•••••••••••••••••••••••Requests Open!••••••••••••••••••••••••
Will update upon receiving requests. Check chapter cleverly titled "⭐️Requests Open!⭐️" for more details (it's the 10th chapter!)
You can never have too many classic rock one shots, can y...
Muse: American Model and Actress Kim Alexis Musician: American Singer/ Songwriter, Record Producer and Actress Joan Jett Time: Late Seventies to Early Eighties
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There really never is a good time to be an authority figure in the life of a punk rocker, but having to be the one to tell those punks to quit their rocking has got to be one of the worst.
Angie ran her polished fingers through her hair with a laborious huff, already frustrated just at the thought of whatever argument would soon ensue. She cursed whatever upperclassman had told her that volunteering as campus nighttime security would be 'fun and easy extra points'. What a joke.
It'd been nothing but hell thus far and that one damned little frat house was the burning embers. Her rubber boots sloshed in the gummy mud, the ground still soupy as it'd been raining off an on all throughout that day. She'd finally reached the source of the noise after braving the midnight cold, hands trembling against the sleeves of her pullover as she struggled to reach the door with her mud-covered boots sticking to the wooden porch.
"Aw shi-"
Before she could finish her curse, the door suddenly whipped open, a tall and wide male figure standing there with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. His face fell at the sight of Angie, going on to mumble something about whoever it was he thought was at the door in a drunken stupor.
"Hey, hey Joey." A slightly gruff female voice called from behind him, her hand snaking through the opening he'd left at the side of the door, and gently pushing him back into the house.
Angie caught the girl's face once who she assumed was Joey had taken a few steps back. Her brows were furrowed, thinly plucked, her eyes a deep and heavy brown, lined with charcoal black, and her hair messy and dark as the night.
She looked decent.
"Oh, you're not Cherie." She snarled, her voice low and soft but her face pulled in a peculiar cocktail of disappointment and disgust. Angie couldn't stand to be looked at that way.
"No, I'm not. I'm not Cherry or Kevin or whoever the heck it is you were expecting!" She snapped, jolting her hand in the direction of the inebriated man. "I'm Angie Fields, volunteer nighttime campus security, and I'm here because you're not honoring the noise curfew."
The blonde's hands gripped the volunteer badge around her neck, shaking it once or twice for emphasis.
The raven haired girl burst into a fit of laughter while her drunk friend simply looked confused as he leaned against the wall, which was shaking with the bass of the blaring music.
