Prompt “How long have you been standing there?” Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 458 Warnings: drinking A/N: Here’s my entry for week seventeen of @one-shots-supernatural hiatus writing challenge! Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback is cool :)
bokuto is mainstream pop trash and spends mornings humming and dancing in the bathroom to ke$ha (”before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of jack…what is a bottle of ‘jack’?”) and beyoncé (”I wake up, flawless, post up, flawless”) while spiking up his hair and this usually adds up to thirty minutes to his morning routine and only realizes how long he’s been in the bathroom when he remembers that akaashi always waits for him outside his house
let it be known that one time he blasted the new ariana grande album during one of his infamous never-ending practices, and fukurodani was torn over bokuto being strangely focused and performing well above average amidst the blast of pop music from his boombox
(akaashi will never get the sight of his captain’s shapely behind swaying from side to side in front of the net when he goes to prepare for a serve)
BONUS: during the summer training camp, bokuto spontaneously broke into song to warm himself up during a practice match, and the entire floor was stunned when it was revealed that fukurodani’s captain could effortlessly and breathlessly rap all of iggy azalea’s “fancy”
even more stunning, nekoma’s captain joined in during the chorus, even when he was playing karasuno in a separate court (”i’m so fancy, you already know-” “…oh my god, bro”)
(tsukishima stared at him with flushed cheeks across the net, a scowl painting his face as the master provocateur sang straight to him in that typical taunting way of his; the bedhead captain’s husky but surprisingly pleasant voice eventually haunted him all the way back to miyagi)
Could you do #19 with Bucky teasing Mayday? Something playful and fluffy? I loved your Christmas fic of them. LOVE those characters.
It makes me SO happy to know that people actually fucking ship a character I made up with an actual Marvel character. Like for reals. Like OH MY GOD. YOU HEAR THAT MARVEL???
That said, I will totally write this. I’m writing the drabbles quickly, and let them go wherever they want to, so sorry if it isn’t up to par with my usual “edited three times” stories!
19.) Just A teasing B like crazy
Bucky x Mayday
Mayday woke up New Years day with a pounding headache, dry mouth, and a slight case of nausea. Oh God, she thought. I drank way too much. Way, way too much. She wasn’t in the habit of imbibing, but Tony’s party had been epic, the drinks had been flowing, and then she’d made the mistake to end all mistakes, and it was game over.
She felt someone move behind her, rolling over and grumbling slightly, the bed buckling under his weight, and a metal arm was thrown around her waist, drawing her backwards and flush against his body. Bucky was awake, and Bucky was, judging by what she was pretty sure was poking her in the back right now, ready to go.
She smiled, goosebumps flaring up under his touch, and rolled on her back reaching for him. She didn’t get far, though, sitting bolt upright. “Is something wrong?” Bucky asked, peering at her, his eyes going from lust blown to concerned in only a second. She sprang up from the bed, flew to the bathroom door, and slammed it closed, disseappearing inside. He could hear retching noises from the other side of the door, and his morning plans quickly changed from sex to finding a hangover cure.
Bucky hadn’t been hungover in years. Decades. He put the teapot on the stove to heat up some water, found a bottle of Aquafina in the fridge, and knocked on the bathroom door. The gagging noises had stopped, and all he could hear was a slight whimper. He swung the door open, finding Mayday on the floor, her forehead resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet.
Brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack || Jonathan & Christian F2F
[Makes his way up to the apartment specified; he's off duty and dressed in a tight black T-shirt, a leather jacket, jeans and boots. He's carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels. Jonathan arrives at the door and knocks, waiting for a response]
I don’t wanna call this song “where it all began” partly because that seems like really bad writing, and partly because it’s not fully true, but this was certainly a song that hit the music scene like a cartoon man crashing straight through a wall and leaving a hole shaped like himself in his wake. This is the song that set up Ke$ha as someone who was never not making a joke, but somehow that message didn’t get through to a lot of people, who treated this song as some kind of deeply serious infringement upon good taste and Music. Then again, that's totally the point, isn’t it, so good job, Kesha. (A good rule of thumb for people who hate Kesha: she is almost definitely smarter than you.)
But with all the talk about brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack and kick them to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger and the party don’t start til I walk in—that is, all the talk about how Kesha beautifully characterizes herself as a very specific kind of larger-than-life sleazy joyful party girl—something got lost in the middle. The middle got lost in the middle. I mean, the bridge of this song—it doesn’t have exactly the same tone, does it? We go from the party don’t stop woah woah oh oh to something a little more wistful, almost sad, not really kidding anymore. Something serious.
And that, I think, is the essence of Kesha: an incredible party shot through with a reminder of pain and confusion and sadness, and the idea that one of those things is happening because of the other.
You build me up / you break me down / my heart it pounds yeah you got me / with my hands up / you got me now / you got that sound / yeah you got me. This is not just about having a good time because life sucks; it’s not even really about escapism, exactly. It’s about how a lot of the most beautiful parts of life were created and loved because of the worst parts of life. It’s about how frivolity exists for a reason, and how empty fun is not empty at all. Nothing is ever really empty.
We are made by the things that happen to us, and at the same time we try to make ourselves. These two things are interlocked, and as much control as we have over who we are and what our lives are like, we cannot always have control. The party don’t start til I walk in, but you build me up, you break me down. There can be pain at the heart of any stupid joy. There can be helplessness at the heart of any steely intention. We are buffeted this way and that by even the things we choose; but at least we chose them. We do what we can. We try to be who we want to be.
Andy: Well first I wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy. I grab my glasses, I’m out the door, and then I hit the city… but before I leave I brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack because when I leave for the night I ain’t coming back.
I get a pedicure on my toes, try on all my clothes, boys blowing up my phone…. drop top and play my favorite cd, stroll up to the party, and then I try to get a little bit tipsy.
I woke up today feeling like I was famous rapper Sean Combs, otherwise know as Puff Daddy, or P. Diddy. I put on my spectacles and left my bedroom, deciding to go out to the city today. But first I brushed my teeth with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whisky, apparently because when I leave for tonight, I’m not coming back. A fresh pedicure on my toes, I tried on all my clothes, while boys were repeatedly calling me. I put the top down on my convertible vehicle and start to play my favorite cd’s. I go to every party I see, purposely trying to get a little bit drunk. I don’t care about anything. I have lots of beer. There is no money in my pocket, but I’m already here. Suddenly there are men lining up next to me. When I ask why, they reply with “We heard you are very very cool” I start dismissing them. except a few individuals who resemble famous rock star Mick Jagger. Everybody is insanely drunk. Boys are trying to touch my breasts. If someone is getting too drunk, I smack them. We are going to keep partying until we are kicked out, or the police shut us down. I’m being built up and broken down. My heart is pounding. You have me. Everyone puts their hands up. The party didn’t start until I walked in. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to pop. I will fight tonight, until the sun rises. The clock ticks and tocks, but the party does not stop.