Space | Voltron x Reader Oneshots

112. James- Bottom's Up (Part One)

>:)

everyone's 21+ just so you know

there'll be three parts

This was originally a trashed Voltron book, so I guess it's time for this one to shine.

Also sis, this is almost the end oml

hhhhh i don't wanna abandon my baby book

ugh omg this was like my first full book i've put a lot of effort into and i'm glad to have y'all around with me for the ride :D

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Once I stepped foot on the property, only a couple meters away from the door, I could clearly smell the alcohol, hormones, and drugs from inside the house. Scrunching up my nose, I hesitantly rung the doorbell, trying not to think about all the colors that were zooming around in my brain from the sheer scent of just... everything, at the moment.

I had just arrived at the so-called "party" with hordes of drunk teenagers, all pushed up against each other as they bounced and danced to the beat that was almost shrieking through the house. The aroma of smoke, sweat, and vodka filled the air, foggy wisps dancing in the air, accentuating the vibrancy of the colors. The moment was ruined, however as hazy, less bright pigments formed, My lip curled up in disgust as he saw a couple making out on a couch, cigars in-hand.

Taking steps toward the hospitality of a quieter, less murky bathroom, I soon found that someone was already occupying it. The air was cleaner, so I'd closed the door, accidentally trapping the stranger and me in the smaller area. He looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow, hazel eyes bearing into mine, a small cowlick sticking up at the front of his slicked back hair.

"What are you doing?" he asked, nostrils flaring. "I thought I told everyone to stay out of here." I was taken aback, slightly offended. Who did this guy think he was? He looked at me up and down, assessing my features like a predator would to its prey. He gave an indignant sniff, and looked back down at his phone.

"Whatever. At least you don't have any booze or weed." I rolled my eyes at his quick judgement. Stupid brunette Draco Malfoy. I took a seat in the covered toilet and pulled out my phone, texting Lance.

Why the hell did you invite me here? You know about my synesthesia! The smell of weed and cigs make trash color flares, dude! A response got sent back almost immediately, a grey text bubble appearing.

Sorry! I forgot! Agh, please don't kill me :(((( Just stay in the bathroom for a bit, and I'll be there in like, an hour! Love you!

Groaning, I warily looked over at the brunette and set my phone down, observing his "post-Instagram story" face, watching the constant twitch of his nose as he furiously typed something on the keyboard, silently muttering to himself in a scornful manner. I could barely make out what he was saying.

"Stupid... Kinky Gatorade... Kill Nadiya." It was my turn to be judgemental, hearing the famous sports drink brand sound like a sex toy, an image of someone rubbing themselves on a giant bottle of Gatorade immediately come to mind. I tried to get the image out of my head, disgusted with both myself and the male occupying the room along with me.

"I wanna get out of here..." I murmured, putting myself. "Why did Lance invite me?" Suddenly, the brunette turned to me.

"Wait, you said Lance? As in McClain?" I glanced his way and nodded, eyes trained on the target.

"Yeah. You know him?" He scoffed and gestured to himself.

"What, the person who invited me to this god-awful party? Hell yeah I know him." I chuckled and stood up, holding out a hand.

"(Y/N)." He took my hand and shook it, sparing me a side-smile.

"James. James Griffin."

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Soon enough, we were out of the bathroom, as someone had emptied their insides in the porcelain. James and I sat by the punch table, not drinking, since it was obviously spiked.

"How'd you end up here?" I asked, drinking from a bottle of water I'd gotten out of the garage. James ran a hand through his hair and recollected the night's memories.

"Well I initially came along to tag behind a couple friends. We're all groupies. But I lost them, and wound up in the bathroom, since I don't like the smell of weed and booze that much." I laughed and patted his shoulder, eyes bearing into his.

"I hear ya. All my friends are at the dance floor, and I don't want to dance." Gesturing to the living room, James noticed the heads of five particular people, all bobbing and weaving through the crowd as they moved their bodies to the beat, both subconsciously and consciously, sober and intoxicated. I sighed, pouring some punch, and handed a cup to James.

"Might as well, right?" I smiled, knocking the red plastic cups together. "Don't get too carried away, though. Wouldn't want to see the non-sober James Griffin." He smiled back and took a swig, puckering his lips.

"Jesus Christ, that's sour. Oh my god," he gasped, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "What, did they spike the drink or add ten limes to it?" I laughed and kept on sipping the punch, treating the un-sweet, semi-bitter drink like water.

"It's normal, at these parties. Either water or lemonade that has no sugar, basically. It's a McClain specialty." Our conversation was interrupted minutes later by a stumbling blackette with a blue hairband, glasses dangling loosely from the bridge of her nose. I could smell the spiked fruit juice from her breath, and she absolutely reeked of beer.

"Heyyyy... you guys," she slurred, hiccuping while dragging herself on James's arm. "You wanna... dance with meee?" I looked at James, whose facial expression morphed into pity, disgust, and embarrassment. He sighed and pulled her up, steadying the almost unconscious, drunk girl.

"(Y/N), this is Nadiya Rizave. She's... one of the friends I came with. As you may or may not have guessed, she loves to drink. A lot. Especially into beer. She did a keg-stand once. Never again." I chuckled a bit at the last statement and helped to haul her up, as we went back into the tiny bathroom once more.

"Let her sleep for a bit, she's probably gonna hurl once she gets up." I agreed, and sat down on the closed porcelain lid, James on the sink, and with Nadiya groaning while sleeping in the bathtub.

This was going to be a long night.