost in his embrace. “And I’ll always come home to you.”

The sun was shining way too bright and you groaned. You were going to grab a pillow and throw it over your head, but you were worried the motion would make you sick.

You definitely drank too much last night, your stomach super queasy now. And you were agitated for being woken up when your dreams had been so nice and peaceful. Reminders of everything you and Jack had. Fuck, Sam might be right.

But Jack was dead now. Your feelings for him didn’t matter. You were confident one of the brothers or Cas would march into your room at any minute to tell you they were going to start the hunter’s funeral. Until then, maybe you could close your eyes again. Just for a little bit.

And that little bit turned out to be a lot longer than you anticipated. The next time you opened your eyes, the sun was in an entirely different position. Hours had passed. Your stomach felt better as a whole, just a little empty and needing food.

Something wasn’t right, though. Someone should have woken you up by now. It was much too late in the day. The funeral should have happened by now. You would be heartbroken if you weren’t included for that.

Slowly getting up, your head started to pound. Why did you have to drink so much last night? A glass of water caught your eyes on your bedside table. Next to it was a couple pills, presumably aspirin. Bless whichever brother, probably Dean, dropped that off last night while you were sleeping.

You knocked back the pills and chugged the full glass, the water helping you feel better all over. Setting the cup down you stood up, not feeling as weak and nauseous as you tend to after drinking.

You left your bedroom, faintly hearing Sam and Dean’s voice coming from the war room. You couldn’t tell what was going on, but you did start to hear another voice. One that sounded suspiciously like Jack…

Picking up the pace you went as fast as your hung-over body would allow you to go. When you finally made it, you froze instantly. Jack was there. Alive. Sam and Dean both hugging him fiercely like Jack was their own.

“Wha…?” You took a few tentative steps forward. “I don’t.... Jack?”

The Nephilim looked up at you, smiling his typical sweet smile. He looked like he had died and come back to life but that didn’t matter to you. He was here.

“Y/N!” He pushed himself off the table he was placed on, legs wobbling as he walked over to you. “I’m back.”

“I see that.” You reached out, first touching his arm, then his chest, then moving your hand up to his cheek. His skin was a bit sticky from sweat. “You’re back. Holy fuck, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” he repeated, eyes staring right into yours.

All the feelings you were trying to repress last night came up. You pulled him to you, hugging him like you would never see him again. “Jack,” you sobbed, fingers twisting themselves in his shirt.

He reciprocated the hug instantly, his warmth penetrating your skin and going straight to your soul. “It’s okay,” he reassured, one of his hands going to your hair, his fingers running through it. “It’s okay.”

“I thought you were gone forever.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest. His heart beating rhythmically against your ear, signaling he was alive and in your arms. “I thought… “

“Sam and Dean,” he said, pulling away to look at you face to face again. “I’m not sure what they did but it worked.”

You peaked over Jack’s shoulders, seeing the Winchester brother’s smiling at the two of you. “We were going to wake you,” Sam started to explain.

“But when I went into your room you were snoring so loud it was like a truck was driving through,” Dean added, his comment making your cheeks burn in anger and embarrassment. You didn’t snore that loud. “So, we let ya sleep. Figured it was probably for the best. If this didn’t work…”

“We didn’t want you to get hurt anymore.” You appreciated Sam and Dean’s concern. And with how much you drank last night the extra sleep was probably much needed.

You turned your attention back to Jack, just so happy to have him here. “Jack…” You gazed up at him, unsure what you wanted to say. Should you tell him how you feel? Is it too soon? You just decided that yes, you did love him. He might not even feel the same way.

You didn’t have to worry about a response, Jack took the initiative and kissed you. His lips were softer and sweeter than you imagined, and you felt like you were on a cloud. It didn’t last long, but it was more than enough to make you breathless.

His eyes slowly opened, and he grinned proudly. “Dean said I should do that.”

You glanced back over at the eldest brother who was giving the two of you a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes, bringing your focus back to the adorable boy who just stole your heart. “He was right,” you said, smiling at him. “And you should probably do it again.”

He obliged, tilting his head and kissing you once more. There was a lot more you wanted to say. A lot more you wanted to talk through with Jack. But for that one moment, nothing else mattered.

Tags: @lancsnerd @teddybeardoctorr @panic5secb4exam

#star's multi fandom follower celebration #jack kline x reader #jack x reader #jack kline x you #jack fluff #jack kline fluff

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