tomorrow's hangover

rwbybwby  asked:

My cutest headcanon for pyrrha is that she never died

Pyrrha: I don’t think the hangover tomorrow is going to be particularly pleasant, but I’m not going to die from it. I appreciate the concern. Thank you.

(Mun: You and me both man. You and me both.)

Crush

Summary: Everything about Bucky Barnes drives you wild…that’s basically the plot…

Warnings: smut, sexual tension

A/N: I spent today writing my own mini thesaurus, by hand, and I came up with this idea during my breaks.


“Fuck!” Your back slammed down against the thick mat, air shoot out of your lungs.

“If you’re not paying close attention to your enemies you’re going to get yourself killed. What the hell has you so distracted?” Steve stretched a hand out, helping you up.

“N-Nothing.” You huffed, avoiding eye contact with the super soldier in front of you.

That was a lie, a big fat lie. You were completely distracted by the man across the room, the one with the glistening metal arm and the chocolate brown hair. Motherfucking Bucky Barnes. 

Keep reading

Blurb Starter #36. “And you’re naked. Okay.”

Friends who couldn’t hold their liquor were the worst. Normally, you would get super frustrated having to take care of an inebriated friend.

This time however, you had to admit that it was rather amusing.

When Bucky Barnes arrived at the Avengers Tower, he had been mysterious and a tad closed off. Everyone sort of gave him his space and waited for him to warm up to what was going on. He did eventually which pleased you.

Now, he was drunk off his ass and it was the funniest thing ever.

Keep reading

2AM - part 8 (A Minseok Series)

Genre: Angst / perhaps a bit o’ fluff(??????)

Characters: Minseok X You

2AM [M] - Canon AU - Angst / Smut part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11


“Ahh,” you saw the pink in Kwangseok’s cheeks as he looked beyond you at Minseok, processing the words he heard as he came through the door before looking back into your face with a tiny grimace on his handsome face.

“Have I made a mistake? It’s just–” He rubbed his hand over his neck and looked at his feet. His shoes were left behind at the door out of habit, “–you told me last night to just come in.”

Keep reading

Nursing Hangovers (Mick x Reader) Imagines

Requested by/dedicated to: @doctorscompanian​ 
*~*~*~*~*
Imagine:
Mick is suffering from a hangover from last night’s drinking game. Grumpy and grouchy, he calls you - the Doctor of the ship -over and asks you how he could make it go away…
*~*~*~*~*

“Dammit, Doc!” Mick grumbled, gripping his head tightly. “Why the hell do hangovers hurt so much?”

“Because they’re your body’s way of telling you to stop drinking?” You answered.

“Bullshit!” He growled. “I haven’t gotten a hangover in years and I’ve been drinking just fine…!”

You chuckled.

While Mick was one of the most tolerant people whom you knew could hold their liquor well, he had somehow gotten hammered from last night’s drinking game against Sara.

Drowsy, dehydrated and definitely disoriented, Mick had called you over in hopes of finding a cure; but, unfortunately, in all your experience, you’ve found no compelling evidence that suggested there were any effective remedies to treat one.

So, the most you could offer to him was comfort and water.

Lots and lots of water.

“I swear to God,” Mick grumbled, lowering himself so that he could fully lie down in his bed. “I’m gonna kill the person who invented hangovers…”

Keep reading

4

Jaebum pulled up outside the bar, screeching the car to a halt and lunging out of the drivers’ seat to walk around the car towards the doorway. He found you, shivering in the cold night air, clutching your elbows around your knees as he bent down to meet you at eye level.

“You’re freezing” he mumbled as he quickly flung his coat around you, noticing the long, dried up rivers of mascara that your tears created on his way there. His heart clenched in his chest as he pulled you to your feet, quickly finding out that walking in 7 inch heels wasn’t going to work. He scooped you up - bridal style as he held you in close to his warm body, carrying you over to the car while the many onlookers whooped and whistled in jest at his apparent heroic actions.

“Ignore them” he whispered in your ear as he set you down to open the car door, helping you inside and buckling your seatbelt before shutting the door and joining you on the other side, putting the car into gear and setting off  in the direction of home.

“Are you mad at me?” you whimpered, looking at his hand resting on the gear stick as he shifted it to third gear.

“No” he paused, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the late Friday night traffic. “You just, scared me.”

“It’s not like I was going to die. Everyone gets drunk Jae” you sighed as you sank yourself down into the seat, watching him take the familiar turns and roads to your apartment.

“That’s not what I meant. I thought I’d lost you, (Y/N). You still don’t believe me, right?” he looked at you as he parked the car in front of your place, pulling the hand-break up and switching the engine off.

“I do believe you. I was just, angry.” you looked down to the car floor as more pitiful tears began threatening to fall down your cheeks. Jaebum clicked his tongue before ejecting both of your seatbelts, hopping out of the car and running around to help you out too, taking you in his arms once again after locking the car and carrying you up to your apartment. He used the spare key you gave him many months ago to let you both in, helping you remove your shoes before lifting you into your bedroom.

“Lets get all this muck of your face and then get a good nights sleep. You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.” he gave you a sleepy smile, referring to your make-up as he pulled out your removal wipes from your vanity - diligently cleansing your face as gently as he could.

He stood up, motioning for you to put your arms in the air as he pulled your dress off you, un-doing your bra and removing his shirt to put it on you before taking off his jeans and rolling you on to your side in case you would vomit in the middle of the night. He snuggled up behind you, letting his hands place themselves on your hips as he pulled his body closer to you, finally being right where he wanted to be after all the mess that happened.

“Jae?”

“What is it baby?”

“I’m sorry, I love you. So much”

He gently kissed your neck, pressing his lips flush against your skin and letting them linger there for longer than usual.

“I love you too. Close your eyes and go to sleep baby. I’m not going anywhere, so just sleep now”.

Adam’s Rib (part 1 of 3)

Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: Lin is a bartender. You need a drink.

Word Count: a fuck ton (approx 18k)

A/N: it’s problematic and full of plot holes but maybe let it go and try and enjoy it

So, this has been a long time coming, we know. It’s been a whirlwind of a time, and we can’t tell you how much has gone into this. We just wanted to thank all of you for being so patient with us, we know this took so much longer than we anticipated it would. 

Thank you so much for supporting our lack of chill and insanity, it truly means so much to us that we have such an incredible following, and we still can’t believe all of you exist! We love you all so very much!! Both of us are extremely emotional about every single aspect of this universe, and we are legitimately super excited to show you what we’ve been concocting this entire time (so much yelling behind the scenes, y’all, omg). 

Warnings: for now, it’s just alcohol and drinking, but this may or may not get a bit darker in parts two and three.

And now, without further ado, we hearby present part ONE of THREE of Adam’s Rib.

– Team GTNW –


“Hey, Lin, could I get another beer?”

“Stan,” Lin sighed, resting his hands on the bar in between them. “We both know you don’t need another.”

“Come on, you already took my keys so what harm could it do?”

Lin raised his eyebrows at the patron, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a fondness for wearing Hawaiian shirts in winter. As a bartender, Lin technically had the right to cut Stan off, call his slurring ass a cab, and move on to serving the handful of other patrons hanging around the bar at nine p.m. on a Tuesday.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

you asked for a niall smut request so maybe you over hear niall talking to some mates about your guys sex life and so you have to teach him a lesson later ;)

little blurb about niall talking about his sex life with friends? i feel like he would be one to give all the dirty little details

“So he throws me over his shoulder, slaps my ass and carries me to the bed like a sack of potatoes.”  Juliette said as she lifted her wine glass to her mouth for a sip.

Our friends Juliette and Chris were that couple.  The ones who were loud and boisterous and fun no matter what we were doing.  Out of all the couples at Niall’s and my home that evening, Juliette and Chris were by far the most entertaining.

“Hey, it works in the movies.”  Chris said as he searched around the kitchen for a trash can while the rest of us laughed.

“What movie?  Please tell me what movie has that in it?” Juliette demanded as she pointed to one of the cabinets Chris was standing in front of, “That one, Babe.”

“Ah, thanks Sweets.”  He said as he opened the cabinet and threw his empty beer bottle into it.

“I think Patrick Swayze might have done that.”  Quipped Brian, another one of our friends.  His girlfriend Laura was the newest of the bunch.  She was quietly sipping her wine with her hand safely tucked inside Brian’s as it usually was.  Niall and I both decided it was a defense mechanism until she learned how to speak up in the midst of all the big personalities in our group.

Niall took a sip of his beer,

“Sounds more like a Brad Pitt kinda move.”  He said as he finished swallowing.

Brian bumped Niall’s fist with his own,

“Good one.”

“Best sex I ever had that night.”  Juliette finished.

Chris raised his hand in the air after opening the refrigerator,

“You’re welcome.”

Keep reading

Drunken Confessions

Requested by anonymous on tumblr: “Can you do 22 and 80 with a Gaston x reader pretty please?" 

 22. "I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice." 

 80. "How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?" 

 Plot: Y/N goes to the tavern to get her mind off of things, and accidentally has one too many drinks and confessed her feelings of Gaston to Le Fou. 

Warnings: Alcohol and swearing. 

This week has been absolute hell. First, my favorite dress got stuck on a bush while I was walking through the forest and ripped, I burnt my hand whilst putting another log in the fireplace, and to top it all off, my boyfriend James cheated on me with my ‘friend’. So understandably, I needed a drink to forget the week’s events. As I head into the tavern, I notice that there’s not as many people as usual. Even better, so less people will see me drunk. I walk over to the counter and sit down on a stool. 

"Rough week for you?” The bartender asks me. 

“You have no idea.” I say with a sigh. “Give me your strongest drink.” I say as I hand him some money. He hands me a glass of whiskey. I down the golden liquid, enjoying its bitter taste sliding down my throat. As I ask for another, someone sits in the stool next to me. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi i really love your drunk!mc and not recognizing them hc :D is it okay if i request the same but with v and saeran ^u^

Here it is! I don’t know if it is as cute as the original post, tho… still, hope you like it! ^^

Drunk MC doesn’t recognize Saeran and V

Saeran

  • He hates when you go out like this, because he knows you’re getting home drunk.
  • And you’re a very unpredictable drunk. Sometimes you get really emotional and cry over things like that time you hurt a little boy who had a crush on you: “he wrote me this letter and I answered correcting all his misspells, why am I so bad, Saeran? Whyyy?”
  • Or sometimes you laugh at everything, like when you kept giggling and repeating the word “chocolate pudding” for half an hour.
  • And sometimes you get a little handsy and… hum, he has nothing to complain about that, actually.
  • “Can I help you?” he thought you were being sarcastic when he went to pick you up at your friend’s house, she said somebody looking for you was at the door.
  • “Well, can I help you? You look like shit!” “I’ll tell you what looks like shit, your move! Do you really think nagging will work here? Boy, bye.” What is this woman saying?
  • “Look, no time for jokes. Let’s just go, okay?” he was trying to be patient, but you ignoring him was something he couldn’t stand. It was nothing like you!
  • “Look, dude, as if your shitty move wasn’t bad enough, I already have a boyfriend, okay? And he will beat the shit out of you if he hears about this.” Oh… he knows what’s going on…
  • Yes, you not being able to recognize him happened once, it was pretty funny. You kept telling him to go away because you already had a boyfriend waiting for you at home… and you were already home. Shit, that was hilarious.
  • “Really? Is he that mad?” “Yep, so mad! He used to be madder when he looked like Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul, but now… he’s more like Lindo from Dance with Devils, like, mad but cute mad, you know?” He… has no idea who are these people, and he didn’t know he was that mad…
  • “Oh, and… are you scared of him?”. You scoff “Nah, he’s cute. When he crosses his arms and frowns his eyebrows like this… freaking cute!”
  • “Men don’t like being called cute, isn’t he badass?” “Yep, but I like more when he’s cute! When he hugs me and calls me a dork, and tries to braid my hair when I pretend I’m sleeping…” Shit! You should not know about this! “Don’t tell him, but I’m thinking about inviting him to move in with me! Do you think it’s weird? I mean… the girl inviting the guy?
  • “N-no, it’s not weird at all…” okay, joke time is over, this is serious and he needs you sober as soon as possible. “So, hey! Uhm… I’m just your friend’s neighbor, turns out your boyfriend rang my bell thinking it was hers. He’s, uhm… waiting you downstairs.”
  • You said goodbye to your equally wasted friend and went downstairs, where he was waiting for you, trying to do a grumpy face. But it was hard, he really felt like smiling.
  • “Stop drinking that much! And… don’t tell deep weird things to strangers! And…” you interrupt him with a quick peck on his lips and a giggle.
  • “You’re so cute!” he feels his cheeks getting as red as his hair. “I… well, I… yeah, I… thanks.” He needs to get used being called cute if he’s going to be your roommate.

V

  • You two were at this art exhibition.
  • You two got separated for a while when he went to talk to the artist and you decided to see the paintings and sculptures.
  • When he found you again, you were staring at a painting, your mouth a little ajar. Wow, did it impress you that much? He really wanted to hear your thought about that.
  • “Hi, honey. Do you like this? We can buy it!” you let out a sigh that sounds like a groan and walks away. What… just happened?
  • “Honey? Did I say something wrong? You don’t like it?” “Yeah, I don’t like guys trying to be all sugar daddy over women, stay away from me, granny.” What? Sugar Daddy? Oh my god… is he really acting like this? But… he thought you liked his gifts…
  • Wait! No… it’s not this. He realizes that when he sees you taking a glass of that sweet drink that seemed harmless…
  • And the way your cheeks are flushed, he knows: these aren’t harmless when you have too much.
  • He watches as you stare at another painting. “Do you like this painting, miss?”
  • “Yes, it feels like it’s talking to me.” “Really? What is it saying?” “See the lines in the bottom? To me it’s totally about feeling a strong connection with someone, this brown lines are like a house, or maybe a body. And the blue spot is the soul inside the body, trying to be free.” Well, it was  open to interpretation, anyhow…
  • “Interesting…” “Yeah, it reminds me of my boyfriend, he’s the blue spot. I want the blue spot to be free and happy.” Oh, that was sweet…
  • He wanted to hug you, but he knew you wouldn’t recognize him, so he walked away a little and waited. Until you finally turned your head and faced him, this huge smile showing up in your face.
  • “Hey, honey! Anything you liked?” “Yeah, that one! Look, this shade of blue is the same of your hair!” “Oh, and that orange spot there is the same as your dress.” It was a different tone of orange, but you agreed, amazed.
  • “Now, let’s go, my orange spot, your blue spot needs to make sure you don’t have a hangover tomorrow.” “Why? I’m not drunk!” he chuckles, you are an adorable orange spot, aren’t you?

Imagine admitting you want to marry Chris while you’re drunk.

You tumbled out of the cab and stumbled up the driveway of your boyfriend, Chris’ house. It was 2:18AM and you had just finished up at your co-worker’s bachelorette’s party, a party where you got ridiculously wasted. The original plan was for you to spend the night at your own apartment- as it was closer to the bar you were at- but after the third round of tequila shots, your urge to see the ever-so-handsome Captain America had you arriving at his doorstep instead.

You pulled out your keys and fumbled with the lock for a while before you finally opened the door. The noise drew the attention of Dodger who was now on alert and ready to pounce on the intruder. He barked once then stopped when he saw that it was you, he padded towards you and nudged his head into your hand when you reached down to pat him. You struggled to get your heels off and winced when your keys and box clutch clashed against the hardwood floor.

“Shhhh!” You told Dodger and pressed your finger to your lips, trying not to giggle. “The fossil is asleep upstairs, we can’t afford to wake him up.” Dodger tilted his head in confusion. “I could use some Fruit Loops.” You said to no one in particular and made your way to the kitchen. “Dodger, do-” You glanced back and realized the pup had made his way upstairs. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Chris was aroused from his sleep thanks to the noises you were making downstairs. He turned on his bedside lamp and glanced at the clock, wincing at the bright light; 2:23AM. He could hear Dodger scratching at his door but it was only when he heard a loud crash that he scrambled out of bed. He opened the door and Dodger barked at him before racing downstairs. Chris followed him and caught sight of your keys, heels, and clutch making a trail towards the kitchen; the only room with some of its lights on. He entered to find you trying to pick up the broken pieces of your favorite Captain America drinking glass.

“Dodger, stay.” Chris instructed him when he saw him start towards you; you looked up at them, eyes wide like a deer in the headlines. “Don’t move, Y/N.” Chris instructed you but you moved anyway. “Y/N, just- stay.” He spoke to you like he would to Dodger and you stilled. “What are you even doing here? I thought you said you were going home.”

“I thought you said this is my home.”

“I see you had a great time at Carly’s party.” He commented with a light chuckle and you nodded with a wide grin. “Hold up.” He said and reached for the light switch and turned on all the lights in the kitchen so he could have a better view of where not to step. “C'mere.”

“But you told me not to move,” you pouted like a child.

“God, you’re wasted.” He chuckled; he could smell the alcohol on you as he scooped you up off the ground. “Okay, lemme see.” He sat you down on the kitchen bench and took your hands in his so he could examined them for cuts. “Did you cut yourself?” He asked when he couldn’t find any. “Hey,” he cupped your face in his hands, “are you hurt?”

“I missed you tonight.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his neck; he chuckled softly and hugged you back, kissing the side of your head. “I wish you could’ve been there with me, it would have been a lot more fun.”

“I wish I could’ve been there with you too.” He agreed and pulled back, brushing your hair out of your face. “So I could’ve kept an eye on you and made sure you didn’t get totally hammered,” he chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised you found your way back here.”

“I can always find my way back to you, Cap.” You smiled and poked his cheek, drawing another chuckle from him. He always found drunk you incredibly amusing; it wasn’t a side he saw often as you weren’t one of those girls who partied all the time, but let’s just say that when he did- he made sure to enjoy every second of it. “I want some Fruit Loops, do you have any?” You tried to hop off the bench but he used his body to lock you into place. “What are you doing? I want Fruit Loops.”

“The last thing you need is sugar,” he said then chuckled when you pouted adorably. “Right now, you need Advil, lots of water, and- sleep. Stay up here, okay? I don’t need you cutting yourself.” You scrunched your nose and nodded. “I’m going to sweep up this mess first.”

He left you there and walked to the broom closet to grab the broom and dustpan. “Hey Chris?” He heard you call out to him from the kitchen. “Can I have my water in that glass I like?” You asked as he walked back in. “You know, that Captain America glass from Stan Lee’s team.”

“Yeah um-” He chuckled and lowered his gaze onto the said glass that was shattered on the ground. “I don’t think you can ever drink water from that glass again. Considering you broke said glass,” he reminded you and your face fell. “Exactly how much did you drink?” He squatted on the ground and swept up the glass that was fortunately empty when you dropped it.

“Lots,” you responded simply and he chuckled with a shake of his head. “Hey, where’s my phone?”

“You left it in the hallway,” he answered and you hopped off the counter. “Uh uh-” he held up a finger at you and you climbed back on the counter. “I’ll get it for you, just stay there please. You are in no state to be maneuvering around, I don’t need you to break anything else tonight.”

“What did I break?” You asked, completely forgetting about the glass you’d dropped earlier tonight.

“You are ridiculous,” he chuckled. “Just stay there.” He dumped the swept up shards into the bin then walked out into the hallway to get your clutch. He picked it up off the ground then fished out your phone and saw a text notification from your best friend, Luca, that was addressed to him.

“Hey, Chris.
Did she make it to yours okay?”

Chris responded with a quick “yeah, I’ve got her.” With your phone in his hand, he placed your clutch on the table then made his way back into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” He stood in the archway and chuckled at you; you had stripped off your red dress and was now sitting on the bench top in just your bra and panties. “Aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?” He teased you as he walked over.

“Just out of curiosity.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pushed himself in between your legs and placing your phone down on the counter and his hands on your waist. “Are you going to marry me?” Your question surprised him, but made him smile nonetheless; your drunk mind was speaking for your sober heart.

“Are you going to remember this in the morning?” He asked and you thought about it for a while then nodded your head. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He chuckled softly, rubbing small circles into your skin. “Well, since you won’t remember this- I might as well be honest with you.” You raised your eyebrows, waiting for his answer. “I am definitely going to marry you. I’ve been thinking about it since our first date, I’ve just- been waiting for the right time to ask. We’re both busy people, I want the proposal and the wedding at a time that works for the both of us.”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to propose?”

“I have,” he nodded, “numerous times. My favorite is still the cliché of taking you to a holiday cabin, cooking you dinner, and putting the ring in your dessert. I’m just a little afraid you might swallow the ring whole,” he joked and poked your side, causing you to giggle. “Why so curious? Are you afraid I wasn’t going to marry you?”

“Well- if I’m being completely honest, I guess I was a little afraid you didn’t want to marry me because I wasn’t sure about having kids.” His face fell slightly; he was a little upset with himself that he made you feel that way. “I know you like children and that they are an important part of your life plan, so yeah- I was a little afraid I wasn’t enough.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he kissed your forehead. “You are enough, Y/N. You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he told you. “All I want is you, you are the most important part of my life plan.”

“And you’re the most important part of mine, which is why I’d gladly have children for you.” You told him for the first time in three years and he felt his heart skip a beat. “I tell people I don’t want kids because it seems scary, but with you- it doesn’t seem as scary.”

“This is by far my favorite drunk Y/N moment,” he told you with a wide smile. “Thank you for telling me that,” he gently pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger, brushing your pink lips with his thumb. “You won’t remember this but at least I know where you stand. Like you say, drunk minds speak for a sober heart.”

“I’ll remember this,” you nodded. “Give me a pen and I’ll write it on my hand.”

“No,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “I would prefer you not to remember this ‘cause I would like the element of surprise when I propose to you. Now c'mon,” he lifted you off the bench and plopped you onto your feet. “Let’s get you an Advil and put you to bed.”

“Chris?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards you when he tried to walk to the pantry to get the medicine box. “I think I’m in-love with you.” You told him and he nodded in acknowledgement, chuckling. “No, I’m serious.”

“We’ve been dating for three years and you just told me you’d have kids for me, I think I already know that.” He caressed your face and kissed your forehead. “Do you want to make any other shocking announcements? ‘Cause I really need to get you that Advil and put you to bed otherwise you’re going to be having one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“No,” you shook your head, letting go of his hand. “That’s the only one.” You said then grinned which made him laugh. “Can we have pancakes in the morning?” You asked as he grabbed a sachet of Advil from the box.

“You can have anything you want,” he nodded. “Take this,” he popped two pills out of the sachet and passed it to you. “Let me get you some water.” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with the filter tap water. “Here,” he passed it to you with the instruction, “down the pills then drink it all. I don’t want to see a drop of it left in the glass.”

“You got it, Captain.” You saluted him then proceeded to do as he instructed.

“You’re going to have a lot of fun tomorrow morning,” he chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

What do we think, part 2?

Here’s my mini-series Masterlist.

Put All These Pieces Back Together

// requested by anonymous:  HI U R SUCH A GOOD WRITER I CRY okay could u possibly do a Peter Parker x reader where the reader has a crush on Peter but she doesn’t know if he likes her and she used to have an eating disorder & one day they’re @ a party and her drunk friend says something about her not eating today or something and Peter overhears and takes her aside and asks if she’s okay and like comforts her idkIDK like maybe angst at first but then super cute by the end IDK THANKS SO MUCH ILY

// a/n: oml i feel so loved, thank you so much for the praise!! i’m so, so sorry this took so long to get up, i had a massive, unshakable case of writer’s block. i hope i did okay… it’s sort of cheesy but hopefully you’ll like it anyway. thanks for the request and the love <3 enjoy!!

// character: peter parker/spiderman

// pairing: peter x reader

// summary: “your heart’s never soared this high and you think he might just be the person to fix you.”


It’s past curfew on a Friday night, and this is exactly the sort of situation you’ve been told to stay away from.

The party seems like something straight out of a cliche high school romance flick, with red solo cups littering the floor and hormonal teenagers pressed against each other in the corners, lips locked together and hands roaming each others’ bodies.

Your senses feel dulled by the constant, heavy thrum of the bass blasting through the speakers and the strong reek of alcohol that seems to have settled into the air. Still, you haven’t been to a party since–well, since before everything that happened last year, and Becca has vehemently assured you that the awkwardly clingy black top you dug out of her closet makes you look “like a total catch”.

So part of you thinks that having a little fun might not be such a bad idea.

You destroy your opponents through a few rounds of beer pong, expertly avoid a game of seven minutes in heaven before one of your friends can drag you in, fail fantastically at pool and spend a lot of the night mingling and swaying to the music.

It’s a little past midnight when Becca stumbles into you, a ditsy smile plastered on her face and her eyes clouded with insobriety.

“Hi,” she mumbles giddily as she pitches forward and you hastily grab her shoulders to keep her from spilling to the ground in a heap.

You chuckle a little. “How much did you have to drink?” you say loudly, trying to make your voice heard over the pounding music.

A crease forms between her brows and she shrugs. “I dunno,” she grins. “A lot.”

With a mixture of exasperation and fondness, you sigh and set her on the couch. “God, you are going to have such a hangover tomorrow. Promise me you’ll let me drive you home?”

She nods, but you know she’s not really listening when her eyes glance in the other direction and she says in what you think is supposed to be a quiet voice, “He’s staring at you.”

Your eyes follow her gaze to a familiar brown-haired boy in a Star Wars t-shirt, who quickly looks away to observe a nearby game of pool. “Who, Peter?” You laugh a little, but a hot blush creeps up on your cheeks and you duck your head. “Yeah right. Like he’d be staring at me.”

Your best friend’s gaze swivels from him to you and back. “You should tell him,” she declares.

“Say it a little louder, would you?” you hiss sarcastically. “I don’t think they heard you in Jersey.”

She laughs. “I’m serious,” she says, though it’s in a hushed whisper this time as she pulls you closer by the arm. “You’ve liked him for forever. And judging by the way he’s looking at you in that outfit,” her voice dips into a sing-song tone as she slurs, “he likes you too.

Rolling your eyes, you shove her shoulder gently. “Shut up, Bea, you know he doesn’t think of me that way.” you huff, and a smirk crosses her face as she stands abruptly.

“Whatever you say. I’m gonna grab some food,” she says, stretching. “You want anything?”

You shake your head, but she pouts. “Y/N, you skipped lunch, too,” she protests.

“Yeah, because I had to make up that test for Mr. Dewar. I ate after school,” you explain. You’re not lying; you don’t do that anymore. You’re better now. Or at least, you’re trying.

But Becca, drunk, doesn’t seem to see it that way. “Are you trying to stop eating again?” She makes a poor attempt at a whisper. “Because you know it’s not good for you.” She sounds like a scolding parent, and a few pairs of eyes around the room drift over to you.

Stop staring, you plead mentally, your insides squirming under their gazes. “Bea,” you say through gritted teeth, “I’m fine, okay? Drop it.”

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself!” She’s loud. Too loud. Heads swivel in your direction.

People are looking at you. Everyone’s looking at you. I’m fine, you want to scream. It’s over. Nothing’s wrong with me.

But their eyes linger.

You feel like it’s freshman year all over again, and you’re collapsing on the gym floor and the nurse is bending over you and saying something about malnourishment and everyone is staring at you and you can’t breathe. And suddenly, you’re back to being the object of gossip and stolen glances and whispers in the hallway when they think you aren’t listening– she’s that anorexic girl, the one who was fat until she starved herself.

You have to remind yourself that you’re here and not there, that this is a party and you’re supposed to be having fun but instead you’re trying to remember how you’re supposed to breathe.

In, out. In, out.

Right. Easy.

So why can’t you seem to catch a breath?

It takes you a minute to realize that your hands are shaking and that Becca’s still talking, although you aren’t really listening anymore.

You mutter some excuse and slip out of the room; she tries to call out to you but you can’t seem to get to the back door fast enough.

The grass is wet. The air is humid and cool and heavy with the smell of rain, the sharp contrast to the heat inside hitting you as you step into the yard, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket and trying to shove the taste of bile back down your throat.

The smell of alcohol lingers on your clothes and you can still feel the bass from inside; you wonder for a moment what you’re doing here, when a book and a warm blanket seems like such a nice alternative.

Oh right, you think to yourself. I was trying to be normal, for one night.

Normal. You’ve spent the last eight months trying to get back there. Talking to doctors, therapists, guidance counselors, anyone who thinks they can help. You remember the before picture of it all, when you were scared and angry and you hated yourself, and now you feel the exact same way and you think that maybe you haven’t come all that far.

“Why did you do it?” the counselor asks, sincere concern lacing her words. “You have such a beautiful body, can’t you see that?”

You try to laugh, but think you might cry instead as you looked up at her. “Have you ever been to high school?”

She gives you the look, the one you’ve come to know all-too-well, that mixture of pity and disappointment that seems to be etched on everyone’s faces these days. You want to tell her to stop, that you don’t want her pity, that you might feel a lot better if everyone would just quit looking at you that way–

“–re you okay?”

Surprised, your head snaps towards him immediately. You didn’t even notice him come out. But Peter’s standing there, concern in those deep brown eyes and one hand running through his brown hair nervously.

You open your mouth, tempted to say you’re fine, that there’s nothing for him to worry about. But as you look at him, you feel a bit of your resolve wear away. At first, you’re not sure why, but then, you think, it’s Peter, the geeky science nerd you’ve known for years, exchanging study guides and making cheesy science jokes from the back of the classroom and maybe falling a little in love along the way. It’s Peter, so instead of lying you shake your head. “Not really, no,” you breathe.

“You’re not…are you still…” he trails, like he doesn’t quite know how to phrase the question.

Your choice of words, however, is more blunt. “I’m not starving myself anymore, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

Peter looks at you for a long time, as though trying to figure out whether or not you’re lying, and then gives you a slow nod as he leans against the wall next to you. “What happened in there?” he asks quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Nothing.” You drop your gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. If you do, you think you might break into tears.

“Y/N, you can talk to me.”

Sighing slowly, you glare at the ground. “I just…I couldn’t breathe. I–everyone was staring at us. I didn’t want to-to stay in there and let them gawk at me like I was some animal in a zoo. Like I was some…” you grit your teeth, voice shaking, “some beast that they were looking at through glass.”

He hesitates, and then, sounding shocked, “Is that how you feel?”

Part of you wishes he would leave, so he wouldn’t see you cry. “That’s how I’ve always felt, Peter. Why–” You shudder as your voice breaks. “Why do you think I did this?” You look up at him, blinking tears out of bloodshot eyes. Slowly, you sink into the grass, ignoring the fact that the rainwater is seeping through your tights, and draw your knees to your chest.

He doesn’t say anything, just kneels next to you and holds you in his arms when you finally break into shaking sobs, your breath stuttering as you try to hold them back. But you don’t think there’s any part of you that can fight it anymore, and the tears just fall in a torrent of frustration that you haven’t let go of in far too long. The saltwater streaks down your face and soaks his hoodie, and he runs his fingers through your hair, hugging you against his chest and resting his chin on your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup when the sobs finally slow, your voice muffled by his body.

Peter shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. “You don’t deserve to feel this way.”

“Maybe I do.”

“You don’t.” His voice is insistent as he cups your cheek with his hands. “You don’t deserve this. You’re beautiful.”

He sounds…honest. You meet his eyes, and sincerity is all you can see. Something inside of you swells. “I haven’t…no one’s ever said that to me.”

“They should.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t hold just anyone as their tears totally soak my favorite shirt, you know,” he teases.

A watery chuckle escapes your lips, and he grins, looking a little proud of himself.

“I guess it’s a good thing I wore waterproof mascara,” you joke, wiping the wet tracks away from your face with a sleeve and sniffling. It earns you a laugh.

“Do you…want me to walk you home?” he offers as you pick yourself off the ground.

You shake your head. “I think I’ll stay a while. Someone’s got to keep Becca from making a total fool out of herself,” you say, taking a deep breath to compose yourself and then starting to walk towards the party.

He chuckles. “I’ll stay for a while, too, then. But, uh, Y/N? One more thing.”

“Yeah?” You turn around.

A flash of nerves crosses his face before his hand wraps around your waist, the other one resting in your hair, and he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and his lips taste better than anything you’ve ever forced yourself not to eat, and it’s Peter and your heart’s never soared this high and you think he might just be the person to fix you.

Zhang Yixing//Oh God


Prompt:
You’re a teacher filling in for another class, and having trouble from one of the students. In an attempt to sort it out, you discover that you’re a lot more friendly with his parent than you originally thought.
Scenario: Fluff, smut mention
Word count: 3,837

The walk of shame had actually been more of a parade of triumph this morning, if you were going to be completely honest.
He’d been tall, handsome, muscular and well, you could say he was somewhat talented. You’d been stunned waking up next to him after your slightly drunken one night stand and it was revealed to your sober eyes that he was still as good looking this morning as he was the night before. You’d sneaked out of his room at 7am, down the dark hallway and out of the apartment quietly - as proud of yourself as you were for picking up such a gorgeous man, you weren’t up for the sheer embarrassment that would come with having to part if you’d woken him up too. So you’d bolted out as quickly as possible, texting your best friend and coworker Rani to meet you at the closest coffee house.

So you sat, ignoring the uncomfortable ache in the pit of your stomach - God, you were having flashbacks of his wonderful pelvis in action - and sipped on your coffee, trying to work out what details you’d give to explain your disappearance the night before. Rani spotted you immediately, short dyed blonde hair swinging as she plonked herself down across from you.
“You got laid!” She squealed, and you had to shush her as the other patrons were giving you a disapproving look. “You got laid!” She repeated, quieter, and you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah.”
“So - good or bad?” Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation, “Come on, we need to make this quick, I have an entire class’ homework to mark by tomorrow and I need to facetime my Naniji because it’s her birthday, although God knows what she’ll say about my hair. She may cry.” You took a deep breath in and grinned at your friend’s rambling.
“Okay, okay. So it was really good.” You relented, and she squealed again. “So he spoke Korean, but I’m pretty sure he’s Chinese because on certain words he’d sometimes have an accent.”
“Ooooh.” Rani grinned, and you flicked her forehead from across the table.
“Oooh indeed, because he was the most perfect specimen that’s ever been within a hundred yards of me.”
“Do tell.”
“He was a good height.” You tilted your head, thinking, “He was like…lean but completely ripped. Full on six pack of abs. He had the best hair too, it was all slick and dark and there was this one tendril that kept falling into his eyes and - oh, his eyes.” You could see Rani practically living for this. “They were so intense. He kept doing this thing where he’d look up from under his lashes and slow blink and it was amazing. Like, the biggest turn on.”
“God, I’m so single.” Rani sighed, and you grinned at her again,
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes. Please. He sounds like a slice of heaven.” She leaned her head on the table, looking up at you. “How was he?” Your cheeks burned slightly, but you told her anyway.
“Amazing. Like, best I’ve ever had. I think he must be a dancer or something, because those hips - umph, I can’t even think about it.”
“What kind was it?” She propped her chin on her hand, henna poking out from her sleeve and travelling down her fingers. “Like, slow and sweet or…sexy-time sexy time?”
“Dude, honestly - both.” You warmed your hands on the coffee cup, sighing deeply. “I’m ruined. How the hell am I ever going to drunkenly phone my ex and sleep with him again after this? I don’t think seven minutes in the back of his car is going to cut it after last night’s suitor.”
“Ugh, when was the last time you phoned your ex?”
“Ages ago, don’t worry. My drunk brain seems to have forgotten him.” You giggled, and she looked relieved.
“Thank God.” You swirled the coffee round with your pinkie.
“I didn’t leave my number or anything, I just ran. I just wanted to leave the perfect one night stand the way it was, no disappointment or embarrassment.”
“For once, I’m going to disagree here.” Rani shook her head. “You find a man that can move his hips like that, looks that good and is caring and hot at the same time during sex? You put a ring on it, damn.
“I don’t even know his name.” Her phone buzzed on the table then, and she jumped up.
“Oh God, it’s my Naniji. I need to take this -” She weaved her way through the chairs of the coffeehouse, and you could hear babbled Hindi flowing from her mouth like water in a creek. You shook your head at her hectic personality and life, getting up, too. You needed to finish marking your own class’ reading homework before tomorrow, and frankly, your hangover was not being kind either.

Monday was slightly more hectic than usual, as another class’ teacher was ill, making you cover for her when you should have been having a break, as your class was on a school trip for the next few days. But no, you were stuck covering for the youngest and most boisterous class in the school, so all you expected was constant crazy, non-stop action.
One particular group of 5 year olds, lead by a surprisingly quiet, small boy, kept up the highest energy, making sure you were never off your feet - Zhang Baozhi was like a quiet storm. He had taken a notion in the last few days to constantly convince other kids to do stupid shit, but never take part so as not to get into trouble. You started to miss the 10 year olds you usually taught as you were cleaning paint off the face of the quiet leader of the class that his friends had covered him in.
“Come on Changyun, really, settle down.” You scolded the main perpetrator, but the kid shook his head violently.
“Baozhi told me to!” You looked to the boy whose nose you were wiping sunset orange from delicately, his eyes blinking at you slowly.
“Is that true?” You asked him, your tone serious as you crouched down to meet his eyes. He blinked again, seeming indifferent. “You don’t want to get your friends in trouble, do you?” He sighed, an awfully mature sound coming from this three-and-a-half foot tall child.
“I told him to.”
“See!” Changyun stuck his tongue out at you, then grinned at his friend before hopping back to his seat. You grasped Baozhi under his arms and sat him up on your desk to be able to clean him up without crouching down.
“You can’t keep telling your friends to do these silly things.” You said, your tone soft - not because you thought he was sensitive, but because you knew there was no need for The Teacher Voice, as he would respond the same either way. “We don’t get our friends into trouble, alright?” He shrugged, again, indifferent, and you shook your head slightly, perplexed by the kid. You finished mopping up the hues of blue and pink from his little face and pulled him down from your desk, patting his back to let him know he was free to go back to his seat.

The next day, Baozhi caused much more ruckus with his influence on the other kids, stressing you out to no end. He started a food fight at break time by nudging Jeonghyun to throw his yogurt at Minwon, which took your proper, strict Teacher Voice to defuse that situation. Then, he convinced Eunhye and Dahyoon that it would be fun to braid their hair together, which got horrifically tangled and caused a lot of tears, making you painstakingly sit and part their hair for a half hour while the other kids drew their mother’s day cards. By eleven, he had started a game of whispers round the room, ending with Moonbin shouting at the top of his lungs a Chinese swear - which you only knew due to your old college roommate Biyu, who was an exchange student from Beijing. The last straw was when every kid in the small class other than Baozhi dunked their hands into the class fish tank to try and catch one. Thankfully, you’d managed to stop that before any fishes were harmed, but you decided enough was enough. You had to find out why Baozhi was acting out this way - you’d covered this class before, and he’d never given you a problem then - and so you pulled him aside an hour before school ended to ask him who collected him at the end of the day.
“I get the school bus.” He’d said, and you pursed your lips. You’d just need to phone his parents and ask them if they could come and pick him up so that you could speak to them personally about him. And so, when the kids were taken by the P.E. teacher to run around in the school gym for the last part of the day, you sat in the now-quiet class and dialed up the number you’d found in the office. It almost rang out, but then it was answered by a worried voice.
“Hello?”
“Hi there, am I speaking to the parent or carer of Zhang Baozhi?” You confirmed, tapping a pen against your notebook with all of the small child’s crimes written down.
“Yes, this is his father speaking, why? Is he alright? Why is his school calling me?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, Mr Zhang, I assure you, Baozhi is physically perfect - I’m just calling as his behavior has been slightly, um…” You sucked in at your teeth, “…questionable, these past few days. I was just wondering if there’s any way you could drop by to talk and try to work this out.” There was only silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, and you noticed the similarity between the father and son with their quiet pauses.
“I can’t come by today, but if he stays a half hour later tomorrow after school then I can pick him up and talk then.” You found yourself doodling on the page.
“That sounds good. I can put him in with the after school club in the next classroom, and we can talk while he plays.” You blew air up into the loose strands of your hair, continuing, “Does that work for you?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” You nodded as though he could see you. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss.”

3 o’clock rolled round the next day, and you sent Baozhi into the after school club that Rani was taking charge of, hastily cleaning up the classroom of the mess that the kids had left. You,yourself, were quite the sight to behold. At the beginning of the day, you’d been downright adorable - your hair sat perfectly, your makeup was blended and cute, you had on a spotless striped blouse tucked into a black skirt, black tights, little heeled boots.
And by the end of the day, by now, you had green and orange paint spattered across your face like alien freckles, you’d had to roll up the sleeves on your shirt, your skirt was back-to-front, your tights had been ripped at both knees where you had to kneel down to help coax a child out from under the slide in the playground. Your hair was sad and out of place, strands escaping haphazardly, and you’d cast your heels aside for some battered sneakers, but it didn’t matter what you looked like, you thought pathetically, it was just a Bhaozi’s dad. It didn’t matter because all that did matter was making sure he was alright and fixing what wasn’t. So you dashed around, taking paint pots to the sink in the corner and wiping crumbs off of desks when you heard a throat clearing from the doorway. You whipped around, and your eyes widened considerably.
Imagine your surprise when your one-night stand from the weekend was standing in the door, tall and handsome, looking around the classroom curiously, having not lain eyes on you yet. He was dressed almost identically to the way he was in the bar on Saturday - light washed jeans, black fitted tee, sneakers.
“What are you doing here?” You squeaked out, and he let his slow eyes land on you. You watched as his expression mirrored yours, and his mouth dropped open.
“It’s - you - you work here?” He stammered, and you straightened up a little. “You just left…” You could feel your cheeks heating up, especially when you looked down and caught sight of the ladders in your tights. When you looked back up at him, you could feel his discomfort, as though he was trying to figure out an explanation to his appearance. You got impatient then, embarrassed,
“Could you please - can we do this later? I have a meeting scheduled with a kid’s parent right now so could you…” You trailed off as you studied his face, and it dawned on you. The slow blink, the almost indifferent attitude - it was mirrored right here. “Oh my God.” He took a few steps inside the classroom, shutting the door.
“You called about Baozhi.” He said, his voice quiet, and you felt your face drain, bracing yourself against your desk. Rani would have a field day with this one.
“I…” He was looking at you as if bracing your reaction. The thoughts were whirling almost violently in your head, especially when you caught sight of a ring on his finger. “You…oh my God.”
“I know this isn’t ideal-” He started, but you stood up straight, shaking your head violently to cut him off.
“Ideal? This is the worst thing,” His face fell completely, and you felt disgust at yourself and at him overwhelm you. “You have a child - you’re the father of a student I teach -”
“If you-”
“No!” Teacher Voice was on, and he stood stock still. “So you’re what married with a child and you take me home? Are you nuts? Do I - do I look like a home wrecker? I’m a freaking primary school teacher-”
“I’m not married.” He cut you off quietly, and you froze, looking at him suspiciously.
“You have a child and a ring.” You pointed out, your frantic tone dying down. He looked down at his hand and realisation dawned on his features.
“This is actually a family ring. My father gave me it. It’s not a romantic thing.” He twirled it on his finger, turning it and extending it to you so that you could see the Chinese characters spelling out Zhang on the underside.
“Oh.” You leaned back against the desk. “So…you didn’t cheat on anybody with me?” He nose wrinkled slightly and he shook his head determinedly.
“Definitely not. There’s nobody to cheat on.” Another thought burned in your mind and you cringed.
”You better not tell me that Baozhi was home when I…when we…” You shuddered at the unprofessionalism of it all, saying a silent prayer.
”No! God, no, he was staying at Changyun’s house at the weekend.” His face was pale, “I wouldn’t leave my 5 year old son home alone while I went to the bar and took someone home.”
“Alright then.” You muttered.It was quiet then, awkward. You stared at his sneakers, clean white, apart from a scribble in biro pen on the side, which you assumed was down to the child in question. He cleared his throat.
“Uh, so, what’s the matter with Baozhi?” You almost jumped to attention.
“Oh, right!” You gestured for him to follow you round the classroom as you explained all of his child’s misdemeanors and blame ridden leadership of the class. As the final piece of evidence you whirled round to face - oh God, you didn’t know anything other than his name was Zhang Something and that he had rock hard abs under that tee and a pelvis that moved like - Jesus, that was enough, stop thinking -
“This is the last thing he managed to convince the kids to do,” You said, staring him down. He stared right back, occasionally blinking.
“What?” You scrunched your nose.
“Paint,” You clarified, the colours across your face moving as your nose did. He let a small smile creep onto his face, and you stepped back. “So I want to figure out why he’s acting like this. I’ve taught him before and he was a sweet kid. Now he’s like a little dictator. I mean, he was supposed to be writing out his mother’s day card, and all of a sudden, I hear this whisper going round the room, and bam, there it is. Chinese for ‘fuck’.” Zhang’s eyes narrow slightly.
“Wait, what did you say?”
“Chinese for ‘fuck.’”
“No, before that.” You raised an eyebrow at his prying for detail.
“He was supposed to be writing out his mother’s day card?” And it was then that he groaned and stepped back, bumping into a sitting position on a desk.
“What does that have to do with it?” You didn’t get it.
“Baozhi isn’t mine by blood,” He explained, his voice slightly thick, “I took him in as a baby…he never knew his mother, and he doesn’t have anyone like a mother to him.” Your hands flew to your mouth realising that you’d been asking a motherless child to write a card explaining how much he loved his mother.
“Oh my God. Oh my God, I’m the worst.” You whispered, “I should have made sure before I set them the task - oh my God. I can’t believe I did that.”
“No, it’s an easy mistake to make.” He tried to clear it up but you were on full guilt mode.
“Jesus, I might as well have just asked him to bring her into school, oh my God I’m an idiot.”
“Hey, no, it’s fine, I’ll talk to him.” He stood up, his hands on your shoulders, and you sighed heavily.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s really alright.” He then let out a huff of breath, letting his hands drop. “I should’ve have noticed Mother’s day was coming up. I usually let the teacher know - Miss Banner knew already, that’s why I didn’t this year.”
“I’m just covering this class right now.” You let him know, “Just so you don’t need to worry about Baozhi being left with me at all times.” Your joke was feeble and he shook his head.
“I’m really sorry that you’ve had to deal with…” He gestured to the rips in your tights, your face splattered with paint and then around the messy classroom. “…all of this. When he gets upset he acts out.” It was then that your door opened, and Rani, panting, poked her head in.
“(Y/N), seriously, I really need you to come in and help me out, one of my kids has her head stuck inside a drawer and -” She noticed Baozhi’s dad then, and her eyes widened at his …well, his everything. You gave her a look, saying through gritted teeth,
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She ducked out the room, and you heard your name repeated from behind you. You turned to look at -
“Yixing.” He said, a little crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Since we didn’t get to, um…introduce ourselves properly on Saturday.” You found your cheeks heating up.
“That’s…a really nice name.” You said, lamely, and he let out a chuckle. “Um, now that we know why Baozhi was acting up, I’ll let you go take him home-”
“He can play in there for a minute more,” He fiddled with his jeans pocket, nervously looking down at you. You could feel the nerves affecting you, making you bite the inside of your cheek. “Why did you leave without a word?” You scoffed, and looked at everything but him, positive your cheeks were radiating heat of up to 50 degrees Celsius.
“I - I just didn’t want to, ah, impose.” You gave him a pleading look, as if, please be okay with this answer.
“Ah, right.” He nodded and turned, walking towards the classroom door, and you felt your lungs deflate in relief. It was as his hand touched the door handle that he spun once more, looking you in the eyes. “It’s just that I had a good time on Saturday, and I’m pretty sure you did too by the sounds-”
“Hey hey hey, that’s enough!” You panicked, rushing over and placing your hands over his mouth, feeling him smirking underneath your palms. You narrowed your eyes at him, keeping your hands firmly placed. “Saturday was very fun. And I may have left super early because I didn’t want you to totally regret it once you woke up, and I figured it would stay a nice little fantasy of a great night if I just left.” You saw his eyebrows raise, but still you didn’t budge, keeping him mute. “Alright, fine - I was scared you might be a total douchebag and that it would ruin the memory of the amazing sex. Happy?” You saw his eyes turn into little crescents and his laughter was muffled against your hands as you pulled them away.
“You thought that it was amazing?” He looked proud, and you pouted.
“Would I have said that if it wasn’t true?” He shrugged, a huge grin still on his face as he leaned against the door.
“Well, you did say on Saturday that you’d give me your number, but I don’t recall that happening.” You scoffed, arms folded, but a sudden rush of confidence ran through you, making you grab a pen from a nearby desk and pull Yixing’s arm out towards you, scribbling your number onto his skin.
“I do what I say I’ll do.” You said, proudly, and re-folded your arms, earning a blindingly bright smile from him.
“Good. So, uh, dinner tonight?” It was your turn to slow blink.
“What about Baozhi?” You fretted, “There isn’t anyone to look after him, is there?” Yixing laughed, and you frowned at him again. “What, is this funny? Poor Baozhi, after I messed up his little life for a week his own father wants to-”
“He could come along too.” You blinked again.
“Huh?”
“If you don’t mind, he could come too.” You felt a grin work it’s way across your face although you tried to suppress it.
“I’d like that.” You grabbed your coat from the hook by the door and put it on, much to Yixing’s surprise. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get Baozhi and then get pizza.”
“Pizza?” He cocked his head at your decision and you shrugged.
“He wrote down for his make-a-sentence homework the other day that it was his favourite.”
And it was at that moment that Yixing knew you wouldn’t be getting rid of him for a long time.

Shots Out the Grammy

Prompt: In which Mr. Daveed Diggs takes you home after endless amounts of “shots out the grammy”.

(Yikes, was that cheesy?)

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x reader

Y/N: My longest fic yet. I gotta be honest, I didn’t know how to end this, and you can kinda tell the story got away from me about halfway through writing it. It’s not my best work, but I hope y’all still liked it! Let me know what ya think and keep those likes coming! “A Day Off” will be updated next!


-

You were in trouble.

You felt hot, and the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

You hear choruses of “Shots out the Grammy!” and you groan. That very phrase was the reason why you couldn’t raise your head from the cool surface of the bar.

Hamilton won a freaking Grammy.

The months of non-stop practicing and late night vocal sessions finally paid off. Hamilton was getting the recognition it deserved and you were proud to be part of the ensemble. The cast and crew dedicated tonight to celebrate since there were no shows the following day.

“No babe! No more drinking!”

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anthony wrestle a cocktail out of Jasmine’s hands. She lets out a noise of protest and flings herself against him to take back the glass.

“Give it back!” she yells, her voice slurred.

Anthony laughs and places the drink next to you. “I think you’re done for the night Jazz.” He grabs her arm and leads her to a seat beside you.

“Y/N?” Jasmine coos, “Hellooo, are you alive?” she pokes you on the shoulder.

“I don’t feel good.” you mumble.

“Damn it,” you hear Anthony curse.

“Both of you. Stay. Here.” He orders before dashing off.

Jasmine, upon realizing that Anthony has left her cocktail unprotected, plucks the drink from the counter and takes a large sip. “Want some?” she asks, completely oblivious to your state.

You merely groan in response.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Oh great.

Daveed Diggs.

You’ve harbored a huge a crush on the talented rapper the minute you saw him. You were always too shy to approach him, but ever since you both discovered that you lived in the same apartment building, the two of you began to carpool together to work. Your friendship blossomed from the conversations you would have with him while he maneuvered through New York City traffic. The next thing you knew, he would come over after the show and the two of you would bake cupcakes or play board games while discussing the night’s performance. It was no surprise that your feelings towards him grew stronger the more comfortable you got with him.

You somehow always found yourself thinking about him. You knew you were in deep when you found yourself thinking how nice it would be if Daveed was with you while you were trying out an ice cream shop that opened near the theater. He would like the strawberry sorbet.

But there was no way in hell you’d do anything about it. Not when he was way out of your league. And definitely not when he was one of your best friends and coworkers. You didn’t want to risk ruining everything.

“Y/N?” Daveed’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “Time to go home?” he asks, moving his hand to the middle of your back.

“Yes please,” you mutter against the counter.

Jasmine giggles and leans forward to whisper something in your ear. But before she could, a hand covers her mouth.

“Jazz, please,” Anthony begs, exasperated, but had a smirk plastered on his face. “Let them be.”

Before she could protest, he grabs her hand and leads her away from the two of you.


You sit up and watch as she turns back and yells, “Be safe you two!”

“That… was weird.” You mumble before turning to Daveed, who looked embarrassed.

“Yeah, definitely.” He answers after a pregnant pause.

You didn’t get to question his behavior because a wave of nausea washes over you. You groan and rest your chin against your hand. “I blame this on you,” you say.

Daveed cocks his eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he rebuffs, then signals the bartender for a bottle of water.

“Shots out the Grammy!” you sang, pretending to hand him a Grammy full of lord-knows-what.

He throws his head back and laughs. “Not my fault you can’t hold your liquor,” he teases, poking you on your side. “Now drink up, or you’ll hate yourself in the morning.”

He pushes the bottle of water towards you.


You chug the water down, praying that it was enough to make your hangover tomorrow more tolerable. Then you sigh and stand, closing your eyes momentarily as you felt the ground tilt. “Oh god,” you murmur.

Daveed shakes his head. He reaches out and grabs your hand. “Let’s go.”

He intertwines your fingers with his, and you felt your breath hitch. You stare at your joined hands as he leads you out of the party. Every once and while the two of you were stopped by people, and you could’ve sworn they were all giving you odd looks. But you brush it off and follow Daveed outside.

He lets go of your hand and fishes his phone out from his pocket. You stay silent, watching as he tapped on the screen. After a few minutes, he places the phone back in his pocket.

“The Uber should be here soon,” he says, turning towards you. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” you say as a gust of the cool wind makes you shiver.

“Come here,” he murmurs, opening his arms wide.

You step into his embrace. You squeeze him tight, and his arms come down around you like a blanket. You smile against his chest, enjoying the embrace.

“What would you do without me?” he quips.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. “I was going to say thank you, but now I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Even tipsy, I see that you’re still as annoying as ever.” Daveed coos, cupping your face.

You scrunch your nose in response.

He chuckles and then without warning, places a soft kiss on your lips.

You gasp, and his eyes widen once he realized what he’s done.

He immediately lets go of you and steps back. “I-I’m so sorry. That was uncalled for,” he stutters.

“Daveed -” before you can say anything else, a honk signals the arrival of your Uber.

“Come on,” he says, not making any eye contact with you.  

You follow him, heart and mind racing. What just happened?

He opens the door for you, and you climb in. However, instead of joining you, he sits in the front seat.

You instantly become confused. He kisses you and then turns around and ignores you? Is that how it’s going to be?

The ride back to the apartment was silent, and you spend the whole time fuming. Did he regret it? Did he realize that he could do much better than a silly girl like you?

The minute the Uber pulls up to the building, you bolt out of the car.

“Y/N!”

You ignore Daveed and punch in the code for the apartment complex. The door unlocks and you make a bee-line to the elevators.

“Come on, come on,” you urged, watching as the elevator numbers descended. You rush in once the doors open, pushing the number for your floor.

“I said I was sorry!” Daveed’s fingers catch the elevator door before they close.  

“Daveed,” you warn, furiously mashing the ‘close doors’ button.

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you think that I was taking advantage of you,” he whispers.

You freeze. “What?”

Daveed sighs. “I don’t want you to think I kissed you because I wanted to take advantage of you,” he repeats.

You heart skips a beat. “Then what do you want me to think?”

He pauses. “That I kissed you because I like you,” he says slowly.

Your heart soars.

“You idiot,” you mumble. You grab his tie and pull him in, ignoring his surprised yelp. You wrap your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss.

Shocked, he doesn’t respond instantly. He recovers, and then his arms snake around your waist and draws you in close. His teeth nip against your bottom lip and he pulls back. He looks down at you, as if committing the very sight of you in his arms to memory, and then gives you another quick kiss.

“I like you too,” you finally say, giving him a squeeze.

The elevator dings, signaling the arrival to your floor. You step away from him and take his hand. “I think we have a lot to talk about,” you whisper, tugging him towards your apartment.

Daveed nods. “I think so too.”

He pauses, then pulls out his phone from his pocket after feeling it vibrate. He lets out a sheepish laugh and shows you his messages.


One from Jasmine.

PLEASE MAKE BEAUTIFUL BABIES. THEY WOULD HAVE ANGELIC VOICES.

And another from Anthony.

I’m sorry.

EXO’s Reaction to Thinking Their GF is Drunk When She Tries to Talk to Them

A/N: this request was SUPER in depth so i simplified it the best i could sorry if i didn’t write what you had pictured. ALSO i’m not able to use gifs with this one because my computer is hating me right now? so it’s just a text-based reaction for today ^^


Xiumin:

You had come home late from drinking with your friends, so Xiumin readily assumed that you would want to go to bed and sleep off the alcohol as soon as you got home.  It surprised him when you confessed you wanted to talk to him about serious matters, and he brushed it off as the alcohol talking.  “Let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober, mkay? You need sleep,” he’d answer, despite your insistence that you had only had one drink.

Chen:

Chen was already half asleep in the bed when you came home. “Oh, hey,” he’d mumble out from his mound of blankets. You’d sit beside him and gently stroke his hair for a few minutes, before beginning to talk about a more serious topic. Chen would raise his eyebrows, wondering how many drinks you had had. However, when he noticed the serious look in your eyes he’d sit up, letting you talk to him about your worries.

Baekhyun:

Always a tease, Baekhyun would only chuckle when you tried to start a deep conversation. “Jagi, now’s not the time. Why don’t you drink some water and get to bed. I don’t want to deal with your hangover tomorrow,” he’d laugh, grabbing you some water and leading you to the bedroom.  Though you’d insist that you weren’t drunk, Baek would only nod. He’d assure you that you could discuss this tomorrow when all of the booze was out of your system.

Chanyeol:

At first, Chanyeol wouldn’t even realize you were trying to have a discussion with him–he was too busy making you a small snack to help lessen the alcohol’s effects. It wasn’t until you practically yelled his name that he’d stop, his eyes wide as he looked at you. When you patiently told him that you weren’t drunk, he’d smile in relief. “Oh! Well, in that case, what did you wanna talk about?” he’d ask, taking your hands in his.

Lay:

Your health’s very important to Lay, so he wouldn’t want to talk about serious conversations–he would rather get you some water, a snack, and then some sleep. No matter how many times you would say that you weren’t drunk, Lay would only smile gently and say, “Okay.” The next day he would remember what you had wanted to talk about, making sure to bring it up again. “I just didn’t want you to say something under the influence that you would regret,” he’d say when you asked him why he didn’t want to talk about it last night.

D.O:

D.O would be in the living room, silently reading a book when you walked in. He’d smile up at you before returning to his reading, his eyes still on the pages even when you sat down next to him. You’d say his name to get his attention before gently initiating a more serious conversation. D.O wouldn’t hesitate to listen, obviously realizing you weren’t drunk by how alert and serious you were being. 

Suho:

Though it was important to Suho that you got the right aftercare after drinking, he’d realize you were sober by the sharp look in your eyes. When you started talking to him about a serious topic, he would sit down on the couch with you and talk with you. Afterwards he’d still get you a snack and some water, and the next day he’d make sure to ask you if you remembered anything from last night, just in case you were drunk.

Kai:

It was obvious you weren’t completely blasted, however Kai still thought that you had had more than a few drinks despite your protests that you were, in fact, completely sober. “Okay, jagi. Why don’t we just get you to bed?” he’d chuckle as he led you upstairs. When he found out the next day that you really were sober, he’d feel bad about it and make sure to listen to whatever you had to say.

Sehun:

“Um,” is how Sehun would respond when you came home from drinking and immediately wanted to start talking about deep issues. “Why don’t we wait ‘til you’re not filled with booze,” he’d respond, gesturing for you to join him on the couch to watch TV. You could tell it’d be pointless to try to convince him of your sobriety. The next day when you brought it up again he’d happily talk to you about it, and you didn’t bother to point out that you were sober the night before.

Karaoke Night

Daveed Diggs x Reader, Hamilcast!

Author: Lil Lambie

Words: 2795

Warnings: Alcohol, implied smut, kissing

Request: (Summarized) @sunshinelafayette Imagine where reader is a stagehand, the hamilcast invites reader out for a drink and reader gets really drunk and opens up and then Daveed takes them home and a drunk confession that they love Daveed?

A/N: This is defintely longer than I’m used to, but I did what I could! This took a long time to write, and I don’t know if I’ll get another imagine out tonight. Because I feel like it is three imagines lol. But if I do, it will probably be a shorter one. But, we will see. Enjoy!


Pippa was singing her last lines on stage. The show was drawing to a close. The rest of the cast were huddled against the curtain watching her deliver them so beautifully. A roar of applause erupted and the cast ran to bow on the stage.

“Spotlight on Lin,” you said to the lights manager. “fade into all backlights.” The crewmember moved their fingers over the keyboard and you watched closely.

You were a stagehand, but not the stage manager as you wish you were. No one really was except for Lin. You just did more than was in your job description. You had watched Hamilton dozens of times now. It never failed to make you cry. You weren’t one for conversation backstage, you gave your orders and did your job.

A few minutes later, after everyone had bowed, the cast returned glowing with sweat and joy. “Another great show, guys!” Lin shouted. Everyone congratulated each other.

“We should celebrate!” Anthony shouted.

“We still got a couple dozen shows to go before our season is over.” Lin said.

“Who cares?” John laughed, throwing his hand on Lin’s back. “It’s Friday night, it was a great show. No better excuse to go have karaoke night at a bar!”

“Yeah!” someone shouted and soon everyone joined in

Lin laughed and smiled. “Okay, we will go in an hour.”

Everyone cheered.

You wandered away from the circle of the cast, back over to your supply room. Daveed caught you when he was slipping off his magenta jacket. “Hey, (Y/N), you coming?”

“Uh, what?” you laughed nervously.

“You know what I said! I said are you coming to karaoke night at the bar with us tonight?”

“Umm…I’m not much of a singer. That’s kind of why I’m a stagehand.”

“Oh, I doubt that so much.” he laughed. “I have seen you backstage, singing along. I’ve seen you from the stage and from backstage. You have a great voice and I don’t get why you don’t perform. You could be a backup dancer at least! You deserve so much more, (Y/N)!”

“Oh, Daveed, really I’m not…” you blushed. “I have stagefright. I like helping with stuff backstage, so I’m fine not singing.”

“Fine.” he leaned on his chair. You started to walk away. “But, just come to the bar tonight. We are going to have loads of fun. All of the cast is going to be there. You don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. It’s just, everyone is celebrating. I don’t want you to be left out.” Daveed smiled.

“Fine.” you said blandly, trying to hide your excitement.

“Fine.” Daveed laughed, imitating you with a voice much higher than your own.

You laughed and walked away.

++++++

The bar was packed for a Wednesday night. All of the cast and most of the crew was there. The crew hung by at their own table. One of your friends on the crew invited you over. You went to sit down with them.

A hand touched yours, and gently pulled you away. A smooth chaste voice singing, “No, no, no,” he sang melodically. “you said you were going to have drinks with the cast, and you are.”

You waved helplessly to your friend and let Daveed take you away. The main cast was circled around a large table. Lin and Anthony walked back over with shots of tequila in their hands. Lin smirked smugly at you and slid one over to you.

“I thought we were just having beer, not hard liquor.” you said to Daveed as you sat down next to him.

“That wouldn’t be any fun.” he laughed, taking his shot and slamming it triumphantly on the table. Everyone cheered.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Lin shouted. “It’s your turn!” Everyone else had already taken their shots.

“No, I really think I’ll just have a beer.”

“Come on!” someone yelled.

They all began chanting your name. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Daveed chanted, smiling smugly at you. “(Y/N)!” he chanted. “Do it! Do it! Do it and you’re cool!” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the shot. You threw it down. You coughed. You had never had hard liquor before. You weren’t really one for alcohol. If you did have any, it would be a cold beer in your apartment alone watching re-runs of your favorite shows. The tequila burned your throat and blazed your throat as it slid down. It was sharp, but it made you feel alive.

“Yeah!” Everyone cheered.

“You are pretty cool, (Y/N).” Daveed teased. You rolled your eyes at him.

Lin and a few other guys returned with beer glasses for everyone. You stared at it for a moment. Everyone took a swing. You finally followed suit.

“Whoa! Slow down, (Y/N)!” Pippa laughed. “You are going to get wasted if you keep drinking like that!”

“Keep ‘em coming!” you shouted to Lin. You had carelessly drank three glasses full already. You chugged the next one he handed you.

“Wow!” he laughed.

You slammed it down on the table and cried out. “Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

The group laughed and Daveed smiled at you. “Woohoo!” they cheered. “I like this side of you.” Daveed smirked.

You ignored him and ran up to the microphone. No one was really in the mood to sing after the long show. There were a bunch of drunk hacks you tried to sing. One got up and sang “My Heart Will Go On,” who you practically booed off stage. Daveed had laughed and called you a tough critic.

You told the DJ your request.

The lights focused on you. Daveed smiled at you. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” you sang.

Daveed smiled wide when he realized what you were singing. Everyone directed their attention to you. You started singing outrageously. “Helpless! Looking into your eyes and the sky’s the limit I’m helpless! Down for the count, I’m drownin’ in ‘em!”

You breezed through the song. “Then you walked in and mY HEART WENT BOOOOM!” you made an explosion sound and made gestures around your chest. Daveed laughed hysterically, throwing his head back. You belted the rest of the song and the cast and crew cheered you on.

Daveed stood up and applauded, laughing at you. He even did Lin’s part in the song. “Heeelplessss!” you belted out the last word. You transitioned into Satisfied and Daveed harmonized with you.

Daveed ended up joining you and you sang duets of hits from Hamilton, other broadway musicals and some classic rock songs, banging your head to it. You rapped with Daveed on “Guns and Ships.” Lin had pulled out his phone and was recording all of this.

He stole the microphone from your hand and started rapping rapidly, while bouncing around, throwing around his hands. You stood next to him, still rapping but not as fast. You were in awe of your few. The lights highlighted the sweat on Daveed’s dark face and hair. His curly hair bounced around. He broke out in a dance moves, grinding to a classic rock song he requested.

After both of you were exhausted, and you were completely hammered you wandered back to the table. Daveed hand his steady hand on your shoulder, guiding you back. You slumped in the chair.

Everyone started to say their goodbyes and finished up their conversations. Getting ready to go home. “DaaaVEEED!” you screamed.

Daveed turned around laughing as he was talking to Jonathan. “What?”

“G-g-get me another beeeer. PleeEASE!”

“No, no, no,” he laughed, singing again in his dark velvet voice. It made you feel some special inside. He stood you up and leaned you against him. You fell into his chest, utterly wasted. “You’ve had enough beers tonight.” he laughed. “And your lifetime.”

“You gonna get home safe, (Y/N)?” Pippa smiled concerned at you.

“Yeah…I’ll just Uber or catch a bus…or a plane.” you chuckled.

Pippa’s smile faltered. “Umm…”

“Don’t worry about it, Pippa. I’ll take her home.”

“Thanks, Daveed. See ya!”

“See ya!”

They started clearing out of the bar. “Shall we go, (Y/N)?” Daveed laughed.

“Wha-where?”

“Let’s go.” He threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you tight to his chest as he walked you to his car. He strapped you in the front seat and handed you a water. “You are going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, (Y/N).” he said, driving towards your apartment.

Daveed tried to make conversation, but your words slurred and your eyes kept falling. The world was spinning and everything was bright, but you felt like you were on cloud nine inside. You were with Daveed. He looked so perfect. The pursed focused look on his face as he ran through traffic lights. His hands loose on the steering wheel. He looked over at you occassionally asking if you were okay. You never really gave him a full answer.

“We’re here!” Daveed shouted.

“Shhhhh! It’s a library!” you whispered.

Daveed chuckled. “Let’s get you inside.”

He parked and came around to your door. He unbuckled you and pulled you out. You leaned against him. He carried you up the stairs to your apartment, you laid your head against his chest. Your eyes falling.

“This is it.” Daveed said, setting you back on your feet.

You tried to reach back for his neck when he put you down, like a child reaching for its mother. “T-T-Thanks, verry much, Daveeed!”

“Shh,  you’re welcome.” he laughed. “You going to get to bed fine?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m just gonna open the door and fall right on the floor and go to sleeeeep.”

“Let me help you inside.” he smiled.

He grabbed your keys from your pocket and fiddled with them in the lock. You leaned against the door. “Ya know what, Daveeeed?” you chuckled. “Ya are soooo cute! And hot. Ohmygod are you hot. The sun don’t got nothing on you! You are like a teddy bear made of chocolate,” you snorted, “you are so cute, smart, and funny. And you give me cuddles when I want them!”

“We haven’t cuddled.” Daveed laughed.

“Whaaa? I thought we had! Well, I want to hug my chocolate teddy bear. Because you are one! I’ve always really had a cruuush on you, Daveeed. You are so amazing and I’m like falling for you. I know I’m just a dumb stagehand, buuuuuut, I love you and your face and your lips and your bodddy, and your vooooice, oh its like chocolate. But most of all I love, yooooou…” you danced your fingers on his chest.

He was smiling wildly at you. You fell into him, and the door pushed open. He held your arms and looked down at you smiling. “(Y/N), you are hammered!” he laughed.

“I waaaaant you, Daveeeed, I haven’t said it because I didn’t want you to reject me. I like you, like, like like likeeee, like you.”

You pushed against him to get on your toes. To reach his lips. He moved closer to you.

Then your head fell limp to his chest. You began snoring.

Daveed laughed and picked you up in his arms, and cradled you. He laid you down on the couch and threw a blanket over you. He closed and locked the door. He pulled your shoes off and tucked you in.

He sighed at the door, then looked back at you. Your head was half off the sofa, your hair hanging in front of your face, you were drooling. He laughed and smiled at you.

He grabbed a blanket for himself and sat against the sofa. His head by your feet and closed his eyes.

+++++

“OH MY GOD!” you screamed. You threw the blanket off and fell backwards off the couch.

Daveed woke up and ran to help you.

“Hey! Heyyy, it’s okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he helped you sit back down and ran to your kitchen to get you a glass of water.

“Oww.” you moaned. “My head is tHRoBing!”

“Well, you got wasted and you just fell on hardwood floor.”

“Wait, what?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“No. I don’t. Why was I drunk?”

Daveed laughed, amused. “After the show yesterday, we all went out for a drink at a karaoke bar. You drank a ton of beers and shots of tequila. You booed people off stage and said the randomest and most outlandish things. Then you went up and started singing a bunch of Hamilton songs. You owned the stage like you were Beyonce!

“Oh my goddd…” you groaned, covering your face in shame. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Well, it gets better.” he smiled. “I went up and we did duets. We sang broadway and classic rock songs. After awhile you were speaking jibberish and didn’t really know what was going on. You were super drunk and we were all leaving, so I took you home. I carried you up your stairs…and you started saying somethings.”

“What did I say?” you ask nervously.

“You started talking about me. What you thought of me. You called me a chocolate teddy bear,” he giggled, “along with cute, funny, smart, hot…You told me I was hotter than the sun. Then you said, that you um, had a crush on me. You said you loved me. We almost kissed…buut, then you passed out and I brought you inside. I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I just slept on the floor.”

“Oh my god, Daveed, I am so sorry! I don’t know what,” you started talking but your temple throbbed. You closed your eyes for a moment. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“No, don’t be. I loved singing with you. You were really light on your feet. You loosened up. You sang amazingly! You rapped Guns and Ships with me. I loved last night, (Y/N). Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to yourself for the horrible hangover you have right now.”

“You aren’t mad?” you said.

“No, why would I be?”

“I just thought, that you would think I was a burden last night or something. Or get tired of me in general. That after all that I-uh in a humiliating fashion said, you would reject me or leave me or ignore me or something…But you didn’t.”

“Of course not!” he shouted. You winced. He frowned. “Sorry,” his voice softened. “(Y/N), I invited you, took you home, and stayed with you, because I care about you. I didn’t want anything to happen and I wanted to make sure that you were safe and got home okay. I could have just left you last night and forgot about everything that had happened, and you would never know, but I didn’t want that. I waited to see what you decided and what you felt. It wouldn’t be fair to you to do that. Plus, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with you…and see where this goes.”

“Daveed…” you whispered.

He grabbed you gently and kissed your lips. His touch was soft and warm. His hands were smooth and gentle, holding your hands. You closed your eyes and melted into the kiss. He tasted like chocolate. But not in the actual sense of the world. Kissing him was the sensation of chocolate. That perfect, relaxing, and amazing feeling. He wrapped his arms around you, and pushed your hair back.

You fell on the couch and pulled away, when the world started spinning again. “No, I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Daveed got up to leave.

“No! Not like that! Please stay!”

“Okay…” He sat down next to you.

“I’m just too tired right now, to kiss you. But I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Daveed stole a kiss and leaned in.

He pulled away slyly. “It was the last one I promise.”

You smiled and laid back down and closed your eyes. “Can you stay with me?” you asked softly.

“Yeah.” he whispered.

He leaned against the sofa with you. You reached your hand to him and he held it. “With me.” you said.

“Yeah.” he smiled.

He still held your hand as he laid next to you, and let his arm fall over your stomach as you held hands. You turned over and burrowed your head in his chest. He smiled and pulled the blanket over you. He kissed your forehead.

Home wasn’t a place that you lived.

You had searched for satisfaction in yourself. You didn’t find any pure joy or enjoyment. You didn’t love anything. You hadn’t had the chance to.

Home is a place you find.

You found it in his arms.

Remember: Josh Dun fanfic

A/N: Just a reminder that I’ve gotten all of your requests, it’s just a matter of finding the time to write and post them. But don’t worry, I promise I’ll get to them soon! Love you guys! xoxo

Anonymous said:
Hey! May I request a Josh Dun imagine? Maybe like where the reader gets drunk and they come home to Josh and the reader’s all like “kiss me” and Josh does but he stops her before they do anything else bc Josh wouldn’t take advantage of the reader and it’s all cute and shiz lol. Love your writing! :) <3

*gender neutral

Bright lights, fancy awards, elegant attire, loud applause, crisp champagne, a crowd full of people, and your two best friends, it was a night like no other. Ever since Tyler and Josh’s new album hit the top of the charts, they had been busy as hell. Whether award shows, parties, interviews, concerts, touring, music video filming, or just traveling on the road, they always seemed to be the center of attention. It didn’t surprise you that they had won another award, but you were surprised when they decided to go to the after party. Usually they would bow out, decide to go back to the tour bus, and instead, blast music, eat cereal, and do their own little thing. They were never usually ones for parties. But however, winning an award and just finishing tour, going to a grand scale celebrity party must’ve sounded like the perfect way to celebrate. “Come on, y/n,” Josh insisted. “It’ll be fun. We don’t even have to drink or anything, we can just go there, talk to some people, dance for a little bit, that’s all.”

“Just a couple hours,” Tyler agreed.

“I never said I wasn’t going,” you narrowed your eyes. “I’m just double checking that this is really what you guys want to do.”

“Why? You doubt me and my partying abilities?” Tyler playfully gasped, putting a hand to his chest and acting deeply offended. “Believe me, y/n, I can bust a move like nobody knows.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m just making sure none of you will chicken out on me halfway through the night.”

“Never,” Tyler shook his head. “I’m on top of the world right now, and I don’t think I want to come down anytime soon. How about you, Josh?”

“Huh?” Josh lifted his head from his phone. “I was just scrolling through the group chat. The party starts in a couple minutes. I’d start heading over now.”

“Teenagers and their phones,” Tyler clicked his tongue.

“I’m researching,” Josh laughed. “I have to find the address somehow.”

It wasn’t long before you guys had arrived, and sure enough, it was just as you had imagined it. There was a plethora of people crowding the dance floor where a professional DJ and live band were playing music, a kitchen equipped with a bar tender serving all sorts of drinks and foods ranging anywhere from a five-foot-tall chocolate fountain to gourmet French fries, a longue where people were smoking and snorting who knows what kind of drugs, and of course, the usual pool table in the corner. “They went all out,” you shouted to Josh over the music as Tyler led you both towards the kitchen.

“Typical party,” he shrugged, putting an arm around you as you approached the bar tender. You and Josh were just friends, but you had to admit, you had a tiny crush on him, and when he put his arm around your shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel a small tug on your heartstrings. You tried to ignore your stupid feelings and took a seat next to Josh before asking for a drink.

“I’ll have a tequila,” you ordered. Josh eyed you strangely. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he tried acting casual. “I think I’m just going to stick to Red Bull tonight.”

“You should have at least one drink,” you argued, thanking the bar tender with a nod as he handed you a glass and you downed a shot. “Loosen up, celebrate, have some fun.”

“I’m already having fun,” he chuckled, popping open the tab of his can before taking a sip. “As long as I’m with you, I’m enjoying myself.”

“Flirt,” you smirked, trying to ignore the blush in your cheeks and ordering another shot. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“Somebody’s going to have to drive us home, remember?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Tyler already agreed to do that on the ride here,” you pointed out. “Here, I’ll order a margarita and you just have a sip or two.”

“Y/n,” Josh began to protest, but you were already waving at the bar tender to hit you up. You started on your next drink and Josh took a deep breath. “Maybe you should pace yourself a little bit. There’s still a lot of the night to go.”

“I’ll be just fine,” you rolled your eyes. That’s when Josh looked down at his phone. “What’s the matter?”

“Mark Hoppus just got here,” Josh explained. “He wants to congratulate me on the award and some stuff, talk for a little bit, catch up. Is it okay if I leave you here?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“No more drinks,” Josh narrowed his eyes. “Not until I get back anyways, got it? It will only take a couple minutes. Look, Tyler’s right over there talking to Pete Wentz if you need somebody.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you groaned. “Go talk to Mark. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

“Okay,” Josh complied hesitantly before sliding off his seat, gulping down the rest of his Red Bull, and then heading off to find his friend.

The rest of the night was basically a blur. You remember someone sitting down beside you, either Joe Trohman or Brendon Urie, and they had convinced you to have a couple more drinks. The bar tender had eventually cut you off because you had reached your limit for the night. One of your favorite songs came on and you stumbled onto the dance floor, slurring out the lyrics noisily, a random stranger picking you up off the floor, and then Tyler coming to save you. “Woah there,” Tyler steadied you. “You’re a mess.”

“Where’s Josh?” your incomprehensible attempt at speaking tumbled out of your mouth.

“Hmm?” Tyler cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I think he went back. He couldn’t find you.”

“He left?” you slurred out.

“Yeah,” Tyler nodded. “To his hotel room. It’s getting late anyways. You should probably go back too. He’ll take care of you, I’ll leave you with him for the night. How about that?”

“I’d like that,” you responded happily.

“Goodness gracious, y/n, you’re reeking of alcohol,” Tyler frowned. “How much did you drink?”

“Just a little,” you replied.

“Uh huh…” he murmured. “Well how about we get you home?”

“Is Josh at home?” you sputtered out excitedly, your mind nothing but a jumbled mess of thoughts.

“He’s at the hotel, yeah,” Tyler answered. “But come on. We’ve got to get you in the car and then drive there too.” It took a while for him to drag you out to the driveway and help you into your seat, but eventually you were sitting shotgun, buckled in, and somewhat sane as Tyler drove down the road.

“Can I talk to Josh?” you wondered.

“Of course you can,” Tyler laughed. “We’ll see him in a little while.”

“No,” you whined impatiently. “Right now.”

“Right now?” he raised his eyebrows, gaze flickering from the road to you. “Uh, sure. You can call him if you want.”

“I can?” you asked eagerly.

“Sure you can,” he chuckled. “I mean, we’ll see him in just a couple minutes, but if you have to talk to him so bad, you can go right ahead.”

You fumbled for your phone in your pocket before pulling it out, somehow by miracle able to properly call Josh on the first try. The phone rang several times before he answered. “Hey y/n,” he greeted. “Sorry, I got kind of sleepy and I asked Tyler to take you home. How are you doing?”

“I’m so happy,” you sighed, slurring your words. “You should’ve been there.”

“Oh gosh,” Josh groaned. “Did you drink some more?”

“Just a little,” you insisted.

“A lot,” Tyler piped up.

“Don’t listen to him,” you argued. “I’m just a bit tipsy, that’s all.”

“You want to stay with me tonight?” Josh offered. “In case you get sick or something? I’m sure you won’t be so happy in a couple hours when all that junk starts to ruin your system.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Tyler explained loud enough for Josh to hear. “If that’s alright with you.”

“It’s cool,” Josh replied. “You’ll be sticking with me tonight, y/n.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you grinned.

“Don’t get too excited,” Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re probably going to have a killer hangover tomorrow morning.”

When you rolled into the parking lot of the hotel, Tyler could barely get you standing on your two feet. “I’m kind of dizzy,” you admitted. “Maybe that’s why my feet don’t work.”

“I’m dizzy just looking at you,” Tyler laughed. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and to Josh’s room.”

“How do I walk if my feet don’t work?” you pouted.

“Your feet work just fine,” Tyler sighed. “You just need to try to use them.”

“I want Josh,” you insisted, swaying a couple times before Tyler stood you upright.

“I’m about to give up on you,” Tyler glared playfully. “Don’t make me call him down here to carry you.”

“I’d like that,” you giggled cheerfully. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Y/n, you are so drunk,” Tyler rolled his eyes.

“I want to see Josh,” you complained as he tugged you towards the door of the hotel, shoving you towards the elevator. “I love Josh.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Tyler smirked. “You don’t have to be drunk for me to figure that out.”

“I love him so much,” you repeated.

“Well you better behave yourself,” Tyler narrowed your eyes, helping you out of the elevator and supporting you as you ambled down the hallway to Josh’s hotel room. When Josh opened the door, he stared at you, widening his eyes.

“Oh geez,” he muttered. “I thought I told you not to drink anymore!”

“You got it from here?” Tyler asked, pained look on his face. “I’m dead tired. Y/n’s been quite the handful.”

“Hey!” you snapped. “I’ve been an angel!”

“Have you now?” Josh chuckled.

“I’m going to turn in for the night,” Tyler sighed. “You have fun with that one.”

“I’ll try,” Josh teased. He lugged you into the room and sat you on the couch. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“No!” you whined, tugging at his arm when he tried to walk away. “I want to stay with you.”

“You want me to stay out here for a little while until you fall asleep?” he wondered.

“I want to fall asleep with you,” you corrected. “Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” he rolled his eyes.

“You’re cute all the time,” you insisted.

“Sure,” Josh laughed. “Come on, how about you join me and we can go to my bed?”

“Bed?” you raised your eyebrows and grinned.

“Stop it,” he shook his head. “I mean so we can sleep.”

“You want to sleep with me?” you smiled slyly. “Joshua Dun.”

“You’re just being silly,” he argued. “Come on, we’re going to go sleep. In bed. Now.”

“Whatever you say,” you shrugged, goofy grin still plastered on your face as he just laughed and scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the hotel bed and before tucking you in. “Bridal style.”

“That’s right,” he chuckled. “I don’t want you falling on your face, it’s best if I carry you.”

“You carry me like a bride,” you yawned happily. “Does that mean we’re going to get married?”

“Sure,” he joked. “If you want.”

“That would make me so happy,” you sighed, turning over to face him, scooching closer to him underneath the sheets. “You and me, together forever.”

“You’re so drunk,” he laughed. “I bet you won’t even remember any of this tomorrow morning.”

“Is that when our wedding is?” you tilted your head. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, why not,” Josh decided.

“Can I ask you something?” you frowned. “It’s important.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Anything you want.”

“Can you kiss me?” you inquired, hopeful eyes gazing up at his. “Please?”

“Uh…” Josh stared at you for a second, debating it. “I’d love to, really, but I think you’d rather have me kiss you when you’re sober. So you remember, you know?”

“So you want to?” your eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’d love to. But I’d also want you to remember.”

“Maybe I don’t need to remember,” you offered. “Maybe it can be our secret. Just tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Josh raised an eyebrow, still contemplating it in his head. You were being awfully tempting, and those lips looked so soft and sweet, but he knew it was wrong. He shouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t be comfortable with sober. Much less, he had just confessed that he wanted to kiss you! He was crazy! What if you remembered that tomorrow morning? What if it was just your drunk self-talking? Questions swirled around in his brain and doubt began to eat away at him, anxiety slowly seeping into his brain.

“Please,” you begged. “Come on, Josh. Just one kiss won’t hurt.”

“I guess it won’t,” he agreed shyly.

“Then come on,” you insisted, staring at him. You lowered your voice to barely a whisper. “Just kiss me.” He leaned in and rested a hand behind your head, pulling you close and kissing your lips gently, lingering a moment before pulling back, opening his eyes and staring at you.

“I love you,” he breathed, still lost in your eyes, trying to figure out what he had just done, much less, said.

“I love you too,” you grinned. “Come on, let’s not stop there.” You leaned in for another kiss but he shook his head, closing his eyes tight before opening them again.

“Not tonight,” he took a deep breath. “Maybe when you’re sober, but I um, I shouldn’t have done that y/n. You’re not thinking right.”

“I’m thinking perfectly fine!” you rolled your eyes. “Please Josh, I want more.”

“So do I,” he mumbled. “But I really don’t think we should do this now.”

“Josh,” you stated his name and reached forward to grab his shirt, snaking your hands down his chest and trying to tug it up. “We can’t stop there.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “We can. We should.”

“I want this off,” you whined, tugging up his shirt again but he just laughed nervously, tugging the hem of his shirt back down to his waist.

“Let’s try to keep our clothes on, okay?” he raised his eyebrows. “I think it’s best you get some sleep, clear your head, and we’ll try this again some other time.”

“Not another time,” you complained. “Now.”

“I know, but we can’t,” he insisted. “It’s not right.”

“Didn’t it feel so good though?” you argued. “Your lips on mine? Being so close? Just the two of us, in this bed, together? Didn’t you feel something?”

“I did,” he nodded slowly. “However I think you just aren’t in the right circumstances to do any of that right now. You probably don’t even understand half of the things you’re saying. How about we cuddle and fall asleep, is that okay?”

“I want more than cuddles,” you persisted.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “But please, I’m not going to argue with you anymore. Let’s just go to sleep. Please?”

“Okay,” you mumbled.

“Thank you,” he sighed. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight sweetheart.”

A couple minutes passed before you fell asleep, eyes closed, wrapped in Josh’s arms. You both laid there in silence, a mixture of soft snores, quiet heartbeats, and shallow breathing. That was until the sun filtered through the blinds and there was a churning, horrible, miserable feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you stumbled out of bed, escaping his arms and staggering to the bathroom, flinging open the door and retching all the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. Vomiting wasn’t a pretty sight, especially during a horrific hangover, and you felt absolutely embarrassed you had caused the mess in Josh’s hotel bathroom. You heard him stirring in bed, calling your name, and your face instantly turned red. Your head was spinning, a terrible migraine overtaking you, and sure enough, you found yourself puking up even more. You felt Josh kneel beside you, rubbing small gentle circles on your back, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “Shit, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “Don’t apologize.”

“I feel miserable,” you mumbled and he frowned, handing you a towel to clean your mouth and flushing the toilet, helping you up and giving you a hug.

“I told you not to drink anymore last night,” he reminded.

“Did I?” you wondered, watching his eyes soften as he released the embrace.

“You don’t remember anything… do you?” he whispered.

“Why? Did uh, did something happen?” you looked around and started to realize how strange it was that you slept in Josh’s bed, he was cuddling you this morning, and you supposedly got absolutely wasted last night. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, nothing happened. I just let you stay here for the night because I was afraid you might get sick. I’m glad I did, I mean, I wouldn’t want you all alone with a horrible hangover.”

“Thank you,” you stuttered out. “Goddammit I feel absolutely miserable.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water and some Advil,” he decided. “Just take it easy, okay? When you’re done you can just lay on the bed. Got it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem,” he gave a small smile. “I just really hope you feel better soon.”

You took a wet washcloth and wiped your face, taking a deep breath, then heading to the bed, rolling underneath the sheets. Josh approached you, handing you a cup of water and a couple Advil, which you downed and thanked him before resting your head on the pillow. “Can you, uh, stay with me? Maybe?” you asked shyly. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

“Sure,” he replied, pulling up the covers and lying beside you. Without thinking, he put an arm around you, pulling you closer, and you smiled. “Uh, is this okay? If I do this?”

“It’s more than okay,” you laughed. “I just wish I didn’t feel so shitty so I could enjoy it more. It’s not often I get cuddles.”

“You got plenty last night,” he chuckled.

“About that…” your voice trailed off. “What um, what did I do exactly? Last night?”

“You were fine,” Josh reassured. “I kept you under control. Tyler made sure you behaved.”

“Behaved?” you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” he smirked.

“W-what did I do?” you stammered.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I mean, obviously you don’t really remember. And when you were drunk you promised it would be our little secret.”

“Josh-” a worried, embarrassed, scared look spread across your face.

“Don’t worry,” he insisted. “Much to your disliking, I made sure we kept all our clothes on.”

“What does that mean?” you grew quiet, twice as self-conscious now.

“You really want to know?” Josh raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I sort of do,” you admitted. “I mean, if I’m as rambunctious as you say I was.”

“Maybe I should tell you when you feel better,” he decided.

“I want to know,” you argued. “Now. Please?”

“You were getting sort of, um, suggestive last night,” he explained. “You wanted to do stuff, but I told you no cause you were absolutely wasted. You got all mopey and sad and kept persisting and we uh, we kissed, once. But then I made you go to bed.”

“We kissed?” your face turned bright red. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry, look I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m fine. I just thought that um, you might want to know.”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “So… was it a good kiss?”

“Maybe you would’ve remembered if you weren’t so drunk,” he rolled his eyes jokingly.

“No really,” you persisted. “Or was it awkward?”

“Maybe you should find out for yourself,” he suggested.

“What do you mean?” you narrowed your eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he whispered. You stared at him for a second before capturing him in a kiss, pressing his lips on his and feeling him pull you closer, eyes closed, mouths opened, tongues moving in syncopation, his body so close to yours. When you pulled away you both opened your eyes, staring at each other, and you blinked twice.

“Did that really just happen?” you wondered, gasping for breath.

“Yeah,” Josh breathed, eyes staring into yours. “It did.”

“No, like last night,” you clarified, taking a deep breath and still unable to move your gaze away from his. “Did that happen?”

“Not as intimate, no,” he shook his head. “And uh, I don’t know about you, but I liked this one a lot better.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “Hopefully I’ll remember.”

“You think, uh, we should do it again?” he hinted. “Just in case?”

“Josh,” you laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any of this anytime soon.”

“Do you still feel horrible?” he tilted his head to the side.

“I feel much better,” you replied. “But like you said, I think another kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

“You know you didn’t have to be drunk to kiss me, y/n,” Josh reminded. “I would’ve kissed you sober just fine. All you had to do is ask.”

“I was scared,” you admitted. “I mean, hell, what’s Tyler going to think?”

“I think he already knows,” Josh laughed. “You told him you were in love with me last night.”

“I did?” you widened your eyes. “What else happened that you never told me about?”

“You wanted my shirt off,” he added.

“I still do,” you teased.

“I’m pretty sure I can make that happen,” he gave a sly smile.

“Yeah?” you grinned.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“I think I found the perfect cure to a killer hangover,” you chuckled.

“What? Kissing?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “You.”

A Couple Minutes- King George III X Reader

request from anon:  no King George? :c Still a great blog though! Keep up the good work! Love your blog

a/n: thank you ???



You felt someone tap your shoulder and you turned around, ready to smile and nod and engage in yet another conversation with either a foreign diplomat, another White House employee, or someone else that was connected to politics in someway.

This was the second inaugural ball you had attended for the night and people were eager to meet you, since you were the White House press secretary for President Washington’s first four year term, and with him winning the election again, his second four year term as well.

You smiled as you saw British Ambassador to the U.S, George Frederick the third - better known to the White House staff as King George the third.

“Mr. Frederick, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You smiled.

“Please, call me George. But since you asked, isn’t this your tenth inaugural ball you’ve attended this evening?” He joked and you laughed.

“It feels like it but the reporters will not be happy if I can’t give them every single detail from every ball.”

“Isn’t that the president’s or the first lady’s job?”

“Would you like to tell them that?"He laughed and shook his head.

"Can I offer you another drink?” He asked as he signaled the bartender and you shook your head.

“Like I said, if I am going to be asked about all ten inaugural balls I am going to have to attend, I need to be fully present here and not have a hangover tomorrow.

"He smiled, ordering another drink.

"It’s for me, don’t worry. The press are going to be asking about the hungover British ambassador tomorrow.”

“Just don’t do anything that’ll make my job harder.”

“Such as flirting with you?”

“Ha! I can see the headline already. White House Press Secretary and British Ambassador: Close Friends or More?”

He smiled charmingly and he took your hand in his.

“I imagine the president wouldn’t be too pleased that they are focusing on his press secretary rather than his foreign policy.”

You pulled your hand away.

“You are quite correct.”

You felt someone tap your shoulder and you looked at the secret service man.

“The president is moving to the third ball of the night, should I arrange transport for you as well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Of course." You turned back towards the British Ambassador, only to see that he had left, presumably to go talk with other foreign diplomats. 

 You started walking out of the building before you heard someone call your name.

You turned around and you saw George there, pushing through politicians to get to you.

"So much for not making a scene.” You joked.

“I’m sorry but… can’t the First Lady tell the press how the inaugural balls are- or isn’t there reporters here?” He asked.

“In all honesty, I’m just moral support for the chief of staff, who is currently fighting with the secretary of the treasury. I can’t have them trash talking each other in the press because that would most likely result in the vacancy of two positions or the murder of one and the other in jail. Speaking of, the treasury secretary is motioning me over so I hate to cut this short.” You told him, taking a deep breath and then you made your way over to Alexander Hamilton.

“If you called me over to ask me to help hide Burr’s body, the answer is no." 

"I’ll keep that in mind but seriously? King George?” He made a face, laughing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said firmly. 

“You like him!”“Shut up, there are press practically crawling around here.”

“So it’s true?”

“Oh shut up I didn’t tease you when you met Eliza.”

“Yes you did.” Eliza reminded you and you shushed her playfully.

“And here I was hoping you both had forgotten.”

“Hardly. But now that you’re in love-”

“I’m not in love.”

“-we can tease you about it.” He finished, smirking.

“We’ve only talked for a couple minutes.”

“That’s what I told you when I met Eliza, isn’t it? We only talked a couple minutes.”


You stormed into the conference room and you shut the door, glaring at Alex.

Everyone in the meeting was staring at you and Alex looked like he didn’t know what he did to warrant this level of anger.

“Everyone except Hamilton, out.” You said through gritted teeth. Hamilton nodded and dismissed everyone.

Once everyone was out and the door was shut, you turned on him.

“What did I do?” He asked you and you shook your head in disbelief.

“Apparently, Maria Reynolds. And I had to find out from the press.” You shook your head in disbelief.

He paled.

“She-”

“She came forward to the press. And they bombarded me with questions. I learned that my best friends husband had an affair because of the press. You have a son!” You hissed and he applied pressure to his temple.

“I need to talk to Eliza.”

“Do you want a career in politics when this is over? Because you made a choice by not telling her right away. You have to talk to the press if you want a chance at ever having a career in politics. We would need to start congressional hearings to make sure that you aren’t guilty of embezzlement-  they already found out that you paid her husband so that he wouldn’t tell your wife and you could keep on having sex with her.”

“How can you spin this?”

“You want me to spin the story so she’s the villain?”

“We were just talking for a couple minutes and then-”

“No. I’m not slutshaming her and believe me if I didn’t care at all about my job, I would be slutshaming you. I’m not your friend right now but I could be so much worse of an enemy.”

“And I am one of your superior’s. Spin the story or I want your letter of resignation on my desk by tomorrow. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good, now go home. I can handle this.”

You stormed angrily out of the conference room and you went over to the British embassy, knocking on George’s door.

George let you in and he watched you sit down on the couch and slump over.

“Bad day?”

“Hamilton- ha! He has the nerve to ask me to spin a story to slutshame someone who probably doesn’t even deserve it!”

He turned on the TV and he changed the channel from the news, which was reporting on the lawn of the Reynold’s home to Doctor Who. 

You rested your head on his shoulder.

“He wants me to spin the story or to quit.”

“What are you leaning towards?” He asked gently.

“Quitting.”

“We could move to England together. We could have a life together, if you would want that.” He looked at you expectantly and it took you a moment to realize he was actually asking.

You thought of everyone here, everyone you would be leaving behind but for someone that you loved. For someone that loved you. You thought of the president, him urging you to find and sit under your own vine and fig tree. You thought of Angelica, her exclaiming that this is your chance at happiness and she’ll be damned if you don’t take it.

You thought of Alexander and the mess he made.

The mess you needed to clean up, not for Alexander.

No, not for him.

But for Eliza, Maria, Angelica and the President. 

“Not yet." 

Late Drunk Night Encounters

Word Count: 632

A/M: This is a complete shit show and super rushed but I just had to write it. It was inspired by this audio post, and this anon ask (thanks anon). And okay if you’re new here I want to be drunk with both Harry and Niall so bad, so this is an idea I’ve had in the back of my mind, and I’m definitely revisiting again at some point for sure. Either way, hope you still like it, tell me if you do Xx
Also if you like reading things, I’m working on a series of stories inspired by the songs on Harry’s album. Check it out ;) 

H.S Album Series Masterlist | Ask


You opened your eyes to hear the specified ringtone coming from your cell phone. You didn’t even need to look at it to know who was at the other end of the call. You thought for a second to ignore it, but in a sleepy daze  you decided to pick up the phone just so the ringing could end. 

“What do you want Harry?”

“HIIII” he said from the other end. 

You rolled your eyes and knew he was drunk calling you. You just hung up hoping he would leave you alone to sleep but you heard the phone ring again. 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you picked up the phone again, “Why did you hang up on me?” He said in almost a tired and whiny tone in his voice. 

You sighed, “Because it’s 3 in the fucking morning, I’m sleeping and you are drunk.”

You heard a drunken chuckle through the phone which you already knew would contradict his next words, “I’m not drunk” which was followed by more chuckles, “Okay, maybe, maybe I’ve had a few beverages.”

Keep reading