#CRAZY VODKA TONIC
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I want soooo badly to be an outdoors girl but god just did not build me like that. I get a single mosquito bite and I’m ready to go home 😔
#i like the catharsis of physical exertion and activity but I’m so bad with the outdoors#cookouts and picnics are my limit and even then I’m not crazy about eating outside#I’ll stay in our cute woodsy cabin and read while you guys do outside stuff#I’ll have vodka tonics and cookies ready for when y’all get back#💚
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off limits | logan sargeant
pairing: logan sargeant x Leclerc! reader
genre: fluff, maybe angst if you squint
wc: 1.6k
warnings: none (i think)
summary: Your brother Charles always likes to say you're off limits, but what happens when you finally meet a driver who doesn't know who you are?
- - - - - -
“You remember my little sister, Y/N right?”
You roll your eyes as Charles keeps a protective arm around your shoulders. He’s acting like you’re in a room of men who all want to get in your pants, when in reality your brother has kept you locked away from the rest of the grid as best he can over the last few years. It made sense when you were younger, but it’s definitely gotten on your nerves, especially on days like today. It was the end of season party, and having your brother attached to your hip at the club was I’m sure not your or his ideal plan. You had begged for him to let you come - you said it was only fair as a trade off since he made you listen to his rants pre and post-race all season long. You get that motorsports is his world and you’re only a guest, but a little more friendship on the grid wouldn’t hurt.
You’ve noticed yourself get a couple more looks over as you’ve grown up over the years, and when Lando walks over and wolf whistles as he shamelessly checks you out, your brother is already telling him to watch it while he watches the British driver give you a hug. “You know where to find me, pretty girl” Lando finishes with a wink before he heads off to join the rest of his friends. It’s all good fun between you two and you know it’s nothing but playful banter as you both like to get under your brother’s skin, but Charles doesn’t seem to quite feel the same as he’s shooting daggers at the curly haired boy walking away from you both.
Charles has always been overprotective of you, especially around the other boys in motorsport. He’d say that none of them would ever be worth your time, that he sees the way they go through women like crazy and that the way they treat their partners would never be good enough for his darling baby sister. Through his years on the grid he had made it clear to everyone that you are and will always be off limits, something that has always irked you to no end. You were more than old enough to make your own decisions, though it seems like Charles will always see you as his little sister.
There’s only one other boy that Charles let you get close to over the years ("let" is a stretch, it was more a reluctant acceptance as it happened), and you can’t help but smile as he walks towards the two of you with open arms. Max and you became friends one day as kids when you scraped your knee on the pavement at a karting race while running away from Charles and he stopped to help you find your parents while you were sobbing - the rest was history.He may have had his ups and downs with your brother, but Max was someone that you knew you could always count on when it mattered. He puts on his best fake bodyguard voice as he comes up to you and Charles and says “Is this man bothering you, young lady?”, earning a laugh from you and an eye roll from your brother.
Soon you’re begging the Dutchman to save you from Charles’ wrath, and luckily with the promise of being his padel partner in the new year he quickly agrees. Charles tries to put up a bit of a fight but before you know it he’s yelling “make good choices” as he’s being whisked away to get a gin and tonic with his self-appointed drinking buddy for the night.
It’s been so long since you’ve been at one of these events, let alone been able to walk around without your brother, so it feels very much like unfamiliar territory. A vodka cran seems like a good place to start, and you settle in easily at the bar while surveying the scene in front of you. Maybe Charles was right, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into - there’s so many people everywhere and everyone seems to know everyone. There’s got to be a few faces you know in this sea of people, like George’s girlfriend or Danny’s sister, the only problem is getting through it. You’re doing a good job staying under the radar as you squeeze through the crowd until you find yourself colliding head first with someone, your drink absolutely flying into their chest.
All you can think is “fuck, I should’ve drank a gin and tonic instead too” as you rub mercilessly at the red liquid on the mystery boy’s chest with the one flimsy napkin the bar gave you. It’s only when he replies back with “It’s seriously okay, gin and tonics taste like shit anyways.” in an accent that you can’t quite pin down do you realize that you accidentally have been talking out loud. Your cheeks are beet red and you’re starting to miss the comfort of having your older brother around you.
“I’m Logan” the boy in front of you says with a smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”
You don’t think you’ve ever said yes to something faster in your life.
The conversation flows so naturally between you and Logan. It makes sense that you’ve never met him before today - he’s new on the grid and doesn’t seem to be close with any of Charles' friends. The freedom you feel is refreshing - it’s been a long time since you got to know a guy like this, just one on one talking to each other. Of course there had been the blind dates that your friends had tried to set you up on but there were all just a little bit off. None of them felt like this.
“I meant to ask you earlier, did you come with someone to the party tonight?”
The question makes you freeze up because you’re having to face the reality that Logan may be one of the only people who don’t know that Charles is your brother in this entire party. Is it selfish that you want it to stay that way?
“Oh, um, I came with a friend of a friend who dragged me here tonight.” The lie falls off your lips all too easily and you’re not even sure why you did it. Logan had been nothing but a gentleman all night and you don’t think he would treat you differently for being Charles’ little sister. Maybe you just wanted to see it for yourself, what could happen when people didn’t feel threatened around you because of your older brother. Luckily, Logan doesn’t think twice about your response and you’re grateful for that.
The bass booming through the club is making you start to wiggle in your seat, and it’s enough to make Logan laugh and ask you if you want to dance. Who could say no to that American smile? You’re dragging him up to dance, shimmying your shoulders in a way that only confirms that you’re as bad of a dancer as you mentioned to Logan earlier in your conversation. At first it’s all so playful, Logan twirling you around and hyping you up, but as the music gets more sultry you and Logan do as well. It’s like there’s two magnets pulling you both together until you’re pressed chest to chest. Logan’s hand around your waist just feels so right. Your heart is beating so fast you’re worried that he might actually be able to hear it himself - he’s so close to you that you can feel the heat from his breath on your neck. The conversation has slowed between you two but you feel like you understand him perfectly. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the boy in front of you that’s making your cheeks so red, but you know that you don’t want this feeling to stop.
“Will you kiss me, Logan?” you’re looking at him like you can see the universe in his eyes, and simultaneously hoping that he can't see how nervous you are in yours.
You’re trying not to get carried away, but it’s hard not to. Kissing Logan just feels so right. You grab his shirt by the front in an effort to get closer to him, you want to feel him, and Logan reciprocates by pressing his hands even further into the dimples on your back. You’re not sure how long you go on like this, you both making out like love-sick teenagers. All you know is that you can’t get enough of him, and based on the way Logan reaches out to caress your cheek, you hope he feels the same. You’re trying to memorize every single part of him, just in case this is all you get to have of him. As his hands start to dip lower and lower your heart beats even faster, and you let your hands trail further down his chest along with the tempo of the music. This moment feels infinite.
It’s not until you feel a hand on your shoulder that the spell is broken as the two of you are shoved apart. Logan reaches to pull you behind him, but once you see a pair of green eyes that are identical to yours staring you both down, it’s him that you want to protect.
“What the fuck are you doing to my sister, Sargeant?"
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author's note: this was such a fun one to write! i think a part 2 to this could be a lil crazy and fun so let me know if you want that too <3
#f1 fic#logan sargeant#charles leclerc#logan sargeant x reader#f1 fluff#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant angst#f1 angst#logan sargeant imagine#charles leclerc imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#williams f1#f1 fanfic#logan sargeant one shot#f1 driver x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#ls2#ls2 x reader
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Sarahs teacher ༊*·˚
pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader
Summary: Joel saves you from a uncomfortable interaction with a drunk, and it quickly devolved with him fucking you in a single stall at the bar. Though when you see the little drawings his daughter leaves in his car, you peice together your connection only after it's too late.
Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he's the sexiest, also this outfit he has on is pretty acruate to how I pictured him while writing, hair pulling, p in v, creampie, surface level degrading (slut, whore), praise degrading (pretty slut), pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby), southern hospitality!, crazy confident and blunt, breif harassment (not by joel), biting, leaving a mark, dom!Joel, sarah mentioned/met
word count: 4.4k
masterlist
inspired / requested by this wonderful anon!
Clanging of glass against wooden tables, the saturated musk of whiskey and heated bodies overwhelms your senses as you walk within the bar.
You watch as men raise voices in argument over games blaring on TVs hung high over the center of the room, feeling eyes trace your shape as you make your way to the counter.
“Just water for now, please.”
The bartender obliged, and as you sit down upon old wooden barstools with short backs to provide minor support to your height off the ground, a pair of eyes seems to fall on you that feels a bit more welcomed than those prior.
Hair fell long right above his eye, salt and peppered hair that was well groomed though currently unkempt in a way-- as though the day had been long on him. Multicolored stubble compliments the smirk of the man that gazed upon you with dark brown eyes hooded by thick lashes. His skin was tanned, and complemented greatly by the dark brown of his jacket coupled with the muted greens of a flannel below it. He had his sleeves rolled up, seeing both his elbows placed on the counter as a glass of whisky was held lightly between a few fingers over the cup just a few inches from his face did he soak in every part of you with his gaze.
His eyes resting on yours set your body aflame, the confidence of his intent made you compelled to want to let him do whatever he wished. A man probably twice your age, like a fine wine did he fire off nerves within you that even men you adored couldn't properly emulate. He was experienced, cocky. He wasn't shy about getting what he wanted like most men your age, and that felt new to you.
You were getting ahead of yourself, within the few seconds that held eye contact between you and this stranger you felt an eternity of lust seep deep in the pits of your stomach. There was no means to even believe that was his intent, the most you can really give yourself was the complement of his elongated gaze affixed on you. But after a few moments his eyes tore away and engaged in what played on the TVs, and watched as the people went by. Leaving you to yourself for a moment to yearn for him, after so much as a glance.
…
“This drink came from the man right down there.”
What sat before you was some sort of vodka tonic, and as your head moved to glance upon that stranger once more with a welling of anticipation for his next move, a different hand shot out and waved to claim that prize. Your heart sank. Some 20 something stood to approach you, a hat upon laid back hair that sported some football team you knew nothing about, and the careful steps of a man trying to impress whilst also being a few drinks in. he slides up tho the empty space on the counter next to you, and elbow propped against your side to lean in, does the stench of cheap liquor and sweat permeate your senses as he begins to talk to you.
“Mm, what's your name, pretty lady?”
A scoff quietly escapes you as the slur of his words make any attempt at flattery obsolete.
“What's it to you?”
Brows furrow at the harsh response to his kind gesture, he retorts;
“Well I just bought you that drink didn't i? Don't I deserve a little somethin?”
A little something what do you look like? A hooker?
“You don't deserve a damn thing. I didn't ask for this cheap thing.”
He leans in a bit closer to you, closing the gap of space between your body and his as you grow increasingly uncomfortable with his advances with no way out.
“Oh come on don't be like that, listen, how about we get a few more and you can join my buddies over there. We’ll have fun.”
Slowly you move yourself away from his body inching closer to you,
“No, I think I'm good where I'm at.”
He grabs your wrist as you try to leave, with the untamed grip of a man not wholly sober and increasingly offended;
“Oh don't be like that, are you even here with everyone? You’re just asking for attention.”
A new voice chimes in from behind the both of you.
“Now, the lady said she don't want anythin to do with you. Aint no sense in tryna force her, especially if you want to keep that nose of yours unbroken. Ya understand me boy?”
The stranger from earlier, carrying deep southern drawl and a sternness in his voice comes to you like a guardian angel. He looms over the short heighted man in comparison, with an air of dominance and intimidation that supersedes anything that that could have done in comparison.
“You didn't tell me you were with someone. I.. I'm sorry sir.”
His voice shrinks at the sight of conflict with him, he turns to you then to him for apology, before scampering off to his friends with a tail between his legs.
The man turns to face you now, dwarfing you in his shadow as he looks at you. There's a kind smile in his eyes, with a soft smirk on his lips as he goes to take the place of the man before him.
“I'm sorry that man was bothin ya darlin’. Aint no way to treat a lady like you.”
your ears perk up at that final part-- a lady like you. You feel flush at his flattery, giving a moment to shift your body closer to his ever so slightly to lean into his words.
“A lady like me hm? And what does that mean?”
Once again he doesn't properly cower at the confrontation of very bold flirting -- you can tell this isn't his first time playing this kind of game. And you were more than glad to play along.
“Well, just mean a lady pretty as you, that's all.”
Coy smile coats his face as he takes another sip of his drink.
“Oh well, thank you sir. Can't say it's every day a handsome man like you comes to my rescue.”
Sir. his eyes flick up from his drink to the sound of that, and you notice this time.
“No bother, names Joel.”
Joel. Where have I heard that name before?
“Ahh, well, sir Joel, I'll be heading to the bathroom for a bit. Think you'll still be here when i'm back?”
You hop out of your chair, brushing off and readjusting the dress you wore as you centered yourself on the floor once more.
“Mm I'm sure I will sweetheart.”
He smiles as his drink is raised to his lips once more from hovering fingers over it's top, he sends you off with a wink and the knowledge that as you walk away he gets a greater view of the body he could only see from across the bar.
…
Knock knock
“I'm in here.”
In a single stall are you leaning over a metal sink to correct makeup and hair in the mirror of the bathroom. You didn't need to use the bathroom, just needed to fix your makeup if you thought you could have any more confidence with Joel.
Knock knock knock
“Dude- i'm fucking in here.”
You go to open the door and chew out whoever was pounding on the door, like there weren't other stalls to use. Though as you crack open the side of it you see Joel standing before you, before quickly pushing his way inside it as well. Turning you around does he pin you against the wall adjacent to the door itself.
“Listen here darlin’. I wont play coy, there aint nothin I want to do to you more right now then to have ya all to myself. I cant fuckin stand it.”
His hand lays flat on your shoulder as it pushes you against the wall, the other hand making its way to cup your jaw. His calloused fingers stroke your cheek as you stand there speechless.
“Use your words baby. Come on, I know you fuckin want it.”
“Y-- yes sir. I…I wouldn't mind”
You stammer out a weak consent that seems to be the only thing that can come to mind as you grow intoxicated by his scent, his aura. Whisky coats his breath as he looms over you, the smell of his cologne masking scents of sawdust and tobacco as you feel his heat on you with how close he stands to you.
“Good.”
His lips smash into yours, feeling his tongue immediately trying to invade every part of your mouth, taste every last drop of your spit as though he was addicted to it. His hands trail up and down your body as his fingers pay no regard to the loose fabric that made up your dress. Gripping your waist he let up from your kiss, turning you around to face the mirror that was just moments ago used as a means to fix your makeup, now you found yourself pushed down onto the cold metal of the sink that still held your eye makeup and brushes. His hands traced all up and down your back as though he was worshiping the body below him, standing right at your backside you could feel his bulge growing from the inside of his worn jeans.
Fuck hes big.
His body falls to cup yours, fully clothed does the request become but a low whisper deep in your ear as his hand trails up your neck to your hair, pulling it back as your back arches to compliment the placement of his bulge.
“Good girl. Now don't you look so pretty?”
He refers to the mirror in front of you, and as you gaze at yourself within it you see hairs falling in front of your face, as arms twice as large as yours grip onto your hair to force your face to look directly within the mirror. You look at him, watching as his face contorted into what looked like a proud lion with his fresh prey. His smirk was selfish, and the way he looked at your body made you feel naked. Undressing what was left of you with his eyes, he didn't leave any more room for imagination as he let up from you for a moment to unbuckle his belt. Watching as the jeans fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, and all that remained was his boxers that swiftly followed. You couldn't see his cock, but as he grazed it along your folds you could just feel how much there was.
“Now ain't that a sight. All this ‘cause of me hm? Gotta say I'm honored.”
He pushes your panties down, a trail of your own slick following suit that leaked down your thigh unabashedly. You feel a heavy hand pressed down onto your back.
“Arch your back for me darlin’.”
And as you do so, you feel him grab your ass, slapping it and pulling it apart to look at your heat before you could feel his tip directly at your entrance. He lets it linger for a moment, cupping himself to you slightly and brings your hair back to look at the mirror once more.
“Look how pretty of a fuckin’ slut you are baby. Absolutely drenched for my cock, you better take it good alright? I'm not here to play nice with ya’.”
You nod your head as much as you could in understanding before you felt him piercing you. It was so much, too much. You felt as though you were going to be split open entirely as the first pulse he did in you felt as though he’d never reach the base. As he grew to be halfway inside of you you felt full to the brim, biting your lip with closed eyes to try and take it all without a whine.
You feel a jerk of your hair as he went deep into you. You felt his body flush against yours but with eyes closed he yanked your neck up to look at him.
“Don't close your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me.”
A steady pace was founded soon after, feeling him go in and out of you elicited timed whines and moans, your brain felt as though it was melting in a way, the only thing that your body could think of as every pounding force inside of you made your nerves shoot off and you felt it everywhere in your body. Down to your fingers was the sense of taking in every vein, every curve, every little inch of his cock as it used you like you were some toy.
Your fingers fall to your own clit, desperate to cum on his cock already do you draw circles over your own throbbing parts, as your mind grows numb at the feeling of the two combined. Though Joel is quick to notice.
“Do you want to fuckin’ cum for me darlin’? Come on now all ya gotta use is your words and I can do all that for you. You're mine right? My pretty little slut.”
His free hand snakes over your thigh to find your fingers, pushing them aside as his calloused fingers match the same motion you had just done but with greater intensity. Your whole body is at his disposal, feeling nothing but the pleasure he's giving you, your hands grasp at nothing to try and stabilize yourself against his cock. Looking at the mirror he forces you to watch as he groans over you, watching the sweat drip off his hair down onto his chest as he grows less and less controlled in his movements. You watch as your own face pathetically contorts into inexplicable pleasure, you are addicted to him. The way his cock feels inside of you, his fingers on your clit. You feel your heat building up in your stomach quickly, a flame sweltering in your stomach that was going to peak at any moment.
“God-- fuck Joel, i’m going to cum. Oh my god--”
You feel yourself contract on top of his cock, your insides desperately wrapped around him as you finish. your legs shake but as he presses himself into you even more you cant move almost anywhere.
“Fuck you feel so good, god-- so fuckin’ good i'm--”
His fingers still trace a sensitive clit as your body moves involuntarily to the rhythm of his cock inside of you, your body completely overwhelmed as he finishes inside of you after only a few more strokes, you feel a heat fill deep inside of you. Keeping it in for a second does the excess of his finish seep out of the edges of you, trailing down your leg onto the floor.
Jagged breath fills the air that was once filled with groans and whimpers, shallow breaths to try and come back to reality fill your lungs as you lay against the counter ever still. You listen as Joel adorns his jeans once more, looping the belt into propper hole before grabbing paper towels from the nearby dispenser. His hands travel down the side of your leg where you and him mixed together in remis of pleasure and slowly takes the dry towel to it, mopping up all that he left on you.
“Here ya go darlin’. Now, turn ‘round for me.”
Waiting as you turn slowly, your body just getting in tune with being able to move on it's own again you face him. A face covered in sweat, hair stuck to his face he still looked enchanting. He takes you in, a look of yearning and hunger still coated his eyes as he looked you up and down.
“This’ll only hurt for a second sweetheart.”
His fingers move the straps of your dress to your shoulders, moving them down to expose your chest. Bending down does he place small kisses on your chest, but before you could question it you felt his teeth sink into your chest. Sucking with intent to leave a mark, shallow pants meet fingers through his hair as you whine softly. Soon his lips let up, and a wet mark along your chest remains.
“Didn't want ya to forget me too quickly. Just say this is a little reminder of me.”
Joel smiles at you, a wink following his brazen claim on your body well after tonight somehow made you more attracted to him. There was something so matter of fact, demanding about him. He just took whatever he wanted and it had just happened to be you. The perfect combination of southern charm and degradation was enough to fuel you for a lifetime off this very night.
He opens the door for you as you exit, following you out swiftly after does the walk to the general bar feels like your own walk of shame in a way. But were you really ashamed? They all knew what had just transpired, but part of you was proud of it. Joel certainly was.
“You got any ways of gettin’ home sweetheart?”
His voice inquired from behind you, making you turn to face him once more as more proper light shone on him giving him even greater features to be enamored by.
“Oh well, my place is around a 20 minutes walk from here, so that's how I got here.”
His brows furrowed at that notion, though it's better than any alternative of driving here with the intent of getting drunk.
“Seems like I'll be takin’ you home then. You want anything before take ya?”
“What? No- you don't need to take me home. It's such an inconvenience and-”
“Listen sweetheart. It wouldn't be right of me leavin’ you hear all by yourself after all we just did. It's only proper.”
You acquiesce. He does make a good point, and as he opens the door for you once more he leads you to his old truck, the seats smell of wood and coffee and you survey the insides to see a small drawn picture of what seemed to be him and a small girl upon his dash. A medium of crayon depicted two simple figures holding hands under a sun.
“I didn't know you were such an artist Joel”
You nudge him, teasing him about the photo briefly.
“Now, you know I didn't do all that. Was my girl Sarah, made it when she was about 5 I think. Shes my whole world that little girl.”
His smile lit up at the mention of his daughter, one that left you a bit dumbfounded because you didn't expect him to be a proud father given his introduction but you had no doubt he was a good one nonetheless.
The drive home was slow but soothing, low country music played on his CD player as he drove down the road to your apartment. And as you signified to him which one was your place he pulls off to the side and drops out of the truck before you. Opening the door for you does he lead you out and to your door, with a kind farewell that despite all his degradation can never override his innate hospitality. Bidding you farewell as he leaves back into his truck, there's no part of you that feels as though you’ll ever see him again. But for a hookup, it's the nicest way you’ve ever been treated after. By a longshot. You won't be quick to forget him, with or without his hickey.
…
School bells ring in your ears as you stand atop a small ladder that gets you to the top of the ceiling to tack on the final decoration for your parent-teacher night. It’d been over a week since you’d met Joel, and as the Friday before a long weekend creeps up on you the last thing you need to do is go through a line of parents and hope none of them have bad things to say about you. You fancied yourself a very good 7th grade teacher, with some of the children within your grade holding bright futures ahead of them. Specifically Sarah, not only was she a rising athlete but she was incredibly academically gifted. The anticipation to meet her parents grew purely out of curiosity, on what kind of scholars they were to raise such a well behaved child.
Parents began to pour in before too long, the clock ticking from 4 to 6, conversation over conversation about the behavior of students, curriculum taught, and teaching philosophies wore you out by the time there was a little less than 30 minutes left of the window to greet parents.
A clock shining at 6:16 made you feel as though your day was done, no real stragglers came in at the last 15 minutes, and as you finished up with the ones who came in the last 30, you began to relax at your desk for a moment.
Until, of course, you see the thick curly hair of a certain sarah enter your classroom. You felt rejoiced, noting that if you had to deal with anyone, it’d gladly be her and her parents. Though as you watched with a smile on her face as she walked in it was soon no longer matched by you once you saw who her father was.
Alone in the classroom did you stand across from Joel, whose daughter he held softly by her shoulder. your heart sank.
What are the fucking odds?
His usual confident demeanor was completely wiped by what seemed to be genuine shock at the sight of you.
“I'm sorry we’re so late miss, dad always works super late so I can never come as early as I want. This is my dad, Joel!”
Thats where I knew his fucking name from.
Sarah breaks the silence with apology on his behalf, followed by an introduction as you slowly lower yourself within your seat once more and usher them to sit across from you.
“Oh- oh, there's no worries. There's still time before we technically finish, so I'm more than glad to see you Sarah.”
Your conversational tone is light, you keep eyes on Sarah while trying to talk to her about school and life, hearing about her new position on the soccer team is the only thing keeping you sane as the same musk you tasted down your throat is sitting right across you once more.
Sarah's eyes darted over to the entrance to the classroom, spotting what seems to be one of her friends who also arrived quite late.
“Oh-- dad. Dad, I'm going to go say hi to my friend. Can I go? Please?”
“No sarah, you’ve gotta stay right here.”
A diversion of eye contact with you that put all eyes on a whining sarah led you to chime in at the sight of her dismay,
“Oh it's alright, there's a few things i’d like to speak to you about anyways.”
She darts away without a second thought, taking your word more to heart than her own fathers.
So there you two are sat-- eyes locked in on one another as you watch Joel's demeanor falter. He’s barely the man you met at the bar, all semblance of confidence gone to be replaced with a much more sheepish embarrassment at the face of his daughter being directly connected to his hookups.
“So, Mr. Miller then is it?”
You take this as a means to taunt him.
“Funny seeing you here isn't it? Your daughter is exceptional, I'll give you that. But doesn't every day something like this happens does it?”
He clears his throat, arms crossing as he lies back slightly upon the chair.
“Now, I mean no disrespect here but you can’t be tauntin’ me like this darlin’. Taking everythin in me to not pin you over that desk just like I did before.”
Your cheeks grow red and flushed. He wasn't sheepish, he's holding back. If it wasn't for his daughter being right down the hall he’d probably already have you wrapped around his cock again.
Silence consumes you two once more as you feel your words choke in the back of your throat, you don't have a proper response to something so brazen but his eyes read yours and he makes it clear you needn't say anything at all.
“Listen sweetheart, if I spend another minute in here with you you’ll probably wanna shut that door and hope no one comes a knockin. So I'll save you the trouble. How’s about you give me your number, and I'll make sure to find time to see you again.”
You scramble for pen and paper to give him what he wants, you now sheepishly handing him your number as you watch him rise from the seat and straighten himself.
“Was meanin’ to do this last time. I ain't felt anything as good as you for as long as i can remember. Usually I wouldn't do this, bein’ sarah's teacher and all, but hope you can understand that I can’t resist another night with you.”
He grabs the paper from trembling hands, feeling his calloused fingers graze yours once more, shooting a shock of nerves to heat up your lower stomach from a mere touch.
“I’ll see ya around darlin’.”
A wink and a smile are the last thing you see of him before he takes himself to your door, disappearing as you hear a group of young girls as he walks into the hallway all clamoring something about Sarah as he takes her home.
You’re left sitting in an empty classroom once more, a clock shining at 6:28 as your cue to leave is imminent. But as you look around you, all you can see is Joel. Every place you look there you are pinned against it with a skirt ridden up and cock shoved inside of you. Even in the empty space in the middle of the classroom you see your knees bare against linoleum as his hands grip your hair and guide it up and down him. You yearned for him, you needed him.
A text chime snapped you out of your trance.
“5pm, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”
And it seems like he needed you too.
“And wear what you wore today, I want to take it off of you myself.”
#joel x reader#joel smut#joel miller x reader#joel fanfic#joel#joel tlou#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro x reader
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Normal People
Lukas Matsson x (fem)Reader, Roman Roy x (fem)Reader
word count: 3k - read on Ao3 here!
NFSW: 18+ ONLY
You first met him at Kendall’s birthday party.
Roman was being obnoxious. All he could talk about was finding Lukas Matsson. He and Shiv were relentless in their pursuit of the man. It was all business, no pleasure tonight. So while Roman and Shiv stood with their heads together, compulsively sipping vodka tonics, you slipped away unnoticed to try and have some fun before the night was over.
You found your way upstairs, where for some inexplicable reason Kendall had built a replica of his childhood treehouse. The inside was bustling with people yet the two buff men outside wouldn’t let you enter without an armband. Dejected, you started to turn away, when you heard Kendall’s voice from above.
“Hey! Let her through, she’s cool!”
He was pointing right at you with a grin. The guards moved aside, letting you in.
Upstairs, Kendall greeted you with a hug.
“Nice treehouse,” you said.
“Thanks. It’s pretty infantile, right? Sort of the vibe I was going for.”
“Definitely. You nailed it.”
“Hey, I need a favor while you’re here. See that guy over there?”
He nodded over his shoulder to a tall blonde Scandinavian-looking man slouching alone in a plush leather chair.
“Who is that?”
“That’s Lukas Matsson. He’s pretty disgruntled and I need someone to keep him from wandering. I can’t do it anymore, I need to mingle. Also, Roman cannot know he’s here.”
“Roman’s entire purpose in life tonight is to find that guy.”
“Please don’t tell him he’s here. I’ll owe you one. Seriously.
“Don’t worry. Roman’s driving me fucking crazy at the moment.”
“Amazing. You’re amazing. Let me get you a drink and I’ll introduce you.”
Kendall stepped away. You glanced curiously in Lukas’s direction. He glanced up from his phone, met your eyes, and did a double take. He stared at you for a long moment across the room.
Kendall returned with your drink, breaking your gaze.
“Let’s go. You’re about to meet one of the weirdest rich guys out there.”
Drinks in hand, you approached the man. He kept his eyes fixed on yours.
“Yo, Lukas. Meet my good friend Y/N. I promise she’s not going to network you to death.”
Kendall clapped him on the shoulder.
“You guys have fun.”
You thought you saw Kendall wink, but it was too quick, and then he was gone.
“Kendall thinks I need a babysitter tonight,” Lukas said. “Too many sharks in the water.”
“Thankfully I don’t have any interest in what Kendall and his family does. I’m just along for the ride.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a writer.”
“What do you write?”
“Words, mostly.”
Lukas cracked the smallest grin.
“Is that, like, meaningful for you?” he asked.
“I don’t really care if it has meaning or not. Mostly it keeps me entertained.”
“Cheers to that.”
He raised his beer bottle and clinked it against your glass of gin and tonic.
“So you know all of the Roy siblings?” Lukas said.
“Too well.”
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“Do I have to have a favorite?”
“It’ll say a lot about you. I’m still figuring out who I’m talking to here.”
You considered briefly.
“I think I relate to Kendall the most.”
“Daddy issues?”
You laughed. “I’m not going there. But if I had to pick a favorite… Roman is the most fun to be around.”
“So you like fun.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t relate to what most people think of as fun.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Partying. Getting drunk. Rollercoasters.”
You burst out laughing.
“What?” he said.
“Rollercoasters?”
“People find them fun, right? You tell me. What’s fun to you?”
“Not rollercoasters.”
Lukas considered you with a curious, calculating look.
“I’m starting to think you’re not a normal person,” he said.
“I could tell you weren’t normal the second I looked over here.”
You gave him a sly smile. He set his beer down and folded his hands in his lap.
“I’ve got to get out of this treehouse,” he said.
“You don’t think the treehouse is fun?”
“I’d like to find out what your idea of fun is. You still haven’t told me.”
You gazed at him for a long moment. Then you heard an all-too-familiar voice over your shoulder.
“There you are. Both of you.”
Roman was leaning over you with his hands on the back of your chair.
“This is a weird pairing. What are you guys even talking about?”
“Rollercoasters,” Lukas said.
You smiled, catching his eye once more before you stood.
“I’ll let you guys talk.”
“I’ll see you later, though, yeah?” Roman called. You glanced at Lukas, who had put everything together in an instant.
“If you can find me,” you said as you left.
When you glanced back over your shoulder, Lukas was staring at his phone again and Roman was sitting cross-legged in your chair, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention.
Not long after, you found yourself in Italy, lying poolside beneath the mild northern sun. Eyes closed, you felt a shadow pass over your vision and cracked your eyes open. Roman sat in the neighboring beach chair, squinting in the light.
“I forgot how much I hated the sun.”
He leaned back uncomfortably in the chair.
“So, I have a mission for you. For both of us.”
“What?”
“Guess who lives right across the lake.”
“Who? Stop making me ask questions.”
“Our old buddy Lukas Matsson.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“Who?”
Roman grinned.
“You know who. You’re literally blushing.”
“It’s the sun.”
“I know you’ve been wondering how big his dick is.”
“Roman, what the fuck?”
“Hey, it’s fine. I mean, you still haven’t seen mine. It’s only healthy to think about other men’s dicks every now and then.”
“Jesus…”
“Look, seriously. I need your help. I have to convince him to make this deal. But I don’t think he likes me all that much. If you’re there, maybe he’ll perk up enough to listen to me. I mean, the man’s practically comatose.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I need you to get him a little hard, metaphorically speaking. He’ll want to show off his big dick in front of you by making this deal.”
“Stop saying ‘dick’. This is sounding really fucking weird.”
“Like I’m trying to whore you out to him?”
“Yeah. Exactly that.”
“Come on. You don’t have to do anything. Unless, you know, you want to.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. You gave a sigh.
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon. Now, actually. Can you put some clothes on? The bikini might be overkill.”
“God dammit, Roman.”
You stood up and grabbed the towel from the back of your chair. He grabbed your hand gently.
“Hey.”
You paused, gazing down at him, the quirky smile flashing, eyes obscured behind his dark sunglasses.
“You’re my secret weapon.”
You were on the boat less than half an hour later, speeding across Lake Como in the warm air.
“That’s his place,” Roman said, indicating the approaching villa. Tall cypress trees swayed in the lake breeze, revealing a stuccoed exterior and red tile roof. A hidden paradise nestled at the foot of the Alps.
“You’re shitting me.”
Roman grinned.
Lukas was waiting for you on the dock. He was barefoot, in a black t-shirt and white linen pants. His dark blue eyes glinted in the light reflecting off the lake.
Roman disembarked first, turning to lend you a hand. You felt Lukas watching the two of you.
"There you are, you tall motherfucker," Roman said, stepping forward to greet him. He shook Roman’s hand, then turned his gaze to you.
“You remember Y/N, right?” Roman said. “I think I interrupted your little party in the treehouse.”
“So you two are together?”
“Well, we haven’t fucked yet if that’s what you mean,” Roman said.
Lukas glanced at you. You rolled your eyes discreetly.
“I feel like I shouldn’t ask,” Lukas said.
“Oh, it’s all me. Not her fault.”
Lukas led the two of you to a patio shaded from the sun. His property was quiet, beautiful, secluded. It was strange to imagine him padding around the villa in his bare feet, alone. He reclined on a wicker sofa while you took a seat nearby.
Roman was looking at his phone, suddenly serious.
“What is it?” you said.
“I gotta take this. Sorry, guys.”
He stepped away, leaving you alone with Lukas. He reclined on a beige sofa, glancing at you with his hands folded in his lap.
“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” he said. “Where did we leave off?”
“I don’t remember. It was a long night.”
“When you said Roman was your favorite, I didn’t realize why.”
“It’s pretty complicated.”
“Sounds like it.” Lukas paused. “You guys really haven’t fucked?”
“It’s just… not like that. I know it sounds weird.”
“How long have you been together?”
“About a year.”
He let out a low whistle.
“So does that mean… I mean, are you guys exclusive?”
“So far. Yeah.”
You gazed at each other silently. Roman returned, phone in hand.
“Hey guys, I gotta run. But I’ll be back. Is it cool if she stays?”
“It’s fine,” Lukas said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just family stuff. Kendall,” he added, glancing at you.
You nodded, unable to tell if he was bluffing or not.
“Try not to talk business without me,” Roman said. He turned and jogged back towards the dock. You heard the boat engine start as he sped off across the lake.
“Fun,” Lukas said.
You looked at him in confusion.
“We were talking about fun.”
He was gazing at you, broad shoulders in the dappled sunlight, his eyes calm.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?”
You followed him inside, bare feet on the cool terracotta floor, a warm breeze moving through the open rooms. The villa was exquisitely decorated, a blend of modern art and traditional Italian motifs. Green and gold curtains, plush beige sofas, a gleaming oak dining table.
“You live alone?”
“Yeah. To be honest, I don’t like living with other people.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You and Roman don’t live together?
“Let’s stop talking about Roman.”
You paused in the doorway of a bedroom that opened onto a patio overlooking the lake. The sheer curtains lifted in the breeze. You felt Lukas glance at you.
“The downstairs is all for show. I live upstairs. Do you want to see?”
The upstairs was a loft with exposed beams and skylights. In contrast to the overblown downstairs decoration, everything here was black, white, grey. This was where Lukas’s preference for Scandinavian minimalism became apparent. He was so tall that he had to stoop in certain places. You peered into his office, sparsely decorated with a wooden desk, MacBook and high-end stereo system.
“This is where I get my thinking done. I really don’t like having visitors in general. Present company excepted.”
His bedroom was adjacent to the office. Again you lingered in the doorway, hesitant to enter his private quarters. He leaned on the doorframe across from you and folded his arms. He looked straight at you.
“So,” he said.
“So...?”
“Kendall’s birthday party. I had every intention of inviting you back to my room.”
“Roman ruined your plans, huh?”
“Pretty much. But then he brought you here.”
You went silent, gazing back at him. The blonde stubble, heavy brow, hard blue eyes. Something in him both frightening and compelling. Impenetrable but vulnerable. He was tan from the summer sun, calm and cool. He seemed curious to see what your next move would be. And he was willing to wait you out.
You meandered into the bedroom, glancing around at his possessions. A shelf full of books: classics, modern novels, books on tech. A stray pair of headphones. A solitary person’s existence.
He followed you in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. You turned around to face him.
“Roman brought me here to help make the deal for his dad,” you said.
“I know that. I don’t care. I’ve already made my decision.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
You stepped up to him, feet nearly touching. He watched you with the faint smile of someone who has been alone for a long time observing a newcomer in their space.
“Let’s not fuck around any longer,” he whispered.
Almost before he had finished speaking, you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed you back, long, deep kisses, like he had missed you intensely in your brief, inexplicable absence from his life. His hands slid up your back. You sank onto his lap, straddling him as his hands moved lower, exploring your unfamiliar form.
You ran your hands through his hair, along the back of his neck, across his broad shoulders. You slid your hands beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling his toned arms. You kissed his neck, the sound of his rasping breath in your ear.
“Did you think of me at all?” he whispered.
“I couldn’t stop,” you breathed.
You felt a throb as he grew harder beneath you. You pushed him back onto the bed and ground against him as he swiftly unbuttoned your shirt then shed his own. He pulled you down against him, kissing your neck, your shoulders, his stubble brushing your skin.
“You really haven’t been fucked in a year?”
You shook your head, gasping at his touch, unable to speak.
“Time to change that.”
He deftly changed positions with you, so that you were lying half-dressed beneath him. Now you had a full view of him, his bare torso, ruffled blonde hair, the intensity in his eyes. He unzipped his pants and slid out of them.
“Oh my god,” you said, unable to stop yourself. Lukas grinned, breathless.
“What?”
“You’re fucking huge.”
He tugged your pants off, gripping his cock, and without any further delay, slid swiftly into you.
You let out a long, vocal moan. It had been too long. Everything in you had been aching for him. He watched your every reaction, the slight grin on his face, his eyes glittering. You bucked against him, running your hands over his lean body as he slowly, firmly pounded into you. You gripped his forearm for dear life.
“Fuck, Lukas”
“Yeah? Is that good?”
You groaned in response as he leaned into you, his hot, sticky skin against yours, running along the length of your body with his bulk. He gripped your wrists, pinning you lightly as he pulsed in and out of you. You sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, and he held you down harder.
“You feel like you want to come,” he murmured.
“Mmhmm.”
“You’re so fucking wet.”
You dug your fingers into his back, feeling your entire body tense up.
“It’s been so long. You’re ready to fucking burst.”
He slid his thumb into your mouth and you bit down on it. There were starbursts behind your eyes. His voice in your ear.
“There you go. Let me hear you. I want to hear you.”
That was it. You let go, back arched, thighs tensed, warmth spreading across your body as you let out a half-moan, half-scream. You heard Lukas groan and stiffen, his hand twined in your hair.
You stayed like that for a long moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. Finally he rolled off of you, shining with a light cover of sweat. You lay side by side, recovering.
“Fuck,” you whimpered.
“Is that what you wanted?”
“Fuck yes.”
You felt his fingers brush along your forearm. He was gazing at you from his pillow.
“You can come closer. If you want.”
You gladly complied, feeling his arm encircle you as you found a place against his chest. Your eyes traced his unfamiliar body. A tuft of blonde chest hair, a scar below his ribcage, a small birthmark near the belly button. But you didn’t touch him further. This was still new, the boundaries not yet established. Perhaps Lukas didn’t want to be touched in a tender, loving way. Perhaps you didn’t either.
“I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “There’s a lot more I want to do with you.”
“I was very pent-up,” you said, half-apologizing.
“No, it’s fine. It’s good when it’s fast sometimes. Plus I’m not great at seductive gestures.”
“This is only the second time we've met and you made me come. That just doesn’t happen.”
He gave a slight laugh, a low sound deep in his chest. He stroked your shoulder with his thumb briefly.
“I mean I’m not a normal person. Some things people want from me, I just can’t give them.”
“You’re talking to someone who’s been dating Roman Roy for a year and a half. I go without a lot of things.”
You gazed down his body, his skin soft and tan in the natural light.
“Plus, there’s probably a lot I can’t give you,” you murmured. “Remember, I’m not normal either.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want normal. I get bored easily.”
From the open window, you could hear the sound of the lake lapping against the shore. Then, growing in the distance, the high whine of a motor.
“Well,” said Lukas with a note of finality.
“What do we do?”
He turned on his side, looking straight at you again with that penetrating gaze.
“I think we need to see each other again,” he said.
“Okay.”
Without another word, he sat up, sliding into his pants. You savored the sight of his torso as he pulled on his shirt. You dressed quickly then met him in the doorway, where you paused. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, then leaned down and kissed you once, warm and deep. He held your eyes for a long moment. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he smiled slightly to himself and started down the stairs. You followed, eyes lingering on the back of his neck, his shoulders.
Roman met you on the green lawn. His hair and clothes were windblown and disheveled but he was grinning.
“Hey kids. Have fun without me?”
“Just showing her around the property.”
“I bet you did. Hey, I know it was shitty for me to run out like that, so if you want to talk about the deal another time, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“We don’t need to talk about it. I want to do it.”
Roman raised his eyebrows. “Well, shit. Are you sure, man?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m sure.”
Roman grabbed his hand and shook it with a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”
“I guess we will.”
Lukas’s eyes flashed in your direction. You smiled slightly and looked away.
On the boat ride back, Roman was strangely silent. He had a secretive grin on his face and his eyes were obscured behind his dark glasses. Then he unexpectedly turned to you, grabbed your face between his hands, and kissed you on the mouth.
“It worked. It fucking worked.”
He held your hand the rest of the way back to his mother’s villa. It was the first time in a year and a half of dating that he had done so.
#i did a thing#lukas matsson x reader#lukas matsson/reader#succession#lukas matsson#roman roy#roman roy x reader#roman roy/reader#alexander skarsgard
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Further to my Pedro Boys Cocktails, and my Javier Peña Special Cocktails, now it's time for some SNL Character Themed Cocktails! 🍹
Again, no measurements are included so you can make them as strong or as weak as you like. Pictures of the cocktails used are for reference, based on what I think they would look like with the ingredients used, but are not verbatim. Go crazy.
Drink responsibly, folks. 🥴
If you make any, please tag me so I can see your tasty creations!🍹
NSFW smack talk below.
Enjoy! 🖤
Check out my Pedro Boys Rambles here.
The 'Mommy Dearest'
Hendriks Gin, grapefruit juice, elderflower liqueur, rosemary sprigs, salty rim & fresh grapefruit slice to garnish. Serve over ice. Not too much salt; you don't want that salty 'tude from Mama Flores to sting... Take your vegan sliders with on your way out.
The 'LA Mush Mouth'
Vodka, peach schnapps, blue curaçao, lemon juice, Sprite/lemonade. Serve over crushed ice. Or in a drip bag hooked to your veins. Wake up from a coma looking incredibly well put together and handsome for someone who was hit by a Party City truck, covered in paaaapah, and proceed with speaking Spaaaanish.
The 'Fancam Fapper'
White Rum, grenadine, strawberry liqueur, lime juice, soda to top. Fresh strawberries and mint leaves to garnish. Stop being a bias and munching on it, and get yourself down to detention where Mr Ben is expecting you to complete your, ahem, extra credit...
The 'Southern Fried Fuck'
Tequila, grenadine, Maraschino liqueur, orange juice, splash of cranberry juice. Orange slices and cherries to garnish. Order fried chicken wings in abundance and dive into a kiddie pool of ranch dip on game day. Just don't expect to get laid after. Games on, innit.
The 'Italian Stallion'
Vodka, Cabernet Sauvignon wine, cranberry juice, simple syrup, lemon juice, frozen blackberries or blueberries to garnish. Ensure you leave a big, generous tip for the waiter whose breath you take away constantly, bella. Hold up, he's on the floor... shit, anyone know CPR?
The 'Shroom Shooter'
Roku Gin, Yuzu juice, Rioja red wine, demerara syrup, lemon juice, 1 egg white to top, frothed. Fresh thyme and cloves/bay leaf. There is a good chance this cocktail might taste like its literally sprouted out of the ground, and won't go down as smoothly as bisexual Toad on Rainbow Road. Might need a power up.
The 'Ginny & Juice'
Tanqueray Gin, Tonic water, orange juice, orange bitters, splash of pink grapefruit juice. Orange slice to garnish and serve over ice. Stare blankly at the quiz master when you don't know the answer. Sink a few of these instead and slump over your buzzer. Game over.
The 'Antonio & Cujo'
Clear Gin, lime juice, Maraschino liqueur, orange bitters, lime slice. Serve over ice. Serve with a slab of well, well, well done steak with ketchup on your date with Antonio Banderas, who's constantly in want of your fine ass. I mean, the man is just kidding himself otherwise... woof.
The 'Cookie Crusher'
Irish Cream liqueur, Goldschlager cinnamon schnapps, butterscotch schnapps, dash of pouring cream. Crushed oatmeal cookies for the rim and to dust on top. Serve over ice. Make sure you the bake the cookies yourself, otherwise Mama Flores won't be happy with you... but her sewing circle will be.
'The Tittywank'
Mezcal, Galliano liqueur, vodka, splash of lemon juice, spiced honey syrup, drizzle of golden honey. Lemon twist to garnish. Drink really quickly without staring like a drooling chimp at that waxed décolletage, and then order a Slippery Nipple. Hand it to Pedro with a straight face and absolutely no innuendo at all. Yo, his eyes are up here, bub.
'Pedro's Purple Rain'
Vodka, blue curaçao, splash of cherry sours, grenadine, cranberry juice, pineapple juice, splash of Sprite/lemonade. Serve over ice. Lemon slice to garnish. Break out some Prince and croon at the top of your voice for Pedro to dance in the Purple Rain with you. Crying optional, but almost guaranteed.
'Made In Chile'
Bergamot Castro liqueur, tequila, chilli syrup, blood orange juice, watermelon juice, splash of lime juice, castor sugar. Fresh or grilled chilli to garnish, serve over crushed ice. A hot spicy drink, for a hot spicy tamale! Raise a toast to Pedro and his fantastic SNL hosting skills this year. Here's to the giggles. And the mouthwash needed after you drink this shit. Salud!
🖤
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal snl#pedro pascal cocktails#jett's pedro boys#pedro pascal characters#miss flores#mr ben snl#wing pit snl#charlie snl#pedro boy cocktails#cocktails#mixology#jett's cocktails
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You, Me, and Karaoke
Pairing: Rooster x Female!Reader
Author’s Note: This is based on an Anon request that I received! In my mind, it takes place in the same world as my Rooster x Wife!Reader stories, so I pretty much made this a headcanon/imagine of what it was like when they first met.
Warnings: Just a lot of fluff.
- You and Rooster first met at The Hard Deck, where you were working at the time.
- Though you were absolutely hopeless when it came to bartending, Penny had been kind enough to hire you as a waitress.
- It seemed like it would be simple enough, taking people’s orders, bringing them their drinks, and cleaning off tables, but you quickly learned just how popular The Hard Deck could get and just how challenging it was to keep up with a drunk crowd’s demands.
- The first time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw was while you were in the middle of the after-dinner rush, frantically trying to keep up with the constant flow of orders for more beer, another vodka cranberry, a second round of gin and tonic, and whatever else Penny’s patrons were asking for.
- Hurrying back over to the bar, your ponytail swinging wildly, you’d stumbled over a bag that had been carelessly left in the middle of the floor and would have most likely toppled onto your face had it not been for the strong arm that suddenly reached out and steadied you.
- “Oh, thank you! I–” Whatever comment you’d been about to make died in your throat the second you looked up and locked gazes with what had to be one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life.
- “Careful, darling,” he chuckled, his voice sending a warm sensation shooting through your body as he gently held onto your elbow. Before you could say anything else, his friends were calling him over to the pool table and he was off, though not before gazing down at you one last time and smiling.
- Later, when you were behind the bar clearing off a tray of finished drinks, you glanced over at your boss. “Penny?” you asked, trying to be casual about it. “Do you know that guy over there? The one in the Hawaiian shirt?”
- Penny had just smiled knowingly, arching an eyebrow. “I do. His name is Bradley Bradshaw. But his call sign is Rooster. He’s one of the aviators from TOPGUN.”
- You hadn’t been able to stop staring all night, though you never plucked up the courage to say anything else to him. Any time he came near the bar, you conveniently ducked away, blushing and mentally kicking yourself for being so stupid.
- After that first night, you saw him all the time. He always looked so good in his Hawaiian shirts and Aviator sunglasses. He walked around The Hard Deck like he owned the place, but somehow managed to do it in a way that didn’t come across as arrogant or rude.
- You talked with him a few times, usually just to take his order because you were too nervous about getting tongue-tied and making a fool of yourself in front of him. He introduced himself as Bradley, but assured you with a playful wink that you could call him Rooster. You told him your name as well, but found that he hardly ever used it. He seemed rather stuck on calling you “darling,” which you found you didn’t mind in the slightest.
- The first time you heard him sing, you thought your heart was going to melt inside your chest. You actually ended up spilling beer on one of the older men at the bar when you realized it was Rooster sitting at the piano, entertaining the crowd. The older man hadn’t been too thrilled about that.
- The next evening, you still had “Great Balls of Fire” stuck in your head as you were helping Penny prepare to open up the bar. Wiping down the tables with a careful hand, you found yourself humming the opening lines under your breath, getting more and more into it as the song progressed. Moving from table to table, you danced around with a laugh, your humming turning into full-blown singing by the end. “Come on, baby, you drive me crazy! Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” you sang enthusiastically.
- In that moment, you spun around and came face to face with a grinning Bradley Bradshaw. You’d never wanted the earth to swallow you whole more than you did in that moment. Eyes widening, your blush extended down your throat and up to the tips of your ears. How long had he been standing there?!
- “I didn’t know you were such a good singer,” Rooster said, trying to smother some of his grin when he saw how mortified you were. He’d been trying to talk to you for a while now, but you always seemed to disappear whenever it got busy at The Hard Deck.
- “I’m not,” you stammered, still humiliated at being caught. “I was just—well, I heard you playing that song last night and it got stuck in my head and—”
- “It’ll do that,” Rooster smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. The two of you just stared at each other, the room suddenly feeling warmer despite the fact that it was only the two of you standing there.
- “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Rooster said suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “You, me, karaoke bar, tonight. Could be fun, especially now that I know you’ve got such a killer set of pipes,” he grinned, raising his eyebrows.
- “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I mean, I have to work tonight or I—”
- “No, you don’t,” Penny said, suddenly appearing from the back of the bar. You could have sworn that there was a smirk on her face as she approached the two of you. “Sorry for the last minute switch, Y/N, but I had to make some changes to the schedule. You’re off tonight. No reason why you can’t let Rooster here take you out for karaoke.” She had smiled in that knowing way all mothers seemed to possess, poking you in the side.
- Unable to refuse, and not really wanting to despite your nerves, you found yourself agreeing to let Rooster pick you up in an hour to head to a karaoke bar he was familiar with, not too far from your apartment.
- Throughout the night, you learned that chivalry wasn’t dead, at least where Bradley Bradshaw was concerned. He picked you up at your door and helped you in and out of his Ford Bronco. At the bar, he refused to let you pay for a single drink, and he was attentive to everything you had to say.
- The two of you sat in a corner booth for what felt like hours, talking and swapping stories from your childhoods and getting to know each other. He made you laugh in a way that was genuine and sincere, and you seemed to do the same for him. Though you’d been nervous about the date at first, you found that the more time you spent in his company, the more comfortable and relaxed you became.
- At least, until he tried to convince you to sing.
- “C’mon, one song, darling. It’s a karaoke bar! And you’re really good,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you until you cracked a smile and started laughing. “See? Anyone with a laugh that pretty has to be a good singer. That’s a scientific fact,” he said confidently.
- Blushing, you shook your head in amazement at him. “You’re a funny guy, Rooster Bradshaw,” you told him, taking another sip of your Malibu Bay Breeze. You noticed that he’d had a beer in the beginning of the evening, but was sticking mainly to water now. He was supposed to be driving you home, after all. You appreciated the responsibility.
- “One song,” Rooster begged, reaching out to lightly brush your fingers with his own. The contact made goosebumps rise on your skin. “I’ll sing it with you.” He looked over at the stage, where a group of drunk college girls were singing a truly horrible rendition of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” He turned back to look at you with a laugh. “We can’t be any worse than that”
- “True,” you conceded, smiling at him. “But what will we sing?”
- “Leave it to me,” Rooster assured you, an adorably childlike grin on his face as he slid out of the booth. “I’ll get us set up.”
- When the MC finally called your names up to the stage, your hands were trembling slightly. It was silly, but you had a bit of stage fright, even at a karaoke bar. Rooster must have noticed because he suddenly slipped his hand in yours and squeezed gently. “You’re going to be great.”
- “What the heck are we singing?” you whispered. He still hadn’t told you.
- “You’ll see,” he winked, handing you a microphone. Your stomach did a strange flip, and you had a feeling it had nothing to do with your stage fright.
- The second the music started playing, your face split into a huge grin and you couldn’t help but start laughing.
- Rooster started the song off for you, smiling at you as he leaned in close and crooned, “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane.”
- “You broke my will,” you jumped in, shocked at how at ease you suddenly feel. “But what a thrill.”
- Both your voices melded together as you loudly sang, “Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”
- By the end of the song, the entire bar was on its feet and singing along with you. You got a standing ovation from the crowd, with Rooster trying to focus all the attention on you. He took your hand to help you off the stage, and you found yourselves pressed close together as the bar had gotten more crowded.
- “That was fun,” you told him, your breath catching in your throat slightly as you became aware of how close you were standing to him.
- “It was,” he nodded, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You had never wanted to kiss somebody more. The two of you stood there for what felt like a long time, staring at each other, each too afraid to break the thick tension that had settled between you.
- “I should get you home,” Rooster finally said, resting his hand on the small of your back. “Penny will kill me if I keep you out too late.”
- Both of you were a bit more subdued as you left the bar, Rooster draping his jacket around your shoulders as he led you back to his truck. You felt your skin growing warm as he drove you back to your apartment.
- “I had a lot of fun tonight,” you told him as the two of you stood outside your apartment building, with you chewing awkwardly on your lower lip while he gazed down at you.
- “So did I,” Rooster agreed, all traces of humor gone from his face. It almost looked like it had been replaced by…yearning. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.
- “Well…I should—”
- “I’d really like to see you again. You know, not just at The Hard Deck,” Rooster said in a sudden rush, the tips of his ears turning red. You thought it was adorable. He’d always seemed so calm, cool, and collected, so it made you feel more at ease to know that he was nervous, too. “I’d like to take you out again. If you’d like that, I mean,” he stammered out.
- “I would. I’d really like that,” you replied, unable to stop smiling all of a sudden.
- “Great,” Rooster nodded, a huge, adorable grin breaking out across his face. “Okay, I’ll see you soon then. Good night, Y/N,” he said, opening the door for you.
- “Good night, Bradley,” you smiled, handing him his jacket as you turned to step inside your building.
- “Oh, darling?” Rooster suddenly added, making you turn to look up at him. When you did, you were met with his lips lightly brushing yours, a tingling sensation coursing through your whole body at the contact. You were both smiling when you separated. “Good night,” he whispered.
- “Good night,” you whispered in return, your pulse racing as you floated back up to your apartment.
- You had no idea then that “you, me, and karaoke” would become the beginning of forever.
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#x reader#x female reader#miles teller#top gun#top gun: maverick#anon request
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Just watched the Grey's season 19 finale...
Don’t read further if you don’t want spoilers
I'm losing my goddamn mind!! The chaos! The cinematography! The ships that no one wanted together (Jo and Link)!
First, Maxine actually surviving was the biggest plot twist of the century. They foreshadowed her death so hard it’s crazy that she’s still kicking. Every episode since she first appeared I’ve thought “Oh my god they’re gonna kill her”. AND THEY LET HER LIVE!!!!
Blue and Jules are gonna be delightfully messy next season. God, I love you Mike Chang Intern and Hippie Izzie Intern. To be fair to Blue and Schmitt, the last time someone followed a DNR at Grey Sloan, Gary Clark shot up the place.
Simone ignoring all the signs from the universe not to marry Trey until she was literally walking down the aisle. I literally turned to my mom and said “well, at least Blue doesn’t have to worry about missing the wedding”.
Simone and McNephew having a classic on-call room romp. Because my joy at someone actually using the on-call rooms for their intended purpose this season could only last so long. YOU ARE MAKING THOSE COMMUNAL BED SHEETS NASTY!!
Teddy falling victim to Chekhov’s Toothache is sending me. My mom said before hour 1 was done that a toothache can be a sign of a heart attack, and that it’s really suspicious that Grey’s sent all the Cardio folks except for Teddy to Boston. And because she’s an English teacher I believed her, and I still lost my mind anyway. She doesn’t have a pulse, McPatient/McPilot is dying, and McNephew and Simone pull some impulsive shit. The cut from this to Jo and Link finally resolving their will they won’t they tension was so funny to me. ALL THE STUFF, followed by drama that we already went through less than five seasons ago.
At least Yasuda and Helm got to be cute. I love them. They’re everything to me. Yasuda kicks ass, Helm’s about to be the only Chief Resident thanks to Schmitt’s previously stated breaking of a DNR, and I’m not looking forward to the next season where we’ll probably get a plot line about how they can’t be together since Helm’s Yasuda’s boss. My mom said that since the relationship began prior to Helm’s renewed employment, maybe they’ll be an exception, but we’re not getting our hopes up. We’ve been burned too many times before.
Also Helm looked so good this season?! Like, I’m so glad they decided to develop her beyond “haha, frumpy lesbian in love with a straight chick”. She’s got confidence, style, and a hot girlfriend who drives the getaway van at weddings that never should have happened. Who’s doing it like Helm right now?
On a less happy note, *in Adele Webber* RICHAAARRRD! Next season better start with Richard not having drank that vodka tonic. Please Webber, don’t do this bud. Amelia cannot be your Charlotte King. Please.
#greys anatomy#greys anatomy spoilers#greys spoilers#greys season 19 spoilers#taryn helm#mika yasuda#lucas adams#teddy altman#benson kwan#jules millin#simone griffith#mcnephew#richard webber#Chekhov's toothache
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Just wanted to let you know, I enjoy all your fics! Constantly reading them all. ❤️ If you feel up for it could you write one with Jason/reader. Could be anything that comes to mind. Smut, soft, angst. I just can't get enough!!
You are WONDERFUL - thank you for the kind words and all you're lovely support. I'd love to write some more Jason so let's just see where this goes. I'm literally going into this with NO direction. This'll be fun. Let's gooo!
---
Relationship: Jason Sudeikis x reader
Warnings: I have no clue, writing blind. Probably smut and angst.
---
You weren't sure what dating Jason would be like. You were crazy about each other, that much was true.
But being in the spotlight, trailed by paparazzi, dealing with the flash of cameras at events -- it was a lot.
And there was self-doubt. Because of course, there was.
His ex-girlfriends were models, actresses. He worked with some of the most beautiful women in the world on sets.
And you were...well, you.
He wasn't untrue. You trusted him. You just didn't trust you could sustain his interest. And that was on you. Which made it worse.
At an event afterparty -- Jason's hand around your waist -- you can't help looking around the room at the beautiful, leggy cocktail waitresses and models who had been invited.
Your arm around his waist tightened as you smiled up at him.
Maybe if I grip him harder he won't float away, you always thought, as if you were still living in a dream.
The two of you met by happenstance, at an event like this. You got to talking, hit it off, and the rest is history.
You smiled and nodded, joining the conversation. Laughed at his jokes, because they always make you laugh. You always threw your head back and laughed with your whole body -- it wasn't a dainty cute laugh, but he loved it.
"I'll be right back, you want another drink?" he asks you, holding up his empty glass. You nod. "Yeah, that'd be great. Vodka tonic, thanks, babe."
When he moves to the bar, your eyes follow the women in the room who are watching him. His handsome waistcoat and dress slacks make you purr...
RED. YOU SEE RED.
A tall, thin, honey-skinned blonde puts her dainty little hand on his shoulder and introduces herself, batting her big eyelash extensions at him.
You're trying to pay attention to his friends who are still chatting away, but your stomach is in your throat.
Take a breath, take a breath, take a breath...
"Will you excuse me for a second?" you ask his friends, who nod and smile.
"Hi, babe, need help with those drinks?" you ask, sidling up to his side. He smiles down at you and kisses your lips quickly.
"Yeah, here ya go. Just as ordered for my lady," he jokes. "Y/N this is Alex. Alex this is Y/N."
She gives you a half-hearted smile and returns her full attention to Jason. You're zoning out, trying to think of a way out of this woman's tractor beam.
"So are you two serious?" she asks, waking you out of your daze. Jason laughs and puts his arm around you.
"I mean, I'd say so, right, babe?" he asks you, looking into your eyes. You nod enthusiastically, painting on a big smile.
"Absolutely! You're my guy! My person, I can't let you go," you answer, leaning into his lips to kiss him.
Suck on that, Alex.
Alex gives up her attempted robbery of your boyfriend, and as the night winds down, Jason is still chatting with a few people, taking selfies with the wait staff.
"I need to use the ladies room, I'll be right back," you say, walking into the bathroom to wash your hands and fix your hair.
Of course she's here. Of course.
"Hi, again," you offer Alex, who's reapplying a glop of lipgloss to her puffy lips. She barely even looks at you. She gives you a sarcastic smirk.
"I'm kinda shocked to meet you," Alex says with a patronizing tone. "I didn't think you were Jason's type."
You smile, reapplying your own lipstick.
"I met him a couple years ago through mutual friends. He, ah, goes for much prettier women usually..." Alex says, smacking her lips together.
"Is that so?"
She nods. "I mean, look at you and then look at me. If you were a guy, who would you choose?" She grins with her mouth tightly closed. "He'll realize it eventually."
It happened in an instant. You don't even remember.
First, you stepped closer to her, politely asking her to leave you alone.
And next, she's scratching your neck and pushing you out the door of the bathroom and into the hallway.
"Get the fuck off me!" you shout, Alex's slender frame straddling your legs as she tries to pull your hair.
This is where your not-model frame has an advantage. As you get up move her off you, she grabs the strap of your dress, ripping it off, your red lace bra hanging out one side.
A crowd is gathering, some tipsy patrons cheering on the girl-on-girl fight.
When you flip over to pin her down, you're gritting your teeth.
"Listen, crazy train. He's not interested, stay away from us!" you shout.
"He'll be mine soon enough!" she's screaming, and now Jason is there.
"Babe! Oh my God," he says, putting his drink down to pull you up, but before he can, Alex takes you back down holding your ankles, rolling around with you, slapping, pulling your hair.
"Get the fuck off me!" you shout, pushing her away before finally, the right people get involved to pull her off you.
Your breath is heaving, your chest scratched, your face red from a slap she managed to sneak in, your bra hanging out of one side of your dress. And you're missing a shoe.
This is like coming home from a rough party in college. What the hell just happened?!
Jason holds your face in his hands as he tries to get your attention.
"Are you OK?!" he asks, his eyes bunched and worried.
You nod, looking down at your dress, your missing shoe. The scratches on your neck bleed a little.
"What the hell happened?"
"I'll tell you what happened," Alex shouts. "This bitch thinks she's good enough for you!"
Jason looks over at her and is completely perplexed. Two women fighting over him? What is happening?
You motion your thumb behind your shoulder.
"That. That's what happened. Wrong place, wrong time. She came in swingin'."
The staff escorts her off the property, asking you if you'd like to press charges, to which you deny. You don't need any bad press, and you certainly don't want Jason attached to it.
Jason takes you in his arm and walks you out and back to the car, the party is now officially over.
In the back of the car while at a stop light, he looks over at you where you're blotting the scratches with a napkin and fixing your makeup and hair.
"Are you sure you're OK?" he asks. You look at him and smile. "I'm fine, babe. I can hold my own." He nods.
"I know you can," he whispers, leaning over to kiss you. "It's...kinda sexy you got in a fight over me. Not that I want it to become a habit..."
You flip your compact mirror close and smile.
But Alex's words - about you not being his type - are rolling around your head. He can sense it immediately as you approach his front door where he pulls you in.
"Talk to me."
Your eyes are wide. He can read it on your face. You try to shake your head, and he touches your chin with his thumb and finger, tilting your eyes to his.
"Talk to me, sweetheart."
Your eyes cast down. "She said something that got me thinking..."
He takes a deep breath.
"That I'm not your type. I know we're crazy about each other, but..."
He starts to shake his head.
"No, but listen. I'm not. If I look at your track record, I don't fit the mold. That's all. Maybe I was a novelty, but what if the novelty wears off?"
Jason chuckles and takes another deep breath, stepping closer and his dark hazel eyes look deep into yours -- despite the running mascara.
"Do you know why I love you?" he asks. You chuckle and start, "Because..."
"Because you broke the goddamn mold."
"But I'm..."
"I know what you're going to say. Comparing your looks and all that," he says, waving it off. "You. You broke the mold."
“That goddamn laugh, your smile. Your brain, your sense of humor. I’ve never laughed as hard as I do with you,” he says, smiling, his dimple making you swoon.
You smile in return, his fingers caressing your shoulder where your black dress strap hangs, ripped apart, your red bra strap hanging out.
"I mean, listen. Seeing this beautiful, curvey, strong body in action -- defending you, defending me -- she didn't stand a chance..." he mutters, kissing your neck.
His hands go around your waist, running up and down the hills and valleys of your waist, hips, and ass, then up higher to your ribcage and breasts...
"Jesus Christ," he murmurs against your hair, his cock tenting in his pants as his hands continue their journey around your body. You palm him and make him moan your name, low and husky in your ear.
Your kiss connects gently at first, then you tease his lips with your tongue, and he cups your face with one hand and pulls you closer with the other, leading you both to the couch and pulling you on top of him.
His hands skate up your dress, to your thighs, then behind you to your zipper, which he tugs down while you kiss.
"You may as well rip the rest of it, baby," you whisper to his lips, making him smile. He wastes no time, ripping the other strap of the dress and groaning at how it feels to claim you.
He pulls your hair down from its updo and tangles his fingers in it while he kisses you deeper, his lips trailing down your neck, now to your collarbone and breasts where the dress hangs off your body.
"I only want you, sweetheart," he murmurs to your skin. "Let me show you how much I want you, how much I love you..."
You nod, your lips parted and plump from kissing, your cheeks blushed and eyes glassy. You nod.
"Please."
His pants get kicked off and his shirt is thrown over his head on the way to his bedroom.
Once there, he lays you gently on the bed and like a fine piece of art, touches your body and smiles, his eyes roaming every inch. You almost feel embarrassed under his gaze like this, until he crawls between your legs and dips his lips to yours again.
"Perfect," he mutters. "You're perfect."
---
I don't know where this came from. I'm feeling feisty and wanna start a fight? I don't know. Alex is my target. I totally just invented her and now I really hate her. She's gonna be where I direct my kickboxing anger from now on. Thursdays, man. Thursdays. THANKS FOR THE PROMPT, FRIEND! I hope you enjoyed it. I wanna do more with reader x Jason. These are so fun...
#jason sudeikis x reader#jason sudeikis rpf#jason sudeikis x you#im gonna fight anyone who even tries#yay imaginary ass kicking!
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Tone-deaf Dumbledore singing “You’re So Vain” with Grindlewald in mind for karaoke night I am dead this is too powerful.
For 12: What are the rest of the faves performing at Dumbledore’s (mandatory) “let’s resolve our differences through the magic of song” afterlife karaoke night?
i regret to say that i have taken this and run with it...
[character ask game here; dumbledore the karaoke legend here]
portrait dumbledore’s decision to turn up in the great hall in the middle of the battle of hogwarts and suggest that everyone just calm down and have a nice sing-song is initially met with some apprehension. but then an open bar appears in the room of requirement and the assembled enemies think they might as well…
harry gets things started with a spirited performance of holding out for a hero by bonnie tyler. it’s a hard act to follow, but dumbledore and voldemort manage it with their version of the boy is mine by brandy and monica (released in 1998, so good to see that they were both keeping up with the charts…).
this is a lot of male nonsense - and refereeing a battle definitely isn’t what she thought she’d be doing when she agreed to take a teaching job - so minerva grabs the microphone and delivers a barnstorming rendition of nine to five by dolly parton. the younger generation of women make this point too: ginny with cherry bomb by the runaways; fleur with celebrity skin by hole; and hermione with respect by aretha franklin.
luna, obviously, deviates from this with an uncomfortable cover of jefferson airplane’s white rabbit. backwards. since she claims this proves the existence of the crumpled-horned snorkack. luckily, ron decides to get everything back on track with she drives me crazy by fine young cannibals.
dumbledore notices that the death eaters have been awfully quiet, so he lures them in with an astonishing delivery of blue öyster cult’s don’t fear the reaper, with flitwick on the guitar. never willing to be upstaged, augustus rookwood, antonin dolohov, rabastan lestrange, and corban yaxley take to the stage with motownphilly by boyz ii men.
two death eaters are left out of the performance. lucius malfoy - who’s been in a flop era since the second voldemort strutted out of the cauldron - brings the vibe down with nobody knows you when you’re down and out (the sam cooke version, because that’s the best). it’s taken down even further when rodolphus - who has finally twigged what his wife’s fondness for singing black is the colour of my true love’s hair in the shower means - rages his way through ray charles’ i believe to my soul.
bellatrix literally couldn’t give a shit. she’s on her feet, in a leather catsuit, and bringing the house down with i’d rather be burned as a witch, leaving eartha kitt in the dust.
the trio are impressed and reward her with a version of wannabe by the spice girls (harry’s baby, ron’s ginger, hermione’s scary, draco malfoy is posh, and dean is sporty - seamus was removed from the room for singing come out ye black and tans). they are interrupted just as hermione’s rap begins by snape, bleeding profusely from the neck, staggering in to the opening bars of tubthumping by chumbawamba.
nagini, in an attempt at an apology for the whole tearing snape’s jugular thing, hisses a surprisingly beautiful rendition of al wilson’s the snake.
several vodka-and-tonics in at this point, lord voldemort is prepared to be convinced that maybe this is a better way of spending his time than all the murder. his musical bid for peace? don’t cry for me argentina. obviously.
the night is then ruined when percy whips out a guitar and says, ‘anyway, here’s wonderwall.’
#character ask game#albus dumbledore#harry potter#ron weasley#hermione granger#bellatrix lestrange#severus snape#tom riddle#lord voldemort#karaoke legends all#playlist#asks answered
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I’m With the Band Part 13
Words: 1.5k
I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist
Van was right to be impressed with the hotel suite the band had been booked into. It was the penthouse and pretty luxurious even by my standards and I nodded with approval as I walked around, taking everything in. There was a large living area with comfy looking sofas and a well stocked bar, and six bedrooms leading off from it. The far wall was made up of huge floor to ceiling glass sliding doors that opened out on to an open air terrace complete with decking and multiple seating areas and a massive hot tub.
"Ahh man this is class!" Van marvels. "When Dan said it was posh I didn't realise it was gonna be this nice. Look Larry... there's even a fucking jacuzzi! I'll be getting in that later."
Then he looks right at me purposefully. "What d'ya reckon eh Bella? Fancy taking a dip later?"
I'm surprised he's still speaking to me after my antics from earlier, but I find that I'm actually pleasantly surprised. No matter how much fun I take from winding him up I realise that I don't want him to stop pursuing me. I like it.
A smile fights to emerge but I bite it back down, instead giving Van a look which shows just enough aloofness to brush him off without completely disregarding him. "Well, I don't have my bikini do I?"
Van's eyebrows shoot up in a mischievous gesture. "I don't see that as being a problem."
I roll my eyes theatrically, shaking my head and turning away so Van can't see the smirk that's forming, just in time to catch Johnny's eye. He gives me a small, slightly awkward grin and looks away.
Shit... why does Van have to flirt so blatantly with me in front of the others? He's about as subtle as a punch in the face.
I cross over to Johnny and flash him a winning smile, and he perks up instantly. "So... shall we get some drinks on the go? Get the party started eh?" He grabs a couple of glasses as he speaks.
I look around, taking in the assembled people in the room and I sigh. Van and Larry are bickering loudly about whether Van should get dibs on the master bedroom after all, and Benji is sitting on the sofa looking sullen whilst staring at his blank phone screen. Bob and Lucy have disappeared outside.
"Is this... it?" I say to Johnny. "It doesn't seem like much of a party."
"Dan says there'll be more people showing up pretty soon. Since it's the record label who've put us up in this fancy hotel there'll be a load of industry people turning up no doubt."
I detect a hint of disfavour in his voice which surprises me. Who wouldn't want to be courted and looked after by people who serve to further your already promising career?
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about that," I comment, reaching for a bottle of vodka which I slide over to him.
He shrugs, twisting the cap off the bottle. "It's just some of the types that move in those circles that I'm really not that keen on. I'm not into all that schmoozing, none of us are. We just wanna play gigs, we're not really bothered about selling records."
I shake my head, stunned. "That's crazy! Why wouldn't you want to be rich and successful?"
Johnny smiles as he pours out generous measures of vodka. "Successful? Yeah. But rich? I'm not in this for the money."
Now I know he's crazy. Money makes the world go round. That's what they say, isn't it? It certainly keeps me happy in my designer clothes and limited edition Gucci handbags.
Johnny laughs at my dumbfounded expression.
"Well, the money must still be nice though, right?" I ask.
He reaches for the tonic, still chuckling. "It's a bonus I guess. And if we want to get bigger we need to record and release an album, it's the next logical step for us. But I'd play even if we were still on the pub circuit. It's the music, you see. I love it... we all do. It's in here."
He reaches up a hand to slap his chest right over his heart. "It's a passion." He adds sincerely.
This warms my own heart in an unexpected way, and I find myself stepping closer, reaching for Johnny's hand. "Fancy sitting outside to drink these? It's a nice night?"
His smile widens and I notice him look behind me in Van and Larry's direction briefly before his eyes are on me again, reaching for one of the glasses with his free hand. "Yeah, that'd be lovely."
I pick up my own glass, other hand still linked with Johnny's, starting for the open doorway. I allow myself a glance behind, noticing Van's eyes following us both as we duck outside. I quickly look away.
Lucy and Bob are sitting on a raised seating area directly in front of us and they both smile as we step outside, but to my surprise Johnny pulls me over in the opposite direction to a sheltered spot with low, comfy seats next to a glowing fire pit. A screen of foliage separates this area, hiding us both from view of everyone else and I wonder if it's intentional.
"Don't you want to sit with your friends?" I say, as we take a seat.
"Hmm... maybe later. Maybe I just wanna steal you away for a bit." The warm smile simmering on his lips makes my heart race and I grin back at him.
"Oh yeah?"
He nods, raising his glass and taking a sip, eyeing me over the rim. "Said I wanted to get to know you a bit better didn't I?"
I shift on the seat, relaxing my body and sitting back. Normally by now I'd be in full seduction mode, tilting myself forward to show an eyeful of cleavage, flicking my hair back, batting my eyelashes. It occurs to me that I don't feel the need to do any of this with Johnny though. I just know that he'd still have that same fondness in his eyes whether I was blatantly coming on to him or not.
"So... what d'ya wanna know?"
"Everything!" He grins. "Start from the beginning!"
"Okay!" I laugh, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious at Johnny's interest. "So... as you know I'm Arabella Turner and I'm 19, I'm..."
"Hold up!" Johnny sits forward in his seat, his hand raised. "I didn't realise your last name was Turner. Was Arabella added as a coincidence or are your parents big Arctic Monkeys fans by any chance?"
"Oh yes!" I grin. "Well, my dad is anyway. My mum has awful taste in music. My dad... he got me into music... decent music... he loves Arctic Monkeys."
I trail off wistfully, remembering the more carefree times of my childhood when my dad used to perch me up on his shoulders and dance with me around the kitchen with the music on full blast. My mum with her hands over her ears shouting 'turn that rubbish down!' That was before their business ventures turned their focus elsewhere and they didn't have time for these precious family moments. The phrase 'the best things in life are free' flashes through my mind, but I blink any negative thoughts away. I'm supposed to be having fun.
"And Alex Turner's well fit!" I add, taking a large gulp of my drink.
Johnny grins. "So what other music do you like?"
"My dad always loved The Strokes too, so I grew up listening to them a lot as well."
Johnny nods an approval and I carry on. "I absolutely love Sam Fender too, he's gorgeous! And you know who else I've been listening to a lot recently? Inhaler. They're so cute, especially the bass player..."
I stop abruptly as I clock Johnny's obviously amused expression which he's trying to contain but not very successfully. "What? Don't you approve of my music taste?"
He shakes his head, laughing softly. "It's not that... do you only listen to music based on the attractiveness of band members?"
"Are you saying I'm shallow?" I challenge him, but jokingly so.
"Well, there does seems to be a correlation..."
I smirk, setting my now empty glass down on the floor at my feet and leaning over to him. "Well, if that's the case, maybe you'd like to ask me what I think of Catfish?"
"Go on then... I'm all ears."
He smiles teasingly, closing the small gap between us.
"We-ll..." I draw out the word, catching my lip in my bottom teeth and looking skywards like I'm pondering my next words. "There's this guitarist... and he's kinda hot..."
I wonder how hidden we are in this spot and how much we could get away with. I'm close now, my face only inches away from Johnny's.
"Tell me more," he murmurs, glancing down at my lips.
I lean in, closing my eyes...
"Bondy mate! How are ya?" The loud, brash Geordie voice blares out suddenly enough to make me physically jump, and I whip my head round in an instant to see who's interrupted our almost-kiss.
"Sam-fucking-Fender!" Johnny says excitedly, jumping up out of his seat. "How are ya man, how long's it been?"
Oh my god...
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MAFS Chapter Three
Tonight on Married at First sight, our singles will be enjoying their last celebration as singles. They’ll meet other participants in the show to have a joint bachelor party and a bachelorette party. It’s important that during this experience that the singles feel like they have a community who they can rely on, people who are going through this unique situation with them. By getting the ladies together and the men together it gives them each a group of people who understand what is happening and who can support each other through the next six weeks.
Marie walked into the bar, one heeled boot in front of the other. It was her bachelorette party, along with five other strangers who would be going on this journey with her. She was dressed in white for the occasion, a tight white dress over white fishnets and white boots, a leather jacket in the same color draped over her petite shoulders as she walked over to where the cameras were behind another woman.
The pretty brunette had her legs crossed, her white jumpsuit tight, her lace top dipping low. Maria knew she must be one of the other brides and was surprised she had resorted to liquid courage yet. The girl looked up as she approached, smiling and standing up from the stool leaning in to hug the girl.
“I’m Nora.” The brunette was smiling as she sat back down on the stool, seeming a lot more calm than she should be.
“I’m Marie\a. It’s crazy to be meeting like this.`` She ordered a vodka tonic, making small talk with the new girl who was going to be going through this experience with her. It was strange how this stranger could share so much in common with her. How they could not know each other but it was easy to talk, even with the cameras in their face.
“Hello future wives.'' The pair of girls looked up as Matilde walked towards them, her red lips smiling as she greeted them with kisses on the cheek and hugs. She was warm and welcoming and made them both feel like they were meeting up with familiar girlfriends and not strangers.
Matilde was wearing a lace dress with gloves and a veil. She seemed like she was ready to party and enjoy her last night as a single before she walked down the aisle to marry a stranger tomorrow night.
“Are we the only three that’s shown up so far? Fuck. Usually I’m always late.” She ordered a drink sitting besides Nora, the three girls falling into easy conversation together as the next girl appeared.
Carrie was smoothing out her dress, swallowing as she watched the three girls sat together, laughing and touching each other's arms like old friends. Were all these girls wives to be? How did they get along so well? They all seemed like they were confident in this crazy decision and she-
“I’m Melody.” She was tall and waft thin, wearing a white latex dress that showed off her figure and drinking from a clear glass of what could be water or vodka, Carrie wasn’t sure, “I can’t believe we’re getting married at first sight.” she said it with a sigh, like she was confiding in Carrie and letting her know that she was worried about this process without saying it in front of the cameras and having that be a story the audience saw.
Carrie understood that and nodded, reaching for Melody’s hand on impulse and giving it a squeeze like they were old friends and understood how to care for each other. Maybe it was the craziness of the situation that brought them close so soon.
“I think everyone is scared. Maybe that’s why they have us together where we can drink a lot and be with people who aren’t judging us for this.” Melody smiled at Carrie’s words, slamming back her clear drink that was definitely vodka and nodding her head over to the group that was all chatting.
“We should probably go over now.”Melody squeezed Carrie’s hand like the girl had done to her heading over to the group of girls who were all in the process of being filmed for the show.
Vialou was the last to arrive, her ivory dress that could be loose was worn with a brown harness corset over it, giving her body more shape and matching the boots she wore that went to her knees. She seemed calmer than the others, her eyes watching them as she entered the bar and giving herself a second to compose herself as she watched them all interacting together.
She believed that this was her fate, everything had led to this moment and she knew to just embrace thighs when they came. Her family had taught her about the world around her and the cues that it gave us but now as she stood in the bar and looked at the five girls all having their bachelorette party she wondered if she had missed a cue.
Everyone looked so different and she feared that she had missed her tribe in life. But Vialou knew better than to spit in the world's face and made her way over. Surprised when arms wrapped around her and lips gave her kisses on her cheek in greeting. She ordered two gin and tonics right away to deal with this.
The producers gently guided the conversation with the girls, having them talk about background and jobs that would be cut and worked for the cameras. They all were being a bit tight lipped worried about how they could have their answer edited for TV. The producers bought rounds of drinks and double checked to make sure Nora didn’t want one as they waited for the one liner that would add spice.
“Do you have any deal breakers?” Maria asked the question as they all sipped their last round, her eyes scanning the woman, knowing that the question could be hard to answer but also alcohol had loosened them up a bit.
“I don’t like men who get loud with people.” Matilde said, “Like when men raise their voice trying to have authority, I think it’s just annoying.” The girls nodded in agreement with this, all of them could think about a man at some point in their life who had used their voice to try and get their way.
“I hate picky eaters.” Nora added in, “I don’t know why it irks me so much but you’re an adult and it feels offensive.” She didn’t mention growing up what it was like to have food so scarcely so saying no wasn’t an option. Or how she took her job so that she could eat all the things she thought only existed on TV or in books.
“I don’t mind a picky eater.” Vialou said, “I'm not going to cook for anyone so I don’t care if they don’t like what I like. But I do hate when people change who they are drastically in different situations. The shape shifting freaks me out and I feel like I don’t get a good sense of who they are.” Vialou was a direct person who was confident in herself. She wanted someone to match her energy and be true to themselves.
“I hate a man who can’t dress himself. I’m fine when he asks what I think of something but the type of guy who wants you to pick out his outfit every single night is just tedious.” Marie had dated guys who had asked her what she liked in their closet and what she didn’t, watching in horror as they changed their style and would ask her to lay out clothes for them before going out. She didn’t need to be anyone's mother.
“You know when a man assumes things? Not when they’re intuitive but they just start doing things and explain it away after acting like they were thinking of you but they weren’t? That’s my ultimate dealbreaker.” Carrie said, sipping her wine as she thought of how many inconsiderate men her friends had dated and she had to watch them deal with people who couldn’t handle their greatness. She didn’t want that for herself.
“A dealbreaker is when a guy is just too extroverted. He always needs to be going and doing something and can’t just spend time on the couch watching a movie. There has to be a balance of some kind.” Melody was mainly introverted and craved an extroverted partner to help bring her out into the world more but she also needed that partner to meet her in the middle sometimes and have them share moments together at home. It shouldn’t always be days out with the boys or doing double dates. She craved the intimacy of one on one time too.
There was a beat of silence between the girls as they thought about the chances of marrying a stranger who had their dealbreaker and all of the girls needed something stronger to drink at the thought.
The six boys were all sitting together at the Whiskey, which was hosting a private event for their bachelor party. They had been interested to see what other band was going to be in this with them. Other than Izzy and Vince, everyone seemed to be getting along pretty well. Nikki, Tommy. Slash and Duff were all talking easily while Vince and Izzy were occasionally sending each other scathing looks.
“Did they really find someone for you, Stradlin?” Vince asked as he glared at the guitarist who was wondering if the cameras could just turn around so he could punch the smug singer in the face.
“Don’t talk to me.” he turned from the conversation with the singer, getting up to go to the bathroom and get a break from filming.
He wanted time to collect himself because the cameras around him were making him uneasy. The idea of being watched all the time and having his life on display didn’t sit well with him especially since he was going to be meeting the person he was marrying. He knew what he signed up for but he was already starting to stress out about the process.
“I know it’s hard, but try not to be such a dick.” Tommy scolded Vince who glared at the drummer, “We’re all doing this and nerves are shot. You two rehashing old drama during something new seems counterproductive.” Nikki was surprised Tommy was being so practical with this.
Vince, however, felt like he was being ganged up on. Everyone thought Vince was doing this for the TV time, because he liked to look at himself and just wanted to see himself on TV as the husband all the girls wanted. No one knew how serious he was taking this or how he thought this was going to change his life for the better.
The lead singer loved fully. When he gave his heart it was the whole thing, nothing half assed when it came to this. He was looking forward to marriage, the partnership and the woman that he was going to look forward to falling in love with. He looked forward to going out with someone, sharing meals and events with a beautiful girl at his side. The understanding that came with companionship.
“Just because Nikki and I signed up for this didn’t mean you had to. You’ve fucked half of LA so can you really be married at first sight or will this be the first time sober?” Vince was annoyed by Tommy and the way that he felt like no one was taking him seriously. His intentions for this were pure and he wanted that to show.
Tommy felt his ears redden, the fact Vince said that with cameras around. They had all talked about how they would play nice when filming and though Tommy had started it he was furious with what Vince said. He was well aware that in the room of rockstars everyone thought he was the one that would have a failed marriage. They all thought that he had a lot of growing up to do before he wore the role of husband with any real meaning. He felt like he had the biggest hill to climb up.
“If this is my second meeting with my wife, at least I know she was satisfied with our first.” Tommy sipped his vodka lemonade heavily as Nikki got between his two bandmates, giving them looks like a disappointed father and turning to Slash and Duff who were standing there, looking uncomfortable as the boys from Motley Crue argued with each other.
“After our weddings tomorrow we’re all going to be married men.” Nikki ignored his two friends shooting death stares. “I can’t wait to come up with a couples costume for Halloween in a few weeks with my wife.” The light comment made Slash snort.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to be a matching couple?” Nikki gave him a look and shrugged his shoulders as Slash groaned out knowing that Nikki was absolutely going to be the type to match his bride. “You’re going to be unbearable.” Duff, however, was thinking matching couples was goals.
Duff was looking forward to being someone's husband, for better and for worse. He wanted to have a wife who he could come home to and lay his head on her lap, letting her know about everything that happened. He dreamed of dinner parties, kids' birthdays by the pool, the stability of having someone there to be a mother to the half dozen Duff’s he planned to have. He wanted a family, a wife who shared that goal with him.
“One hundred bucks that Duff has a bun in his girls oven by the end of the year.” Slash was laughing as Izzy rejoined the table, wondering if he could go throw up at the mention of children.
Kids.
At the mention of them they all sort of got quiet as if they were thinking about how this person could be the mother of their children. Except Duff who had already come up with a birth plan and names for the first three of the McKagan half dozen. Nikki let out a breath of air, sitting back as he looked around the bar as if he was going to see his wife just walk in. He needed to see her, so sure that when their eyes met that he would . Vince was hoping he had pretty tanned kids with blonde hair and a love for the beach. Slash was wondering why he had mentioned kids at all, thinking about how if he never had kids he would probably live to be 100 but the idea of boys with his wild streaks of daughters, he was chugging his beer. Tommy couldn’t imagine kids. He could imagine the deed to make them but the actual image of a baby in his arms made him get chills in the worst way.
“Can we have another round?” Izzy was ordering drinks for everyone, the tension of children seeming to make everyone more stressed than they knew was possible.
Six rockstars getting married to strangers tomorrow. This had to be the craziest thing that any of them had ever done.
Each girl had invited two to three friends to come to their bachelorette party, which was being held in a rented house in the hills. Games of beer pong, dances that were being performed on tables, and various other things were happening among them.
Nora was undoing her pants leaving her in the lacy white bodysuit as she tested a toe in the water of the pool, it was cold. To jump in was going to shock her system so she took a few steps back before rushing forward, jumping into the water with a splash that made several heads turn to look at the sound. She gasped, laughing as she broke the surface, wiping her face.
Matilde stepped away from her friends. Toeing off her heels and moving to dip her feet in the cold water as she watched Nora swim around. Maria sat down beside her, giving her a smile as they watched Nora seem to ignore that she was at her bachelorette party and instead swim in the water.
“I wish I could just swim and not worry about the fact that we’re all going to be wives tomorrow.” Maria said, Matilde smirked at this, nodding her head as Nora made her way over, resting her head on the outside of the pool, “Aren’t you freezing?” Maria asked as Nora shrugged.
“It’s not so bad when you just drive right into it.” They all shared a laugh at this; they were all going to be diving into marriage tomorrow. “Do you think you’re going to have sex on your wedding night?”Nora asked.
“I don’t think so. I mean, even if there is chemistry they’re a stranger and I think having sex will set false expectations or intimacy and connection.” Matilde was quick to reason, thinking about how mixed signals could be if she fell into bed with her new husband. She wasn’t even sure if she was going to give him more than a peck at the altar.
Physical intimacy wasn’t as transaction based to her as it could be to others. She did value physical touch and emotional connection built through intimacy but she wanted to make sure she wasn’t building a false house on sand with it being so soon.
“No way. I mean I think they would get the wrong impression about me right away and I just think I’d rather see who they are than just have sex with them.” Maria admitted. She was thinking about how she wanted to talk to her husband, know who he was and his reasoning for being married before having sex with him.
Maria wanted a marriage that worked. A partner that would argue a little bit but never would go to bed med. Someone who could communicate with and who would build dreams with her together. A true partnership. Sex would happen but it would be at the right time for her and not a moment before.
“What about you?” Matilde asked, watching the way Nora smiled, pushing off and floating in the pools water.
“Me? I mean, it depends if there is chemistry there and how hot my husband is. I mean I’d like to be attracted to him and I’d like to see how our physical chemistry plays out because that’s as important as our emotions. Plus, if I’m going to be marrying him and living with him I have to keep it interesting.” she dove under the water, not telling them about how the last person she had sex with was over a year and a half ago and teh idea of another man touching her terrified her to no end.
Vialou had Carried and Melody around a table, tarot cards laid out as she gave the girls a reading. Their eyes flickering from cards to her as she explained their meaning. It was a quick read of their future, something she liked to do when she was uncomfortable in a situation. And being filmed with a bunch of strangers who all were drinking too much alcohol less than 12 hours before she became a wife gave her a reason to be uncomfortable.
“Ohh, Melody, it says here there will be a strong sexual connection.” Vialou traced the card as Melody blushed, pressing her psalm to her cheek at her reaction to the reading, “Are you going to be fucking your husband this time tomorrow?” Melody was quiet for a second, her mind slightly fuzzy from drinking all night.
Would she be fucking her husband tomorrow?
“I guess we’ll have to see. If he makes a move on me, I mean…” she let it trail off and Vialou was surprised with her reaction. Maybe Melody was a girl after her own heart.
“I want to have sex with my husband tomorrow. See if he can match me.” Vialou stated, putting her deck of cards away, “I think sexual fufillment is important. You can like someone but if he doesn’t know how to make you cum is he really the one?” she was open, maybe to a fault with her sexual desieres. UNashamed to talk about what she wanted.
But why should she be?
“I think I’m going to wait. I don’t know him and I just think having sex too soon could make me feel things that might just be lust.” Carrie admitted making Melody stop and think. It was true. Lust and love could be woven together and physical intimacy did seem to light a fuse on feelings.
They all paused, thinking and wondering if they could have feelings for a stranger by the end of this.
Slash was laying in the grass, hammered with Duff beside him. He felt better going through this whole experience with people he knew. Even having Nikki with them was easing some of his fears about getting married at first sight. His heart was thundering as he watched the sky seem to shapeshift, the colors of dawn letting him know they had stayed out too late.
“What if I’m a shitty husband?” Duff opened his eyes as he heard Slash’s words, he had been thinking about the same thing. Worried that he wasn’t good enough for whoever they had matched him with.
“You won’t be. You just can’t be yourself. I mean..fuck…I mean be yourself like who you are around me. Not like who you are with strangers.” Slash nodded, understanding what he was talking about. He knew he was going to have to open up more than he was used to doing and it terrified him.
The sound of someone puking made them sit up from the grass, looking over as they saw Nikki holding Vince’s arm as he threw up in the bushes in the driveway. Tommy behind Nikki pissing on Vince’s car because the film crew had long since tapped out of their rockstar bachelor party and Tommy was still mad.
How were these six men going to become husbands in less than 12 hours?
Next time on married at first sight we will see the wedding of three of our couples and watch them navigate the meeting of their spouse, their friends and family, wedding photos and their first night as Mr. and Mrs. Which one of our couples are going to have instant chemistry and which ones are going to have a slower start? We’ll find all that out and more next time on Married at First sight.
It’s all or Nothing.
#MAFS#Nikki Sixx imagine#Nikki Sixx fanfc#Tommy Lee fan fic#Tommy Lee imagine#Motley Crue fan fic#Izzy Stradlin imagine#Izzy Stradlin fan fic#Vince Neil imagine#Vince Neil fanfic#Vince Neil fan fic#slash fanfic#gnr fanfic#gnr fan fic#Duff mckagan GNR#duff mckagan fanfic#slash fan fiction
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Peeta Davidson
Did a little editing and reposting after changing some blocky conversation.
For @oakfarmer
TW: Conversation of a sexual nature, Cursing
The girl occupying the bar stool four down from Peeta's had been staring at him for a while. It was beginning to unnerve him because she watched him unapologetically, appraising him like you would a discount steak at the grocery store. Like she wasn't hungry herself but intrigued nonetheless.
Peeta propped his elbows on the bar, slumping over more and letting his oversize sweatshirt cover more of his face and his new unfortunate neck tattoo. He stared straight ahead, but her eyes never left him once. Why wouldn't she take a hint?
Haymitch, the proprietor, approached the girl and stood before her, slowly drying the inside of a highball glass. "You going to order something, Sweetheart, or stare at him-"
Peeta presumed he was him in question.
"All night?"
The girl huffed. "Yeah, give me a vodka tonic, old man."
Haymitch shrugged as he walked to pour her drink. "You act as if you've never seen a semi-celebrity before. That's all I'm saying."
Peeta cringed as he picked up his beer and took a long swig. Of course, the bartender knew him, too. He should have just stayed in tonight.
He was ready to settle his tab and do just that, but the girl smacked the top of the bar, giving him her full attention.
"I thought that was you," she said, covering her mouth with her hand and laughing as everyone else did lately. "You're the guy with the big dick."
A cold chill rolled through him, and Peeta glared at her. "Is that what you're leading with?"
"Yeah, of course. It's what you're known for," she said, leaning back on the barstool and crossing her arms over her chest. "That and being kind of skeevy."
He took a moment to appraise her as Haymitch set her drink on the bar and walked away. She was cute in a no-frills sort of way—slim, with two black braids hanging past her shoulders and sparkling grey eyes. Of all things, she wore a black crop top with acid-wash overalls and work boots on her feet.
"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" he said, laughing despite himself. Honestly, he was confused about what she wanted with him. In his experience, the only time women ever mentioned his dick was when they wanted to take a ride on it. This girl seemed like she could care less. "People act like I'm Dirk fucking Diggler," he said, picking up his beer again.
"Well, aren't you?" she said, propping her chin in her hand on the bar top.
"The truth?" Peeta laughed despite himself. This girl was so weird yet utterly charming in some way. "Yes, I have a large penis. But the reports have been greatly exaggerated."
She nodded. "Settled. It's Peeta Mellark?"
"Yes, big shlong Peeta. That's me."
The girl covered her hand with her mouth, but this time the laughter felt like it was with him, not at him. "I'm Katniss," she told him, smiling.
Peeta got up from his barstool and moved next to her. He stuck out his hand for her to shake as he sat with one stool between them as a buffer. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Katniss."
Three drinks each later, Katniss and Peeta were laughing, hanging off each other like old friends. He was regaling her with stories about his ex-girlfriend, the drama surrounding their relationship, and her large, sprawling family, including four kids (who were fantastic) and an ex-husband (an unmedicated psycho).
"That guy is just as fucking crazy as everyone thinks he is," Peeta said, "I'm not kidding. I woke up once in the night, staying over at her big-ass mausoleum. Katniss, I'm not kidding you. That dude was standing at the foot of her bed, watching us sleep. Never been so terrified in my life."
Katniss's eyes were wide. "Oh god, were you naked? Because that would be terrifying."
Peeta studied her with a sloppy grin. "Why do you keep asking questions about my body?"
She snorted and leaned toward him. "I have a secret to tell you. Come 'ere," she said, waving him over when he hesitated. "Closer."
Peeta leaned in, trying not to sway in his seat under the influence of the drinks. Her breath was warm on his neck, making his breath catch.
"Are you ready?"
"Never been more ready."
"See, we can have a platonic relationship, assured I don't want to sleep with you."
Peeta waited.
Katniss shrugged. "I only date girls."
"Oh. That's cool."
"Well, technically, I only date girls."
"Technically?" he asked, prodding her to keep talking.
Katniss shifted on her bar stool. "Yeah. I guess you'd say I'm bi, sapphic leaning. See, I went out with a few guys in high school, and a few here and there since. All of them were cute enough, nice guys, but there wasn't any spark between them and me. Chemistry is important, don't you think?"
"Yeah, absolutely, chemistry is important."
"But it's not everything," Katniss replied, reaching under the bartop and patting his knee.
"What is that? Are you my grandma?" Peeta said, shoving her hand away. "Are you going to knit me a blanket next? Because that would be awesome."
Katniss turned on her stool and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was slack. Peeta knew he probably looked the same. He realized that she must be pretty drunk to share this part of herself with him, a stranger with whom she's been sitting and having drinks for the last hour. Or maybe she's just overly honest.
Then again, Katniss seems to have everything about him figured out.
"I've never had sex with a guy," she told him, peering over at him again, waiting on his reaction.
Peeta wondered if she'd remember this conversation in the morning. "Really. Is that why you're interested in my meat stick?" he asked mildly.
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm sure whatever you're packing, I've utilized a comparable-sized dido," Katniss told him, smirking around her drink.
Peeta laughed under his breath. She was something else.
"Okay, fine. Crush my pride, why don't you?" He said, turning to face her. She sat looking at him, so he lobbed the question hovering at the back of his mind. "Katniss, why did you start a conversation with me? My dick is literally the only reason women ever talk to me. Or date me, for that matter," he added. "If you're not interested in that, then I don't know what you're about here."
He hated how vulnerable that admission made him sound.
Katniss sighed. "I thought you could use a friend. I know what that's like."
Peeta propped his arm on the bartop, leaning closer to her. "Explain, please," he asked, gesturing for her to talk with a wave of his hand.
"I don't know," Katniss admitted. "It's like this, Peeta. I've always had this instinct. A feeling about good people, you know? And sitting here, knowing everything I've seen about you in gossip columns, I get this impression you think people are only interested in you if there is something they can take for themselves."
"Are you sure we're meeting for the first time?" Peeta asked, surprised by the truth in her words.
How had Katniss figured him out so quickly?
She went on like she'd vested a lot of time in coming to her conclusion.
"And you don't realize these relationships are hollow until it's too late. You invest in girls in a way they will never do with you. Like taking all those shots with the paparazzi or the mystique of dating the guy with the huge dick. Mostly I get the sense that despite the fame and celebrity girlfriends, you're lonely."
Peeta swallowed roughly. He didn't know what to say to return to a normal conversation where a stranger hadn't emotionally viscerated him in a bar at ten o'clock at night. He couldn't believe the little speech Katniss gave him, how she seemed to hit every one of his insecurities right on the head. How had she figured all of this out about him?
"Sorry, I know this is weird. I just got this vibe that you were cool, and we might hit it off. As friends," she added, waving her hands to exorcise the demon of any clue they could be attracted to each other.
Katniss had said some boys, Peeta reminded himself without really understanding why he was thinking it. Obviously, she'd never be interested in him, and she wasn't his type.
"Anyway, I better leave. My sister will be wondering where I am."
"Do you need a lift? I could get you an uber," he offered.
"No, I live around the block. It's not too late. I can walk it."
"You sure?"
"I've got mace," Katniss patted the side of her handbag.
"Cool. Let me get your tab then. You lifted me out of a shitty place tonight," Peeta said earnestly, pulling out his wallet and waving Haymitch over to close their tabs.
Katniss shrugged. "You don't have to thank me. All we did was sit and talk. And hey, now I can say I met a celebrity."
"Some celebrity. Do you, ah, want to hang out again sometime?" Peeta asked, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. "Maybe we could catch a ball game sometime if you want. Or not. If you never want to see me again, that's cool too."
"It's 555-987-2543," she told him, watching as he programmed her number into his phone.
Knowing it was awkward as fuck, Peeta found himself leaning in and hugging Katniss. He wasn't a creep about it, keeping a respectable distance between their bodies. Something about her was so real; he didn't want to let her go.
#endlessnightlock writes#katniss everdeen/peeta mellark#everlark#peeta davidson#bisexual! Katniss#this is a brainworm I've had for awhile because there's something about Pete Davidson that makes me feel sorry for him lol
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✈️ 💔🍸 for Pecha andddd 💯🐉 🎮 for Aman?
Ask meme is here!
✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?
Traveling is very nostalgic for Pecha. Most of her childhood consisted of going on research trips with her dad and camping out in the wilderness to study bugs. Name a forest in any region and she’s probably been there. In her recent years she’s become more of a homebody, but she still very much enjoys traveling when the opportunity comes up.
Plus she didn’t get to go to many cities during her travels with her dad, so she loves being able to check out shops.
💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?
Anxious - Pecha has an anxiety disorder. She worries about almost anything and everything, especislly social interactions.
Obsessive - Her adhd brings hyper-fixation, which sometimes centers around people. With how romantic minded she is, it can become accidentally overbearing.
Pessimistic - Pecha fears about the worst case scenarios that she often perceives them to be the only scenario that can happen. Someone gave her a funny look? They probably hate her, she must have done something to upset them, etc.
🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink?
Since her anxiety gives her IBS, she tries to keep her drinks mild. Beer, red/white wine, whiskey, vodka, and gin tend to be low-FODMAP (aka the carbohydrates in alchohol that can trigger digestive symptoms) so she tends to stick with them. She’s also a lightweight so…she tries to limit things to one drink only.
Gin and tonic is her go to drink usually at bars, despite being teased occasionally that it’s an old man drink. It’s really the best thing for her stomach. Since beer is usually the casual party drink, it’s easier for her to fit in there. Rarely does she go for anything stronger though.
💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.
- Aman was the son of a crime lord in Sinnoh before the accident that left left him orphaned and without his right limbs. If that accident hadnt happened, Aman probably would have grown up in a gang. (And this is why he was sent out of country to be adopted in order to make sure he was safe from rival gang members)
- The carefree attitude he has is really a front. He harbors a lot of anger inside that he releases during his job. He hates people he loves seeing that part of himself.
- He actually wants to have a family someday. He’s a sentimental guy deep down and there’s nothing that tugs his heart strings more than thinking of settling down someday with someone and having kids.
🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature?
Since this is the pokemon world, I’m guessing this applies to mythical/legendary pokemon.
Aman’s favorite is Arceus but also that’s funny because he’s religious so he’s basically saying “God is my favorite”.
After Arceus, it’s probably Azelf. Aman just felt like he had a personal connect with it when he was a child.
🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?
- Reading is a big favorite, especially classics. Also just reading anything absurd or crazy. He finds weird books funny. (Badly written romance novels are good)
- Painting/drawing. He was raised by artists and they would consider it a tragedy if Aman didnt know how to paint and draw as well. He’s not good at drawing humans or pokemon, so he sticks with plants and humans objects.
- Hanging out with people that aren’t related to his assignments. It’s nice to not have to worry about every single thing he’s saying. (Although he keeps the whole being an Interpol Agent thing quiet still of course)
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“I didn’t look at her face. I looked at her midriff. It was exposed. She had a little paper rose, red, pasted across her bellybutton. I talked to the paper rose.
‘Vodka and tonic with lime.’
‘Sure, honey!’
She minced off, trying to roll her buns attractively. It didn’t work. At once, I began to get depressed. Don’t, don’t, Belane, I said to myself.
It didn’t take. Everybody was screwed. There were no winners. There were only apparent winners. We were all chasing after a lot of nothing. Day after day. Survival seemed the only necessity. That didn’t seem enough. Not with Lady Death waiting. It drove me crazy when I thought about it.
Don’t think about it, Belane, I said to myself.
It didn’t take.”
- Pulp, Charles Bukowski
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This rockstar life - 3.3 Birds of a feather
Words: 1458
Content: There’s some casual drinking in this one
-----------------------------
Jess orders two straight vodkas and two vodka tonics. She downs her shot the minute the glass hits the bar and motions Alice to do the same.
“Come on, I’ve only got two hours before I have to be back for the babysitter.”
Alice screws up her nose but does as she’s told, while Jess scouts out a table.
The minute they sit down Jess demands “Right, enough of the polite small talk, tell me about your man! How’s it going? Are you desperately in love?”
Alice puts both hands over her face, from behind which comes an ‘eeeeeeeeee’ noise.
“So, that’s a yes then?”
Alice lowers her hands until just her eyes are showing and nods vigorously. “Yes, so very much yes. It’s… oh god…” She flaps her hands, fanning her face, “I’ve never… loved anyone with such… abandonment… before. It’s kind of scary.” Noticing her cousin’s smirk and raised eyebrows she adds, “Oh I don’t mean… you know… well, maybe a bit… no I mean… without restraint. Oh god, that sounds dirty too!”
Jess is still grinning, quite enjoying Alice’s flustered attempts to avoid double entendres.
“I mean not being careful with it, not hiding what I feel, not playing any of those stupid games. Feeling all the feelings. You know that cliche ‘he has my whole heart’? Well he does, pathetic shrivelled thing that it is. I just… tied a bow round it and pushed it into his hands. Basically on our first date. It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.”
“No, you’re happy.”
Alice smiles down at the table “I am happy. I’m… dizzy with it. But not crazy like I used to get. Dizzy but… tethered.”
“And does this heart-stealing boy feel the same about you?”
“I hope so. I think so. Maybe not so… dippy… as me, but he seems really… certain. He was pretty fast-forward from the start, no hesitation, even when I was still cautious. He gave me his house keys on our third date, and said he loved me on the fourth.”
“That is quite full-on.”
“Well, all of those dates were two or three days long, so it probably counts as a couple of months in normal romance land.”
Jess doesn’t look entirely convinced, and when she says ‘and now you live together’ it is almost a question (even though obviously, having initiated this get-together with a letter sent to the newly-shared home, she knows it to be true).
“Yup. I guess… six weeks? Officially. But really I went for the weekend after Christmas and never left, so it seems like longer.”
“Well I suppose it’s good that you’ve got something stable.”
Alice gives a wry smile, “Oh we’re very unstable. Individually and as a pair! But it feels… strangely safe. I trust him with my heart.”
“Very poetic.”
“I am a poet.”
“But do you really know him well enough, for that trust? In such a short amount of time?”
“I hope so. The way we started… in the hospital… I heard all the bad stuff right off.” Jess is leaning in looking extremely curious, but Alice knows those are not her secrets to tell. “If there was something worse that he was hiding from me, it would have to be that he killed someone! But I’ve seen all the good stuff too. He’s so gentle and funny and sweet, but not, like, too sweet. Not soppy.”
“Sticky sweet?”
Alice gives her A Look.
“What? I’ve been playing the album.”
“ANYWAY, he’s lovely and thoughtful and nice to me and so amazingly talented…”
“And cute?”
“SO cute!”
“And good in bed?”
Alice opens her mouth to reply and then catches herself and clamps her lips together. “Cheeky cow! I’m not telling you that!”
“You don’t need to, you’ve gone the same colour as that ketchup bottle!”
Alice puts her hands back over her face. “Stop cackling! People are looking at us.”
“So do you have pictures?”
“You know what he looks like, he’s in all those magazines.”
“Those are rockstar pictures, I want boyfriend pictures.”
“I’ve got some in my wallet.” She reaches for her bag.
“Are any of them naked?”
“Ew! No! Jesus. You’re such a nice girl and then you get one drink inside you…”
“Two.” corrects Jess, draining her glass and pointing questioningly in the direction of the bar.
“Sure, I’ll get them.”
When Alice gets back to the table, she takes a couple of photos out of her wallet.
“Now I’m only showing you these if you promise not to go all Dorien Green* again?”
Jess adopts a demure and innocent pose, so Alice passes over the pictures. One is Steve sitting on the bed in a bathrobe, absorbed in playing his guitar; the other is mostly just his face, smiling and squinting slightly at the smoke wafting from a cigarette held just out of shot. When Alice pictures Steve in her head, that is how he always appears - grinning and wreathed in smoke.
“He’s alright I suppose.”
“He’s beautiful. Give him back.”
She strokes the photo as she puts it back behind the plastic window. Jess shakes her head, but her expression is kinder than the gesture might suggest.
“So, fess up, did my mum tell you to come check up on me?”
Jess laughs “No, but my mum will actually combust with nosiness if I don’t tell her some of it! Which she might then report back to your mum. So if you’d like me to omit some of the juicier details?”
“Leave out the dizzy thing… and the hospital… and the poetry, and definitely the ketchup. Actually can you just say I’m happy and with a nice man and no more mental than I was before? And say I looked really fat.”
“Sure. It’s gonna take me so long to explain what heavy metal is that she’ll be bored before I even get to your bit anyway.”
“Oh, leave that part out too. Just say musician or something. Oh I don’t know. I don’t care. Just say whatever you like. My mum’s met him anyway. Or at least, cried at him while he stole her wayward and ungrateful daughter away from her. So the whole long hair and earrings thing isn’t going to be a shock to her.”
“Sounds like that was quite a scene?”
“It was pretty grim. Steve tried to be friendly but they were having none of it. Dad sulked. Mum wailed. The neighbours watched avidly like vultures. And I haven’t been back since. I miss Magda, but nothing else really.”
“You’re too old to live with your parents anyway. You’d go weird. Turn into one of those girls who knits and has gerbils.”
“Hey, I knit! No gerbils though.”
“Got out just in time. But seriously Ali, you are okay aren’t you? I know it’s romantic or whatever, but it has been really fast. And… I’ve been reading stuff… your sweet guy has some issues.”
“Don’t believe everything you read. Especially if it’s written by that arsehole from Kerrang. Of course he’s got problems, everyone’s got problems. But the music press make it out like he’s some… selfish hedonist, partying every night for the hell of it.” She does air quotes, “£1000 drink and drugs binge lands rocker in rehab” and rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“What is it like?”
Alice glances around warily, “He’s just… dealing with stuff… the best he can. Like all of us. I can’t really talk about it. Not here anyway.”
“It’s okay, I understand. I just worry about you… that you’ve been swept up in something that might be too much to handle…”
“Really, I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?”
“You look like Kensington Market* threw up on you, but sure, apart from that you look good. Are you eating?”
“Yes Mum.”
The mention of motherhood jolts Jess out of cousinly confidant mode and reminds her of her other responsibilities. She looks up at the clock over the bar, “Oh shit! I’m going to be late.That gum-chewing delinquent I left my firstborn with is going to want overtime.”
With a hurried hug and cries of ‘Love you’, ‘Love you best’, the two girls part, Jess dashing to the station and Alice walking back to Tube-less Chelsea and the house and person that have made it home.
(May 1990)
—-------------------
* Dorien Green is a character in the 90’s British sitcom ‘Birds of a feather’ who was an unashamed ‘cougar’
* Kensington Market was an old ramshackle shopping centre in London with small independent shops, in the 80’s and 90’s mostly catering to goths, punks, pagans, and other ‘alternative’ cultures. If you wanted a corset, blue hair, or a piece of metal poked through any part of your anatomy, you could get it at Kensington Market
#Steve Clark#steve clark fanfic#steve clark fanfiction#def leppard fanfic#def leppard fanfiction#This rockstar life fic
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the DEFINITIVE list of emma's characters' go-to drinks
phineas: vodka red bull
tiana: gin and tonic (or merlot)
aquata: whiskey ginger (sometimes gin and tonic)
bruce: kombucha (beer if he's going to have a crazy night)
annie: cosmo or vodka cran (or pinot grigio)
tanya: her potion in a flask, lol
mirabel: beer (stella artois)
lightning: beer (brewdog ipa)
smee: old fashioned, two cherries
roz: dry gin martini, straight up, with an olive (or chardonnay)
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