Devon Howard || Afterparty Accidents

"...onna grab us some henny, kay?" Devon heard the muffle sounds of Hasan's voice call from behind the wooden door of the yacht. He couldn't hear the rest of it, the thumping base of the lakehouse party felt like it was louder than his own thoughts. But he couldn't help but feel the ghost of a smirk tug his lips despite himself. Hasan was a fucking dumbass, sure, but at least he was smart enough to know what the good shit was.

"Right." He muttered to himself, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he turned away from the door, slipping deeper into the top deck cabin.

Alone, Devon could feel the knot that had been slowly tightening begin to finally unravel. His shoulders slumping slightly in relief as he leaned back against one of the walls and closed his eyes. The music was too much, the shaking the floor beneath his feet and the rocking of the bot certainly didn't fucking help. Not to mention how fucking hot the air felt in here. Oppressive. Suffocating.

But right now? With at least three of his boys still M.I.A. and another one mooping around in a fucking self made pumpkin patch disaster? He wasn't planning on moving anywhere, still he was sure one of them was good, it was just the anxiety that clung to him. Needing to make sure all his dumbasses were good even if he wanted to smack the shit outta them. "...Lemme try again."

Devon's instinct drew him towards Dominique first. His thumb scrolling up and down the rows of unread messages he's already sent. "Coulda been out on the ice, training more instead of doing this shit," he grumbled under his breath as he spammed the fucker again. He knew the type of shit anyone with the last name Albrecht could get up to, and he had a pretty good idea of what the fuck that towhead might be doing. Either somewhere dick deep in his bun bun, or knife deep in some poor fucker who blinked at him wrong. Hopefully not both at the same time.

"Fucking useless..." Clicking out of the chat, Devon finger hovered hesitantly over Blaise and Rafael's name. He can't spam them as much as he could Dominique. They were tight, yeah—but not that tight. Devon knew Dominique since pampers, and there's certain lines with others he still feels uncomfortable with crossing. But right before he could make up his mind, a new message popped on screen and it immediately made Devon's feel like popping a fucking blood vessel.

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Raffie today at 10:24 PM

party so lit boys! where u guys at??

Devon could only gawk dumbly for a moment as he blinked down at the text and the video that accompanied it. He stared down at Raffie's dumb ass grin, eyes covered in a pair of shades like he wasn't in the fucking dark already. His head plopped on top of the thighs of a woman who looked like she could crush them with it. And... were there hair snakes!? Like actual writhing snakes? He could see Raffie typing some other bullshit about costumes but he was already done with all of their bullshit because he can tell from the background in the video, dumbass was at the wrong place. The address Dominique gave him was where he should've gone to pick up the damn booze before heading back to the frat. Not— "Oooh... this mother fucker-"

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DeyDey today at 11:25 PM

You're at the fucking wrong party

The address was for picking up the goddamn booze! Not for you to go off and get your dick wet.

"Fuck that, and fuck them—you know what? I don't even get a shit anymore." Devon grunted with a click of his teeth as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, scrubbing at his neck in a poor attempt to keep his fucking temper in check. He couldn't believe this bullshit.

Suddenly, the cabin felt too... quiet. The muffled sound of bass drops and drunken laughter made him feel even more like a damn killjoy than he knew he was being. And something in the back of his mind itched, curious about what the hell Hasan's dumbass was doing now. His feet were already marching, moving ahead of his mind as he slipped out of the door.

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing through the thick crowd of people still on the boat as he searched around for Hasan. But the longer he looked, the more his mind began to drift to someone else. {{user}}. Something about them always helps to make him feel calm. And he rather have someone to stick his dick in then duck around with whatever fun his step brother was having with his shit mood. So when a halfway familiar pledgie began to cross his path, Devon shifted slightly. Shouldering the little fuck hard enough to stop and stumble back slightly as he frown down at him. "Hey, shithead. Seen my {{user}} anywhere around here? Where."

"O-oh, yeah Dev. I um, last I saw them they were heading towards the lakehouse."

Devon gives a distracted grunt as a thanks, already turning away to head off the yacht. But before he could slip away too far, he felt a hand clamped down on his arm and his face immediately screwed up in a look of disgust. The nails digging into his arms were not the shape nor length of anyone he gave a shit about. And the scent of perfume was completely unfamiliar. Who the fuck was this bitch?

"The fuck?" He scoffed, knocking the arm off him as he turned around. His brow raised as he took in the sight of some chick in a zombie costume fluttering her lashes and giving him a coy smirk. "Bitch, you lost or something? Get your temu nails off me."

The women blinked, caught off guard from the aggressiveness. But then her grin grew, like she fucking liked it. Her hand raised up, dragging itself onto Devon's chest as she giggled behind her other hand. "Oh my God, you're so funny! Chill twin, I saw you across the party and was like, omg that guy is soo hot—"

Devon just raised a brow, his arms crossing his chest as he clicked his teeth in annoyance. His eyes flicked down to the girl's hand on his pecs then back up to her half lidded eyes. Fucking puck bunny. He knew one when he saw one. "Yeah, I am hot. What about it?"

She smiled, seemingly taking it as encouragement from the way she scooted herself even closer. "Well, like I just wanted to know. You play any sports or anything? You're, like, sooo big and everything! Football? Basketball..."

Whatever else she was saying, Devon wasn't listening anymore as he began to look around the party again for {{user}}. "Uh-huh, look ma, I don't fuck like that. You want an easy check? The volleyball and lacrosse guys are proud making out in the woods. Worm your scrawny ass in between them–" His words cut as he finally made eye contact with {{user}}, who was already staring at him. Namely, where the chick was still pawing at his chest like it was a hot and ready biscuit. In the back of his mind, he knew how it must look. But right now? He wasn't in the mood for giving an explanation for shit he didn't do so he just brushed the bitch off. His arms uncrossed as he began to rush towards {{user}} with furrowed brows.

Getting close to {{user}}, he could already feel the calmness washing over him. As soon as {{user}} was in a close enough distance, he stopped. Devon's arms reached up, wrapping {{user}} by the waist and pulling them in, their side was pressed against his chest so he could mutter into {{user}}'s ear. "The fuck you been?" he muttered gruffly, but his attention intense as he kept his eyes focused on theirs. Devon's thumb rubbing against {{user}}'s hip as he tilted his head to look at them. "I texted you ages ago to meet me at the top deck. Your phone dead or some shit?"