#(i was a bartender yet i still fall for it every time but what can i do when she was so sweet)

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

Should I make a sandwich if its a cocktail's made me crave it and not hunger made me crave it?

[marvelouslizzie]

Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard. 

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order. 

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features. 

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right? 

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved. 

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious. 

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.” 

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that. 

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

*

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?” 

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck. 

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

 “That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth. 

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you. 

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess. 

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too. 

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

[itneverendshere]

all you've got to do is want something and then let yourself have it - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

this is a combination of a few requests: "hella see jj instantly jumping into uncle jay mode when autumn comes (...)  + "she's just so small against rafe and it's halloween where jj and monica and milo come stop by, and she's just so srunchy in her halloween onesie" + "the thought of baby cameron's first holiday being halloween! + thinking of jj having the most random nicknames for autumn that even rafes like what did u just call my daughter (...).

it was halloween—rafe’s first as a dad—and his baby girl, autumn, was just about a month old. his chest swelled with pride every time he looked at her—her little hands, those big blue eyes that still seemed so new to the world.

he'd never understood how people could fall in love so quickly with something so small. but now, looking down at her cute face, he couldn’t help but be consumed by it.

tonight wasn’t just another halloween—it was autumn's first.

rafe was determined to make it special. he'd even set up a few decorations in the living room, hoping to at least start the tradition early. not that she could enjoy it yet, but someday she would.

he heard the familiar chime of a text, swiping open his phone, he grinned at the picture you’d sent to the group chat. there was his baby girl, strapped in her car seat, snug as a bug, with her tiny fists curled up against the pumpkin onesie she was drowning in.

found her a decent costume, guess who’s about to come home! read your message.

he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he replied, i bet she’s ready to see her daddy.

another message popped up from jj, his voice coming through as if he were already in full-on uncle jay mode. he hadn’t even seen the baby for more than a couple minutes, but he was all about claiming his spot in the family.

aw, my sweet little chipmunk must be so excited to see me!

“chipmunk?” rafe mumbled to himself, brows pulling together as he shook his head. that idiot had a nickname for autumn every week since she was born, and every week, they seemed to get more random.

he could picture it now—jj walking in and immediately stealing the kid from his arms, calling her some out-of-nowhere name.

just as he pocketed his phone, he heard the front door swing open.

there you were, his pretty wife with that tired-but-radiant look in your eyes that made him weak in the knees every time, and there was his little girl, her chubby cheeks smushed against the car seat strap, already half-asleep.

“hey, troublemaker,” he whispered to his daughter as he scooped her up, her onesie crinkling as she wiggled and blinked up at him.

rafe had never felt so big as he did when holding her; her whole body fit in his arms like she was meant to be there. the doorbell interrupted their little moment, and rafe smiled to himself.

right on time.

he opened the door to see jj, monica, and milo—the familiar, chaotic crew.

jj was already leaning in for autumn, hands outstretched like she was his to claim. he rushed over, grinning like a kid who’d just won the jackpot. “ohhh, chipmunk’s home!”

“alright, alright, hold on,” rafe grumbled, stepping back. he shook his head, giving jj a warning glance. “dude, she’s barely awake. can you let her at least stay asleep for five minutes?”

“eh, five minutes is all she needs,” jj smirked, taking her from rafe’s arms with ease. “monica always says she’s got my personality—just sleeps through everything.”

monica rolled her eyes. “i never said that. don’t put words in my mouth.”

“come on, rafey, princess fussy butt just needs her uncle.” he shot rafe a wink, then immediately started babbling nonsense to the baby, who blinked at him with that open-mouth stare, like she was trying to understand why everyone thought this dude was so funny.

"what did you just call my daughter?" rafe raised a brow. “princess fussy butt? really, dude?”

maybank just laughed. “better than ‘chipmunk'.”

milo, meanwhile, was tugging at your sleeve, showing you the skeleton costume he’d been wearing all day, rattling off about the latest candy haul he was plotting.

monica glanced over, shaking her head. “if you start with that nickname, she’s going to think it’s her real name by the time she’s two.”

“good,” jj smirked. “she’ll be ready to take on the world by then.”

rafe chuckled, glancing back at his baby, her scrunchy little self bundled in her onesie, eyes already half-shut.

“look at her,” he nodded towards jj, while you rested your head against his bicep.

“it’s her first holiday,” you murmured.

“yeah, and she’s got maniac jj, aunt monica, and the skeleton over there to keep it interesting,” he joked, watching milo comparing candy bars with jj in what looked like a serious negotiation.

he was still cradling autumn, making faces at her and talking to her in a voice that was a little too high-pitched for anyone but a baby. rafe watched from the couch now, his arms wrapped around you as you sat beside him, both of you listening to the holiday mess around you.

“hey, i swear, if she calls him ‘uncle jay’ before she can even say ‘mama’ or ‘dada,’ i’m gonna fucking' lose it,” rafe muttered under his breath to you, nudging your side.

you chuckled, lifting your gaze to meet his. “as long as she doesn’t call him ‘princess fussy butt,’ i think we’re good.”

first holidays were a big deal, but it was more than that.

this halloween was his first as a dad, and it felt like his whole life had changed in the best possible way. you two were building memories now, the kind that would last for years, traditions that he could carry with him and pass down.

milo, now done with his fifth round of candy negotiations with jj, walked over to you two, shaking his head in frustration as he planted himself right beside the couch.

“seriously, you gotta get him to shut up,” he complained, eyeing the blonde as he bounced autumn in his arms, making strange sounds in an attempt to get her to smile, and failing miserably.

rafe snickered, his arm still around you as he pulled you in closer. “what did i tell you, kid? maybank's gotta be himself. we can’t tame him.”

milo raised an eyebrow, then glanced at you, trying to change the subject. “so, can we continue the candy haul now, or…?”

you grinned, happy to let him off the hook. “you’ve been thinking about candy for the last hour, haven’t you?”

milo nodded vigorously. “well, yeah, but only because jay’s been ignoring me. i’m on a mission. i need your professional opinion on my stash.”

you shot a glance at rafe, who was trying to hide his amusement. “looks like milo’s ready to be your candy mentor,” you teased.

he shrugged. “i don’t know, man. i might’ve been planning to steal some of his stash later.” he winked at milo, who, despite being ten, was wise enough to know when they were messing around.

“i need your help to make sure i got the best stuff this year. it’s a whole strategic thing, okay?” he leaned in close, as if he were about to reveal some secret mission. “the candy’s gotta be in prime condition.”

you raised an eyebrow. “so, you’ve got it all laid out?”

“oh, you bet,” milo said, reaching for the plastic pumpkin bucket beside him. he held it up with a dramatic flourish, as if he were presenting treasure. “operation candy haul is a success.”

rafe nodded, “what do you need from us?”

milo went into full-on candy expert mode. “okay, here’s the rundown. first, we’ve got your classics—snickers, m&ms, twix. but then there’s the premium section—reese’s, kit-kats, and my personal favorite, the milky ways.” he paused, looking at you seriously. “you have got to help me sort this. we need an unbiased opinion.”

you tried not to chuckle at his intensity. “you’re taking this a little seriously for someone who’s only ten.”

“well, i’m not ten anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “i’m, like, ten and a half now. that’s practically a teenager.”

“i’ll give you that,” rafe said with a grin, as you smothered a laugh. “so what’s next on your list, teenager milo?”

“for the final test, you’ve gotta rank the ones that have the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio. i’ll leave that to you.” milo said, clearly trusting rafe’s opinion on these serious matters.

“you’ve got it,” rafe replied, pretending to think deeply. “the most chocolate-to-nougat ratio… now that’s a crucial step. can’t mess with the classics, kid.”

“exactly!” milo nodded, looking up at you. “we need to do a double-check of his candy haul. make sure the ratios are balanced.”

you pretended to ponder it, peeking at the candy bucket with exaggerated seriousness. “okay, you’ve convinced me. i’m in.”

you turned to rafe, who was already pulling a few pieces of candy from the pile, ready to play along. jj, still holding autumn, caught wind of what was happening and walked over with a dramatic sigh.

“what’s going on here? i hear talk of candy, and i need in.”

“too late,” milo said, grinning at him like he’d won a major victory. “i’m running this operation now.”

jj, not one to be outdone, threw a playful scowl at him. “when did you start talking back?”

as you and rafe dove into the candy sorting, a tiny whimper broke the festive ambience. everyone paused, glancing over to where jj was still cradling autumn and her face had gone from sleepy to fussy in seconds, her lips wobbling as her eyes squeezed shut.

“oh no, no, no...” jj muttered, bouncing her a little too enthusiastically, trying to avoid the inevitable meltdown. “come on, chipmunk, we’re just getting started here—don’t bail on me now.”

her hands clenched, and then came the wail—a high-pitched, all-out baby cry that instantly turned heads, her tiny face was scrunched, cheeks red, and her lungs proving just how powerful they were for someone so small.

“oh, jj,” you sighed, moving to take her, but rafe was already up, a smile spreading across his face as he reached for her.

“alright, alright, time’s up,” rafe said, easing her from jj’s arms. he held her close, gently rocking her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her tiny back. “hey, sweet girl,” he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that warm, gentle tone reserved just for her. “shh, it’s okay.”

as if by magic, her cries began to ease, her little body relaxing against rafe as she blinked up at him, still sniffling but calming with each second. she reached a tiny hand up, clutching onto his sweater.

jj put his hands on his hips, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “see that? kid won’t cry for anyone else. i think i’m losing my charm.”

rafe smirked, not looking up from his daughter, “told you, maybank. you gotta have the touch.”

you leaned into him as he sat back down, resting your chin on his shoulder as you watched her settle, her wide eyes blinking up at you both, taking in the world from the safe haven of her dad’s arms.

the blonde grinned, putting a hand on his heart in mock sadness. “well, fine then. guess she’s got her favorites.”

monica elbowed him, rolling her eyes, “they made her, you idiot.”

“ew.” he gave you and rafe a teasing side-eye, earning a good-natured smack from your sister.

autumn, oblivious to all the drama, had already snuggled back into her dad’s chest, letting out a sleepy sigh. rafe’s face softened as he looked down at her, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back.

halloween had never felt more complete, and as you looked at your husband holding your daughter, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

[rosenclaws]

Worst!Logan x Angel!Fem!Reader where the reader comforts Logan at the most random of times. Whether he may be at his worst, or at his best, he still appreciates the gesture, because the reader being the angel mutant she is, she can’t help but be there for him, as he radiates energy that feeds off sadness and guilt? I’d appreciate it,, but if not that’s alright!!

what you deserve || Worst!Logan x Angel!reader

warnings: logan not accepting his feelings as usual, a little angst, fluffy ending

a/n: thank you sm for requesting this! I had a blast writing it and I love the idea of angel!reader who just dotes and loves Logan he deserves it.

The first thing Logan had to get used to in this new world was his loud mouth, annoying, and very punchable roommate. The second thing he had to get used to was his next door neighbor who might be the kindest woman he's ever met. You have to be if you're friends with Wade.

You literally brightened a room by stepping in it.

The first time you came to dinner he felt a change in the air, it confused him at first. Until you took off your coat and your bright white wings were on display. They were hugged tightly against your back but he could still see them. He was mesmerized by them.

They looked so soft. He would watch you from the corner of the apartment, lifting peoples spirits with a simple conversation. He didn't expect you to even look his direction, why would you? You're an angel and he's...well he's wolverine. A grumpy, feral drunk with no light left to give.

"Hi Logan," He looks up to see you standing in front of him, holding out another beer for him. He looks down to see that his bottle was empty, he hadn't even noticed.

"Hi." He says shortly as he takes the new bottle. Silence falls between the two of you as Logan racks his brain for anything to say.

"You mind if I stay here?" You ask. He shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his drink.

"M'not great company." He's not the life of the party kind of guy, if anything he's the one to bring down the party. A raincloud slowly casting its shadow over the room.

"That's okay, I just want to be here." And you do. You sit with him for the rest of the party.

Only making small comments here and there that make Logan laugh, or he makes a noise that sounds like amusement so you'll take it. It's weird to Logan, why would you ever want to just sit quietly next to him of all people. But it's oddly comforting. Sometimes your hands would brush and he could feel a spark shoot through him. The party carries on but the two of you remain, and Logan likes it that way.

After that day you just kept popping up in his life. Always making an effort to be kind to him which he just couldn't understand. Doing nice things for him, complimenting him, for fucks sake you would bring him breakfast almost every morning.

It was unbearable how nice you were to him and yet he never wanted it to stop. He loved every damn minute of it whether he would admit it or not. To have someone care about him so much, he hasn't had this in a long time. But he stays in denial, not ready to face the facts of what he might be feeling. Not yet.

Logan realizes he's well and truly fucked when you find him drinking his sorrows away, again. Some days are better than others but today was just the fucking worst. Doesn't matter he's in another world. It was the day. The night it happened. Falling back to old habits was too easy for him as he sat at the bar stool, ordering drink after drink.

"Logan?" He hears your soft voice from behind him and he tightens the grip on his drink.

"Fucking great," He mumbles as he downs the rest of his drink and puts the glass on the table. He tries to order another but the bartender cuts him off. Not like he can really get drunk anyways with his healing but they cut him off anyway.

"Are you okay?" You place a hand on his arm but he shakes it off.

"Just fine." He gets off the stool and starts to leave but you grab onto his arm.

“Jesus christ just fuck off will you!” He snaps as he tugs his arm out of your grip.

Guilt creeps up on him as he sees your face fall but he turns around and keeps walking. He can't do it anymore, he doesn't deserve your kindness. His super human abilities leads him to be much faster than you. With a huff you take off your jacket and fly up into the air. Landing right in front of him.

"Will you stop it!" You cross your arms as you block his path with your wings.

"I just want to help."

"Well I don't need your help. I never wanted your help but you just had to stick yourself to me. You did that. Not me." He tries to push past you but your wings are strong and even if he's upset he doesn't want to hurt you.

"I did it because you needed it Logan, you may try and hide it but I can tell." You place your hand on his cheek and he sighs.

"You have such a sad aura, so much grief, so much guilt. I couldn't just stand there and let you think that you deserved all of that." Logan smiles sadly. A sad shake of his head as he takes your hand off his cheek.

"Of course, pity the old man huh? Always knew you were too good to me."

How could ever think you felt, that way about him. How could you ever love him, like he...like he loves you.

It hits like a cold splash of water, sobering him up in an instant. The hurt that radiates from him makes you frown as you try to comfort him but he just shakes his head. God he was infuriating sometimes. You can't take it anymore, you can't bare the guilt and anger that radiates off him.

"Just shut up will you!" He's taken back by your frustration. Your wings fold back in as you step closer to him.

"Yes I could sense your pain but I didn't help out of pity Logan, I helped because you deserve to be happy. Because underneath all that pain is a man who deserves to be loved." You lean closer to him, his breath hitches as you kiss him gently.

Your hands cupping his face as your wings slowly wrap around him, covering the two of you in a shroud of privacy.

"So pretty." He mumbles as he pulls back, looking into your eyes deeply before crashing his lips back onto yours. His hands wrap around your waist as nips at your lips making you gasp.

His fingers dig into your sides as he deepens the kiss, passionate and fuck he couldn't get enough of you. Your hands slide down to his chest as he pushes you gently against the nearest wall. When he finally breaks the kiss you keep a tight hold onto his shirt.

"Always so sweet to me angel," You snort and roll your eyes.

"Angel? Real original." You tease.

"Mm, fits though doesn't it." Your wings fold back into themselves as Logan runs his hands along the edge of them.

"Come back home with me, let me show you how sweet I can be yeah?" You smile as you feel the sadness disappearing around him, shrinking back as a new, warmer emotion seeps into the air.

"Take me home Logan." Leaning in you kiss cheek, hoping that one day all the bad feelings will be gone for good and with you by his side, he thinks they will.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 10 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 (here) — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

Angel noticed. He noticed how the bar wouldd absent of a certain winged cat demon more and more often, even for longer and longer times. When he asked Charlie about it, she said Husk was going on leave and the bar will be managed by one of Alastor’s goons, though when asked if Husk was staying at the hotel, Charlie confirmed that he was. So that calmed him a bit

Still, he was confused as to why Husk would up and disappoint without prior notice. They’ve been growing close and Angel treasures this relationship that wasn’t based on his fame or one with benefits. Husk’s disappearance and silence was unlike him and odd, given that Husk wasn’t an open person, or demon, but Angel could always count on Husk to be at the bar whenever he needed to see the cat

Every time he came back from his work, Husk was at the bar, greeting him with a lazy grin while pouring a drink for him. He’d sit on one of the high chairs and vent out his thoughts and struggles with no issue to lighten his heart. He can’t help it, the way Husk would smile and give him some of wisdom of the bartender and jokes here and there. He can’t help but be drunk on Husk rather than the drink in his hand

It was like clockwork, so natural that even now when Husk was off from his duties for his legs to bring him to the bar and he sat down, staring at the empty space that Husk would occupy. He didn’t even realize falling asleep then and there as time dragged on

Somehow he woke up when the hotel doors opened and closed, then locking up. He remained viligent, staying in his current position and continued to act like he was asleep. He listened as two pairs of footsteps walked deeper into the hotel, then quicker one that he recognized as Niffy’s ran to meet the two

He faintly heard Niffty saying something or one about waiting for them. When he heard a familiar laugh, he recognized that it was Alastor, and he heard the Radio Demon saying that he’ll make some snacks and drinks before meeting someone. Was it Charlie? Or maybe even Vaggie since she was more accepting of Alastor after the war and all that

But what got his attention immediately was the deep voice and asked if he was needed. Angel fought every muscle in his body not to shift and give himself away. Husk. Husk was back in the hotel. This was his chance to talk to him and see what was going on

The footsteps made it over to the kitchen, which was right next to the bar, while Alastor waved Husk off and said he needed rest for what was to come, again. No dilly-dallying as Alastor phrased it. The footsteps separated and what he recognized as Husk’s came over to the bar, to where he was

Angel nearly flinched when he felt a clawed hand on his hand, then soft rustling that soothed him. He heard Husk talking to himself, mumbling so silently that he couldn’t understand what Husk was talking about. But he did hear that Husk missed their bar chats together before he picked Angel up and put him in his room, even tucking him in comfortably

That was the last straw, when he had a day off from his work. He waited until he saw Alastor and confronted him. Shouting his little heart out when Alastor was alone in the kitchen once more

“What are you doing with Husk, huh!? Why is he always gone from the hotel!? And why are you the one always with him!?” Exclaimed Angel the moment he entered the kitchen. The rage he felt made even his three smaller eyes under his main one open with a pinkish glow. “Answer me!”

Yet Alastor remained calm as he moved from stove to stove, tending to whatever he was cooking without a care to what Angel had said. Well, it wasn’t like Alastor can say much that wouldn’t hinder your plans. Though, a thought did cross his mind, if Angel was to interfere, would Husk’s chance be taken from him?

“I couldn’t say.” Alastor’s smile grew to a grin, “Then again, what is there to say? Perhaps Husker is a bit distant because he needed the air.”

“Just answer my question, god f*cking damn*t!” Angel stomped over to Alastor, bearing his teeth.

“That’s enough.” Your voice made Angel freeze in his steps. While you causally stepped closer from where you were, your footsteps echoed eeriely behind Angel. With each step, he could feel himself reliving emotions akin to facing an impending doom, or perhaps, ever death. As you walked past him, he fell to his knees but you made your way to Alastor who looked more than a little ashamed of himself. “The food’s going to be burnt.”

Alastor flinched, tearing his attention away from you and back to the meal he was preparing for you. “Ah, yes. Thank you for the reminder.”

You turned back to Angel, bending down a bit to meet him at eye level as you whispered, “If I hear you asking about Husk again or disturbing Alastor, you will not like the consequence.” You straightened up and patted your clothing, “Are we understood?”

Angel bowed his head low, his hand gripping his other arm in hopes of stopping the tremble all throughout his body, but to no avail. “Yes…”

You let out a hum and left the area. “Glad we see eye to eye.”

It was no surprise to Alastor when you basically threatened Angel for him and by extension Husk too. Not that he has any say in the matter when you wanted Husk to be in the collection again. What he can and will do is secure his spot as your favourite soul and prove that even with a returning has-been, he is not affected

Especially when this one was someone that he has been aiding as per your permission

Alastor has seen many times of how you treated those you deemed as unworthy. You won’t spare them thought, you won’t even put on a mask to lull them into a false sense of security. No. You go in for the kill

Every time it happened, a shunder of ecstasy spread throughout his body like an electric shock. His smile widened when he knows he won’t be treated like those undesirable souls because he has your favour

Was it love or was it admiration? Or is it something else entirely? He can’t tell. All he can tell was that he will remain by your side till the end of his days in this inferno Hell. With your presence, he sees this place as his paradise and dare he say, Heaven. Your being counter all the negativity and dislikes he has here, that was how special and important you were to him

Alastor set your meal and his to a tray and teleported to your room. There you were. Even though you were merely sitting by the window, gazing out to all the hellish chaos and destruction, the serenity and tranquility radiates from you like a glowing beacon of light to his darkness

He bowed his head and form, an action that is as natural to him as breathing now after being in your presence for so long. He was dutiful and loyal, and he will remain as such in your eyes and mind. He wasted no time and set your meal before you on the table first, then he placed his own. With your attention on him and the soft smile on your face, he bowed once more and took his seat

In silence, the two of you ate your meals. Alastor would glance over to you from time to time, taking in your form. But his silence was also evidence of his guilty thoughts he harboured against your plan. From the start, he was affirmative in his goal to prove that he can lead Husk to the potential you see so he pushed Husk to the extreme just to get you results

Yet at the risk of losing his favour to you, and what’s more embarrassing was having that stemmed from the words of a lowly Sinner, well, he was just ashamed he nearly went through with it had you not make your appearance right then and there

No doubt you heard it all. No doubt you saw it all. No doubt you knew his thoughts. He was ashamed to face you and he saw this silence as a punishment. Not that he could decide his own punishment, that was all yours to decide, he has no say in the matter

He wondered if he managed to disturb another one of your plans when he stormed into Rosie’s shop that day. When he saw the three Overlords all sharing a hug with you, he felt oh so left out for some reason. He understands and figured it was for some plan of yours, but why can’t he followed along with you?

He cared not that Velvette was in the group, he cared that he wasn’t invited along your adventures like before your disappearance. It wasn’t long after your returned, now that you were in the hotel and more involved with the other Overlords for a grand plan of yours. There was barely any time for him to share with you as it is

The deer just feels so lonely without you, so left out without being by your side

“Silly deer, what are you thinking in their overcomplicated head of yours?” Your silky voice questioned, a tone he can get drunk on as his eyes dreamily closed. “That you wouldn’t even realize the position you’re in.”

That made his eyes snap open and nearly got up. That was a question he want answered too now that he realized the state he’s in. With you seated at the edge of the bed, and what’s more, him laying on your lap! “My Liege! I appologize for such a brazen—!”

“Shh…” Your fingers combed through his hair that made him purr from your delicate touch. You could practically feel his entire form melt and relax. You hummed with a smile. “Just relax and calm your head, you’ve worked hard.”

It wasn’t like you were ignorant of the way Alastor was acting, nor were you trying to make him jealous of your bonding time with other Overlords. But you just can’t help but giggle at his childish jealousy and envy

The way that he wanted to prove to you that he can raise Husk to be a worthy candidate to return into your collection yet doesn’t want his place threatened. To watch him struggle with this dilemma was unique to you

Rarely can you name someone with such loyalty and devotion to you like Alastor has

You’ve seen his story when he gave you his soul. His childhood was like any unfortunate child, an abusive father and a submissive but loving mother. A boy that wanted control and power to protect his caring mother did the unthinkable in human, a deed that gave him a one way ticket to Hell. No questions asked

His life path was challenging but he managed it quite well considering the faults he had and he was carrying such a dark secret of his killing while acting as an upstanding citizen in town. A radio host, one that’s famed and well loved. A serial killer, one that’s infamous and feared by all. The duality he managed to perfectly balance

In your eyes, Alastor got his power and control. The only time he lost that was his death, when he was mistaken as a deer in the forest in the dead of the night and shot through the head. A tragic end, a death that cuts his life so short, but it was death none the less. It discriminates no one and favours nothing, a fact that’s unchangeable

Still, the moment he entered Hell, a tidal wave washed through Pentagram City with Alastor’s arrival. He broadcasted his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone can bear witness to his ability, power, dominance, and cruelty. You still remember how ecstatic you were when you heard of such a character in Hell, even better when he was a new arrival

It came as no surprise when his powers went haywire and landed him somewhere he was more familiar with; a forest. You couldn’t ask for a better situation when his own power trapped him within the forest. That is what happens when one doesn’t fully understand their own powers before making a name for themselves. His powers and demon self was just protecting him

So you used this opportunity to teach him, nudge him in the right direction. As a character with such a need for control and dominance, you thought he’d never cave to submission. Imagine your surprise when he does the moment he saw you. You don’t understand it, where his devotion and sincerity came from and why you were the receiver

All you knew was that you liked it. You liked how Alastor thinks of you before himself, how his loyalty to you was not something you commanded or demanded of him, and how his commitment to you was from his dark cold heart. At times, when Alastor’s presence was around, you wonder why your other souls aren’t like him

But then… That’s why Alastor was the special one. That’s why Alastor is the favoured one in your Elite Collection

“Alastor…” You leaned down, brushing away his bangs that would hide that x-mark of his. A mark of his accidental death, truly, you thank whoever killed Alastor because it brought him to you. “You are so special.”

“My Liege, wh—!” Alastor’s eyes widened as he felt your soft lips touch his forehead, you were so close to him, so gentle. In his eyes, you were no devil or demon or a cursed being, you were an angel, you were his saviour. Even when he was in doubt of your actions and in himself, you were always there for him.

You straightened up as you gave him a smile, even with your eyes closed, you stared down at him. “Alastor, know that you will never be replaced in my collection.”

Alastor’s eyes closed. Shamelessly, he buried his face into your stomach as he hugged you by the waist, his legs curling around you to feel more of your presence. His ears pinned back as you continue to comb through his hair. “I’m sorry, I was… My mind was in a bad place… My Dear Liege.”

You hummed, “You’ve been doing well, pushing Husk hard to earn his spot back. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up yours.” You played with his ears, feeling his form shiver from your touch. “Anyone in my place can see that you are irreplaceable.” 

While Alastor’s hold on you tightened from your words, your eyes opened with a glow as you announced to your sweet deer. “You are very special to me. You are my one and only.”

Note: And that's the Alastor moment. This is a bit of an intermission before we move onto something with Vox~ Question. Which Overlord do you wanna see more of: Zestial or Carmilla or both?

How'd you like this part?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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[gluion]

pretty please — jacob bae

pairing — jacob bae x fem!reader genre — strangers to lovers, suggestive (minors dni) wc — 1.5k insipired by — bed chem by sabrina carpenter // pretty please by dua lipa misc/warnings — alcohol consumption, sexual tension, pet names (good girl), reader wears makeup, grinding in a public place... ehem..., dirty talk, making out, hickeys note — badcob... save me, badcob... gluion deobi writer renaissance for badcob and we have to thank @kimsohn for requesting :p thank u for letting me remember why i love writing for tbz, esp jacob <3

synopsis — you make every possible excuse in the book to explain your tinder match’s tardiness. yet, you find yourself meeting a man who screams of innocence—until you find yourself at his mercy.

you think someone’s watching you.

at first, it came in the form of an itch you can’t reach until it morphed into a chill running down your spine. one look back, no one behind you. another look back, only a couple who wanted to grab a drink from the bartender.

you’d like to think it could be someone you were in the same organization with, maybe even someone you shared a class with, but you were far from the clubs that your university would infiltrate. you were somewhere entirely new, filled with employed folks, for a tinder match.

a first date in a bar isn’t one you would agree to, really, but you couldn’t deny the man with the cat eyes. after all, you still couldn’t believe he matched with you. the last thing you wanted is to shut the connection down.

but it’s been a good two hours since the agreed meet-up time, at least four glasses of margaritas in your system, and there was no sight of him. 

you should wait. what if he was dealing with some motorcycle issues? did his cat need to be brought to the clinic for an emergency? every excuse possible and you’ll accept it. 

a chill runs down your spine.

your eyes dart everywhere, hoping to spot your tinder match you’ve been waiting for—until they meet wide, brown ones.

across the bar stands a man dressed in a grey tank top with a black jacket over. surrounded by a group of boys who break into laughter, he pays no attention to their conversation. it’s only when he takes a sip from his drink that brings you to look away.

your skin grows hot; the only solution you have is to drink some more. 

you’ve downed your fifth glass of margarita for the night, and you still need more.

“bartender, give me one more.” at his nod, you’re ready to pull out a couple of bills, until a waft of lavender enters your nose. a glass is set down beside you.

“i’ll pay.”

you look up to see the same man from across the bar. up close, you can trace his features; soft jawline, soft skin, soft lips. he takes a seat beside you before asking, “care if i stay with you?”

it’s not that you find him unattractive. he just doesn’t fall under your usual types; those who had a sharp gaze with the goal of ruining you seemed to be the ones you gravitated towards.

everything about him screams an innocent man—and your tinder date is far from that.

“uh,” you clear your throat, “i have a date.”

his eyebrows scrunch together. “really? where are they? because i’ve seen you with no one the whole night.”

“well, he’s late, i think,” you whisper the last phrase.

you expect the stranger to laugh at you. it wouldn’t be the first time a man bothered you at a club. yet, he smiles. “then, can i keep you company? maybe wait for him with you?”

although you would grow annoyed at this type of persistence, you find yourself enjoying his presence. “don’t you think he’d see you and think that i ditched him?”

your order for another martini is placed in front of you.

“if he were a real man, he’d come up and let me know,” he says as he slides a couple of bills to the bartender. “besides, a real man wouldn’t leave you waiting.”

you muster out a bitter laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “okay, and what does that make you?”

his eyes flicker to the lipstick stain. “why don’t you find out yourself?”

seconds go by.

“well, do you have a name?”

he smiles. “jacob.”

“y/n.”

jacob hums as he leans on the bar. “so, who is this date?”

“just someone i matched with on tinder.”

“first date?” at your hum, jacob chuckles in disbelief. “you decided on the place?”

you roll your eyes. “have some faith in me.”

jacob shakes his head. “well, y/n, i don’t know enough about you.” he swishes the contents in his cup. before the rim can meet his lips, he says, “but that can change tonight.”

you’re not sure if the alcohol is taking a toll on you or the packed crowd raising the temperatures; your skin grows hot and jacob might be to blame. 

“so, i’m guessing he’s the one that chose the place.”

you nod at his assumption. as he grips his glass, arms resting on the bartop, your eyes trace the details; well-defined forearms and slender fingers.

despite talking about your tinder match, your mind drifts away from him. instead, it’s filled with images of the stranger beside you; arms strong enough to hold you up against the wall, hands that could leave bruises all over your hips, fingers that know how to ruin you until you’re on the verge of tears. you’re entranced by the sight of his fingers drumming against the table. every tap causes the pool in between your legs to grow.

his biceps tense up, and your breath hitches.  

“i would’ve never imagined a club for a first date.” when you meet his gaze, you spot a smirk plastered on his face, like he caught you in the act.

maybe jacob isn’t like the image you made him up to be.

“trust me, i wouldn’t have also.” your finger traces the rim of your glass, collecting some salt. 

he nods along with the beat of the music. “then what made you say yes?”

a beat passes.

“i’ve got needs,” you admit before popping your salt-covered digit into your mouth.  

he tongues the inside of his cheek, and you wonder how well he could eat you out; all the highs you could achieve all thanks to the licks against your clit. “really?” as he leans forward, your senses grow hazy over the scent of lavender, over the alcohol consumed, over the intoxicating presence of jacob. he stares right at you before taking a glance at your lips. “i wonder if he can really fulfill those needs.”

a bit of corruption swirls in jacob.

once you pop out your finger, you down the rest of your cocktail, staring right back at jacob who follows you. with drinks finished, you get off your seat and grab hold of his arm.

you drag him through the dance floor until your back hits a wall. you and jacob were not far from the sweaty crowd, still surrounded by those who are far too drunk to care about you two. yet, your hands reach out to his hoodie, and his hands plant against the wall.

a mix of red and orange strobes cast over your figures. even under the lack of white light, you take in jacob’s features. most of it still speak of gentleness, but his eyes scream otherwise—the type of look that makes you want to submit to his mercy.

“thought you were going to take me dancing,” jacob remarks. his hands trail down your face until it rests on the side of your neck. “maybe make your date jealous if he saw me with you.”

“you think you could do that, huh? think you could make the guy i was going to hook up with jealous of you?”

it’s a genuine question for the stranger you can’t stop thinking about. is jacob the definition of innocence?

he smirks before leaning closer. his breath grazes against your lips. “i think he should be jealous.”

your lips crash against his, hands bringing his body close to yours. his palms find their spot on your waist, reaching under your shirt and relishing in your warmth. your noses bump against each other in desperation.

the alcohol tells you that you need him closer, so your hands tug on his clothes. once his hips are flushed against yours, you grind on his cock, feeling it grow harder with every rock. the pool in between your legs grows; a wet patch on your panties. his hands find their spot on your ass, guiding every roll of your hips against his dick.

your senses are floating from the lack of oxygen. as you pull away from the kiss, you and jacob try to catch your breaths. but both your hips don’t stop from its ministrations. all you needed is any pressure on your clit.

“need you. now.”

he chuckles before letting his lips trail down your neck. he sucks on your skin, tongue darting out to leave marks all over you. your eyes shut close as you grow dizzy.

“want me to take you right here? surrounded by people?” as you let out a moan of desperation, jacob’s fingers dig into your skin. “what about your date?”

“i don’t care about him. i haven’t since you came.”

he lets out a hum in contentment of your revelation. “such a good girl for me.”

the pet name causes you to whine. as your grinding starts to go at an inconsistent rhythm, jacob doesn’t guide your hips anymore. your eyes open, hands gripping against his clothes.

“not here.” before you can beg him otherwise, he says, “can’t have others looking at you. you’re mine for the night.”

jacob is far from an innocent man—that’s all you need.

networks tag list: @kflixnet @k-labels @deoboyznet @kstrucknet

tbz permanent tag list: @winterchimez @mosviqu @stealanity (the only ones i was sure of who weren't minors)

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ a night away ⦒✶.* prequel to a kiss away, and how it all happened.

requsted by anonymous (ask at the end) pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn!reader | friends to lovers synopsis: heartbroken, you find yourself back at the bar, unsure if love is meant for you. leon wants you, so badly, but he restrains himself (unsuccessfully) thinking someone else is better suited for you, someone that is not him. content: suggestive imagery, one kiss, one excited leon, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, addiction, oral (m! receiving), death special thanks to @sporeghost, for the beta, for being a sweetheart of a friend, and for his drop dead gorgeous writing. « 2.1 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

Loving is easy. To be loved is difficult.

It’s easy to love perfection after all. You might not be perfect, like no one is, but you’re damn close to it. But Leon? He thinks his soul is fractured – by the blood in his hands, by the poison he consumes, eternally cursed by the perpetual guilt of living.

Your smile is crooked – full-teeth, gum-showing. Yet you smile like the sun after a weeping rain, a smile that outshines the worst every single time. Your steps summon life underneath you, summon life within him. You are blinding, bestowing your shine to all, up and high, beyond reach.

If he tells you his feelings, will you find happiness with him? Or will you follow him into the dark, and never see the light again?

You look best in the sunlight. Not six feet under, decaying in his own pain and darkness. Peeping at your glow is more than enough for Leon. He isn’t worried about heartbreak at all, because heartbreak with you is healing. That’s the kind of effect you have.

So you can imagine his worry when he hears your voice slurring through the phone, almost inaudible against the bass-heavy party music in the background. Leon doesn’t know where you are, or what you are doing, but he wants you safe. Needs it.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to find you at a bar three blocks away from your apartment. You don’t normally go to bars, that he knows and appreciates. He’s well acquainted with the aftereffects of alcohol.

Leon evades the crowd, manoeuvring through the waves of hazy drunks, cigarettes in one hand, clinking glasses in another. They don’t know how intoxicating it all smells, how deep one can possibly fall into the bottomless pit of a martini glass. Perhaps they know. Or don’t care. After all, they came to escape too, just like you.

He finds your lone silhouette slouch into the bar table, a full glass and empty bottle next to you. Leon didn’t recognise you at first.

“Didn’t expect to see you in a place like this.” Leon picks a bar stool closest to you and takes a seat.

“Leon…?” Your eyelids weigh you down. “H-How did you...”

You don’t look at him, instead readjusting yourself just slightly to bury your face in your palms. Guilty, and you know it.

“Don’t talk.”

Leon rests his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature burn lightly against his hand. While he has you there, he signals the bartender for a glass of water. You remind him of himself two years ago, deep into a bottle before midday.

You try to reach for your drink, but Leon moves the glass away. Replacing it with the iced water served to you. “Drink this.”

Leon watches you take in a big gulp. Your eyes blink open aggressively, regaining a bit of conscious since Leon arrived.

“Better?”

“Better.” You heartbeat slows by a fraction, voice clearer now, but your surroundings are still spinning. Leon waits for you to finish your next swig before talking.

“What happened?” Leon offers you his kindness, lacing with an undertone of concern. You plant your face into your drink. “You can tell me.”

“H-He…” Your tears well up, and his heart breaks at the sight. “He b-broke up with me, Leon. Over text too. I tried calling him, but I keep reaching voicemail. Did the four months meant nothing to him?”

That sucker you met on a dating app. Leon can’t recall his name, that’s how much he hates the guy. Promising you the world, delivering all but crap.

A man who hurts you like this isn’t a man. Just a child. It’s been three times since he watches your heart broken with fake proclamations of love by one of these men. Leon knows he can kiss you better, love you better, make love to you better than any other man on this world. Anything you want, he can do it better. Except that he can’t.

You are the light he doesn’t deserve, the light he depends on.

“Fuck ‘em. He doesn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head. “Nobody loves me, Leon. Nobody wants me. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted over a year.”

“That’s not true.” Because I want you. More than you’ll ever know, more than you’ll ever need. I want you like a plant wants light. Hell, I need you like a plant needs water. “All of D.S.O loves you.”

You sigh deeply. He knows the fact that’s not what you meant, but some secrets are not meant to see the light of day.

“I need a drink.”

“No. You don’t.” Leon cuts you off, pouring out the poison into the sink by the bar. “Drinking won’t solve anything. You should know this.”

The music in the background crudely echoes, much harsher and obstructive this time. The people around you are chatting, cheering, dancing – but there is only two of you in the room. At least that's how it feels like. Leon watches your hand twitch on the glass, eyes avert with guilt. You know he is still marking the days, thirty-seven weeks of sobriety. You know he is right.

“You shouldn’t be here.” It’s your turn to move his hands away from the glass.

“I’m here to take you home. Don’t worry, I’m not going to relapse anytime soon.” Leon puts a hand over yours. An act of comfort, consolation.

“Go wash your face.” You obey, and it helps just a little. By the time you’re ready to leave, Leon is waiting for you with your bag in his hands. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What about the tab?”

“It’s all sorted.” It’s the least he can do for you.

The summer nights should have been cool, but as if to compensate for the heat of the day, the wind taunts harsher. The gust prickle your bare skin that wears only a T-shirt and jeans. Your balance tips ever so slightly.

Leon leans to you right before you slip, hands gently grasping your shoulders. You catch your feet, fistful of his jacket for support. The smell of your fresh cherry blossom shampoo melt into his senses.

He pulls you aside around the corner of the building – you are too unbalanced for the nighttime crowd, almost tripping three people in your fall.

“Lean back.” Leon peels you off his chest, almost reluctantly. You feel so good in his arms. “Take five.”

Beyond the neon skyscrapers, fogged starless sky, you share the moon together. You vision rotates and coils around the glowing sphere, but next to Leon, you feel safe, relieved, despite everything that happened today. You, who witness your third relationship fall apart. Him, who witness your light slowly fading away.

“Leon…” Your words are slurring again.

“He’s such an ass.” You didn’t let Leon respond, and he didn’t try. Leon knows you just need to vent right now. “Every time I’m at work, he says I work too much. Then he says I’m too controlling when I’m home.”

“I hear you.” Leon nods, watching at how your face twist and turn when you talk about this jerk who doesn’t deserve you.

“He’s always out with his friends. When I do the same, it’s a bad thing. I never complain about anything, ever. What gives?”

Leon listens, nodding responsively.

“You know what’s worse? He told me I give bad head.”

Leon freezes, blood that ran along his nerves surge between his legs. It wasn’t weird for you to share details about your relationships. It prides Leon that you entrust him with such information.

But for you to be this forward about your intimate activities? That’s a first, probably conspired by the alcohol in your system. Leon can only wish that the alcohol in you isn’t going to catch him adjust both of his pant legs, hiding the strain between his pants.

“Well, are you?” Leon teases, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s not my fault I have a small mouth.”

His gaze passes your lips, open and close as you speak, tongue peeking underneath all that plumpness. He shouldn’t. Definitely shouldn’t be imagining your lips grazing against him right now. Or how your mouth will look around his cock, your tongue swirling against his length…

Leon clears his throat once more. You unintentionally cut off his imagination before it can go rampant.

“You know… I’ve realised you never talk about your relationships.”

You raise your hand to scratch your chin, recalling if there is anyone that makes him double take. But Leon Kennedy never double takes. There’s not a moment where he’s breaking his stoic, cool-guy demeanour. Not even at Jill, which you would drool over at.

“Not much to tell.” Not much he can tell you.

“C’mon, we’ve been through too much for you to act coy now.” You nudge him on the shoulder. “Guy like you? You must have someone.”

“Not sure what you mean.” Leon can feel you snuggle in closer, almost brushing against his strained jeans at your lower abdomen. He strategically smooths slightly away from you, desperate to suppress himself.

“I mean… You have a really nice jaw. And a nice body.” You gaze at him up and down, eyebrow raising, tongue peeking and rolling over your teeth.

“You think I’m handsome?” Leon offers you his crooked grin. “That’s quite bold of you.”

His cerulean eyes lit up, for a sparkle, staring intensely into yours. Your throat clears itself, unaware of the warmth sinking into your cheeks. Leon wonders if you know how cute you look right now.

“I-I’m just saying what others think.” You shuffle away from the wall, moving in sync with your feet towards the well-lit street. “Let’s get going I’m feeling much bett-”

“Not so fast.” Leon holds you in place. Your body turns against your own will, finding your back curving into the wall.

“Leon…?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Look at you. So sweet, doe-eyed as you walk right into the lion’s den. The sensitive part of your neck partially exposed just to entice him. Thinking everyone is made of good intentions, that they just want to be your friend, and that no harm will ever become of you. That’s just in your nature.

It’s also in people’s nature to take advantage of someone like you. Even when your wrists locked against his, body trapping you, you still trust him. He’s internally conflicted – conflicted whether if he wants to pounce at you or protect you. Both, in that order.

Leon brings his lips closer to yours ever so slowly. So softly, leaving you plenty of space to withdraw, to stop. Begging you to stop him from ruining something so perfect between the two of you.

Waiting… Waiting for any sign of uncertainty, any lace of hesitation, any reason to push you away and laugh it off. But you don’t. You don’t flinch, in fact you close the distance more.

He tilts his head down, and your head up. Leon moves his hands, feeling a bit bolder too, wrapping them around your back. Reciprocating all the same, your irises capture the moonlight in your eyes, glowing in the dark. Leon can’t keep fooling himself anymore about how you want this. You want this too.

He closes his eyes. Lets your raspy breath guide him to your lips until they brush lightly against yours. Magnitude of emotions riled up within him, pouring into an endless stream of longing finally fulfilled.

“I, uh…” Leon silences your thoughts in place of another heated kiss. Taste of your tongue lingers with the filth of alcohol, Leon wants nothing more than rid the taste of it from your mouth. His body flushing against yours, burning, drowning, into all of you. Into all of the love you grace him. Platonic, romantic – none of it matters. He just needs you.

The parting of lips is almost melancholic, a separation of two souls connected by this ephemeral moment. You are losing balance, eyelids closing, consciousness fading into a light snore.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” Leon lets out a tiny grin when you lean your body weight on his torso, which is cue to take you home.

Under his care, Leon helps you into your apartment. Doesn’t leave you like that – no, that would be too cruel. He helps you remove your jacket and shoes, carrying your slumbering body to the bed. Tucking you in. And a cheeky kiss too, while you’re unconscious.

Maybe you’ll remember what happened, maybe you won’t. Leon knows that he will cherishing this memory for a very long time.

thank you sm my sweetest for the ask!! i hope you enjoy this fic even after i took some liberties (hehehhee). i absolutely, absolutely LOVE writing for friends to lovers, and something ab first kiss with all that yearning makes me swoooonn harder than smut haha

also, thank you all who liked, commented, reblogged so graciously on 'a kiss away' (the sequel), it has 950 notes now?? sometimes i still go huh, how did that happen?? rlly can't do it without with you guys, from the bottom of my heart thank you smsm

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @carlosgf @sporeghost @navstuffs (pm me for tags) © roseglazedlens - please do not translate, copy, repost or feed to ai without permission - thanks!

[pigeonpeach]

How they would handle a drunk spouse

Warning! ALCOHOL!

Characters: Jean, Diluc, Dehya, Eula, Arlecchino, Navia, Shenhe

A/n: this is a draft that i just fixed up to post. I promise jean x reader will not be forgotten

Cw: fluff, alcoholism. No warnings aside from alcohol!

Jean

She knew Kaeya was a bad influence! Its not entirely his fault but she doesn’t have time to care about your mistake here. You can try to sweet talk her or be all cuddly but shes not holding back on you! You should’ve known better than to get this drunk if you didn’t want to make her worried sick! She goes into overdrive caring for you though. A bucket and water telling you to drink every drop. You aren’t going to bed until she’s sure you feel better because she doesn’t want to wake up to vomit everywhere. Also because you could choke on your own vomit. Its also to help lessen the hangover. Mondstadt is the drinking capital in Teyvat though so there’s definitely more tips she knows just by living there. Despite her being s but mean it does help when you are hungover and less dehydrated than you would’ve been. She made sure to leave you some painkillers and medication for you on the nightstand.

Diluc

“I told you so” kind guy. He’s probably a bit annoyed but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to help. Although he can’t help but find it a little bit amusing the state you’re in. Just giggling and mumbling words. Its kind of cute. Unlike Jean his anger and annoyance lessens the more cuddly you get. His heart melting at the fact that you still seek him out in this inebriated state of yours. He’ll fix you something to sober you up real quick and hold your hair if you vomit. If you have to take a bath he will be there to make sure you don’t drown. Since he is a bartender he has the best knowledge of how to handle hangovers. Next time however you should be careful

Eula

She probably was drinking with you to be honest. But her liver is far stronger than you thought! Seeing you drunk out of your mind she will stop drinking for the night and take you home instead. A gentle bridal style while she takes caution to not upset your tummy. She gets you plenty of water to help sober you up for bed time. You will just have to go along with her word, she isnt entertaining any arguments or resistance from you now! She changes you out of your clothes, ties up your hair, etc. She makes sure you’re nice and cozy for the night before she takes care of herself.

Dehya

She can’t help but find it amusing watching you stumble about. She asks Lambad for some water but she holds it to you so you won’t drop it. She teases you about being a lightweight. But she isn’t finished drinking yet so just hold on! Once you fall over and pass out though she ditches that plan and instead carries you home. A bit difficult considering she too is tipsy but it helps that she’s strong and not nearly as drunk. Nonetheless she tucks you in and sleeps right next to you, making sure you’re pressed up against her so you can be nice and warm.

Arlecchino

She knew you would be a light weight. Just one shot of firewater and you’re out like a light, your head on her thigh as she was reading something. You seem too peaceful to move so she simply lets you stay there. Her hand rummaging through your hair every so often. Occasionally she glances to see your face and smiles. You’re cute like this. Next time she’ll make sure to dilute the firewater properly so she an enjoy your drunken state a little more.

Shenhe

She’s not sure what to do with you actually. Worried that you’ve hit your head she brings you to Bubu pharmacy, to which Baizhu has to explain the difference between a head injury and alcohol. But he sends her off with a few pain meds for you in the morning. She heeds his instructions well. Helping you settle in for a nice rest to sleep it off. She might have gone overboard though because she overdoes it with the blankets and water. But its still appreciated when you wake up with the worst hangover.

Beidou

You crash together. You fall asleep first, in her arms as she eventually falls asleep too , holding you close to her. Both drunk out of your minds you two end up asleep using a tarp as a blanket on the deck of the crux. The crew still mulling and celebrating their most recent success. The crew ends up having to lift you two back to your beds together because even unconscious would Beidou not let go of you. When you wake up she’s far better off than you as she teases you endlessly. Needless to say you two will be chugging water from here on out. At least until the next celebration. Lucky for you she keeps a stash of painkillers for her crew for this specific occasion.

Navia

A relentless teaser! How horrible! She ends up giggling watching you stumble and stutter. She can’t help it! You’re such a silly bean! Once you get sleepy is when she brings you home to rest. With her guards doing the heavy lifting of course. But she’ll do the bathing or changing herself with them casted out of the room. Afterwards she prepares herself for bed, snuggling against you.

In the morning she’ll make her guards get you painkillers and water.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MY HERO

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

PAIRING: nerdy!Harry x bartender!reader

WARNING: bit of a fight, blood

SUMMARY: Some drunk guy gets dirty with you when you refuse to serve him. Luckily, Harry is there to stand up for you, even if he is not too good at it.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s a Friday night, which means the bar is packed with college students, celebrating that they survived yet another week of the semester. There’s no empty table, the line at the bar seems never ending and the noise is way louder than the music playing through the speakers. A lot of your coworkers hate to work Friday and Saturday, because they hate the crowd, but you’re kind of okay with it. It keeps you busy, time passes by faster and the tips are always good, drunk college guys like to pay double for their drinks just to prove they have money, only to wake up with an empty wallet in the morning. But that’s not your business.

You haven’t sat down in hours, the rush was too big to have one less person behind the bar, so you’re a tad bit frustrated, but still holding on. Most of the crowd looks familiar to you, you see them almost every week, you could maybe even tell their major as well. You know what they usually drink and how they act whenever they had one too many beers. But there’s one person you know the most about and when you see him walk in your mood brightens immediately.

Harry has been a returning customer for the past two months or so. You still remember the first time he came in and asked for a double shot, you watched him take it and almost throw it up. He admitted he’s never taken a double and can barely force down a beer usually. He sat at the bar that night and you talked and talked until it was closing time.

He returned the next night, asked for a water and stayed until closing again.

You’ve gotten to know him well since then, he is the sweetest, kindest soul and the most amazing guy you’ve ever met. He likes to hide behind his glasses and books, he tends to stammer when he gets nervous and his nose twitches when he tastes something he doesn’t like.

When you started bartending you promised yourself not to fall for any guy. Well, Harry is not just any guy.

As you finish up an order you keep an eye on Harry and watch him fight his way to the bar, fixing his glasses when he finally makes it through the crowd. You give the drinks out and turn to him smiling.

“Hi, fancy a drink?” you ask, ignoring the whiny people who’s been waiting in line and were cut off by Harry.

“Hi! Y-Yeah, thank you,” he smiles back and you’re quick to make him a virgin cocktail.

He stays by the bar and keeps you company whenever you have a moment to talk. You ask him about his exam a few days ago and he asks if you’ve gotten your AC fixed already.

“No, the guy I had check it out gave me an insane offer, so I’m still saving up.”

“How much?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, but you know where he will end up, so you just smile at him and shake your head.

“Harry, I told you, I don’t want you to pay for it.”

“Hey! Get your sexy ass over here and serve us!” A voice calls out from across the bar and it makes the hair stand on your arms, but you force a smile on your face.

“I’ll be right back, Harry.” Walking across the bar you stand in front of the clearly drunk guy you’ve seen around here quite a few times before and he likes to give the bartenders a hard time whenever he is in the mood.

“What can I get you?” you ask looking at him while he is clearly looking at your chest.

“Three vodka shots and a beer. Make sure to bend down for that beer!” he laughs, the two other guy with him joining in, patting him on the back.

“I’ll shove up those shots into your dirty ass,” you mumble under your breath as you start pouring the drinks.

“If I double your tip will you get rid of that top?” he grins, still very much eyeing your breasts.

“Hey, if you don’t want spit in your drink, stop being an asshole!” You stop mumbling and this time you articulate it quite loud and clear.

“It’s a spicy one!” he whistles, still not taking you seriously. “I’ll take the second shot from your big mouth!” He holds one of the shots up and gulps it down.

“Alright, get the fuck out!” You grab the rest of the order and toss it into the sink, this finally gets his attention.

“Hey! You fucking bitch!”

“I said get out! The bar is closed for you!”

“I’m not going anywhere! You better give me free shots and a fucking blowjob to make up for the shit you did!”

“Hey, s-she said you have to leave!”

Harry is standing next to the guy, standing up for you, but you can tell he is terrified of the three guys.

“What? Is she your bitch or something?”

“Harry, don’t—“

“Don’t talk about her like that! She is—“

“This little nerd is in love with the hot bartender! You think you have a chance with her? She is just a cheap bitch who probably sucks off anyone for a fat tip.”

The moment is so surreal that you watch it frozen at first. Harry moves forward and pushes the guy, not too hard but since he’s drunk he stumbles backwards and it riles him up. The next thing you see is that he swings a fist at Harry and it meets with his nose. That’s what snaps you out of your frozen state.

It’s a shitshow from there, you climb over the bar to get between them and punch the drunk guy before he could get another hit in and this time he falls to the ground. His friends are about to pull him up and go against me, but another group of guys get involved and there’s six of them so they easily pull the troublemaker away from you, dragging them out of the bar.

Turning around you look at Harry who is holding his hand to his nose that’s bleeding and guilt starts eating you away right away, because he got hurt because of you.

“Hey, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You curl one of his arms around your shoulders and bring him to the back and away from the curious crowd. Reaching the changing room you sit him down to the bench and run off just for a moment to get a wet towel and an icepack for him.

“Look at me, let me see it.” You take his face in your hands gently and he hesitates before moving his hand away.

His glasses sit crooked on his nose that’s red and bloody, but as far as you can tell it’s not broken. Carefully, you take his classes off and start to pat his face gently to get the blood off.

He looks devastated and like a shadow of his usual self.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Just a little,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“You’re sorry? Y/N, I’m sorry!”

“For what?” you chuckle, tossing the towel to the floor and replacing it with the icepack. Harry winces and pushes it away. “For defending me? For standing up for me?”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t protect you. I wasn’t…”

He doesn’t say it, but you know what he was meaning to say. He wasn’t manly enough.

“Harry,” you exhale, putting the icepack to the side before taking his hands back into your hands. “What you did was… the bravest and most heroic thing anyone has ever did for me. You stood up for me even though you’re the last person to ever get into a fight and look at you, you almost got your nose broken for me!”

“I think you actually broke his face though, so you were the real hero,” he chuckles softly and he is finally returning, the sunshine, the warmth, it’s all back.

“You’re the hero, Harry Styles. And heroes deserve… a reward.”

You smile at him coyly, moving a little closer so he knows what you’re planning to do, giving him a chance to move away, but when he doesn’t, just looks at you intently, you finally press your lips against his.

You’ve been aching to do it for so long, the sweet, handsome, nerdy guy completely stole your heart from across the bar and now you finally have him all to yourself. You’re not even surprised that he is an amazing kisser, his soft lips move so perfectly with yours, you wonder what else they can do.

The kiss gets a little more heated and your nose brushes against his, which makes him wince and pull back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” you cover your mouth with your hand, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s just a little sore.”

“Maybe we should get it checked out in a hospital.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Cheering is heard from outside and you realize you should get back to work, the rush is still not over.

“Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll be off the clock in an hour. Maybe you could… walk me home?”

“Yes! Yes, I-I… yes, I would love to walk you home.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm and leaning in you kiss him, careful not to hurt him.

“Alright, my hero.” You take his glasses and put them back on, fixing them so they sit straight. One last time you kiss him shortly and go back to work, smiling crazily for the next hour.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cherrycola27]

Red Wine, Fall into me

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Smut. 18+ (Phoenix x Female Reader) banner by the wonderful @thedroneranger Fic inspired by the Chappell Roan song "Red Wine Supernova"

...........................................

You know they say not to waste a Friday night on a first date.

Yet, here you were, in a nice dress, walking into a cocktail bar, to meet some guy, from some app, on a Friday night for a first date. You'd spent a ridiculous amount of time doing your hair, makeup, and picking out the perfect outfit that was the right balance of "I'm a good girl," and "I just might let you take me home if you play your cards right."

You texted your date that you were there and that you'd be at the bar. You were there a few minutes before your agreed upon time, so you walked up to the bar top, which had a middle-aged couple at one end, and a pretty dark-haired brunette at the other.

You took a seat a few stools down from her and ordered a glass of merlot from the bartender. He sat it down quickly in front of you as you checked your phone to see if your date had responded to your text. You felt immediately defeated to see that it still had not been read.

A few minutes ticked by, and it was now the time you and your date had set to meet. You fired off another text asking if he was there, with no response. Several minutes later, you sent one asking if he was on his way and nothing. Finally, a full thirty minutes and a second glass of wine later, he sent you a message saying that something came up, and he wouldn't make it.

You huffed as you sat your phone down on the counter and groaned. Of course, this would happen to you. This was the last time you agreed to a date from an app.

You sighed and finished the last sip of wine in your glass and rummaged through your purse for your card. Before you could pull it out, though, you heard a soft voice speak. "Put her last two on my tab, and bring us another round if you don't mind."

You look up and see the pretty brunette from earlier handing her card over and taking a seat next to you. "Thank you, but you don't have to do that." You smile at her. "I know, but I want to." She smiles back at you, extending her hand for you to shake, "I'm Natasha, by the way. What's your name?"

You tell her your name, and she repeats it back, slowly, savoring every syllable of it like it's a fine wine. You don't think your name has ever sounded as good as it does coming out of her mouth.

"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?" She asks you. "I was supposed to have a date but—he stood me up." You sigh. "His loss is my gain then." Natasha says as she brings her own wine glass up to her lips. You blush at her words.

"What about you?" You fire back at her. "I just wanted a nice quiet night out, away from the crowds. Somewhere that I could relax and make a new—friend." She winks at you and slides her stool closer to yours.

"So, tell me about yourself." She says, and she rests her foot on the bottom of your stool. Your thighs part just enough to accommodate her toned leg that's exposed from the slit in her dress.

A shiver runs down your spine as you tell her about your job and some of your friends and what you like to do for fun. Her eyes stayed glued to yours, and she nods and questions and seems genuinely interested in you. "What about you?" You ask her when you finish.

"I'm in the Navy. I'm an aviator." She says as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

"Oh. So I guess you're used to going fast and doing what you want then." You smirk at her. "I can go fast." She says as she leans into your space. "But—" she sighs as she places her hand on your thigh. "—I actually have a partner in the backseat that I have to listen to, so I'm very good at taking directions. And, there are so many controls in the cockpit, that I have to be excellent with precision." She breathes out.

Natasha leans in closer to you. "I've always been amazing and zeroing in on my target and finishing the job. She whispers in your ear before pulling back. You swallow thickly and shift in your seat, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between your thighs and the heat that you feel in your belly that isn't from the wine.

"Is that so?" You say, cocking your head to the side. "Now, what exactly would one have to do if they want to see these skills in action?" You pry. "I think after a few glasses of wine and a dance or two, I might be convinced. Care to find out?" A crimson smile curls at her lips as she extends her hand to you.

You nod your head and slip your hand in hers. She places her palm on the small of your back, just a tad too low to be considered decent as she guides you to the dance floor. She presses closer to you to avoid the other people already there. You can smell her perfume. Floral and spicy with a hint of sweet. It is so intoxicating that it makes your head spin more than any glass of wine ever could.

Natasha drags you directly to the middle of the dance floor amongst all the other couples. She spins you around and presses your back to her front. There is absolutely no space between the two of you, and you can feel every soft curve of her body pressed against yours.

You sway to the beat of some song you don't know as her hands skim up and down your arms before resting on your hips. She pulls your hair over one of your shoulders and rests her chin on your newly exposed skin. You shiver as she places a gentle, fleeting kiss on your shoulder. You feel the blush in your cheeks spread all over your body.

"You okay there, pretty girl?" Natasha asks you. "Y—yeah." You stammer out. "Just a little warm is all."

"Why don't we go get some air." She whispers hotly in your ear. Her breathy voice has you weak in the knees. You nod your head in agreement, unable to trust your own voice.

It's quieter outside. So quiet you can hear your heartbeat racing in your ears as the two of you make your way to a secluded spot on the far side of the deck. The fresh salty air fills your lungs as you try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You lean against the deck railing and watch the waves roll in as the moonlight dances across the dark ocean.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Natasha says as she comes to stand beside you. "It's breathtaking." You say as you turn to face her. "It's not the only breathtaking thing out here." She says, looking you directly in the eye. "No, it's not." You counter.

You inhale deeply as she takes a step forward and places on and on your hip, drawing you closer to her. She uses her free hand to brush a few stray strands of your hair away before cupping your face and pulling you closer to her.

Her lips are pillowy soft when they connect with yours. Her hand slides to the back of your hair, tangling in your locks to hold you in place. You wrap both of your arms around her neck as she trails her tonuge across the seam of your lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

You gladly grant her access, and you moan as her tongue caresses yours. The kiss is sweet, with the last drops of your wine still on each other's mouths.

You moan and lean into her when you feel her fingers dig into your hip. She takes a step closer and pushes your back against the metal deck rail, her lips never leaving yours as her kisses become more hungry, more demanding.

She pulls her mouth away from yours, and you gasp as she trails her perfect pout across your chin and jaw before grazing your ear lobe with her teeth. You inhale sharply, and it's like music to Natasha's ears.

She continues her assault, trying to draw even more new sounds from you. Her lips skim over the sensitive flesh of your neck. You find yourself arching towards her, silently begging her for more. You feel her smile against you before she carefully grazes her teeth over the sensitive flesh before pulling back and laving it with her tongue. She repeats the action and your hand tangles in her dark strands, holding her in place. She chuckles and continues to work the space between your shoulder and ear, surely leaving a few dark marks behind, but you don't care. You want her to mark you up—claim you as hers.

You draw her mouth back to yours and kiss her until you're breathless. She pulls back and her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are red.

"I don't normally do this, y'know." You confess to her.

"Neither do I." She tells you truthfully.

You heave a sigh of relief. "I don't think I've ever done this, actually. But there's something about you that's—magical." You say as you bite down on your lower lip and bat your eyes at her.

"If you think I'm magic here, you should let me take you home. I've got a wand and a rabbit that I can show you all kinds of tricks with." She smirks at you.

................

A few minutes later, the two of you are in the back of an Uber going to Natasha's place. Her hand rests brazenly on your upper thigh, and her nimble fingers are tracing deft patterns across your skin. You squim in your seat, trying to keep yourself calm, when really, all you want to do is plant yourself in her lap and kiss her again.

The two of you somehow make it up the small path that leads to her front door. She unlocks it and pulls you in. Once the door is shut and she's clicked the lock, she pushes you up against it and kisses you roughly. You meet her kisses with passion. Both sets of your hands roam over each other, desperately.

Natasha has enough sense to practically drag you into her bedroom. You stand there a little awkwardly until she comes up behind you and slowly unzips you dress. Her lips trace your spine, leaving faint, wine colored kisses from her leftover lipstick on your flesh.

The garment drops to the floor, and you turn around to face her. She admires how your nipples are peaked and perky with anticipation. The scrap of lace, that could barely be called underwear, that you chose to wear tonight has an obvious dark spot on it. "Such a shame you date didn't get to see this." Natasha breathes out as she lightly grazes the front of it.

You shiver, and she lets out a breathy laugh. You reach for her, catching her wrist and pulling her to you. Your hands reach for her zipper. "Fair is fair." You mumble against her lips as she lets you pull it down before tugging the fabric off of her.

"Lay dow for me, pretty girl." Natasha says when she's kicked her dress to the side and shimmied out of her underwear. You take a moment to take in her form as you slip if your own panties.

Her dark hair falls gracefully over her shoulders. Her breasts are perky and lovely. She has a neatly shaved landing strip that draws your eyes to where you most want to be.

You lay back on her bed, making yourself comfortable on her pillows. Your breathing is shallow as her eyes rake over you.

"You're so fucking beautiful." She says as she crawls towards you. Beautiful. Not pretty, not hot, beautiful. You love how she talks about you. How she makes you feel seen.

"Thank you." You say before you can even think about it. She laughs as she reaches into her nightstand and pulls out the wand and rabbit that she mentioned earlier.

She sets them to the side before gently straddling your hips. She leans down to kiss you. Slowly, this time, it's more deliberate and precise. The two of you let your hands roam over each other's body. She tweaks your nipples, rolling them between her fingers and your arch toward her touch.

Not to be outdone, you wrap your lips around one of her peaks, and she lets out a gorgeous breathy moan that has your heart racing. She whines when you release the flesh with a soft pop but groans and leans into you when you repeat the action on the other. She subtly grinds her hips against you, seeking friction to relieve the ache between her thighs. You grab her thighs and help guide her, and she hums before stopping and sliding off of you.

"Mmm, not yet beautiful. There will be time for that. Let me take care of you first." She smiles at you. You huff a little, but don't protest. Natasha trails her lips across your breasts and chest and down your stomach. She circles her tongue around your navel before placing a kiss on your cunt, right about your clit.

You sigh as you sink deeper into her pillows, inhaling more of her intoxicating scent from earlier. She carefully parts your thighs and slots herself between them.

She grabs your left leg, and feathers kisses up from your knee towards your center and back down, a few times before switching to the right. She's taking her time building you up. And just when you think you are going to burst from her teasing, she places a fleeting kiss on your clit. You squeal and rock your hips upward, chasing her mouth.

She does it again, gently parting your folds with the delicate tip of her tongue, circling the sensitive bud and sucking it into her mouth.

She laps at your core, drinking in the taste of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Wanton moans leave your mouth, and your chest heaves. One of your hands tightly fists her sheets, the other curling on her hair to hold her right where you want her. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back as pure ecstacy washes over you when you cum.

Natasha works you through it until you push her head away. You lean up on your elbows and meet her eyes. She has a satisfied grin on her face. "How was that?" She asks almost cockily.

"Fantastic." You reply breathlessly. "I'm not done with you yet." She tells you as she reaches for her wand. You swallow and spread your legs for her.

She turns it on a low setting and starts by rubbing it over your nipples and down your body to get you used to the sensation. Slowly, she lowers it to your clit. You jump, still sensitive from your first orgasm, but you relax as she circles it around you bundle of nerves.

You feel one of her slender fingers circle around your entrance. "So fucking wet. All this for me, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes." You breathe out. You're jilted by a smack to your cunt. "Say my name, pretty girl. Tell me who's got you like this? Who got your pretty pussy absolutely dripping?" She commands.

"You—you did, Natasha. It's all for you." You babble out. She's satisfied with your answer and rewards you by sinking not one, but two of her long digits inside you and curling them upwards. You cry out her name as she finds your gspot impossibly fast. It should be a crime at how well she already knows your body as she strokes it with the perfect amount of speed and pressure.

She gages each sound you make and adjusts the wand on your clit and her fingers in your cunt. You have to give it to her, she wasn't lying when she said she could take directions.

Your head thrashes from side to side, and you're babbling out her name as she brings you closer to a second orgasm. Your toes curl against the mattress and you bite your bottom lip in an effort to keep your sounds at bay.

Natasha immediately tells you to be loud for her, and you're too for gone, and she has you so damn pliant that you'd do anything for her right now. So you release your lip and scream her name as you cum, gripping her fingers tightly, never wanting them to leave you.

When she does pull them out, you whine at the loss of contact, but it's short lived, because Natasha is crawling up your body and tapping her fingers on your lips.

You obediently open your mouth and close them around her digits, dutifully cleaning them for her. You groan at the taste of you on her hands. Once you've cleaned her, you pull off with a pop and kiss her. Your tongues meld together as you pull her onto of you.

You cradle her head and hook your legs around her waist and flip her under you. "Mine turn." You giggled as she looks up at you, bewildered. "Okay, then." She smiles down at you.

You cup each of her breasts in your hands and roll her nipples between your fingers. She lets out a small gasp as you kiss the tops of her breasts and the valley between them before continuing your journey south. You leave wet kisses across her hip bones and suck a dark mark into her right one, a little reminder of you for later.

You don't tease her like she teased you. You're too impatient. You've been dreaming about what she tasted like ever since you watched her bring that first glass of red wine to her lips this evening.

You tenderly part of folds before licking a long, broad stripe from her opening to her clit.

Natasha arches up off the bed, her hands flying to the sheets, clutching them for dear life. You repeated the motion over again before hooking one of her thighs over your shoulder. She's much more squirmy than you expected.

You work her over and over, tongue diving into her her sopping wet opening, nose bumping her clit.

She cries out your name, fingers in your hair, as you blindly reach for her other toy from earlier. You silently cheer as your hand wraps around her rabbit vibrator.

You turn it on and pull your mouth away from her. Natasha groans at the loss of contact but whimpers when she feels the tip of the vibe at her entrance. You push it in slowly until it is fully seated in her tight, wet, perfect cut.

She lets out a shaky breath as you slowly withdraw the toy and push it back it. You repeat the motion, picking up speed with each thrust. Soon, her hips are meeting it, and the sounds of lewd, wet fucking mixed with cries of your name are bouncing off her walls.

"Guess you had a few tricks up your sleeve, too." She laughs and rolls on top of you and sits up she slides down your body until you can feel her warm pussy right above yours.

Her walls grip the toy tightly, and her voice rises in pitch as she cums hard for you, back arching so hard that you're afraid she might hurt herself. "Fucking magical," you praise her as she comes down from her high. You slide up beside her on the bed. She's panting, trying to catch her breath.

"Think you have one more in you, pretty girl?" She asks you. "Yes, ma'am." You reply. She smiles at you before drawing you up to her lips.

She kisses you tenderly, rocking your hips together, creating a delicious friction between your clits. Your previous orgasms have both of you so wet, that you glide along each other with ease.

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you help guide her, pulling her tighter against you. You feel that familiar coil curling deep into your belly, and your head drops to her shoulder as you roll your hips to meet hers.

Natasha wraps a hand around your throat and draws you back to her. There is a glassy look of pleasure in her eyes, but she squeezes just enough to let you know that she's still in charge. "Cum with me." It's not a request, it's a demand, and who are you to deny her when she's making you feel so good?

You cum together. It's hard and messy and absolutely the most amazing feeling you've ever had. You collapse on the bed, and Natasha falls into you, both utterly spent.

Sometime later, when you can both feel your legs, the two of you make your way to the shower. After cleaning each other, you help her change the sheets, and the two of you get tangled in each other's arms and fall asleep.

..............

Six weeks later, you're slipping your hand into Natasha's as you follow her into the Hard Deck on a Friday night. This time, you're not meeting some guy from some app that you deleted ages ago. Instead, your girlfriend is introducing you to her coworkers.

You had already met Bob, her backseater, a few weeks ago because he insisted on meeting you because Nat, or Phoenix as she was known to her friends, couldn't stop talking about you.

Natasha quickly got the two of you a beer before weaving through the crowd to a pool table in the corner.

She takes her time introducing you to each one of them. You smile and wave and try not to be awkward.

"Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix." A male voice draws out. You turn, and you have to bite your lip to stifle a laugh. "Bagman." Natasha replies flatly. "Always a pleasure, Nix, but what I want to know is who is your friend?" The tall blonde asks.

"This is my girlfriend, jackass, so don't get any ideas." Nat says. "Babe, this is—"

"Jake. Right?" You say cutting her off. "Yeah? How did you know that?" She looks at you with a questioning glance. Jake looks at you equally, confused, trying to decide if you're familiar or not.

"Remember my date that stood me up a few weeks ago, the night we met?" You ask her.

"No. You're kidding." Nat smiles before belting out a laugh. Suddenly Jake's eyes go wide as he connects the dots on who you are.

"Son of a bitch, Bagman, I think I owe you a drink." Nat laughs as you and her other friends join in. Jake's cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Nat wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "But seriously, Jake. Thank you for being a dick. If you hadn't stood her up, I might not have met this amazing woman. Seriously, I owe you one." Natasha smiles at him before pulling you in for a kiss.

............

Eeeekkk! I hope yall enjoyed this! This was my first time writing for Nat! Let me know what you think with a comment or reblog!

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @mak-32 @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain

[oreosmama]

What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)---Part 2

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It’s how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you’re not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn’t take kindly to you avoiding him, and he’s never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he’s not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he’s seen the proof that you’ve fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: umm so good news is second part is out as promised. Bad news is....this is not the end. I totally plan on making another part, but I don't know how soon that can be done considering life just began again. Guess we'll see. Enjoy!

Word count: 8193

Part 1

In hindsight, you’re not quite sure when you started falling so hard for the handsome guy from the bar. 

Yes, okay, there was initial attraction. Kyle was one in a million when it came to that. 

Then it was the way he looked at you. Like you saying his name and pouring him more scotch made his world spin. 

Kyle just made it so easy. Too easy. 

So dang easy that you felt guilty Jeanne was attracted to him too. You tried to convince yourself for a long, long time that he looked at her the same way. At every girl the same way. 

But that first night turned into the first week, which then turned into the first month. 

Your poor heart ached each time he slipped through the glass doors, grinned at you in relief. 

“Thank fuck you’re ’ere, love. Nobody in this bar knows how to pour a scotch better than you.”

And after that first touch, his warm fingers grappling after yours around the glass, you couldn’t fight it that easily anymore. Sure, you preferred people sober, but each time Kyle imbibed, he wanted a brush of your fingertips, and you did to. 

Everything about him screamed hard yet warm. He was big—special-forces big, apparently. And he had these little scars on his cheeks that you dreamt of at night. 

Where did they come from? Where else was he scarred? Why did a guy like him ever choose war over modeling?

Confounding. 

Even more confounding was that he liked teasing you, and only you. It was a little trampling over your feelings at first, all that fresh hope and nervousness each time he showered you with attention. But then it was steamrolling, too much all at once that you couldn’t think of him without your entire body slipping into a nervous tremble. 

Worst part was that you didn’t even know why he liked you so much. You were just as shitty a bartender as you were a failed medicine-or-anything student. You had nothing too offer him, not your too-big body nor your underwhelming lifestyle. 

But Jeanne… Jeanne was perfect for him. Loved all the stuff he did, hiking and swimming and everything you couldn’t do for five minutes without sweating up a storm. 

And just when it’s been a month and you think you’re so far in the hole for this hot tease of a customer who can’t seem to leave you alone—hot British tease, by the way, because how dare you forget him calling you “darling” with that accent—that you can’t even sleep at night without tossing and turning…

He’s gone. 

Kyle just disappears.

The same Kyle who leaves a perfect, Kyle’s-butt shaped butt-print on the dusty corner seat he loved so much. 

The same Kyle who, on the first night you met, was so damn snockered after seven scotches that he wouldn’t stop professing his love for you. (Not that he seemed to remember that the next day, or any day following, but you still hold the memory near and dear to your heart like the masochist you are.)

The same Kyle who stopped smelling like cigarettes after a while. Who once leaned over the bar just to push a little strand of hair behind your ear, rough fingertips pausing at your temple and brushing the skin in a small circle. “Just makin’ sure you’re safe ’nd sound” was the short mumble from his lips. 

Gone. 

Gave you his phone number before he left, and then hasn’t shown up to the bar for the last two weeks. 

He could’ve—well, he could’ve told you he was leaving. Warned you. Instead of this cold-turkey bullshit, you could have actually prepared. 

God. You wished you’d had time to prepare for this guy you’ve basically just met leaving you?

He’s made a mess of you.

Kyle, though… he’s Kyle. 

And two weeks without him has left you with a Kyle-hangover. You’re all achey and sad and bored—fucking bored. What happened to you being able to occupy yourself with thoughts twenty-four seven and treating men like a distant daydream?

Ironically enough, you miss not missing men just as much as you miss that man. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you clock off after what has become some of the most miserable shifts of your life, and go home, curl up on your couch, and think about Kyle. 

You think about that moment where he’d demanded you for your phone, long fingers curling in a “give it here” gesture, so stern you barely recognized him. You huddle deeper into the leather cushions, feeling in your pocket for your phone. 

Timezones are tricky. Couple that with the fact that you have no idea where he even wound up, and you’re blindly searching through your phone for his contact with both eyes pinched closed, as though you’d be incriminated for the act if you saw yourself do it.

A ringing hums through the air, and you peek just to make sure you’re not being a fool for the second time tonight. Kyle (Hot Guy from the Bar) Garrick slides along your screen, bouncing back and forth so you can catch the entirety of what he’d typed. 

You can hear him saying it, like it’s tainted with his soft, playful tone. 

It’s the same voice telling you to leave a message now, and you’re so stunted by the familiarity of the sound that you don’t speak for another few seconds, having to reassure yourself that, no, that wasn’t actually him. 

A voicemail. You could leave that. 

Like all social interactions, you prefer them with a bit of distance and disconnect anyway, whether that be through phone or several glasses of alcohol. 

“Umm” is all you say for a while, staring down at the ticking seconds in your lap. 

Then “Hey” and “it’s me.”

After another pause, you realize he probably doesn’t know who “me” is, really, so you tag on your name. 

And another “umm.”

“I’m calling because…”

You don’t know. Honest to God. 

You don’t know why you’re sitting here on your couch, back straight as a pin, anxiously tearing your fingers through your hair and watching your phone screen with eyes so wide someone’d think it’s going to eat you. 

“You know, I—I don’t really know why I’m calling. I mean, you asked me to, and now that I’m sitting here, doing it, it kinda feels like a mind game or something. You could still pick up, you know. Put me out of my misery.” 

You pause. 

Wait a few seconds. 

“...But I guess you won’t be doing that. That’s great. Um.” You poke your tongue into your cheek, practically seizing up at this point. “I hope your mission’s going well. You know, stopping the… the bad guys and all that. And I hope that you’re—” safe. You don’t know if anything’s happened to him. It’s been two weeks, maybe that’s why he hasn’t called. 

You think you’re gonna be sick. 

“You know, it’d be really shitty if you gave me your phone number just to up and die on some top secret mission to save the world. I think that’d be pretty rude of you.”

Quiet, again. Still. You’re not even sure why you’d thought maybe you could hear his response. 

But he’s the superhero guy, the special soldier on a secret mission that involves killing bad, bad men and even worse organizations. 

So maybe it’s a little selfish of you to miss him. 

“Be safe. I mean, I’m sure you already know to do that, but, you know. Try harder at it, I guess. For me.”

You end the call and fight the urge to throw your phone as far away as possible, and go about your night like Kyle doesn’t even exist. 

This distance thing’ll be… easy. Maybe. 

~~~~~~

You call him the next morning. Can’t help it. 

Hearing his voice, even if it’s from the damn voicemail thingy, is soothing. Like a balm over your twinging chest. 

Leave him a message at the beep. Oh, you plan to. 

“It’s been,” you glance at your phone, “six hours since I last called you. I can’t sleep, so that’s gonna be your problem too. I had this dream where I was riding a unicorn—and I know you think this is gonna be cute or something, but just give me a second—and so we’re just galloping along in the forest, all magical like, and then suddenly I’m surrounded by these guys in SWAT gear and those helmet-binocular deals that you guys wear.”

You’re picking at your blanket, morning gunk still grimey over your teeth, wondering why your first thought of the new day—five a.m., by the way, and you have work until one a.m. tonight—was to call Kyle (Hot Guy from the Bar) Garrick.

“It was a bloodbath. My poor unicorn had to stab military men, so I’m blaming you for giving me a horrific dream like that, Mr. Military Man. Awful rude of you to drag me into the horrors of war like that. And no, you will not be forgiven until you call me back. Goodbye.”

You can’t go back to sleep. Not after that. You’ve scarred yourself sending something so mindlessly ridiculous to a man who has legitimate work to do—might even have one of the most valid jobs on the planet, and you were whining to him about your weeny nightmare. 

So you spend the rest of your day meaninglessly-choring your way to the beginning of your bartending shift. 

Jeanne hasn’t asked where Kyle’s been. She’s got a new target, a rich businessman who mainly operates in the field of pool floaties. Luckily for him, it’s almost July, which means business is lively, and so too is her interest in him. 

It’s around that time that you realize Kyle was valid in denying her at every turn, but your guilt is still slow to fade. 

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket.  

Kyle.

You whip your finger across the screen, almost dropping the phone in your haste, and read the text. 

Reread it a couple more times, because you kind of don’t understand it.

It’s not heartfelt by any means. Not Earth-shattering. And you ponder over it for the rest of your shift, glancing at it every few minutes instead of responding, because it’s so short and succinct that you get the sense it’s all he could manage during his mission. 

All it says is “More.”

~~~~~~

Calling Kyle becomes a comfort. During breaks, after bad days, sometimes early in the morning when you were too exhausted the night before. 

You feel like a fool after some time. He never once sends another text or calls back, and this time you really think he’s gone. 

But there’s a hole your apartment’s silence can’t quite fill anymore, a quiet where Kyle’s lively chatter used to be at the bar. 

So you fill it like he’s still there with you. 

The third voicemail that you leave him begins with “You never told me your favorite drink.” You spend a half hour rambling about the different drinks you could have made him, how you’re getting better at it in his absence—you’ll even make him another Mai Tai to prove it, if he promised to come back—and how scotch is horrible. You’ve tried it for the first time, and you don’t believe for a second that it’s his preference, even if he’s a hardened soldier trying to wash the pain away. 

You don’t buy it. He’s an umbrella-drink kind of guy. 

The fourth is about how you’re rethinking things. So many things, while he’s gone. You’re rethinking what you want from life, considering going back and giving school the old college try one more time. You’d had these big dreams before you’d been cowed into submission by doubts and debt. Doctor of… well, something. Anything, really. You’d just always thought doctor looked good in front of your last name. 

It looks good in front of Garrick, too. Doctor Garrick, that actually sounds pretty cool, and—oh shit, you don’t mean it like that. Not like you’d be his… 

Anyway. 

The fifth through twenty-seventh voicemails follow the same pattern. Random thoughts you’ve come up with throughout the day combined with ponderings cranky customers have drawn out of you. 

None of it, you’re certain, is interesting to Kyle at all. 

Not when he’s on a mission, taking down the evil guys and saving lives. Risking his own in the process. 

But you can’t bring yourself to stop, too caught up in the text he sent you and how blatant he’d been about his interest before he left. 

No funny business. Just you. 

That’s what he’d wanted. 

And he’d wanted “more,” too. 

Good thing you’re willing to give it to him, highly concentrated and in a large number of doses. 

You’re a giver, after all. Maybe he hasn’t noticed it yet, but if he needs these calls from you, obnoxious little chats about the mundane side of life, you’ll do that for him. Because Kyle is a good guy, and you want that chance, however slim it may be, to prove that he passed on his number for good reason. 

So you keep calling, let the voicemails stack up and up as weeks go on, continue working behind the scenes of his life, hoping it’s not all in vain. 

~~~~~~

Gaz lets the phone drop back down to his side on the barracks bunk, smiling like an idiot at the ceiling. 

He’d been a tad nervous that you’d stop after a while, sometimes considered breaking Price’s no phone rule—he never would, of course; AQ can track the IPs of outgoing signals, and the last chance he’d had to send you a message was just before moving hideouts. 

But they’ve been in too deep the past few weeks to let his wants trump the importance of the mission. 

Plus, you’d obviously understood what “More” had meant. You certainly hadn’t given him less, at any point. There was only one three-day hiatus that made him strangle the shoulder straps of his chest gear so hard the fabric cinched and remained wrought. 

And then you’d called, all apologetic and sniffly because you’d gotten some kind of bug despite it being the middle of summer—which was so fucked, in your opinion. 

They’re flying back tomorrow. Through pure luck alone, it was a shorter mission than most, a two-month intel grab that ended with only enemies KIA, but Gaz knew what was coming. 

Short missions like this meant something big was on the horizon. 

Which meant that he had to make a decision soon to lock you down or let you go. 

Not getting to hear your voice during a mission like he did now? It sounds fucking devastating. But asking you to stick around for his flighty lifestyle, spend months mucking about on your own, worrying about him and his lack of contact—it was a lot. Ultimately it’d be your choice, and Gaz is terrified that he can’t predict what you’d choose; it feels like defusing a bomb with sweaty fingers, or running out of mags in the middle of the field. 

Things were out of his hands the second he put his phone number into yours and begged you to stick around. 

He’ll have to get on his knees this time.

He’s already asked a fellow soldier, one of the American Marines who’d been recruited for a building sweep, for a ride to the hotel. By his count, he’ll be there around eight in the morning, just early enough to catch you and only you. 

Gaz isn’t quite sure what he plans on doing. Something horribly twee, if past experience is anything to go by. Can’t quite get a conscious hold of himself when he sees you. 

And it’d be bloody fuckin’ embarrassing, the way his nerves buzz just under his skin, if he was this excited for anyone but you. 

But it’s eleven pm where he’s at and you just left a message bellyaching about his radio silence again. You’ve found a way to make scotch even worse and you’re going to torture him with it next time you see his face—you promise. Unless and only unless he messages you in the next five minutes with his favorite drink so you can practice. 

It’s terrible and a bit rude, the way you can toy with his feelings through kindness. His little puppet master twisting his heartstrings so tight he can never truly unravel, all with the tenderness of a damn saint. 

Gaz stares at your name in his phone. He works out the hours, then the minutes and eventually seconds until he gets to see you, and can finally stop fawning over the photo he’d found from your public high school’s online yearbook. He’s pretty sure you don’t have that zit anymore, at least, but it’s been too damn long and he’s due a verifiable fact-check. 

His return can’t be too big. You’re not a pomp-and-circumstance kind of gal, too uncertain of your own worth to ever happily accept flowers and fanfare, even if it was just the two of you. 

He’ll work you up to things like that. Over months. Years, hopefully. A lifetime, if the universe ever acknowledges the debt it owes him for the shit he puts up with. 

But for now, he plans for small. Modest and tame. 

Something to soothe that little prey heart that itches to run each time he flirts too loud and smiles too widely (because for some reason you can’t believe you draw it out of him, which, admittedly, preserves his pride a bit). 

Suddenly, he’s got just the thing. 

~~~~~~

Eight-fucking-thirty a.m. 

Who on God’s green Earth opens a bar at eight-thirty a.m.?

Surely not the hotel director, who you’ve only seen once and with pinot staining his white mustache, of all things. 

Couldn’t be one of the many, many bar managers who, thank God for them, only work at night. They couldn’t imagine working a bar in the morning, only serving those depressing early birds and the real addicts, haha. 

Real. Fucking. Funny. 

You’re not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. 

But when Jeanne says these are the hours that nobody else wants, during which almost no customers show up, and implies that you’ll pretty much be paid to sit on your ass and do nothing, well… by God, you will be there at eight-thirty sharp, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

Except the only thing that’s bright is the goddamned sun outside the windows—too bright—and your bushy tail is more of a bushy mane, as you woke up about thirty minutes ago, almost late to serve fucking no one, and didn’t bother to tame it with any manner of spray or hairbrush. 

To be frank, you’re a disaster. You look like you were caught in the Tasmanian Devil’s warpath, and you have the attitude to match. 

You thunk your bag down on one of the few empty shelves in the bar’s storage room and groan, wiping a hand over your face. The only thing that could make you feel better right now would be…

God, you just love to torture yourself, don’t you?

It’s been two months. Kyle’s not going to answer. He hasn’t responded to your texts. You don’t even know if he’s alive. 

But you miss him like he is. You miss him like you know he’s on the cusp of returning any second now, and you’re standing at the door, waiting to tear it open and pull him in so close you can smell that cheeky cologne he barely deserves to wear. 

Woodsy musk and cinnamon. Shameful that you remember it so distinctly. That you’d once wandered into the men’s shampoo aisle in a Walmart to try and figure out the word for the dark, elusive scent that clung to him like a second skin. 

It wasn’t there, which means he’s fancier than your budget can comprehend. 

Or that’s just him, and he exuded it so robustly when he’d been here that you can smell it now, drawing you out of the backroom with your phone in hand, thumb hovering over his name. 

Music is playing, which is confusing because you haven’t touched the radio yet. It’s the slow croon of your guilty pleasure song, the one you love ‘ironically.’ The song you’d confided in only one other soul about. 

“Careless Whisper” plays with a slow cadence in the furthest reaches of the bar.

It comes from the same place where two brown eyes are sliding over you at a debilitating pace. 

“Fuck me” falls from those lips, that wicked British accent, as he takes in your hips for a while, then your chest, where your heart pounds so damn hard you think he can see it. Then he watches the little jump in your throat as you swallow, and he wets over his lips before glancing up to yours. Stays there, for a long, long time. 

Then he meets your eyes, and the stutter in his breath is so damn loud.

Kyle. 

Your soldier. 

The man you’ve been calling for months, with no response. 

His face is littered with an array of new wounds, like little scrapes on the apples of his cheeks you get the most bizarre urge to run your tongue over. A split in the smooth skin of his forehead, a paling scar seated in his unshaven jaw. 

His hair’s a little more clean-cut. Perks of heading out for a mission, maybe. 

And his long lashes shadow over the yearning look he’s got locked on you, sharpening and honing it like they’re fibrous whetstone. 

You’re a bit breathless as you round the bar, even more so when Kyle jolts toward you. Out of his devilishly tight black tee peeks a strip of white wrapped around his bicep, and one of his thighs is thicker than the other, suffering the same treatment under his jeans. But he makes his way closer—too slowly—and tries to stave off a wince when he gets too excited, takes a step a bit too fast. 

“Been waitin’ out here for hours, love,” he murmurs, voice breathy but rough. He holds out a hand, curls his longer fingers over yours so tight they can barely tremble. “You still got that scotch ready f’me?”

Your mind floats over the joke completely, instead filling you with worries and urges you can’t fulfill all at once. 

Because, God, it’s Kyle. Your Kyle. And he’s looking at you like that’s all he’s wanted to be. 

And he’s injured. 

He tries shrugging off your hand the second you reach for his face, fingertips hovering over the stiffness under his right eye as he mutters a “Love, don’t worry about it. ’S’better than it looks.”

“Kyle,” you whisper. His other hand falls to your hip, constricting iron-stiff around the soft flesh. 

“M’not broken, darling. Promise.”

And, because you’ve always wanted to, you cup his cheek, a puff of air bouncing off your lips when he leans into it. Turns towards the pliable skin of your palm, like he’s going to run his lips over it, but pauses when he feels you tense up. 

Something in his eyes darkens, makes you feel almost ashamed at the nervous reaction, but it’s just so much. You’ve missed him. You’re not accustomed to this, and it’s starting to dawn on you that this moment, however right and perfect and perfect perfect perfect it feels is still so fast. 

Two months. You haven’t seen him for two months. 

And now that he’s back, it feels like the two of you have been greeting each other like this forever. 

How can he make you fall so fast and still have you feeling like you’re pacing yourself?

This can’t be right, it can’t be—

“Dance with me. C’mon, before that horrible brain of yours blows a fuse about all this.”

“Careless Whisper” and that dashing smile of his, and all of his touch and proximity gets your mind all fuzzy. A good fuzzy. A quieting fuzzy. 

He’s getting too good at this is a thought that tries to stick, but recedes back into the murkiness when Kyle starts to sway. 

He urges your hips and feet to follow his lead. It’s far too easy to give in and let him have control, especially as he pulls you in a little closer, rearranges your hands and bodies until the noticeable space becomes the noticeable lack thereof. 

You’re tucked into his broad chest, warm and sturdy against you. 

He’d placed your hand right over his heart with a meaningful look in his eyes, waited until you felt the frantic thumpthumpthumpthump that leaves your face hot. 

Kyle was always confident around you. He always seemed to know what he was doing, because he was always obvious about what he’d wanted. 

But you didn’t know that you, of all people, could have this effect on him. 

That flutter of pulsations under your fingertips.

His head ducking low until his face is nestled into your collarbone.

The arm that swings around behind you until the crook of his elbow is caught in the dip of your waist and his broad palm is flattened against your opposite hip. 

It’s a little hard to face this moment, being how you are. It feels beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like you. You’re chest is so full, heart so quick, head so wondrously empty. 

You can’t think past the back-and-forth scrape of Kyle’s fingers underneath your shirt’s hem. 

But you feel like apologizing for something. Maybe you’d say sorry for how you feel in his arms, too big surely, despite the way he’s wrangled around you and holding so tight it’d take a solid minute for him to let go. Maybe you should apologize for the stupid song that’s playing, the one that everybody hates, you guess, even though you love it. Maybe you’re sorry about—

Wait. 

“You listened to all those messages?”

Kyle doesn’t make a sound. At first, at least. 

Then…

“They were the only things that kept me hangin’ on, love.” Where his lips brush these words into your skin, the nerves underneath throb. 

A sorry feels cruel on your tongue after that. 

Kyle hums into the silence, singing along a bit when the song repeats for a third time, then a forth, and your hair sticks to his face as he draws away. 

He looks like a fool, but a lovesick one more than anything. It’s dumb and stupid and ridiculous that he has to brush your hair off his face, and even more dumb that he looks like he’s enjoying it so damn much his face is split in two, top and bottom with only pearly whites in between. 

 A fool for doing all this for you, for wanting you so bad when he could replicate this with anyone, someone much prettier, and have them forever. 

“I don’t even wanna know what that dreadful mind of yours is concocting right now, darling. Don’t wanna hear a lick of it, because I know it’d make me so mad, too mad for a moment like this.”

“I don’t want to hear it either,” you whisper, letting your gaze fall to where your hand lay, to where Kyle’s heart gives off an indignant thud. 

The knuckle of his index finger knocks against your chin. “Let me silence it then, yeah?” His head tilts in an innocent way, almost distracting from how quick his heartbeats are now, agitated into a frenzy.

You nod, only partly because you’re a little worried he’ll go into cardiac arrest if you don’t. Mostly because you’ve heard about half of what he’s said by now, the rest of your brain designated to determining what he’s drawing into the curve of your hip. The hard press of his fingers is ruinous to your mental stability. 

That—right there—has to be a G. That’s the first symbol you’ve managed to decode so far. 

Kyle’s lips are so close when you tilt your head up again, and the intensity of his attention has increased tenfold. You wonder if you’d ever considered this to be the end result of all your phone calls, those nonsensical anecdotes every other twelve hours that you’d felt so guilty about sending. It felt like you’d been wasting his precious time. 

But his fervid grip on your body has you thinking the complete opposite way—that instead, you’ve been feeding this needy man before you far too much, a gratuitous enough amount that you’ve tracked him back to your house like a wild wolf you’re not really sure how to treat in the confines of your own home. 

You meant it when you said the distance made it easy. 

A is the second letter.

You wonder distantly if its shape is now bruised into the fleshy tissue of your side. 

And you wonder if he’s ever going to kiss you, leaning in so close like that.

~~~~~~

Gaz has to draw the line soon. He’s gotta find it first, but he’s so damn scared he’s gotten too close without even realizing it. 

The skin at that little sloping line between your neck and collarbone is all hot and smooth. He almost sunk his teeth into it, wanted to bite you a little and hear that little rabbit squeak of yours before you tore away, flustered. 

He can barely fight off the urge of giving the same treatment to that trembling lower lip, the fatty one you’ve ran your tongue over deliciously quick, like you thought he wouldn’t notice. 

Would it be so bad if you let him worry at it with his own teeth? Let your lips get all puffy and red from his touch, and only his?

But he’s pushing the boundaries too much all over again, and you’re back to shaking. It’s a good tremble, one he can feel through the muscles of his forearm, the one that’s flush with your spine. You’re all excited, and it’s because of him. 

All good things. 

But he knows you, knows the martyr that you are. Knows that if he feeds you now, you’ll think that’s the only meal you need and deserve, and you’ll tear away from his hold all over again, because you haven’t been giving enough. You’ve received too much already; he can see it in your eyes. 

Gaz walked in here a little too generous after all those phone calls. He thought you’d expect a reward for your diligence, and instead you’re acting like it was a burden. Undue torture for him to draw away like that, in his humble opinion. 

But fine. He won’t kiss you. Not yet. 

He pulls back a bit, unraveling his arm around your waist and settling for spelling Garrick into your other hip with a bruising pressure. It’s high time the other side of your body received the same treatment, anyway. 

If he’s tasked with quieting your mind, he’ll have to do it the less fun way. 

“So,” he mumbles, a bit ticked at how the words disturb the air, “come here often?”

A surprised laugh tears out of your throat, and you tip your head back until the delectable line of your jaw is all he can see. 

Foul play. 

Patience. Fuckin’—God, patience. He almost forgot.

Almost slipped that fucking leash. 

“You’re horrible,” you admonish with a grin, fingers curling up at his left pectoral. 

“You love it,” he whispers back. If there’s any shred of him that’s lost faith in how you feel for him, it’s the same hand that forces his last name into your hip. It wanders, for a second, up your back, behind your ribs, until he can feel that off-kilter thrumming that matches his own. 

Feels that stutter at his words.

“Love, huh?”

He tries not to freeze up. If you felt that from him, you’d have a little spike of doubt pierce right into that ever-working brain of yours. 

Gaz is so pissed he let that word slip, even casually, and scans over your face, trying to read how it landed. You were casual about it, too, but he knows that’s a touchy subject to push on. He’s toppling into bad territory. If you pulled away from him now…

“Cheesy shit like that is all I hear at my job.” Garrick Garrick Garrick. He’s pressing the letters into your spine now. “Honest. Dad jokes every morning. I’m the last one you have to worry about. It’s like going on a mission with a comedy club, that crew.”

Your smile eases up a bit, and you relax into the moment again. 

“You barely talk about your job.” You look away, seemingly finding the wooden-paneled walls far more interesting. “I didn’t know that topic was on the table.”

“The good parts are. That’s all I’ll ever want you to hear about.”

“I didn’t know you were so protective.”

Gaz is nipping at the bits to respond to that exactly the way he knows how. Of fucking course I am. It’s you. But he can’t rephrase it in any way that would soothe and not scare you off. 

So he lets your comment hang in the silence as you sway.

~~~~~~

When Kyle leaves the bar, at first it feels an awful lot like when he left that very first time. A bit disappointing that the hot, crazy drunk guy won’t be entertaining you for the rest of the night. Won’t be screaming I love you sooooo much, miss bartender gal until you clock off. 

The feeling makes you wistful.

Then—

Oh fuck—

It starts to feel like when he left for his mission. When you didn’t know if he’d ever come back, and you just missed him so damn much you couldn’t think straight, wanted to hear his voice one more time and not just saying “Leave a message at the beep.”

When you drove yourself crazy thinking about the little touches. When you dreamed about him far too much than was normal. When, more than anything, you wanted him to give in to all those little urges he seemed to hold back from you, that little grimace winding his lips when you swept to close or said something even remotely suggestive. 

And you know you don’t deserve it. You’re not fit to be the girl of his affections, the one he comes home to each time he returns from a mission and greets with a kiss. 

But it doesn’t stop you from imagining that you could be. 

You’d try to repay him for his love each time he comes home by greeting him with his favorite meal and drink. You’d massage the corded muscles of his arms and back, lead him with a shy smile into the bath set for two, and he’d have that same hungry look as you stripped to join him, splashing water everywhere in effort to tug you over to his end of the tub. 

You’d sit on his couch each day, scratching his scalp as you read a book, listening to the soft snores as he napped. You’d dance with him in the kitchen like you did today, slow sways to a song he liked this time, and then you’d play your favorite again, just to listen to those soft hums of his crooning along…

Oh God. 

You want Kyle. So damn bad.

You want his body. You want his hands all over you, eyes raking over your face, legs twisting against yours. 

You want every little thought running through his mind. You want his attention. You want his laughs, his cries, his silence when he’s protecting you from his memories. 

You want him shamelessly. Constantly. Perpetually. 

You want him so bad that you could give two shits whether you deserved him or not. 

You’d do everything in your power to earn it. Pour in your love and heart and soul into building something with him. 

And best of all, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. 

You don’t regret the way you call him that night, pleading for him to come over. It’s three a.m., and his voice is groggy and exhausted over the phone, accent thick as he grumbles, “Love, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Oh, you’re cryin’, darling, tell me where you are. I’ll be there sooner than possible.”

You relapse so hard that night. The second you saw his face all over again, you knew you couldn’t go without him. A Kyle-addict, and you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

He’s shouting, yelling at your door like a mad drunk, but you didn’t give him any scotch that morning. None of that whiskey sour either, the one he revealed was his favorite, but knew Americans wouldn’t get right. 

You tear open the door. His clothes are in disarray, buttons all wonky. His eyes are wild and wandering over you. His hands are curled tight around your doorway, blood sapping away from his knuckles because he’s holding himself back so hard. 

You don’t care. He shouldn’t bother anymore. 

You make the first jolt toward him, and his face melts into awe.

Kyle’s lips, they taste like….

Fuck, you whine a little into his mouth. 

Like fucking rain. Like a dream. Like clouds and floating untethered.

But also corporeal, grounding. Like plain chapstick and a bit of toothpaste. They taste like fingers winding so deep into your hair and hips pushing at yours until you stumble into your living room. They taste like Kyle blindly kicking the door shut, like him pulling back with a gasp and being aglow with ardent moonlight, like him reading every little emotion on your face and shaking his head, mumbling a “fucking finally.” He tilts your head up a bit higher, swivels your face to the side so your moans bounce off the walls as he drags his tongue along your jawline, down the warm column of your throat. And then you lurch, eyes flying open as he bites into the crux of your neck and shoulder. 

“Kyle!” Your nails dig into his back, drag down and dig in again at the same tempo as his bite-pull-back-bite-again. And he does the same to the rest of your body, every little inch that gradually presents itself when the clothes come off. His lips and teeth wander without bias, but each time you try to speak he drags himself back up to your ear and shushes, soothes your concerns with mindless mutterings along the lines of “Just lemme—gimme a bit to—fuck, love” and “Need a bit of patience, darling. I’m tryin’ to play here.”

He controls every second of it. All of it. 

Like he wouldn’t stand for a single mistake. Like he needs you to know it’s worth it. 

The sun showers over him when he’s trembling, sweating, hovering over you, hands intertwined with yours, peppering your face with kisses despite his rapid chest rising and falling, when he finally collapses against you, around and inside and generally being everything he can to you in this moment. He’s bigger than the bed, bigger than the apartment, bigger than that bar and your world. 

Kyle’s smile, still charming and exhausted, is the last thing you see as he coos you to sleep. 

~~~~~~

Gaz has to bat your hand away from your phone for the seventh time. “Jus’ fuckin’ ignore it,” he hisses into your stomach. “Bloody fuckin’ thing ruinin’ this beautiful mornin’ we’re having.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

Despite your phone—Jeanne calling, apparently, because you’re three hours late to work, and you could’ve at least warned her you were going to be honeymooning off with the newly returned soldier boy (she’ll give you a sick day)—ruining the moment, it was still the best awakening he’s had in his adult life.

Maybe even better than birthday chocolate chip pancakes when he was a kid. 

No. Wait.

Definitely better.

He woke up to a soft caress against his cheek, found himself buried into your chest. Your breasts, as it turns out, are even more beautiful to begin his day with watching than any sunrise. 

He tore his gaze up higher and found you staring down at him, gentle smile on your lips. Your fingertips were tracing over his scars, thumbing at his lips every now and then. 

It’s not right that he hasn’t woken up like this before. Part of it makes him think he hasn’t really been living until right now, when he can’t think past your hot skin and plush thighs nuzzled close to his stomach. 

“Don’t mind this one bit, darling,” he’d said, dropping his head to feather his mouth over your belly button. “Can we stay like this forever?”

It’s genuine, and he can tell you know he means it because your cheeks turn pink. Surely it’s a lot for you in this moment. Your split-second decision last night was just that, and on his taxi ride over he’d worried himself over how you’d react the next morning. 

Your brows furrow, and your lips purse real tight while you think. 

Gaz’s trained himself to fear your thinking, but he holds off on distracting you from it now. Plays fair, even though he could be kissing his way down further and further until he could force a promise out of you; a gaspy, whiney one. 

But that wouldn’t do. He needs that rabbit brain of yours that likes to kick out and scurry away to agree with him for once, that yes, you want him to stay. You always will. 

And before he knows it, you’re cupping both sides of his face, drawing him up onto his forearms, making him crawl up your body until you press one long, hard kiss to his lips before muttering, “Yes. Let’s do it.”

Your thumbs swipe under his eyes, no doubt bothered by the dark circles, but the rumble of his voice as he praises you for giving in must tell you he’s gotten plenty of sleep. He made sure he did all of the work last night, had you follow each and every one of his commands to sit, stay, and let him take care of you, for fuck’s sake, or it’ll kill him.

All his energy, all that stamina was worked to the bone, and he feels like a puddle of goo against your form. He presses another kiss to your lips before trailing his way back down, nestling into your stomach while informing you that you’d make a damn good pillow every morning. 

~~~~~~

You’re certain nothing could ruin this moment. 

Kyle’s already back to snoring softly, little grumbles against the skin between your breasts, hands starfished at your thigh and lower back. He looks ten years younger curled up against you, the wrinkles of his face smoothed out through thorough exhaustion. 

Just seven hours ago he’d smiled at you, somehow more doting than the last, his skin dewed with sweat, and collapsed into your hold. He’d been content to run himself ragged, and now that he’s got you thoroughly trapped underneath his muscled, form, he seems intent on not moving an inch. 

His wounds still unnerve you. The bandages from yesterday could use a change, damp and wrinkled around his bare thigh and biceps. But from your position, your head leveraged on a pillow, you can see pale, ravaged skin from botched stitches and bullet holes. Uneven gouges and linear scrapes, wounds whose origins would surely pain you to listen to—most of all because he’d say it with such nonchalance. 

It’s hard to turn the sweet Kyle from the bar into this war-broken soldier before you, hard to combine them into one person and have it make complete sense. Like water and oil, the pair of them refuse to mix into one. 

You’re running the tip of your middle finger along one particularly horrifying line running diagonally down his nape when he wakes up again. His head lifts, and you let your hand slide with the movement until you’re cupping his cheek and he’s leaning into your hold. A wet kiss cools on the inside of your wrist when Kyle gets close enough. 

His limbs wrangle even tighter with yours. “What time is it now?”

“Two-thirty.”

His pretty brown eyes are locked on your face, a gentle roaming back and forth in rhythm with the slow strokes of his index finger against your knee. 

“Good. A few more hours and I’ll have kept you here all day. A personal record, one I’ll flaunt with honor.”

“We’ll have to get up at some point.”

“Maybe I’ll trap you here all week,” he ignores you, all serious consideration now. “I’ll have to check my rope supply.”

“You know, there are easier, less illegal ways to entice me into staying.”

“Don’t like riskin’ it with you.” He draws himself up and leans in, and you tilt closer to accept his peppering of kisses over your forehead, across your cheeks, down your jawline. “Each time I try to do it the nice way, you manage to slip away from me. Have to start playin’ for keeps now.”

You’re not sure if you love Kyle. 

You know you’re not quite in the same place as he is emotionally. But he certainly knows how to put you on the fast track to get there, and it starts with the way he cradles you closer—always a little bit closer—and nudges his nose just underneath your ear, releasing a sigh like touching you can make all the horrors, worries, fears slip away. Like you’re a magical woman. 

You feel like you’re made of magic, anyway. 

And you don’t regret any of the decisions you’ve made since calling him last night. Hell, since calling him that first time, when he was thousands of miles away, and all he wanted was more. 

~~~~~~

Gaz has a bad urge. A terrible one. Bloody fuckin’ day ruiner of an urge that has him peeling away and hiding out in your bathroom for too long after relieving himself. 

He’s staring at himself in the mirror while he dries off clean hands, investigating that dark mark you’d sucked into the side of his neck before he could untangle from you. 

Bad, bad, bad Gaz. 

It’s too soon. 

You don’t take “too soons” very well. Can’t handle them. 

But, well, biased as he is, Gaz thinks he looks more alive than he has in months. 

And all it was was you, injected into his veins and flowing back to his heart before being properly dispersed throughout the rest of his body, even distribution of needing you every hour of every day until he can’t even curl his toes without thoughts of you. 

No. He really, really shouldn’t.

He won’t.

Gaz steps out of your bathroom and fumbles his way through your apartment, following the sounds of humming and beeping. 

Almost blacks out at what he finds. 

You, bent over and retrieving a frying pan from your cupboards, rising up until your standing tall, wearing his goddamned shirt. The black cotton hugs your thick figure tight, but it’s too long, caps off somewhere near the tops of your thighs, lace panties barely twinkling at him just underneath

Fuckin’ Christ, bloody Jesus, Hell on a—

“Love,” he chokes on the word. “Darling. You’re killin’ me here, bunny.”

Fuck it. 

Seriously—fuck it. 

He’s gonna ask. It’s not too soon. Not for him. Not when it comes to you. 

You laugh a little. “Sorry. I know, I know, it’s too tight. But I was too lazy to find something else, so if you really want it back—”

“No.”

You pause, smile locked on your face. “Okay then. Good. Glad that’s settled. I’ll just keep making breakfast then.”

You’re on your tippy toes now, reaching high to the small pantry above your stove, fingertipping at a box of pancake mix. 

“Could you…?”

“Yeah.” He’s behind you in a matter of blinks, broad chest brushing your back before you can dart out of the way, even grasping your hip with one hand and passing you the box with the other. 

You take it from him with a fumbled thank you, the words stuttering their way out of your mouth as he swipes your hair back and behind your ear. “What’s on the menu, then, love?”

He can practically feel the current of chills slinking down your spine. He follows you, chest still against your back, step for step as you putter around, finding a whisk, a carton of milk, and… a bag of chocolate chips. 

Fuckin’ hell, don’t tell me.

“Pancakes. I’m adding chocolate chips because they’re my favorite, so don’t you dare bitch about—what, what is it?”

You palm at his forehead in confusion when he buries his face into your shoulder and groans. 

Fool. Bloody fuckin’ fool, dumbass bastard ruining everything after one goddamn night. It’s too damn soon. It’ll ruin everything.

“Love, I hafta—”

A cacophony of beeps cut through the air, and your attention slips to the microwave, where a cup sits aglow in the yellow light. 

“Sorry, that’s for my tea—”

He’s really doing this. 

Fuck it. 

Fuck. 

It.

“Move in with me.”

~~~~~~

Part 3

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> You interrogate Harvey at dinner; Harvey plays a little too dumb.

a/n: or, harvey tries not to have a panic attack in front of you at the stardrop </3 someone get him a paper bag to breathe into pls

+ i think i'll mainly update this fic throughout the week so i can have a break on weekends ! enjoy <33

ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5

paper rings masterlist

chapter four: right where you left me -> "help, i'm still at the restaurant."

The Stardrop was pretty much empty when Harvey walked in, picking a table in the corner with two chairs. He wasn’t expecting to see you for another half hour, but being timely never hurt, did it? Besides, he wanted some time to think about the words his friends had left him with after leaving his apartment.

“Remember to stay calm,” Elliott had told him. “Be your natural self, doctor, and I assure you she will be falling for you before you even notice.”

“I would make sure she’s single first,” Shane had countered. “No point in doing all this crap if she’s not lookin’.” 

Surprisingly, they both had good points. Harvey was glad he had them to rely on — he had no idea what he would do if he solely had to rely on his own thoughts. Honestly, he doubted he would be getting dinner with you if he had.

“Waiting for someone?” Gus asked, walking over to his table to set down the two glasses of water he’d requested. 

“Yes, the new farmer,” Harvey replied, scooting one of the glasses in front of your chair. “She’ll be here shortly.”

“Ah, right! I used to babysit her from time to time, you know, when her grandfather was too busy. I’m glad to hear the two of you are still good friends.”

Harvey wanted to cringe at the bartender’s last phrase, but covered it with a slightly pained smile.

“We both thought this would be a good place to sit down and talk for a little,” he explained, checking the time again. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve had time for each other.”

“Well, I suppose that’s how it gets as we get older,” Gus sighed. “Anyway, don’t mind me, I’ll stay in the back and take inventory so the two of you can have some privacy. How about I get a pizza goin’ in the kitchen for the two of you? On me.”

“Gus, please, you don’t have to—”

“Please, the kid used to call me her second Gramps. It feels wrong not feeding the two of you,” he expressed, waving his hand in the air as he headed back toward the bar. “Just give me a little time, I’ll get it right out for you!”

Harvey huffed a laugh at the older man’s antics, realizing how long he’d been in Pelican Town. He vaguely remembered seeing Gus as a child, though he was hiding behind his parent’s legs most of the time they spoke to him. 

After waiting a few minutes, the door to the saloon creaked open as you walked in, smiling as your eyes met his. He shyly waved, swallowing his fear and quickly taking a sip of water.

“Here I thought I was early,” you joked, sitting across from him. “When did you get here?”

“Not too long ago,” he lied. “I didn’t have much else going on today, so I finished up a couple of things back at home and got here whenever I could.”

“Right.” He blinked at the tone of your voice. Did you not believe him? “Thanks again for helping me out this morning, by the way. I’m pretty much all done setting up the house for the spring.”

“Don’t mention it, I’m here for anything you need.” 

Silence.

Harvey was puzzled. He’d only seen you a few hours prior, yet your demeanor felt completely different. Immediately, he started playing back every interaction you two had, scouring for the moment he made a mistake. He was sure he had avoided any sort of awkward scenario, though. 

“Alright,” you sighed, hands falling onto your lap, “I have to confess. I stopped by your place earlier.”

“Oh, you did?” Harvey questioned, surprised. “I must not have heard.”

“No, it’s not your fault, I never ended up knocking.” You chewed your lip for a moment before saying, “I, um, heard you talking with your friends, I think.”

His heart stopped.

Harvey swore he blacked out for a split second at the thought of you hearing everything he’d said to Shane and Elliott, a cold shiver running down his spine. It’s over, he thought. My efforts have ended before I even gave myself a chance to start.

“Y-You did?” he said, blinking rapidly as he tried to come up with the right words. “Are you . . . upset?”

You laughed shortly, shaking your head. “No, Harvey, why would I be? It’s not my place to feel that way.”

“Oh. I see.” Confusion replaced his panic at your rather calm stature, watching as you ran a finger down the condensation of your glass. 

“I mean, I can’t really blame you for not telling me, can I?” you reasoned. “We’ve barely talked over the past couple of years, so we never got the chance to talk about girls or guys or anything like that. So,” you prop up your arms with your elbows and rest your chin on your hands, “tell me about her. I want to know what this girl is like to have you so lovestruck.”

For a second, he thought you were playing a joke on him — some sick, twisted joke to get him to say all the things about you he’d grown to love. When your expression didn’t change, though, he realized you must not have heard the girl he’d been talking about was you.

“Well,” he started, trying to recover himself, “she’s awfully smart, and always finding new ways to surprise me. She’s kind, and remembers every little detail about me. Sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself.” He continued to list his favorite traits about you he’d gathered throughout the years. They slipped off his tongue easily; he thought about them often, after all.

You hummed, nodding. Harvey had to use all his willpower not to laugh and reveal you were assessing if you would be a good partner to him.

“What does she do for a living?” you asked, and he scrambled to think of a quick answer.

“She’s a nurse,” he decided on, thinking it would make the most sense. “We’ve been friends for quite a bit.”

“A nurse, huh?” You sat up, smiling at him. “You know what? I approve.” 

“Really?” He couldn’t believe it. Truly, he couldn’t. He had just gained your endorsement to date yourself. He laughed, pushing up his glasses. “I’m glad. I guess we never got the chance to talk about these kinds of things, did we?”

“I guess not.”

“Here we are, folks!” Gus made his way to their table with a steaming pizza in his hands, triumphantly placing it in front of the two. He looked at you and grinned, ruffling your hair. “How ya been, kiddo? It’s been too long.”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Gus,” you responded warmly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

“That’s great to hear. I’ll leave you two to it, then.” He walked away, sneaking a wink to Harvey that he pretended not to see.

“Anyways,” you continued, picking up a slice and blowing on it, “you probably would have hated hearing about my boy situations in college.”

Harvey quickly swallowed the piece of pizza in his mouth before hesitantly replying, “So you did meet someone in the city. How about now?”

You shrugged. “Well, nothing now, but there were a couple guys I dated in college that didn’t last super long. There was also one at Joja who wasn’t half bad, but things just didn’t end up working out.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t realize until then how ugly of a feeling jealousy was. To ignore the feeling, he opted to focus on the fact that you were, in fact, single. Now, he just had to figure out how to clear up the misunderstanding he’d created. He wanted to slap himself at the mess he’d made, but nothing had gone as planned. 

You cleared your throat, snapping him back to the conversation. “I’m glad to hear you have someone in sight, Harvs. You know, I always thought you would be too shy to express your feelings like that,” you confessed. “She must really be something special to grab your attention.”

“She is.” Harvey tried to read your expression as you ate, noticing your scrunched brow and pursed lips. Were you jealous, too? “Though I’m not sure she feels the same way as me.”

You huffed, finishing the last slice and wiping your hands on your napkin. “Then she’s an idiot,” you declared. “Honestly, Harvey, you may be a dork sometimes, but you’ve got your charm.”

“You think so?” His heart skipped a beat.

You paused, and he stifled a smile as he watched you become flustered. “It’s good she’s a nurse,” you said, looking away. “You two can nerd out about that stuff together. Maybe you can get her into planes, too.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, overjoyed that you remembered his secret hobby. “That would be perfect.” 

After a moment, he realized you were silent, looking to be deep in thought as you stared at the table. 

“How about a drink?” he suggested, standing up to grab Gus.

“Actually, I think I’m alright,” you replied quickly, avoiding his eyes as you started to gather your things. “It’s been a long day, I think I might go turn in.”

“Of course! I can walk you back—”

“It’s fine.” 

He stared at you, unable to conceal his look of confusion and hurt as you put on your jacket. After noticing his stare, you smiled reassuringly at him, reaching over to lightly grab his arm.

“I said it’s fine, Harvey, I’m just really tired, okay? Stop overthinking things,” you said, heading to the door. “Don’t miss me too much, alright? Remember, I’m right next door now.”

“Right,” he replied, waving slightly. “I’ll see you soon?”

“See you!” You left with one last smile, the sound of the door shutting seeming to ring in Harvey’s ears. As if your leaving was their cue, the townspeople began to file in, calling out for Gus and their usual orders. 

Harvey sat back down in his chair with a thud. Now alone in his corner, he slouched and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. How, how could everything have gone so wrong? Not only did he dig himself into a deeper hole, but you were now under the impression that he had feelings for another woman. 

He only slipped his glasses back on when he heard someone join him at his table, half expecting to see Elliott or Shane across from him. When his eyes focused, Harvey saw it was Gus sitting beside him, giving him a knowing look.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?”

-

You wanted to scream as soon as you left the Stardrop, but were somehow able to resist your urges. 

Not only did you feel awful about leaving Harvey at the saloon, but talking to him had only appeared to make your thoughts more jumbled. It all felt so sudden —in your mind, it was only yesterday he was the young boy you’d first met, sporting a face full of freckles and a pair of oversized glasses. Now, he was a grown man, talking about a woman who he seemed ready to marry. 

Letting out a long sigh, you decided to take a longer route home, heading up to the old park you used to play in. You sat on one of the swings, listening to it creak as you became lost in your own thoughts. Why do I care about who Harvey’s in love with? Did he notice how I got jealous? Why am I getting jealous in the first place?

You were so lost in your maze of questions you didn’t realize someone had taken the swing beside you, jumping as they waved a hand in front of your face.

“Hey,” she said shortly, leaning forward to look at your face, “you’re the new farmer, aren’t you?” The girl’s blonde hair flowed across her shoulders perfectly, her brow perked as she looked at you with piercing blue eyes. Her lipstick glistened in the evening light.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not knowing what to make of the younger girl.

“Cool.” She noticeably looked you up and down, squinting as she evaluated your clothing. “Huh. You don’t dress half bad. Congrats, I don’t think I need to toss your entire wardrobe.”

“Um, thanks?” 

“I’m Haley, by the way.” She looked away, beginning to swing carelessly. “You looked like you were thinking really hard about something just now.”

You sighed, gripping the swing tightly. “Yeah, it’s complicated.”

“Is it about a boy you like?”

You looked at Haley in surprise, though she simply got off the swing and began to walk away. She turned her head to meet your eyes for a moment, narrowing them.

“Just because I’m younger doesn’t mean I’m clueless, y’know,” she said sharply. Waving a hand back lazily, she continued her walk back toward town, a confident sway in her hips. “See you around.”

With that, you were left with the cool, spring breeze and the sound of the river running, wondering if the younger girl had better intuition than you did.

[natalieportmanismywife]

PARTY GIRL | nerd!anakin. 18+

| Summary ~ You are a party girl and he… well he wasn’t exactly into that type of stuff. He was the school’s nerd, and you are the popular kid. You guys were opposites of each other, and yet, you still found a way to each other. Every. Time.

Anakin walked into a club with his friends from his geek club. They all made a bet, whoever was the first to leave would have to do whatever everyone else says for a month. Anakin looked around, his eyes flickered from one place to the other. The dance floor, which had bodies of bodies dancing on each other. The couches, which sat women and men making out with each other. He didn’t even want to go into the bathrooms. His eyes flickered away from the bathrooms and to the bar. Safest place for now, right? He thought to himself as he made his way away from his friends who were beginning to split up and over to the bar.

Anakin looked at the bar stool that had a liquid spilt on it. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned his head down slightly and sniffed it. One sniff immediately had him moving to another stool, away from that one. He sat down on a different stool, his nose still scrunched up in disgust. He didn’t know what that liquid was and honestly he didn’t want to know, all he knew was that it smelled absolutely disgusting.

The bartender made her way over to him, “What can I get you, sunshine?” She asked, putting the rag she was using to wipe the counters on her shoulder. Anakin looked up from the bar counter and looked at the bartender. She had piercing blue eyes and straight blonde hair with highlights. She’s pretty. He thought to himself.

“Uh, just wa-water for now.” He stuttered as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose since they were falling down. The bartender furrowed her eyebrows but nodded nonetheless. He sighed softly. I am definitely losing this bet. He thought as a group of girls sat a couple of stools away from him, giggling and laughing. He looked over to them, his eyes widening when he realized they were from his school. Shit.

He knows all of them, well not personally. They all hang out with the ‘queen bee’ of the school, Y/n Y/l/n. He always had a crush on her. She wasn’t the type of popular girl to bully you because it makes her feel better about herself and it gains her laughs, she’s the type of popular girl to stand up for you, and she’s pretty which makes her even better. I mean, anyone would have a crush on her if they knew her.

He moved his head to get a better look at who was there, manly because he wanted to know if she was there. She was, and they made eye contact. Her e/c eyes staring into his deep blue ones. The soft warm smile gracing her beautiful plump lips. She looks like the type of girl to walk out of your dreams. And the dress she was wearing. Oh god, the dress. His eyes trailed down her body. She was wearing a mini dress and it was an off the shoulder, sparkly blue navy color. It looked so good on her, it also matched her shoes. His eyes trailed back up her and looked at her at her hair that looked as perfect as ever. He saw pieces of what looked like tinsel in her hair which made him smile.

She excused herself from her friends and made her way over to him. He cleared his throat and looked away to the water glass in front of him. He didn’t even know the bartender came back with his water. He felt a tap on the shoulder so he turned back around and he saw her. “Hi, Anakin.” She said with her usual smile.

“He-hey, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with her. “What are you do-doing here?” He stumbled over his words. He bit his lip to shut himself up.

She looks around, “Oh, I come here on Fridays sometimes.”

He nods, “That’s nice.” He replied.

There was an awkward silence after that. He finally made eye contact with her. She tilts her head slightly. “Wanna dance, pretty boy?” She asked, offering him her hand. He wanted to tell her he didn’t dance and that he can’t but then he may be missing out on an opportunity to get her alone.

“Yes.” He accepted her hand and she pulled him to the dance floor. She turned to face him. Their bodies were being squished together because of how many people there were. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I don’t know how to dance?” He whispered in her ear causing a giggle to escape her.

“Just let loose. Dance like nobody’s watching. Have fun. Live a little.” She said, ruffling his hair.

“I am living a little, if I wasn't I wouldn’t be here.” He shot back in a soft matter-of-fact tone.

She rolled her eyes and guided his hands to her hips. His breath hitched as she put his hands on her hips and began swaying them. She trailed her hands up his arms and stopped at his shoulders and trailed them over to his chest. “Sway with me.” She whispers in his ear. He slowly began swaying his body in rhythm with hers.

“Like this?” He asked quietly, staring into her eyes.

“Mhm.” She turned her body around so her back was pressed against his front. He slowly leaned down, closer to her neck. She felt his breath on her neck and moved her hair out of the way, giving him more access to her neck.

He felt a sudden hunger within him and his lips immediately latched onto her neck, kissing her neck with care and affection but also with need and desire. She guided his hand to cup her right breast. His hand squeezed her breast and his other hand traveled down her thigh, electing a soft moan from her. But all this ended when he heard his friend calling his name. He quickly let go of her breast and moved himself away from her, turning around to face his friend. “We saw Maul leave with this girl, so he lost the bet!” Piett told him with a big smile. “Come on.” He grabbed Anakin’s hand eagerly and began pulling him off the dance floor.

As Anakin was pulled away by Piett to their other friends, he looked back to see if she was still there. She wasn’t. The spot they were just in was taken by a new girl and boy, and maybe they will get to finish their desires tonight just like Anakin wished to finish his with her.

[epinebleue]

love me now (m) | 01

(Gif credit)

in which you have sex via FaceTime.

pairing: johnny suh x reader (female)

genre: established relationship!au, mature.

warnings: dirty talking, praise kink, masturbation.

author’s note: tell me why i’m blushing while posting this lmao you can tell i haven’t written smut in years.

chapter index

“I really miss you.”

Johnny laughs quietly at your pouty face, causing the image to shake for a few seconds.

“I left this morning.”

“Still!” You defend yourself, head on the pillows and arm raised, holding the phone up so that Johnny can see your face. “The house’s so quiet. I hate it here.”

“You should’ve come with me, then.”

“I have to work, Johnny, it’s not like I didn’t want to go.” You roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s accusations. He raises an eyebrow as if doubting your word. You know he’s only playing, but it bothers you a little. “Besides, you know how much I love your mother’s cooking, how could I say no to that?”

“Well, for your information, she won’t accept a no next time. She said she’ll cook all your favorite dishes.”

You laugh softly at that, flattered. You’ve been in a relationship with Johnny for two years, yet she loves and takes care of you as if you had dated for decades. Even if you can't go visit Johnny's parents that much, they still treat you like a queen every time you go there. You’re so fortunate to have them and their son in your life.

“She’s so cute. Tell them I love them.”

“I will.” Johnny places his free arm behind his neck and rests his head on it. “Tell me about your day. Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yes.” You hadn’t been able to go out with your whole group for months, ones too busy with work and studies, others trying to get their lives together. Managing to gather them in the same place had been such a challenge but so worthy. “Rosie’s starting a new job tomorrow, Jane will defend her PhD next month, and Jamie’s going to Hawaii on a spiritual retreat or some shit. Oh, and she made out with a waiter. And a bartender.”

Johnny scoffs in disbelief. “Classic Jamie.”

“It was a bet, actually.” And you lost 20 dollars, but you aren’t telling him that. “Wait a minute, my arm’s getting tired.” You rest the phone against the pillows and roll until you're lying on your stomach in front of it, hand supporting your chin.

“Is that my T-shirt?” Johnny asks out of nowhere. You’re speechless, having forgotten about it. Yes, you’re wearing Johnny’s favorite T-shirt, given by his father when he turned 16. It’s dark grey, with a drawing and the band’s name on the front: Coldplay. It fits Johnny perfectly but is huge enough to cover your body like a dress when you wear it.

“Yeah.” An embarrassed laugh leaves your lips because, up until now, Johnny didn’t know that you wear his clothes whenever he’s away. “It smells like you, makes me feel less lonely.”

“You’re so cute.” His eyes form a pair of crescent moons as he smiles, making your embarrassment grow.

“Stop!” Your face falls flat on the mattress in an attempt to hide away from his gaze.

“I mean it, you look so pretty.” You giggle against the soft covers. It doesn’t matter how much Johnny compliments you, you’ll never get used to it. “I’d so fuck you in that.”

You raise your head so fast that you hear your neck crack. You aren’t laughing anymore, but you still smile. Johnny, on the other hand, is dead serious. 

“Control yourself, sir, you’re in your parent’s house.”

“How can you tell me to control myself when you look that hot?” That wipes your smile away, his words causing the effect he wants, triggering a heatwave that takes over your body.

There’s a subtle wetness growing between your legs, even if he has barely said anything. That’s the power Johnny has over you. One look, one word, is enough. You look directly into his dark eyes, filled with lust, and you chuckle.

“Fine, you’ve got all my attention. Tell me what you would do to me.”

Johnny licks his lips before speaking. His words come out slowly, dragging them more than necessary. He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb his parents. If they catch him dirty talking via FaceTime, it’s over for you both.

“I'd start by rubbing that cunt of yours.”

You slide down the bed and get on your knees, making sure that Johnny can see your face and body. You place a hand on your thigh, gently moving it upwards to your wet core, giving yourself goosebumps. You touch yourself over the thin fabric of your blue underwear, letting out an obnoxious moan. Johnny's reaction is immediate, a quiet curse slipping out of his lips.

You sight. “Like this?”

“Yes, like that.” He says, eyes fixed on your movements. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, of neediness. “Take off your underwear, babe, let me see you.”

It’s not a plea, but an order. You love when Johnny bosses you around in bed; when he loses his patience and manhandles you until he has you where he wants. And it looks like the dynamic will never change, not even when he’s in Chicago, in his childhood room. You throw your panties aside and go back to the same position, knees on the mattress, fingers rubbing your clit now.

“Fuck, I’m so wet.”

You press your fingertips against your folds, waiting for instructions. Johnny moves his arm from behind his head and it disappears from the frame. A soft growl erupts from his throat, letting you know that he’s pleasuring himself, too.

“Touch yourself for me, baby girl.” The pet name has you drooling, rushing to insert a finger inside of you, slowly, to make sure Johnny can enjoy the moment. Then, he demands. “I want to see your body. Lift the T-shirt.”

You rush to grab the hem of the garment but take your sweet time to pull it up, teasing him. He clenches his jaw and the image shakes a bit. You close your eyes and picture Johnny’s hand around his dick, the leaking tip red and angry. You imagine him using his pre cum as a lube, his hand moving up and down, but never being satisfied, because only you can get him off. You bring the hem of the T-shirt to your mouth and bite it, keeping it up so that he can see your naked body.

“Shit... add another finger.”

You listen and slide in a second finger, the feeling of being stretched making you moan louder. It's a good thing Johnny has AirPods on.

You move your fingers in and out, desperate and lost in the view in front of you: Johnny has closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, leaving his neck deliciously exposed. You wish you could kiss it, bite it, mark him. You know he loves that kinky shit. Unconsciously, your fingers move faster, the sound of your juices flooding the room. You wonder if Johnny can hear that.

“Does it feel good, babe?” He asks, eyes falling on you again. You nod frenetically, unable to form any other words right now. “Fuck, you look so pretty. Are you a good girl?”

You fall apart every time he compliments you. You clench around your fingers and, again, all you do is nod. You moan in between sighs, biting on the T-shirt as you throw your head back. The fabric is all damp and your tongue is dry.

With your free hand, you rub your clit as your fingers reach further inside you. You wish Johnny was the one fucking you right now, your fingers being nothing compared to him. Hell, you want him so bad. Why does he have to be so far away?

Johnny growls again. “You're doing so good.”

Your mind is all over the place. Johnny's words encourage you to add another finger, even if he doesn't order you to do so. Johnny pants quietly enough so his parents don't hear him, but you do. Your hand cups your sex every time you thrust with your fingers, your climax getting closer and closer.

You open your mouth and the T-shirt slides down a bit. You grab it in a fist over your chest, making sure Johnny still has access to your body.

“John, I'm so close.” You whine with your eyes closed shut, the knot in your stomach growing with every caress of your clit.

“Wait for me, baby.” Once again, he demands. “You can do that, right?”

You're not sure if you can, but still, you nod, wanting to make Johnny proud. You want to be a good girl, so you keep pumping your fingers.

“But I want to see you touching yourself, please.”

“Sure, babe.”

Johnny smirks, and then his face disappears from your screen. Instead, you welcome the amazing view of his hand pumping his dick, erect and red. It looks so delicious you wish you could put it in your mouth. Damn, the things you would do if he was here with you. The image’s enough to send you over the edge, but you still try by all means to delay your orgasm. And it works, at least until you hear Johnny calling your name.

“Johnny, I can't-”

He must have noticed your desperation because his next words come out softly. “Cum, baby, cum for me.”

By the time you’re able to finish, your hand aches like hell. Your hand gets caught in between your legs as you cum. Your orgasm feels like an electric shock that shakes you to the bone as you call Johnny, desperately. You witness him finishing seconds later, white ropes landing on his stomach, abs clenching as your name slips from his mouth like a prayer. You thrust your fingers a few more times, riding your orgasm until the feeling fades away.

You pull them out, both hands landing on the bed before you fall on it, rolling to your side. You’re tired and sweaty, and the T-shirt sticks to your skin. Only your pants can be heard for a moment. Shortly after, Johnny switches the camera again.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He pushes his hair back, panting. “You’re so hot. I love you.”

The compliment fills you with pride, but his confession makes you smile widely, stupidly.

“I love you, too.”

You close your eyes for a few seconds, only opening them at the sound of Johnny’s voice. “Go sleep, princess, you’re tired.”

“No.” You whine. “I want to stay a little longer.”

“You’re literally falling asleep as we speak.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes you melt: adoration. You love it when Johnny looks at you like this.

“Nonsense.”

“I’ll call you in the morning, alright?”

You pout, closing your eyes again. His voice is so soothing that you could fall asleep as he speaks. “Promise me.”

“I pinky-promise you.”

“Okay...” You giggle. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, princess.” He zooms in on his lips, and teasingly whispers. “Dream of me.”

Hell, you miss him so much.

No reposting or translations allowed.

© epinebleue 2023

[ficnation]

Chapter 4: The Love She Holds

Series: “She” Word count: 2,7k+ Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, unwanted touch, SMUT kinda A/n: What we're all been waiting for ✨ PS. If I reread this one more time before posting I'll probably scrape it all bcs I'm never satisfied 😩 If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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For the next few days, Angel can’t look you in the eyes—hell, he can’t even bring himself to leave his room when he hears you shuffling around the apartment. He waits for the sound of the lock shifting in the door before he can bring himself to stick his head out of his safe haven. 

Angel knows he’s the one that fucked up this whole thing with you. He was lonely, and you were in his life for such a long ass time. You’ve never let him down—not even once. You are the sweetest person he’s ever met, yet you can still kick his ass when he’s being a dick. Falling in love with you was inevitable, but he didn’t know it would happen so fast—so soon. 

The man sighs as he leans his elbows on the wooden counter, listening to the wheezing of the coffee machine as hot black liquid spurts into the mug. The sound was tickling his nerves in a certain—very annoying—way. It didn’t make him even slightly angry before the bath incident, but now he just can’t stand it—it makes his head hurt. 

He slams his fist onto the counter, cursing loudly. The coffee spills over the edge of the mug and barely misses his hand. 

“I should fuckin’ do something,” he murmurs to himself through clenched teeth. Since when was he afraid to go after a woman he loves? He’s never been a goddamn pussy. What changed?

You are just so different than anyone Angel’s ever been with. He doesn’t want to lose you—can’t fucking stand the thought of you walking away. He has to do something. 

He drops Maverick off at Felipe’s house—gives them some abuelo-nieto time while he drives over to the bar where you work. It’s a shithole—a very suspicious one at that—yet the parking lot in front is almost full. The neon sign above the door flashes on and off when Angel slams the door of his car shut. Jesus, it’s gonna give someone a headache or a fucking seizure.

Entering this building was probably one of the worst mistakes in life—the man thinks as he’s greeted by a couple almost going at it by the entrance. The skinny blond dude has his hand down the poor girl’s skimpy skirt as she moans loudly in his ear, hips rolling into his palm. Fucking disgusting. 

He was doing the same exact shit back in the day when he was dumb, reckless, and didn’t care about anyone other than himself. But now the view makes him almost gag. 

The brunet pushes past the lovebirds—or rather fuckbirds—through the narrow hallway to the main area. The dimmed red lights flashing above his head and the music that makes every wall pulse with the beat make it seem like more of a club rather than a bar. He’s surprised when he takes a few more steps and a woman dressed in booty shorts with her whole tits out passes by him with a tray full of colorful shots. What the fuck is this place?

Angel looks around wildly, searching the topless women’s faces in fear he’ll recognize one of them. He pushes past the swaying bodies in the middle of the room, and then he sees you—working behind the bar.

He’s relieved when he notices that your chest is covered by one of those bralette thingies you like to wear so much. But he’s not sure whether this relief comes from not wanting the pathetic men around the bar to stare at your perfect body or not wanting to get another surprise boner in front of you. 

“You didn’t tell me you’re a bartender now,” he yells through the loud music as your gaze finds him, your eyes widening in shock.

You serve one of the men at the bar a bottle of beer, popping the cap simultaneously, then you come back to Angel and squint at him, trying to find a clue as to why he turned up at your workplace and how he even knew where to find you. This bar was almost an hour's drive away from Santo Padre. 

“What the hell are you doing here? I do not have time to put up with your shit right now, Angel,” you sneer at him as you lean over the bar in hopes he’ll hear you better, take the hint and retreat back to his car. 

“I’m fucking sorry, alright?!” He throws his hands in the air in exasperation, almost knocking a drink out of some poor girl’s hand.

You blink once, then twice, and your eyebrows scrunch up in annoyance, “Fuck off.” You whip around and go the opposite way to serve another customer. 

That’s definitely not how Angel imagined this conversation would go. He didn’t know you were that mad at him. He was a moron to think you’d accept his apology without a peep in the middle of a sea of drunk strangers. This wasn’t a goddamn telenovela. 

The man sighs deeply in annoyance before following you to the other side of the bar. “Querida, can we talk? Give me five fucking minutes.”

At first, he’s sure you’ll just ignore him as your eyes almost pop out of your skull—that’s how hard you roll them at his words—but then you turn to him with teary eyes. “I’m at work. I can’t. You really couldn’t wait and ambush me when I’m home?” 

“It was an impulse,” he admits. Angel knew it was pretty dumb to think that if he came here, you’d drop everything, so he could explain himself and get rid of this guilt that’s been eating him alive for the past few days. “Please, querida.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you curse under your breath before waving over the other bartender and shouting through the noise to her that you’re taking a break. 

You join Angel on the other side of the counter and tug at his kutte, leading him toward the exit. Before you can even reach the hallway, someone bumps into you, their hands grabbing at your naked waist. 

“Hey there, bonita,” the man greets you. The smell of his cologne and cigarettes makes your eyes widen—you know it very well. 

Angel stands there for a second, his left brow raised in annoyance and confusion because you seem to know this guy—and he really doesn’t like that thought. He pushes the stranger’s hands off your body with a sneer. 

“Man, don’t fucking touch her like that.”

You catch Angel’s forearm and squeeze almost painfully, your nails digging into his inked skin. You don’t turn your head toward him even for a quarter of a second. 

“The hell? We’re friends, big guy.” The man’s deep voice and graying beard confuse him even more. Since when do you fancy fucking grandpas? 

“Uh, Cesar, hi,” you greet him, your voice squeaky and the upward quirk of your lips fake. The second the stranger’s gaze falls over your grip on the brunet’s arm, you release him. “Sorry, I’ve actually just finished my shift.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Cesar’s eyebrows and nose scrunch threateningly. Who the fuck is this guy to be talking to you like that?

You reply without missing a beat, “My kid’s got a fever. It’s an emergency.”

The old guy looks between your face and Angel’s before the grimace falls. The smirk taking its place isn’t any less threatening. “You must be the baby daddy, huh?” he asks, but his tone is clearly mocking.

You pray in your head that Angel will hold his short temper at bay. You know, one wrong word to Cesar equals a shit ton of trouble—even the satisfaction of wiping that disgusting smirk off his face wasn’t worth it. 

“Mi niña hermosa. So fucking good at riding, she got herself a biker,” Cesar almost moans those words out as his hand finds your hip, fingers toying with the belt loop of your dress pants. You don’t move to slap his hand away.

Angel raises his fist to punch him, his teeth gritting against each other almost audibly. Before he can deliver that hit, you push him aside and usher him out of the door. You don’t say another word to that Cesar guy—not even a goodbye—as he slips a bill into your back pocket and slaps your ass.

Angel is fucking livid because you know how to take care of yourself, he saw you kill a man before, crush his skull with your goddamn boot, and yet you just take the disrespect in silence. It’s not like you.

Once you’re out the door and out of earshot, he explodes. “Why the fuck did you let him treat you like that?!” His voice reverberates through the night air, earning the two of you a few concerned and annoyed glances from the bystanders. 

“That’s my boss. Now shut up and take me home,” you mumble, exhausted, looking around the parking lot in search of Angel’s car. “I spent an hour in the car with that dick to even get here, and now I’m going back after not even half of my shift just because you couldn’t wait to talk,” you rant, almost stumbling over your words.

When you reach the car, and he opens the door at the passenger side like always, he’s surprised to catch a glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. He joins you inside with a sigh, concerned eyes finding your head turned away from him as you stare through the side window. 

“Cariño, I’m sorry,” Angel whispers, his hand reaching to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with your bare arm. “Every single time I feel like we’re closer than ever and that maybe you feel something toward me too, you fucking push me away.”

“I know, I’m—”

You cut him off before he has a chance to apologize again, “No, I’m speaking right now. You’ve never yelled at me before. Not like that. You scared the shit out of me, and I blamed myself. Wondered what the hell I did to deserve it. But I didn’t do shit.” You throw your arms in the air, gesticulating toward him. You still refuse to meet his eyes. “You fucked up. Not me. You’re the one that’s been playing with my feelings all this time, and god forbid I try to even out the stakes.”

Angel’s now the one tearing up as his eyes widen at your words. “Querida, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t fucking mean it.” His fingers find solace in tugging on his hair in frustration.  “And I never wanted you to feel like I’m playing with your feelings. I’m so sorry.”

You turn away from him again, biting your lip to keep the sobs inside. “Please, just drive me home, Angel.” The desperation in your voice is heartbreaking. 

So he does what you ask of him and drives you home in silence. He doesn’t have it in him to try again when you’re already struggling, trying to keep the whimpers from wrecking your body. And when you pull up in front of your apartment building with a heavy heart, he lets you jump out of the car and rush to the door. 

He stays in his seat, trying to recollect himself—it doesn’t help, he still hates himself for making you feel this way. It takes a while for him to get inside the apartment, he dreads that when he walks in, you’ll tell him to take his shit and get out of your life. 

Angel knows he fucked up, and you were right; he played with your feelings—played with his own too. He slept in your bed almost every night, cuddled with you, kissed your forehead and told you ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’. How was it any different from how he’d treat Nails, Luisa, or any other woman he loved? Minus the sex. And when you challenged that unspoken boundary—on purpose or not—he chickened out and treated you like a plague. What the hell was wrong with him?

The apartment is swallowed in darkness when he enters it. You’re nowhere to be seen, and he figures out you’ve probably shut yourself inside your room, maybe even locked the door, so he wouldn’t be able to come in. He wouldn’t blame you.

He sits on the couch in the gloom and stares into the void. He’ll wait for you to come to him once you’re ready—he’ll sit here for hours if he has to. Angel needs to fix this, tell you what’s really been on his mind the past couple of days—tell you how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how fucking terrifying it is. 

Three hours pass, and he’s almost dozed off on the couch, his head tilted forward, his back slumped, and his eyelids drooping with every second. The wooden floor creaks underneath your footsteps, waking him up completely. The sleepiness evaporates into thin air as he straightens up and finds your frame in the darkness. 

You switch on one of the lamps in the corner of the room. Its warm glow takes over its surroundings, but not overwhelmingly so. Angel squints a little as your frame drops onto the couch beside him. You sniffle softly before leaning your head on his shoulder.

His heart shatters just a little bit more, and his voice carries it, breaking in the middle of the sentence, “I’m sorry, cariño.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology—you don’t really need to. Your next words are all the forgiveness he could ever want. 

“I love you, Angel,” you mumble against his arm. It’s a quiet confession, yet it echoes in his mind like a mantra.

He feels your tears soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. The man blinks in shock once, or twice, then pulls you into his lap and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead. 

“You know I love you too, right? More than any woman I’ve ever loved,” he admits, and it pains him, but it’s the truth.

He loved Luisa and Stephanie, but those feelings pale in comparison to what he feels for you. Angel never experienced this overwhelming want to protect someone from the whole goddamn world—the pure need to spend every single minute of his life with them and care about them more than he’s ever cared about himself. He feels that for you—like he could throw himself into a burning fire if someone promised him his sacrifice would give you and Maverick safety for the rest of your lives. 

You straighten up in his arms and cradle his jaw in your palms. When your eyes meet, you see that burning fire in them. He doesn’t need to say anything else—you understand him without words. 

Your lips press against his tentatively at first, tasting the love and longing. But Angel has a different idea. He pulls you flush against his chest, hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue grazes the plush of your lips, and you part them for him without a second thought. 

That night, he fucks you on the couch in the middle of your living room, your back pressed against the cushions as he slides inside you with a guttural groan. It’s sweet and needy. The desire you harbored for each other finally released into the world—he’s far past feeling guilty, and sorry for a woman that’s long gone.

Your moans reverberate through the room, and all he can think about is how perfectly he fits inside you—like you were made just for him. One look into your eyes, and he knows you’re thinking the same thing. 

Your nails bite into the bare skin of his back, and the pain is so lovely—he could get drunk on it. He pushes deeper and deeper until you’re a whimpering, clenching mess beneath him. It’s a picture that burns into his brain, he’ll never be able to get it out—not that he’ll ever want to. 

When he spills inside you with a groan, you pull him flush against your naked frame, cradling his face in your palms and leaving sweet pecks anywhere you can reach. 

He’s addicted already, he’ll never be able to give you away now—not a chance in the world. Angel’s love for you is burned into his heart permanently. 

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires @spnaquakindgdom @dreamy-caramel @mars469

[jeonqkooks]

half past you | myg

pairing: musician!yoongi x reader rating: PG genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ???, angst, drinking, unedited, ehhhhh that's it probably word count: 1k note: i do not know what this is, or if it even makes sense! a spontaneous drabble courtesy of the sunday blues :D

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Yoongi is getting big.

Not physically.

Well, maybe he's getting physically bigger too. You don't know that.

It's half past ten, and you're half over Yoongi, half drunk from drinking wine out of a shot glass in this almost empty bar.

Let's start over from the beginning.

What you mean is, Yoongi's career is taking off.

You don't want to sound like a bitter ex, but you don't particularly enjoy reading his name on news articles, hearing his music come on the radio, watching his face start to appear on fashion magazines more frequently.

You're happy for him, you truly are. You just resent the reminder that this is what he chose over you.

What he left you behind for.

Okay, that might be a little unfair.

You know that it was a decision that you both agreed to in the end, but every time you're intoxicated, you can't help the thought.

You left me.

You left me.

You left me.

Flagging down the bartender, you ask for a refill. He complies, though he still shoots you an unsubtle look when he goes to pour more rosé into your shot glass.

The shot glass makes it fun, and makes you forget that you really don't like the taste of wine of any kind.

But Yoongi does.

You're sitting in Yoongi's favorite bar, drinking an alcohol that Yoongi likes but you can barely tolerate, while he's out there somewhere singing at yet another sold out venue. After the gig is finished, he'll probably have a companion for the night too.

He doesn't know that you miss him. You miss him so much that it feels like you've forgotten how to breathe. Just the mere thought of him is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

It's been three months since you last saw him, since he packed up his things and moved out of your shared apartment. He told you that it was for the best, and you believed him. You still do, because Yoongi was always the logical one.

You couldn't follow him on tour, and he convinced you that it was better to end things on your own terms than to let the inevitable distance end it for you. He was probably right, but that doesn't mean that you haven't been going through hell since he made his swift exit.

Maybe you were stupid, or unlucky, or a disastrous combination of both. You knew that this was his dream for as long as he could remember. He worked his ass off his entire life to get where he is now, to have all of the things that he has accomplished along the way. You knew it. You were even his biggest supporter during the two years that you were together, rooting for him at every turn, holding him up whenever he wanted to fall down.

Yes, it was what he wanted ever since he laid eyes on a guitar for the first time. It was his dream before he met you, and it will still be his dream long after you. Even though he loved you, this would always be his destination. You both realized this when it was already too late.

You down your last shot of the night, wincing when the unpleasant taste tickles the back of your throat. As you make your way to the door, there's a silhouette in a corner booth that makes you stop. You think you might know who it is, but when the man turns his face toward the light, your heart immediately drops.

You blink, then chuckle to yourself. It's a laughable offense, to even think for a split second that this stranger bears any resemblance to your Yoongi.

Well, not yours anymore.

On the cab ride home, disappointment occupies the seat next to you. You don't know what you would've done if it did turn out to be Yoongi at the bar. Pretend that you didn't see him and run away maybe? That seems like the most plausible scenario.

He must have moved on already, and you wouldn't even blame him if he has. He isn't the sentimental type, isn't one to have moments of weakness and look for comfort at the bottom of a glass. Yoongi isn't the type to get drunk and be hit with an overwhelming need to call you up late at night to tell you that he's thinking about you. It's only you that wishes for him to go through the motions the same way you do.

You wish you weren't so easy to let go of.

You wish he loved you more than you loved him.

You wish you weren't meant to always be just second best.

Too bad there isn't a shooting star.

There's not a lot to be done whenever you get like this. This being falling down the rabbit hole of missing Yoongi until he's all you can think about. You just have to wait for the feeling to pass, maybe cry a little, fight the twitch in your fingers when they threaten to take your phone hostage and text him, repeat the process a couple of weeks later.

Disappointment follows you out of the car when you arrive at your building. It walks up four flights of stairs with you, then down the hallway. You expect it to wait patiently next to you as you fetch your keys and welcome it into your home like you always do.

But when you reach your door, you notice that disappointment is nowhere to be found. That it suddenly vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind at all.

Instead, you find Yoongi, who sits on the floor in front of your home.

Yoongi, whose eyes light up when he hears your familiar footsteps and looks up at you standing right before him. Yoongi, who scrambles to his feet instantaneously, a little clumsy in his movement.

Yoongi, who has a slight flush on his face, painting his cheeks rosy as if he's been drinking. Yoongi, whose pupils still dilate as he takes in the sight of you.

Yoongi, who is usually confident and callous, but is now speaking in a timid tone that you suspect would be similar to yours if you ever call to tell him you miss him.

"Hi."

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 21.08.2023]