#bartender cocktail game

[superiorhart]

They're like different fonts of each other

[toadtaverngame]

If you like games like Coffee Talk and Va11halla...

you should check out, Toad Tavern 🐸

Toad Tavern is a 1920s bartending sim where you mix drinks, master recipes, and learn about your froggy clientele.

Toad Tavern is currently being developed by a team of 14 people located in Puerto Rico. If you want to see more of the game, follow our development here and on all our other channels.

[humhowellujah]

i'm drunk off two lavender martinis what the fuck do you MEAN dan and phil went on a step by step recreation of their japan trip as a part of a HONEYMOON episode for their sims. be so fr rn be so serious please. dan howell you have 4 minutes to respond . phil, keep it up babygirl. lavender martini recipe in the tags

[silverselfshippingchaos]

this is ash @ j.oongi

[dilfosaur]

eats my entire fist @ the bartender adding glitter to my beelzemon cocktail bc he was in his babygirl card holder

(tcg/board game cafe & bar Fun in tokyo!!!!)

[girlbeatings]

what about vi getting reader drunk and then fucking them

amab vi. noncon. somno. oral [ reader ] unprotected penetration. janitorai bot

the longer vi spend in the ring, the more she became lost in the game. the drinking, drugs, gambling, forgotten women... she was becoming what she hated most, what vander protected her from for all those years.

she hadn't seen you around before, not in her bar, but she was interested. not like you were anything particularly special, she's interested in anything with legs when she's under the influence.

you don't know that though, so when she sits beside you at the bar and offers to buy you a drink, you accept.

you dont meet many attractive people in the bars you go to, but vi... well, you were basically love struck the moment she sat down and started to charm you.

her hair was black but her roots and tips of some strands were a deep pink, her bright eyes glimmering in the low light of the bar. she had cuts and bruises, and you learn that she is a pitfighter and does quite well despite her injuries.

the more you drink, the more vi's deceiving smile sinks into a sullen look, one that you don't notice through your drunken haze.

"so, where do you live?"

you lean closer after putting your drink down to hear her voice. "not far... why? you wanna come home with me?"

flirty. shameless. pathetic. you had known her an hour and were already throwing yourself at her. vi held back an eye roll as you giggle, her big hand slipping to rest on your thigh. "maybe."

soon enough, you're mindlessly following after vi as she guides you through the crowd of people dancing, holding onto her hand. you believed you were safe with her, despite having known her one night.

she wasn't taking you home, of course not. you barely notice, all the streets in zaun look the same anyway.

your eyebrows furrow as you look at the door vi stops in front of, the half-assed paint chipped and the wood under scratched and worn. it wasn't your door, that's for sure. "this... mh, vi?"

"shut up." she mumbled, the thrill of doing this already making her heart thump a little faster and blood rush below her belt. you were so sweet and compliant, so stupidly trustful of a stranger that bought you a few drinks, not even noticing the tips she slipped to the bartender to pour a few more ounces of alcohol into the prissy cocktails she wasted her money on for you.

not even for you— just for something to do. she wanted to transfer the pain she felt onto someone else, and that had to be you. you just made it too easy.

you frown at her mumble, being tugged into her apartment. it's messy and unorganized, beer bottles, clothes and bandages laying on the floor. she's a pitfighter; she fights, gets wasted, goes home and knocks out. she doesn't care about the mess, she doesn't care if you do either.

she lets go of your hand and makes her way over to the bed, swiping her arm over the mattress to clear it of the mess.

you watch, swaying on your feet as your head spins. you're so clueless that it almost pisses vi off, so easy that when she lays you down, you just give her a lazy smile.

she sits on her knees and shrugs off the worn jacket, leaving her in the bandages that were tight around her chest. she looks down at you, her hands sliding up your thighs to spread them. "you're a pretty one, i'll give you that."

you're half asleep already, shifting a little to get comfy.

"they normally put up a fight at this point," she murmurs, starting to push your dress up. "or at least start questioning..."

she watches your body become more exposed, pushing the fabric above your chest and tugging the cups of your bra down, your nipples pebbling when the cool air washes over you. "not you, huh?"

her hands engulf your breasts, her thumbs rubbing your nipples as your eyebrows furrow but your eyes stay close, letting out a soft grunt.

vi wonders if you're even gonna remember this. maybe she wanted you to, to live with the pain just like she was. it was selfish and disturbing, but her fingers began to pry your panties down your thighs, the flimsy fabric hanging off your ankle.

she whistles as your legs fall open again, your pussy on full display for her now.

"cute," she murmurs, grabbing your hips and lifting them up, letting a glob of spit fall down onto your heat, her tongue immediately following and sucking your clit into her mouth.

a whine falls from you at the unexpected pleasure that shoots through your body, reaching down to weakly paw at her head as her tongue flicks and swirls around you.

she knows you can't push her off— you're too drunk and weaker than her to. so she ignores you and grinds you against her mouth, forcing you to feel good.

she doesn't know why she does this part, or why she chooses to do it so well. maybe it eases the guilt. so when she is laid up in bed clutching a beer bottle and asking herself why, she can settle on how at least she made them feel good.

"v-vi..." you're confused and dazed, your mind infiltrated by the alcohol as you whimper.

she keeps you propped up, sliding two of her long fingers through your folds before pressing them into you, nipping your clit as she works them into you.

she grunts at the whine you let out, ripping your panties off your ankle and stuffing the fabric into your mouth to shut you up, going back to work between your legs.

she alternates between spitting and sucking on your cunt, her fingers easing you open for her dick. that's the part she looks forward to, the part she thinks about when she's alone and her hand travels south on her own body.

she sits up, her fingers still pumping inside you as her other hand unbuttons her jeans and pulls down the zipper. you're too busy whimpering around the fabric of your panties and fighting sleep to notice, your body confused on how to react.

you weren't special, she'd fucked someone that looked like you last week. but she is painfully hard, she doesn't realise until her jeans are off and feels the throb.

she groans, pulling her fingers out of you and ridding of her boxers, her cock thumping against your thigh.

she tugs you closer as you start to drift off again, your arms falling limp and your mouth still stuffed. vi rubs herself over your cunt, feeling your heat against her length and letting herself relish in how wrong this was.

after years of trying to do the right thing for everyone, she was finally able to burn someone. and a plus, someone she doesn't give a fuck about.

she takes a shaky breath, her scarred eyebrows knitting together as her hand wraps around her cock, her fingers catching the precum that dribbled down her shaft. her eyes tear away to look up at you, passed out on her bed, drunk and unaware.

she didn't even know your name. if you told her, she wasn't listening— too busy thinking about how tight you probably were. debating with herself on how much you'd resist her.

she slips her tip up and down between your folds, but you give no reaction, so she gets straight to it.

her hand places on your stomach to keep herself steady, the other guiding her cock into your cunt, groaning as your heat engulfs her. she can tick that box, you were tight.

as she inches into you, you stir in your sleep and let out a sound. if you woke up, she'd just flip you over. but personally, she likes to watch.

vi's hips draw back slowly before thrusting into you again, feeling you clench at the penetration. her head falls forward slightly, her hair covering her eyes as she starts to fuck you.

her breaths come out in shallow pants, her hands moving to hold your knees against the bed as her cock pistons in and out of you. you whine in your sleep, that's about as much as you could do.

"fuck, it's okay... it's okay." she whispers reassuringly, but not to you, herself. you might as well not even be there, you're just a hole for her to abuse.

she's alone here. you're not there, nobody is.

but she keeps going, focusing on the pleasure rather than the inevitable misery she'll be left with after she throws you out onto the street, used and hurt.

she's a bully, inflicting pain onto those that don't deserve it. but as she buries herself inside you over and over again, she tells herself you do deserve it.

she'd glad you're asleep, otherwise she'd be embarrassed by how fast she's losing herself. her thrusts become rapid and uncoordinated, chasing her orgasm. you wake up a few times, panicked or upset by what's being done to you before your head falls back and you knock out again.

she's hurting you, maybe not physically but she knows you'll hurt. that's what she wants, what she needs.

she moans, the sound cutting through the skin slapping that echoes through her raggedy apartment. her hand slides up to your throat, wrapping around your neck and feeling the thud of your pulse against her fingers as she ruins you indefinitely.

she curses, her hips stuttering as her cock throbs inside you, giving you a harsh thrust. you clench at the sudden hot flood, but you're too far gone— and it's too late anyway.

vi pants, watching her cum leak out of you and down her dick, admiring the view before pulling out and watching the white fluid ooze out.

it's filthy and disgusting, how her cock drools with the aftermath of your forced arousal. she feels bad for a second, if that, before shaking it off and tucking herself away.

you're left on her bed, asleep, used, your mouth still stuffed with your own underwear and full of cum— god knows if you were on any contraceptive. vi had to push that thought from her mind, both because of guilt and how her dick jumped at it.

she fixed up your clothes, dug through your purse for any money, and sent you on your way. you'd be forgotten in a few days, maybe hours if she drank enough tonight.

but you'd think about her, for years perhaps. that's what she lived for, that's what plagued her mind as she laid in the same spot you did, her hand shoved in her boxers.

hurt people, hurt people.

╋━ taglist !

@danfelog @fortluocha @ocharavitys @trizxyp @aelizreal @moodient @dollik5 @uhh-lana @amastarxoxo @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @inui-ii @evabby @graciedollie @starrrcane

[velvetures]

Soap would be so fucking protective of you, and I can’t get it out my head. So now it’s your problem :)

You don’t like drinking? He’s the first to draw attention away from the lack of a beer bottle in your hand. Using that irresistible charm to woo everyone out of their questions and peer pressure to get you to join in. He sees how nervous it makes you. And he’s far too sensitive to your feelings to let it happen. Besides… he’s gotten really good at giving the right orders to bartenders, so that he can give you some fruity, soda-laden thing, that passes off as one of the other cocktails all your friends are nursing.

Uncomfortable family dinners? You know, that one where your least favorite uncle is oh-so-willing to give you shit for not going into the career all of them think you should’ve pursued? Oh hell no. Soap won’t spend one second thinking over whether it’s polite or not to speak up. He just does. Abandoning your mom’s casserole he’s been complimenting with a full mouth, just to look your bastard of an uncle in the face and tell him he’d be better off complaining to the business end of a pistol. At least then, he’d get a response that would shut him up for good.

That ex who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer? He’s as good as dead. Not that he’s instinctively jealous… because really, he knows better. It’s just the mere thought of someone taking advantage of your life. Of your time. He’s livid because you’re too special to be harassed like that. Treated like a game that can be picked up and put down whenever the mood arises. Soap won’t make a spectacle of it… but the monthly calls and texts suddenly stop after a while. And you think it’s because you finally broke down and changed your phone number a second time. But… that hadn’t stopped your ex the first time. Soap just shrugs. Giving the excuse that common sense might’ve given him a change of heart. Johnny just didn’t have the heart himself to tell you that ‘common sense’ didn’t have the chance. He was far quicker.

Soap had lived a life so uncomfortable for so long, that seeing a sweet thing like you experience it becomes intolerable. It’s as if all of the killing and destruction he’s committed was for nothing, when something -even trivial- blockades your walk through life. His nature is to fix the problem. And his training only enhanced the instinct to do it violently. Quick and controlled action, using brute force to make the world spin to your tempo. And god… you hate when he does it. Constantly reassuring him that you’re an adult. That you’re prepared for life not to be easy, and that it’s only going to make you stronger in the end.

He won’t hear it though.

He wants you soft. Desperately, actually. More of a requirement for his own happiness than anything. And often times he thinks that it’s selfish. That maybe he is truly robbing you of some experiences that might be good for you. Make the life you lead interesting for the kids and grandchildren you tell stories to. But then again, he’s so staunch in his ways, that it comes to fruition like muscle-memory. Placing you on your silken throne and taking a defensive stance in front of you like a medieval knight hellbent on keeping his royalty alive and well.

John MacTavish knows your place and it’s to be behind him. Right where he can protect and provide, without the fear of you crying or getting hurt by the seemingly endless amount of people who unfathomably don’t want the same things for you. They all say they love you… want the best… but he challenges it.

Every. Single. Time.

[charmedimsure]

WAKE UP CALL || thanos

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 2: The Next Episode

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

<>

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

<>

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.

[tiyawnyana]

hi!! can you write sevika x younger reader where the reader is like 22-24 and sevika feels this dread one day realizing that she actually does like this woman despite their (moral) age gap and even wants to take things further which usually doesn't happen for her (also having a hard time telling the reader her feelings or anyone for that matter)

bonus points if the reader is a bartender or something at The Last Drop!

I hope this is an interesting enough request

Thank you for the request!!! I had so much fun diving into drinks and their meanings ahhsdmdm

A/N: slowly chipping away at some of these but I've never felt more pleased doing these

Characters: Sevika x Young Bartender!Fem Reader

Warnings: alcohol drinking

Minors DNI

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Apricot Fizz

The first time Sevika noticed you was when you were leaving Silco's office with a pep to your step unfitting to Zaun- especially in The Last Drop.

She remembers the glint in your eye- eager and energetic with a flush to your cheeks. You were young. Too much of an age gap for her eyes to linger as long as they did.

She was surprised to see that you had actually landed the job as the bartender- the second time she had noticed you.

She ignored you, deciding not to get a drink that night- or the next few nights.

Your energy was a lot. Almost too much- you almost had a crowd gathering around the bar, people eager to get even a moment of your time.

Sevika had grown restless, needing a drink after a great game of cards. She finds herself almost nervous, for whatever reason, but nonetheless approaches the bar after the slight crowd simmers down.

She puts out her cigarillo, exhaling the last bit of smoke when your hand comes into view, sliding an orange drink in a beer glass in her direction.

“The hell is this?” She huffs, bringing her gaze up to yours.

Your cheeks are flushed as you make another drink for another customer,”Saw you comin’ up, haven't gotten you a drink this week so didn't know what you liked-”

“Beer,” she mutters, eyeing the glass in question,”or whiskey.”

You nod, a sheepish smile on your lips,”Sorry- I can take this-”

She waves her hand, clasping the class in her hand as she eyes the liquid,”Not gonna waste alcohol,” she mutters before taking a sip.

The fruity drink explodes on her tongue, slightly sour with a flavor of orange beneath the lemon. She was surprised, couldn't even taste the alcohol. She eyes it in confusion.

You giggle softly,”It's a cocktail,” you respond with a grin,”They're dangerous, the alcohol sneaks up on ya.”

Sevika nods in silence, sipping it again before turning around to face the rest of the bar. She could feel a flush beneath her skin that she quickly stifled- She couldn't think of you like that.

The next few nights, you slide a variation of beer and whiskeys to her across the bar.

You manage to get idle chit chat from her on occasion and she slowly allows you to break down one of her millions of walls.

“What was that first drink you gave me- from the first time you served me?” Sevika finds herself wondering after a few beers and another gambling win.

“Oh! The orange one?”

Sevika nods as she sips her beer.

“Apricot fizz,” you respond as you clean out a glass.

Sevika watches you with a deadpan look on her face,”How did you learn to make that? I thought this was your first bartending gig?”

“It is,” you hum, quickly stepping to the side to refill a customer's beer before coming back to her,”I have a whole book about different drinks to make and their ‘meanings’.”

She watches you shake your head, then exhales,”Drinks and their meanings?” She echoes, a scowl on her lips.

You laugh softly, nodding at her confusion as you clean another glass.

“What does the beer mean, then?”

Your gaze connects with hers and she watches as a warmer blush covers your cheeks,”Uh- from what I remember it has less of a meaning and more so like- a symbol of community and celebration.”

She watches you speak with your hands, finding it an endearing trait of yours.

“What about the other one?”

You swallow, averting your gaze as you struggle to come up with an answer, already knowing it,”I'd have to read that one again, I don't quite recall.”

She hums at your response, gaze narrowed but otherwise drops it. She finishes her beer before tapping her glass,”I'll take one of those, then.”

You nod with a small smile on your lips as you take her glass and replace it with the cocktail.

Her hand brushes yours and she swears she feels something electric buzz beneath her skin.

She ignores it again, looking away from you despite how much she wants to let her gaze linger.

It's another night at The Last Drop, one of the slower nights much to your surprise.

You're cleaning off the counters and glasses when you hear the door open. Sevika strides in with Ran right behind her, who splits off to play pool with one of their friends.

You circle the bar as she walks up to order a drink. She looks disheveled, tired.

“You alright?” You murmur softly as she sits on one of the stools across from you.

Sevika grunts, her prosthetic arm coming to rest on the bar,”I'm fine.”

You nod, dropping it,”Want a beer?”

She shrugs, resting her chin in her hand,”Surprise me.”

You gawk at her in surprise for a moment before nodding, thinking of another drink she could try.

She watches as you work, nose scrunching as you add cherries on a toothpick to lay on top the rim of the cocktail glass.

You slide it over to her, a burgundy orange color.

“What's this one?” She murmurs, picking up the toothpick and biting one of the cherries off.

“It's called the Rob Roy,” you speak fondly, cleaning out a glass a customer leaves on the counter.

She raises a brow, lifting it to take a sip before humming as she takes in the smoky feel on her tongue.

“I don't remember what this one means either,” you smile sheepishly, gaze averted.

“You should reread that book of yours, then,” she teases before quickly drinking the rest of it. “Got any others up your sleeve?” She murmurs, sliding the glass your way.

You grin, thinking for a moment before nodding and making her another.

You slide a tall glass across the counter, an orange slice perched on the rim of an equally orange drink.

“Screwdriver,” you grin,”Apparently it was named that because of mine workers stirring the drink with a screwdriver.”

“That is.. not reassuring,” she mumbles before taking the orange slice off and placing it on the napkin before sipping the bright drink.

You giggle softly, watching her sip it,”Orange juice and vodka, another dangerous one.”

She nods, masking the fact that she actually really liked this drink.

Ran comes up, eyeing the drink in Sevikas hand before requesting the same one.

You make it no problem but flush as Ran speaks.

“Don't these drinks have, like, romantic meanings?” They ask as they lean against the bar.

You shrug, avoiding both of their gazes,”Maybe- I don't remember all of the drinks' meanings.”

“My dad was a bartender-” Ran grins, nodding in thanks as you slide the tall glass their way,”He used drink language to get my Ma to notice him.”

Sevika hums, eyeing your blushing face and taking note as you avert your gaze.

Sevika quickly realizes she's looking forward to seeing you every night now.

It irritates her- crawls beneath her skin and makes agitation fester when she doesn't see you some nights.

It's like an addiction. She grows more fond of your soft smile and those stupid fruity drinks.

Whenever she does see you, she trails her gaze over your features.

The slope of your nose, the curl of your lips when you laugh, the slight crows feet around your eyes from smiling so much. It's such a shock to her- she's found so little reason to smile down here yet you've found enough to give you a permanent glow.

Whenever you hand her one of those drinks, she allows her gaze to trace unmarred flesh. Not one visible scar along your arms or knuckles whereas scars have faded with time along her own body.

She's infatuated and she hates it. Hates that you're so young- maybe if you were closer in age, she wouldn't find a problem but after hearing you were 24, she couldn't get it out of her head.

You were everything kind and sweet in someone unbeknownst to the cruelties in the undercity.

She avoids you. Finds herself drinking less a few times a week, more time spent outside gambling.

She knows you know, she can feel your gaze when she walks past. She feels guilty, despite the fact that she knows this is for the best. She can't be caught up with someone so inexperienced- so young.

It's been a few weeks now of avoiding you.

Sevika is gambling now when a glass is placed next to her. She side eyes it, looking up to see Ran with a narrowed look in their eyes.

“The fuck is this?” She mutters, pulling her cigarillo from her lips.

“It's a gimlet,” they mutter, rolling their eyes at her attitude.

“A gimlet?” Sevika echoes with a scoff, lifting the glass and sniffing it. There's a slight lime scent,”What's this for?”

“From your friend, who's really wondering if she did something wrong,” Ran huffs out, crossing their arms.

Sevika huffs out a sigh of defeat, eyeing the drink before sipping it.

“Each of these drinks has meaning, you oaf,” Ran scoffs down at her, then hands her a small book.

Sevika narrows her gaze.

“Oh for fucks sake, take the book and read the meanings,” they wave the book around before Sevika scoffs and takes it. Ran is silent for a moment before making a move to walk back inside,”She thinks she said something wrong to offend you.”

“She didn't,” Sevika sighs.

“I know, you're just being an ass.”

Gimlet- ‘The long goodbye,’,’thoughts of someone far away.’

Sevika's eyebrows scrunch as she reads the meanings of these drinks.

“The long goodbye?” She murmurs lowly, confused before guilt claws at her belly. She rubs her hand down her face, covering her mouth as she stares up at her ceiling.

She flips through the pages, reading different meanings before she remembers the first name.

Apricot Fizz- ’Please look my way.’

Something swirls in her belly, this time not an unpleasant feeling as she rereads it at least a dozen times.

She sits up off her bed, trying to remember what one of the other drinks you had given her as she flips through the pages.

A memory sparks as she hits S.

Finally, she finds it.

Screwdriver- ‘You've stolen my heart.’

Her face flushes, eyes widening as she stares down at the page.

She puts the book down for a bit after that, paces her small apartment as she thinks to herself before hopping into the shower to help relax her muscles.

Finally, she calms down enough, easing away the guilt as she picks up the book again to find the last one.

Most ridiculous name for a drink, might she add.

Rob Roy- ‘I want to capture your heart.’

She sighs, dropping the book back on the bed as she flops backwards onto her bed.

She hates the realization that she's got it bad for you. Hates that she looks forward to seeing you despite the fact that she'd been avoiding going up to the bar. Hates that she misses your soft laugh.

She hates that you make her heart warm.

She's thankful that Silco sends her out on a job that takes her away from The Last Drop, using it to get her head on straight.

When she returns, having read through that book at least three times over by this point, she's made up her mind.

Her buddies are out gambling around the corner of the bar as she approaches, waving their way before heading into the bar.

It's late. There's not many people around the bar at this hour, she silently thanks whatever God or goddess may be smiling down on her at this moment.

You're cleaning some glasses, seemingly lost in thought as you don't notice her walking up.

She sits down, arms resting on the counter and she nods at you when you finally look up at her.

Your cheeks heat up,”Sorry-” you murmur.

“Don't apologize, doll,” she speaks softly,”I should- uh, apologize.”

She's looking down at the bar, not seeing the blush across your face at the nickname.

“I was being an ass,” she murmurs, brushing her hand down her face and looking back up at you,”I.. don't really have an excuse.”

You shake your head, waving your hand to brush it off,”I was just worried I said something to upset you or-”

“No, you haven't,” Sevika gazes at you, leaning closer over the bar but keeps a sizable distance,”I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” you murmur after a moment of silence,”Want a beer?”

Sevika shakes her head, looking down at her hands,”Actually- uh-”

She looks awkward for a moment, giving one last thought before nodding to herself.

“Can I make you one?” She murmurs.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

She stands up, waiting for your reply.

“Yeah- yeah, uh, come on around,” you laugh softly in disbelief.

Sevika looks toward Ran, tucked in the back and shoots them one look that has them scrambling up and gripping their friends elbow, everyone remaining in the bar leaving as you turn away for a moment to open the side of the bar.

Sevika comes around, eyeing the inside of the bar and spotting one of the ingredients she needs. She ushers you out and you laugh softly, shaking your head in fondness.

She grasps the orange juice as you settle in, sitting down on the stool across from her.

“Where are the tall glasses?” Sevika looks at you, then nods as you point to the cabinet behind her.

She gets to work, struggling for a moment to find everything but manages to do so. She adds the alcohol and juices together, unmixed, along with an orange slice and a cherry before sliding it across the bar to you.

You eye it carefully, trying to remember if you know the name but didn't quite catch everything she added.

Sevika doesn't stop there, instead picking up a wine glass and pouring white wine and creme de cassis.

You watch her, the scrunch in her brow as she focuses. A sheepish smile graces your lips, blush warm on your cheeks.

“You're making more than one drink,” you tease softly.

“Just.. trust the process, yeah?” She smirks at you and you can't ignore the flutter in your belly.

She's silent as she grabs another glass after sliding the second glass toward you.

“I avoided you because I was nervous,” she admits softly, averting her gaze as she pours two drinks together.

“Nervous? What for?” You murmur, leaning closer over the bar.

She hums softly, slicing another orange slice to slip into the glass,”You're young- real young, and I couldn't seem to look past that until now.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, ready to ask but she raises a palm, sliding the last glass to you.

She points to the first one she made,”Tequila sunrise,” then the second,”Kir,” then the last one,”Screwdriver.”

She completes her statement by sliding the book across the countertop towards you and your face heats up tremendously.

“I- what-” you carefully grab the book, eyeing her in disbelief.

“Read the first one,” she urges softly.

You nod, flipping to that part of the book.

Under ‘Mutual Feelings’.

Tequila Sunrise- ‘Passionate love.’

Upon reading it, your head shoots up. She is wordless as she points to the second.

Kir- ‘I'm glad we met.’

And you've already memorized the last one- having given her so many of those along with the others.

You're quiet for a moment before pointing to the last orange drink,”You've stolen my heart.”

She just gazes at you, soft and tender and it fills you with warmth.

You grasp the glass, taking a sip of it, following up with the other two before placing them down and standing.

You're wordless as you hike yourself up on the countertop to swing your legs over before gripping Sevika by the collar of her vest and tugging her in to press your lips to hers.

You separate after the blissful moment.

She tastes the fruity drinks on your lips and can't get enough, quickly pressing her lips back on yours again.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: gonna order me some apricot fizz now

[likea-silhouette]

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

rating: mature

word count: 2.8k

summary: Harry was once the boy you loved and wanted to spend your life with. The funny thing is that addiction is something that is never predicted. What happens when you run into your ex-boyfriend years after your breakup that was due to his vices? Read part one here

*based on the song Complex by Katie Gregson-MacLeod*

tagged: @imaginexxharry

The moment you step inside you feel a warmth and familiarity, almost making you completely forget about Harry and the uneasiness you had felt just moments ago.

This home. You’d spent so many wonderful days and nights within its confines. Whether watching movies and trashy TV shows with Nadia or playing board games that you only half understood, nevertheless still enjoyed. It felt like another home to you. “There you are!”, Nadia squealed above the music that wasn’t too low or high in volume, but just right. Immediately, a smile overtook your lips as you outstretched your hands to envelope your best friend in a warm embrace.

“God, am I glad you’re here”, Nadia said as she lifted her drink to her lips.

“Why? What’s wrong?” You looked at her quizzically as you tried to convince yourself it had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend. Not everything revolved around him, yet, at this very moment, your mind was so preoccupied with him and only him that it was hard not to associate Harry with every subject that came to mind.

Nadia moved next to you and rested her elbow on top of your shoulder as her knuckles held her chin up.

“I swear I only know like three people here. I’ve just been walking around aimlessly trying to find a buddy to gossip with.”

You chuckled lightly as relief swept over you. “Well, I’m here now so consider yourself buddied up.”

Nadia smiled and rolled her eyes playfully in relief, “Thank-fucking-god.”

Eventually, the both of you wandered over to the kitchen where various alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages were being created by a hired bartender.

“Wow, you really splurged on this.”

Nadia’s lips curled into a smile as she shrugged, “Only the best for my guy.”

Once a gin and tonic was comfortably situated in your and your friend's hand, the both of you maneuvered through the decent volume of friends and family that had arrived in the time it took for you to browse and pick out a cocktail. Thankfully, refuge in the living room was close as you and Nadia took a seat on a sectional sofa that was free for the taking.

The conversation naturally flowed between the both of you as you caught up on new developments in the other's life that had occurred since you last saw each other a week or so ago.

Suddenly, mid-sentence, Nadia’s eyes widened as a smile spread across her face. This wasn’t any ordinary smile - it held something behind it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Cautiously, you turned around to look in the direction Nadia’s eyes were focused on. You breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the familiar face of her husband, instead of the face of the phantom you had once loved.

You were safe. It wasn’t him. “Babe!”, Nadia called out, but with the larger volume of people chattering, combined with the music, her call went unnoticed.

Nadia stood from the sofa with both hands cupped over her mouth as she attempted once again to gain his attention with a shout of his name.

This time it did the trick.

Abruptly, Her husband turned around as his wide eyes searched the crowd. Once he caught sight of his wife, he instantly softened with a small grin on his mouth.

You watched as both he and Nadia exchanged glances of puppy love that were still present even after several years of being romantically intertwined. This very admiration had you mesmerized - maybe a little too mesmerized in fact.

The depth of enchantment that you felt from their love kept you easily distracted, so much so that you hadn’t noticed him initially until his eyes were melting craters in your face that were impossible to not feel the burn of.

Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze and his met for the first time in so, so long.

His eyes felt both foreign and familiar all at the same time.

Unbeknownst to you, Nadia stood by your side with a grin as she watched from the corner of her eye as your mind pieced together the reality of what was happening whether you wanted it to or not. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you wanted.

Your mouth fell agape and eyes blinked rapidly, testing to see if this was your imagination playing tricks on you or if the man who once held your affection was actually walking towards you in tow of Nadia’s husband. Of course, It was the latter.

“There’s the birthday boy!”, Nadia beamed as she placed her hands on either side of her husband's face.

“You saw me like an hour ago baby.” You would’ve cooed and awed at the couple were it not for the distraction that was now standing directly in front of you with eyes that shamelessly remained in a trance that was solely for you.

Nadia and her husband both shared a mischievous smirk as they reveled in their front-row seats to your and Harry’s reunion. Not that you even thought about tearing your eyes away from Harry to take note of the not so subtle expression the couple were sharing.

“Hey! I’m so glad you could come.” Nadia’s husband greeted as he wrapped you up in a warm hug. Thankfully, this brought you out of the staring contest that Harry had trapped you in.

With closed eyes, you put on a best-effort smile as you returned his friendly gesture.

“Of course! Happy birthday.” You hoped the joy in your voice didn’t sound too forced.

“Oh, and this is for you,” you dragged your last word slightly as you outstretched the envelope in your hand in his direction.

Harry’s eyes followed your arm which was filled with new tattoos he wasn’t familiar with. He wondered what else had changed with you. Were you in a relationship? Did you have some fancy job with an even fancier apartment? Were you happy?

Were you happier without him?

“You know you never have to get me anything”, Nadia's husband spoke, breaking Harry from his thoughts that wondered if there was still a resemblance of the lover he never forgot.

Harry watched as you shrugged and said, “I know,” with a slight smile. This made him feel butterflies flapping in his stomach.

Nadia’s husband said his thanks with a final side hug and Harry found himself continuing to stare at you in your most sincerest of form. Celebrating with friends and exchanging gifts; something so deeply simple, yet watching you being wholly yourself had Harry’s heart beating so fast, he swore one would’ve seen it through his shirt.

“You always did love giving gifts.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Harry after he spoke. Only then did he realize he said those words out loud instead of in the deepest parts of his inner narration.

Your eyebrows raised and your mouth slightly fell open as you took in the absolute music to your ears that was his accent and tone - it felt like pressing play on your favorite song for the second time in a row. You wanted more and more and more and couldn’t see yourself tiring of it for quite some time. The temptation to close your eyes and sway your body in complete contentment as you replayed the way his voice sounded crossed your mind. God damn it, you missed him.

Meanwhile, Harry’s eyes desperately searched his surroundings. He had to find an excuse to either leave this reunion of sorts or change the subject entirely.

Thankfully, his eyes caught sight of the empty glass in his hand.

“I’m uh-”, his hand slightly raised his glass in the air, “-going to get some more to drink.” “Help yourself, Harry. The non-alcoholic drinks should all be in the fridge in the kitchen.”

Harry nodded with avoidant eyes and turned his back to the group with a chest that breathed heavily with each step he took.

You, however, were still dwelling on the drink suggestion Nadia had directed Harry towards. “Does uh-” God, it was embarrassing. Why did you want to even ask? You weren’t supposed to care anymore.

“Never mind,” you said with a soft, yet tensed smile. “I’m a little low on my drink too. I’m going to go catch up with Harry”, Nadia’s husband spoke with his hand lovely running along Nadia’s back.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

You watched as he weaved through the crowd, taking a nearly identical path to the one Harry followed toward the kitchen until he disappeared behind a group of people. Quickly, you and Nadia fall back into casual conversation, avoiding discussing the ever-present elephant in the room. You’d be lying if you said you could focus on a single conversation topic that carried on between the both of you. Your body was still very much here, but your head was deeply submerged underneath the thickest of clouds. Eventually, a party guest, that you weren’t too familiar with besides remembering their face from Nadia’s wedding and past gatherings, joined in on your and Nadia’s conversation circle. You felt a swell of relief at the fact that you wouldn’t need to maintain subpar attention on the topic being discussed. Now, you were free to get lost in your thoughts and allow Nadia and the party guest to take the lead on the discussion. Your lips met the cold of your glass as you guzzled down the remainder of your cocktail.

Thank god - an excuse to get some fresh air.

“I’m going to grab another drink and get some fresh air. It's so nice to see you again!” You cheerfully waved to Nadia and the other guests, who gave you waves and friendly smiles in return. The moment your back was to the pair, the fake smile etched onto your lips slid off of your face as your mouth pursed and a light puff of air released from your cheeks.

The walk from the bar to the outside was a paranoid one. Every unknown noise had you gazing in its direction of origin as you searched for his familiar brunette hair and green eyes behind every crevice and corner.

Thankfully, the outside proved to be a serene place. It smelled of wood smoked to ash and shimmered from the large string lights cascading across the entire backyard. The sun was nearly half set, making the sky a dark purple that perfectly paired with the easy music playing from the speakers in the outdoor space. As your eyes took in your surroundings, you caught sight of where the smell of burnt wood was coming from. Immediately, your feet carried you to the circle-shaped fire pit that was tucked in a back corner and all by its lonesome.

The warmth of a flame blanketed your body as you sat in one of the chairs strategically placed around the burning orange hue.

Once comfortably snug, you allowed yourself another deep, deep breath. This time with eyes fully closed you reveled in the peace and stillness that only the nighttime could bring.

However, your peace was short-lived as the sound of glass breaking caused your eyes to shoot open and everyone to quiet their conversations.

Quickly, your eyes searched for the source until you fell upon an image that felt eerily familiar.

A couple - a man who was inebriated times ten and a woman desperately trying to calm the man’s erratic movements and loud tone of voice. He held a once full glass, yet now was sloshed with clear liquid on himself and the ground.

The distress on the woman's face was evident as she tried to calm the man by soothingly rubbing his upper bicep and, I’m assuming, whispering words that were at the age level of how one would talk to a toddler who was throwing a tantrum.

I knew that routine all too well. The sound of the glass breaking was still ringing in your ears like a sharp knife clawing into a chalkboard, until, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself back in time. The bar was lit by only a few warm lightbulbs. The Saturday night bar crowd was in full swing as you found yourself nearly shoulder to shoulder with anyone you came across. However, Harry’s voice booming over the noise level of every other bar attendee had you briskly walking away from the bar and over to your boyfriend - well, boyfriend at the time. “What the fuck is going on?” You yelled over the music as Harry poked his finger into the chest of a man you’d never seen before. “Babe who is this? What are you doing?” Harry’s larger-than-normal pupils looked at you. You swore you could’ve seen steam coming out from the top of his head by how red his cheeks were and the flare of his nostrils. “This guy was checking you out!” he half slurred, half yelled. Your eyes moved to the guy who looked scared shitless with both of his hands pressing in front of his chest. “I swear man, I wasn’t looking at her. Swear to god” “Fuckin’ liar!”, Harry spat at the guy. “Harry who gives a fuck. The guy said he wasn’t looking,” I tried desperately to pull him by his bicep in the direction opposite of the innocent man. “I give a fuck! He was looking at you like he wanted to fuck you right in this bar for Christ sake”

“Nah man, I haven’t even seen her bef-” “If you were smart you’d shut the hell up before I make you.”

You gasped at Harry’s harsh words that were hard to hear, both due to the volume of the music, the chattering of conversation, and the amount of vodka he’d had in the last hour that made his lips move too fast for his words to get out cleanly.

“Babe please,” I whined desperately, using all of your strength to pull Harry by the arm again. However, it was no use. Harry slipped out of your grip with his glass shattering to the ground as it slipped out of his hands. You watched in horror as Harry suddenly got much closer to the man, their faces a foot or so apart, as his shoulders stood up straight in a much more defensive manner. What had started as a night of fun and drunkenness, quickly turned into Harry once again taking it too far - both with his alcohol consumption and his anger, though the two almost always went hand in hand. Tears started prickling out of your eyes as you watched Harry bump his chest against the other guy who was now squaring up to Harry and making himself look just as intimidating. He promised. He promised this would never happen again and yet it’s happened so many fucking times -more than you can even count.

Not even a brisk escape from the scene Harry had created at the bar and a cigarette between your lips could ease the pain. With your head resting against the outside brick wall of the bar, you felt your tears gently and freely roll down your cheeks as you puffed smoke from between your teeth.

That night, you remember asking yourself if you could do this forever. If you always had to be the one to pick up the pieces that Harry tore up in a drunken haze. If you always had to be the one who was strong even when you felt like the thinnest, soggiest, piece of paper that was left to disintegrate in the rain all by your lonesome.

You weren’t sure how long you’d fallen back into this memory that clearly stuck to your brain for a reason. However, you knew what brought you out of it and back to reality. His laugh was infectious and uniquely deep and hearty. There always was a slight rasp to it as well. You remembered it so damn well. Except this time, it wasn’t just a memory. It was very deeply real and current. Instinctually, your eyes searched for him in the backyard until his tall frame came into your view. Harry was standing in a group of people with that warm and amused grin on his face that always looked so good on him. You were only allowed a moment to admire his candid expression until his eyes met yours - as if you were magnetized to one another. Harry’s tongue peeked out of his mouth to briefly run along his bottom lip as his eyes focused back on the group. He spoke some words you couldn’t make out before extending his hand in a polite manner to each of the people surrounding him in the circle - as if he were excusing himself.

Then, with his left hand in his pocket, and his eyes looking directly at you, he began walking in your direction.

To be continued.

[javiscigarette]

Bad Fun

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Jealous Joel takes you in the bar bathroom. (Inspired by the like five jealous Joel requests that have been sitting pretty in my inbox for weeks).

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (semi) public sex, slapping, degradation, hair pulling, pretty rough (consensual!) sex, possessive Joel <3, heavy on the dirty talk and daddy kink no use of y/n

w/c: 3.4k

A/N: Answered a request? How very unlike me. Idk why but you guys were thirsty for jealous Joel but I am not complaining! Also two fics in a week? who am I turning into?

my masterlist

You can feel his eyes on you, even with your back turned to him. And you can see the way the men look over your shoulder, casting anxious glances at the man who’s now giving them an icy glare. 

“Well, if you ask me, I’d say you’re far too young and pretty to be hanging around with a man like that” one of them says as he casually places a hand on your midback. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t say anything about his hand on you. 

“A man like what?” you ask innocently.

Almost everyone in Jackson knew about you and Joel. The two of you were practically glued at the hip, if there was one of you, then the other wasn’t far away. Joel usually had a protective arm draped your shoulders, keeping you safely tucked away under his arm. Or a hand tucked in the back pocket of your jeans as you walk the streets of Jackson together, giggling at some inside joke like you were the only two people in the world.  

And most men knew that you were off limits. Most of them were smart enough not to test Joel like that, fully aware of the repercussions that come with going after his girl. But these younger men, the one’s around your age, were still ballsy enough to push the boundaries. 

The man laughs, his hand slowly sliding further down your back. 

“He’s just a bit old for you, isn’t he? He’s like 50, isn’t he?”  

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You glance over your shoulder at Joel where he’s seated at a table across the room with Tommy and a few other guys from patrol. He has his front turned to you as he leans back in chair, one hand wrapped around his glass of whiskey and the other resting casually on his crotch. His eyes are dark as he watches you carefully and a small but dangerous smirk is tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“More years of experience” you quip, turning back around and taking a sip from the cocktail that one of them bought for you. 

The boys laugh, and the hand on your back slides down even lower until he’s inches away from your ass. You allow it, fully aware that Joel is still watching you.  

“Maybe” he says, stepping closer towards you and closing the space “But I bet I could last longer than him.” 

You supress another laugh as images of Joel fucking you into the mattress for hours flashing through your head. If only they knew. 

“Buy me another drink and maybe I’ll want to find out if you’re right” you say, looking at him through your lashes trying to feign innocence. 

The man smirks, entire too confident in his abilities to pull someone else’s girlfriend, much less Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You giggle as he rushes to turn around and find the bartender, flagging him down and pointing to your empty glass. 

These men are cute enough, boyish faces with a youthful sparkle in their eyes. Still, they’re obviously not you’re type and you’re far from being interested in slightest.

It’s not the flirting that fun, it’s what comes after. 

Joel watches you for a few more minutes, his skin growing hot with jealousy as he watches the man inch his hand further and further down your back. But he doesn’t intervene. If he didn’t know any better, those men would be on the floor before they even got the chance to touch you. 

But he’s not that naïve. He’s played this game with you before and he knows exactly what you want. 

He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the table before standing up and heading towards the bathroom. He crosses your line of sight on the way but doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you. 

He knows you’re watching. 

“I’ll be back, you boys have fun without me” you say quickly before finishing your drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. You don’t give them a chance to respond before you’re slipping away and heading towards the bathroom. 

Your entire body is vibrating with excitement as you practically run after Joel, heady desperation mixing with the alcohol in your veins. There’s only one bathroom and you only have to knock once before Joel swings the door open and yanks you inside. You giggle with excitement as he pushes you up against the door and clicks the lock in place. 

With one hand on your hip, he shoves a knee between your legs so that his thick thigh presses firmly against your core. 

“Such a fuckin’ slut” Joel growls. He brings his other hand up to grip your jaw, his fingertips digging in your cheeks and squeezing so hard that your mouth pops open.

“Can’t leave you alone for two goddamn seconds without you whorin’ yourself out.” 

The whiskey is heavy on his breath and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown from the liquor and lust making you clench around nothing, already hopelessly turned on. His grip on your both your hip and jaw are firm and unforgiving, serving as an indicator for what’s about to go down. You know that you probably shouldn’t push him more than you already have, but you can’t resist. 

“They were saying they could fuck me better.” 

Joel’s jaw tightens and his scowl deepens as he narrows his eyes at you. He’s still for a beat, and you bat your eyelashes at him innocently. Then within an instant, he manhandles you over to the sink, pinning your front against the fake marble countertop with his hips. You giggle again when you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing firmly against your ass as he holds you tight against him. 

He snakes an arm up the front of your body, his forearm resting heavy and warm between your breasts as he grips your jaw once again, forcing you to look straight ahead. Your gaze meets his in the mirror and a hot wave of arousal washes over you as he slips his other hand between your legs. 

“Jesus fuck” he groans quietly when he feels how wet you are.  

“I know what your little plan is, sweetheart” Joel murmurs as his fingers feather over your swollen, dripping seam. “Actin’ like a fuckin’ slut to get me to bend you over and make you stupid on my cock, right angel?”  

You just grin smugly and back up against him.  His eyes get even darker, and you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly under his skin. 

You nod weakly and whine at his words, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as try to grind down on his fingers, desperately chasing after any sort of friction. But Joel’s not having it. He moves his hand away from your jaw briefly so he can deliver a sharp smack to your cheek. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt, but it’s definitely enough to make your eyes snap open and your skin tingle for a few seconds. 

“Use your words” Joel hisses, his fingers curling around your jaw once again.  

“Yes, Joel.” 

Another quick slap. 

“And mind your fuckin’ manners.” 

You whine again before correcting yourself. 

“Yes, daddy” 

Joel groans and rolls his hips against your ass in approval. You whimper when his hand leaves your core, but you’re quickly rewarded when he slides his two fingers, damp with your slip past your lips. You suck on them happily, satisfied with something finally in your mouth. You languidly roll your tongue around them, licking off arousal and coating them liberally with your saliva. Joel watches you through the mirror and leans in until his mouth is inches away from your ear. 

“Look at that” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear and jaw. “My dirty little girl, so desperate for her daddy.” 

Hi cock twitches against you as he watches your eyes roll back as drool starts to leak out of the corner of your mouth, a small drop sliding down your chin. He curses under his breath and slowly removes his fingers from your mouth. You whine at the loss, but the sound quickly melts into a loud, drawn-out moan when he shoves them inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, just starts pumping his two fingers in and out of you at a dizzying pace. He watches you in the mirror and forces you to watch too, his grip tightening on your face. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me already, angel” Joel groans. “Does actin’ like a goddamn whore turn you on, baby? S’that why your little pussy is already dripping all over my fingers?

“Daddy please” you pant, already embarrassingly close to release.

He just chuckles breathlessly as you squeeze around his fingers. Another loud moan tumbles past your lips when he adds a third finger. It burns in the best way, your sensitive walls stretching out around his thick fingers.

But he suddenly stills his fingers inside of you and the pleasure starts to quickly fade. You whimper and wiggle your hips, already missing the sensation. 

“Be a good slut and fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers.” 

You make a garbled sound in your throat and immediately start to grind your hips back. You try to position your body to get his fingers deep like they were before, but it’s no use. Only he knows how to get that perfect angle. With a frustrated huff and no other options, you double down on your efforts. You curl your fingers over the beveled edge of the fake marble countertop and push your hips back. 

The lewd squelching sounds of his fingers working your tight cunt open bounce off the walls of the small bathroom and into your ears, sending a wave of heat down your body. He groans next to your ear when you start squeezing his fingers so hard that you’re almost forcing them out. 

“Greedy fuckin’ slut” Joel whispers. “You gonna cum like this?” 

 He’s well aware that it’s not enough. But he loves to watch you try. 

“Can’t, Joel” you whine. You yelp when Joel pulls his fingers from you and delivers a sudden smack to your ass. 

“What’s my fuckin’ name?” Joel hisses, squeezing your jaw even tighter. You wouldn’t be surprised if you found bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning. 

“Daddy” you whine, high pitched and needy.

He grunts approvingly then suddenly removes his fingers. You whimper quietly at the loss and watch through the mirror moves to unbuckle his belt. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock then bunches the hem of your dress around your waist. 

“Tell me something, baby” Joel sighs, using both hands to spread your cheeks and exposing your burning heat to the cool room of the air. “Do you think they could fuck you better than I can?”

“No, daddy” you reply without missing a beat. 

Joel hums but doesn’t say anything as he takes a half step forward, pressing his cock against your dripping seam. You moan softly at the sensation, the smooth, warm skin of his tip rubbing against your puffy clit. He starts to rock his hips, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds, lubing himself up with your slick. 

“Are you this fuckin’ wet for them?” he rasps, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“No, daddy” you gasp. 

“Then who’s this pussy so needy for?” Joel taunts, the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance. 

You clench around nothing and ty to push your hips back against him, but the sharp spank he lands on your ass stops you. 

“You daddy! Please daddy, only for you.” 

“That’s right, angel” Joel praises, bringing both hands to your hips. “You’re fuckin mine.”  

With that, he pushes inside and buries himself to your hilt in one fluid movement. Your knees buckle and your head falls forward, hanging between your shoulders, but the arm he wraps around your waist keeps you upright. He holds you tight in place and snaps his hips against your ass, knocking all the air out of your lungs and getting impossibly deep with each thrust. You try to bite back the loud moans but it’s a lost cause when he finds the angle where his tip kisses your cervix with every stroke. 

He starts pounding into you faster and removes his arm from your waist, his hand now trailing up your back instead. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls your head up and holds you there, forcing you to look ahead in the mirror. 

“You keep your eyes on me. Since you seem to have trouble rememberin’ who fuckin’ owns you” 

Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t dare close them. You stare at him through the mirror, eyebrows drawn together with your mouth hanging open, strained whines and moans slipping past your lips as he continues with his brutal pace. And he just smiles down at your almost cruelly. 

Joel laughs breathlessly from behind you when you let out a loud, broken moan and your cheeks heat up at the sound, knowing that there are people less than five feet away on the other side of the wall. It’s mortifying for you, but it only fuels Joel’s fire. 

 “M’not gonna cover your mouth, sweetheart” Joel grunts, tightening his grasp in your hair even more. “Want you to let everyone in this bar know who’s fuckin’ you this good” 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and the sounds start to freely pour out of you. The way he’s pounding relentlessly right into your g-spot causes the heat swirling in your belly to start burning hotter. Your knees are starting to buckle and your fingers scramble on top of the countertop, searching for purchase on the smooth surface as you try to keep yourself upright. 

Joel isn’t any help. He just watches you carefully in the mirror as he slams into you so harshly that you’ll probably have light purple bruises on your hips from where you keep hitting the edge of the counter. And the way his cock starts pulsating inside of you when you start clenching around him drives you both crazy. 

Your whole body feels on fire now with tingles spreading from your lower abdomen and up your spine to the rest of your body. You know he won’t let you finish. You’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation more than enough times to know that. And you also know how annoyingly in tune he is with your body he is, noticing every single miniscule cue you display. 

So, you try to hide it. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to suppress your moans and you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but it’s no use when you start to shake.  Joel groans then lets out a dark chuckle from behind as you tremble and reflexively clamp down around him, letting you know that yeah, of course he fucking noticed. 

He leans forward while simultaneously pulling your back by your hair until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear and whispers “Bad girls don’t get to cum”  

He then pulls out and takes a step back fisting his cock. 

“Get on your knees” Joel commands before you even have the chance to whine at the sudden loss. 

You automatically sink to your knees, leaning heavily into the sense of submission that starts to cloud your brain. He looks down at you and smirks at the captivated look on your face as you watch him steadily stroke his cock. The thing is, you can pick up on his cues too, no matter how much he tries to hide behind the façade of his dominance. You can see it in the way his heaving chest starts to flush, the dark blush spreading up his neck and to his cheeks. His breaths get quicker, fand he has a harder time keeping the whines out of his moans. 

You look up at him from your spot on the floor with wet, glassy eyes and he curses under his breath at the sight. 

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey and part your wet lips. 

“Good girl” he groans, taking a step forward until he’s inches away from your face. “Daddy’s gonna cum in your mouth, babygirl. D’ya want that?” 

You nod vigorously and give him a small whimper for good measure.  

“Please, daddy” you whisper, sticking your tongue out.

 Joel curses again and his hand on his cock starts to move faster while his free hand moves to the back of your head. Your scalp is already sore from the grasp he had on it earlier so you’re relieved when he doesn’t pull, just gently tangles his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place. 

“Knew you would. You’re just a slut for daddy’s cum, aren’t you?” he teases breathlessly. 

“Please daddy!” you whine again, not at all ashamed of the desperation in your voice.  

Joel grunts and his wrist faulters again as he stares at your awaiting tongue. You wait as patiently as you can, subtly trying to squeeze your thighs together searching for any bit of friction you can get. 

“Fuck angel you look so good like this” he groans, his hips involuntary rolling up to meet his fist. “On your knees waiting for daddy to cum like a good fuckin’ slut.” 

You glow under his praise and start to say something, but Joel’s breathing starts getting heavier and his grunts and moans are getting louder and before you can say anything, he’s thrusting his hip forward to slide his tip past your lips. 

You instantly wrap your lips around him and he doesn’t push in any further, just keeps the tip in your warm, awaiting mouth, his cock pulsing as he unloads rope after rope of hot cum. You try your best to keep eye contact with him, but the feeling of his hot, salty release on your tongue has your eyelids fluttering as your head starts to go dizzy and floaty. 

You also try your best to keep his cum on your tongue, knowing that there was a reason that he didn’t push in all the way and fuck your throat. But it’s so much, it’s always so fucking much that you can’t stop some of it from sliding down your throat. 

“That’s my good girl, My go- ah fuck baby” Joel cuts himself off with a careless moan. You can feel your slick starting to leak out of you and down your thighs at the sound. 

“My good fuckin’ girl. All fuckin’ mine.” 

He hisses when you dip your tongue into his oversensitive slit and reluctantly pulls out of your mouth. You press your lips together, keeping your mouth closed and look up at him expectantly. He smiles down at you, his scowl gone and replaced by a lopsided, sated smile. 

Then he brings a thumb up to your bottom lip and tugs down softly and whispers “Show me.” 

You comply, opening your mouth and proudly showing him the small puddle of his cum on your tongue. 

“Now swallow, baby.” 

You do as your told, closing your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him. 

“Good girl” he praises gently. “So good for your daddy.” 

You beam up at him, absolutely melting under his praise. He removes his hand from your hair and reaches out to help you stand up again. He straightens out your dress, making sure to “accidentally” brush his fingers through the mess between your legs. 

“Now,” he starts, tugging the straps of your dress so that they sit evenly on your shoulders. “Go out there and talk to those boys again with the taste of my cum on your tongue.” 

Your skin heats up and you look at him with wide, silently pleading eyes. Those men were only feet away from the bathroom door. If they didn’t see you two go in together, they definitely heard you. 

And that’s exactly what Joel intended. So, he just gives you a devilish grin then pat your bum. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good girl. For your daddy.”  

[toadtaverngame]

Toad Tavern

Mix Drinks, Master Recipes, and Learn about your froggy clientele in this 1920s bartending simulator 🐸🍸

official trailer out NOW!!

[duck-a-doodle]

COD IMAGINES

TACTICAL CUDDLE BUG 3/4 Chapters 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

TF141!reader x 141

Masterlist

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The most serious member of the 141 is secretly a very affectionate person.

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You had half the mind to dig yourself a grave and jump in with all the other skeletons in your closet. Over the last two weeks, you have been christened 'cuddle bug', 'koala', and now 'cub'.

After the first two times you had let yourself be that vulnerable before your team, Johnny would consistently open up his arms and wiggle his brows at you, offering himself up as a body pillow for you to cuddle. You turned him down to his mild disappointment, but the teasing does not stop.

Whenever the Captain was silent with fury, Gaz would come up behind you and go, "how 'bout you give him a hug? I bet he'd be in less of a mood after that."

And when you sparred with Ghost, he'd tell you, "don't go falling asleep on me now, cub."

The jibing died down after a while until all of you went to a pub to watch a game after a mission, and all of you sat on the bar stools.

You were following the game just fine from the telly, and being able to enjoy yourself for the first time in a while, you decided that a having little more to drink would be safe.

Deeper into the game, Ghost, Gaz and Price had sat themselves in a rounded booth seat while you remained with Johnny at the stools by the bartender, ordering more cocktails and beer.

Now, the 141 were glad that you trusted them enough to drink with them, but they had not anticipated for you to reveal that night that you were an affectionate drunk.

They were initially under the impression that you were a sleepy drunk, until you slid off the bar seat and shuffled yourself onto Gaz's side of the couch, proceeding to wrap your arms around his stomach with your legs splaying out under the table. And there you rest, with your forehead resting on the edge of his shoulder

"Ah shite, sorry Cap, I thought the bugger looked o'lrighte."

"I thought our sergeant was sleeping at the bar?"

"Well, yes, ah mean no. Ah was messin' with the bugger when ah said ter give Gaz some love, how's ah supposed ter know it'd work?"

"I'm fine Captain", you mumbled into Gaz's shoulder.

"Think the cub's tellin' the truth," Ghost teased from behind his glass of beer. "I think Gaz could use a tighter hug, eh?" He added, and Gaz shot him an exasperated look.

"Ghost, please- Bug? Oh no, wait, hey-"

Too late. You have clumsily but somehow very quickly rearranged your limbs, and in a tangle of arms and feet, you end up with your legs on either side of his lap and your hands reaching around his wide shoulders as best as you could.

"Ghost." He grumbles, resigned, letting you sleep comfortably into his red, cotton Henley. Johnny pulled out his phone and began collecting evidence. "Johnny." Gaz berated with a pointed look, but that was not about to stop him. In fact, the Captain joined in on the blackmail.

"Price," he sighed, now victim to the onslaught of three blackmailers and one very comfortable cuddle bug.

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A/N: Gaz has to carry your body out of the bar because you looked way too comfortable and he is simply too soft of a man to wake you up.

[coco-loco-nut]

High Stakes

pairing: lando x reader

summary: Lando can’t help but to fall for his teammates elusive childhood friend

masterlist requests open

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You strut out of the casino eyes locked on your phone as you change your flight back to Australia. The casino threw a few perks at you, and who are you to say no to free stuff. You don’t even notice as you walk into a brick wall, or someone built like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly stuff your phone into the black Birkin on your arm. The bag is a contrast to the champagne dress that glitters under the city lights.

“No that was my fault,” you look up, the sound of another Australian voice piquing your interest.

“Australian?” You ask, watching the man study your face.

“Y/n? Oscar,” he says, your face lighting up.

“Osco, I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. What are you here for?” Oscar was your best friend when you lived down the street from him. You moved to a different town a few years later, losing touch quickly.

“I’m a race car driver, what are you doing here?” Oscar notes the clothes your wear, the same designer brands he sees WAGs wear in the paddock.

“Oh, you still race? That’s so cool. With, um, Daniel Ricciardo?” you try to pull a name from the back of your mind.

“I actually replaced him, he’s retired now,” Oscar spares the messy details since it’s pretty clear you don’t have a vested interest in motorsport.

“Oh, that’s sad. Hey, it was nice seeing you again,” your goal is to hit the club you frequent in Vegas, and you only have so long before the line gets too long and won’t let you in.

“Right, yeah, enjoy your night,” Oscar watches you walk away, looking like the opposite of the girl he used to play in the dirt with.

“Miss L/n,” the bouncer smiles, taking your tip as you bypass the line. Taking your phone out of the purse, you leave the purse at a bag check, the staff knowing to take care with it and they get a nice reward. You only come here after winning big anyway - and you ALWAYS win big.

You slide onto a stool at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. He’s the reason you frequent this one in particular. He makes a mean drink and is quite pleasant to look at. He picks up a liquor bottle, winking at you down the bar.

“Welcome back, this one’s on me,” he slides a cocktail to you before going to serve another customer. Maybe tonight you will actually give him your number, but the cat and mouse game you have going is too much fun.

The cocktail is fresh, something you haven’t tried before. It’s like a mix of some of your go to’s. You finish it quickly, craving the pulse of music.

“Going so soon?” the bartender asks as you slide a five to him.

“I need to dance. I’ll be back,” your sly smile makes his eyes follow you as you exit to the main club.

You find the bar once again. The one with the shitty liquor that serves everyone’s main goal. Getting shitfaced. You order two green tea shots, the familiar set of the local dj calling you to the floor.

“Your shot is on me,” a British man, or boy based on his height and struggle to grow facial hair, says as he slides beside you. You raise your eyebrow, passing one of your shots to him. You can sacrifice the buzz you are chasing for an adventure.

“Cheers, but I think you owe me another round now,” your eyes sparkle like the dress you are wearing. The man’s eyes rake your body as you throw the shot back. He quickly follows suit before ordering another round.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you. I didn’t expect to see an Australian in the States. What’s your name?” he says, filling the time as you wait for the shots.

“I didn’t expect to see a Brit, but here we are,” you smile, unwilling to give your name until he gives his.

You take the next round quick, itching to dance.

“Lando, mate, the team is waiting on you to do the round- Y/n?” a familiar face appears beside you once again. Lando, the boys name is Lando.

“Twice in one night, are you stalking me Piastri?” you tease.

“No, we are here celebrating with the team. This is where you were in a rush to be?” Oscar asks and you nod. Lando looks between the two of you confused. Of course his teammate knows the Australian he just met.

“I always come here when I’m in Vegas. What’s next, Osco? You’ll be in Monaco next week?” you laugh. Oscar realizes how little you really know about racing or him.

“Not next week, no,” Lando answers. For a minute you forgot about him.

“We need to get back to the team. Want to join us?” Oscar asks you, a little disappointed when you shake your head.

“I need to get on the floor and dance. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you walk off towards the crowd of moving bodies.

“How the hell do you know her?” Lando watches you leave.

“Old friend, we were best friends for a few years before she moved away,” Oscar explains. Maybe third time will be the charm in getting your number so you can actually stay in touch. Lily has asked about you when looking at old childhood photos.

“She’s hot,” Lando comments, following Oscar back to the team.

“I couldn’t tell you the first thing about her anymore. I looked her up on the way over here and nothing came up. No socials or anything,”

“Odd,” Lando shrugs. An hour later you are back at the bar, and Lando strikes again.

“Do you travel a lot?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yeah, when I’m not in Australia I travel for work. About a month ago I was in Singapore, around Marina Bay, and before that Macao. London, Paris, and Sydney are other places I frequent,” you tell him, shame letting your eyes roam his body, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“I travel a lot too,” Lando takes a step closer. one goal in mind.

“I should start visiting new places. You know, I’ve never been to the middle east,” you wave your hand, thinking it would make your statement bigger.

“You should come to Abu Dhabi, Osc and I will get you a paddock pass. You’ll be in Monaco for a couple weeks, right?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yes, but I was planning on going back to Australia after,” your eyes narrow, unsure at what he’s getting at.

“I’ll be flying to the race from Monaco, why don’t you join Oscar and I on the flight there and fly back to Australia with Oscar?” Lando offers. You turn your attention to your phone, Lando fears he lost you.

“Give me your number, I’ll let you know tomorrow once I am sober,” you hand your phone to him, allowing him to enter his details.

“Everything ok?” Oscar asks, startling Lando as he returns your phone to you.

“Yeah, Lando just invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you turn to Oscar, extending your hand to him. “I’m going back to the casino hotel, let’s stay in touch this time,” you watch Oscar quickly make a contact for himself, sending a text so he has your number as well.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Oscar asks, concerned.

“Enjoy your party, I’ll be fine,” you let your drunk impulse take over, hugging the shy man before strutting away to get your purse.

“I wish I knew more about her. She’s so different from the girl I grew up with. I’m sure my sisters or mom could tell me,” Oscar says, watching you leave. You don’t even stumble, despite mixing heels and alcohol.

“I think she works for casinos. She mentioned traveling for work and everywhere she goes there are a lot of them,” Lando guesses. Oscar shrugs.

“I’ll ask around,” Oscar replies, turning your words over in his mind.

You thought about moving to Monaco, you love it when you are in the small country,but you can’t seem to permanently leave Australia. Monaco always treats you well, yacht parties mixed with rides around the city in expensive cars, not to mention all the money you win. It really is a tempting move. Maybe one day.

Lando picks you up outside the hotel, his chauffeur takes care of your luggage while you slide into the back. Oscar and Lando were very helpful in planning the last minute trip, despite the racing and team meetings.

“I got you a gift,” Lando hands you an orange bag. You open it and pull out a shirt and hat.

“Thank you so much. Orange isn’t usually my color-“

“Papaya,”

“But I will definitely wear it during the race. Thank you,” your brow furrows at the interruption as you carefully place the clothing back into the bag.

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya. McLaren is very insistent on that. It’s my hat and Oscar’s jersey,” Lando says, watching you tuck the bag beside your feet.

“I see,” an easy conversation falls between you as you approach the airport. The private jet awaits. Oscar is already inside when you arrive.

“Welcome aboard,” Oscar greets you as you settle into a seat. Some more people who you don’t know join the flight.

“Carlos, this is Y/n. She’s Oscar and I’s friend,” Lando says as the man extends his hand to you. You shake it, examining him.

“Nice to meet you,”

“How do you know them?” The Spaniard asks you.

“I grew up with Oscar and ran into him in Vegas. Lando invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you simplify the story.

As soon as you reach cruising height, Lando pulls out a case from a closet.

“Do you like playing cards?” he asks you, setting the black leather case onto a table.

“Occasionally, I love solitaire,” you sit down beside Lando.

“Name of the game is Texas Hold‘Em,” Lando sets it up as the group buys in. You look at your cards and the people around you.

You fold early despite your very good hand, needing to tank yourself.

��Let me take a look at that,” Lando says at the end of the round, checking your cards. “You had a straight, you should’ve stayed. It would’ve won,”

“It would? Silly me, I guess I’ll have to learn as I go,” you bat your eyes. A little lying to get some action never hurt anyone.

“I can teach you,” Lando wraps an arm around your shoulder as Oscar clears his throat.

“That would be unfair, don’t you think?” Oscar says, unsure why he’s feeling protective over you. Maybe it’s because of Lando’s womanizing reputation and you being an old friend.

“It would, we can’t do that,” you agree. You easily win the next three rounds.

“What a comeback, quite impressive,” Carlos says as you collect the money at the center of the table.

“Beginners luck,” you shrug coyly. You purposely lose the next two, going all in on a pair of three’s, an awful hand. It kills you to sandbag, but it would be very suspicious if you were annihilating the group. Then the game comes to a small break for drinks and for Oscar to use the restroom, you quietly flirt with Lando. Carlos declares himself out, choosing to nap instead.

“My offer for lessons still stand,”

“Oh? How would we go about those,” you ask, brushing your leg against his while you gently set your hand on his bicep.

“You, me, and a game a strip poker in my room tonight,” Lando suggests, eyes darkening a little as you lean closer.

“Sounds marvelous.” your devilish smile sets Lando’s mind racing as you turn towards Oscar to talk.

“Why are you pretending to not know how to play?” Oscar arches his brow at you. Slowly but surely, it’s like the two of you never moved away from each other.

“It’s fun. I don’t know how to play that well anyway,” you smile, playing off your lie.

“He’s my teammate, you know,” Oscar’s voice has a tone that warns you not to fuck up.

“I know, Osc. It’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’m not in the right place to start anything serious,” you shrug, knowing Lando’s reputation.

“Does he know that?” both of you glance at Lando who stares like a lost puppy dog.

“I’ll make sure he knows, don’t worry,” you promise as Lando calls both of you back into the game. Fifteen minutes later, Oscar folds.

“It’s just you and me now,” Lando says, both of you with an even amount of earnings.

“Don’t hold back on me,” you bat your eyes innocently as you get your hand. Oscar peeks over your shoulder, watching the cards.

“Don’t you dare fold,” Oscar hisses, you feign confusion and nod.

“Let’s see your cards,” Lando says, laying his down first after your final bets. You checked him, not wanting to discredit your lie.

“Is this good?” you ask as his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, yeah. You won, four of a kind,” Lando pushes the money towards you.

“No, I couldn’t. You keep it. I’m well enough off anyway,” you give him the money, not really interested in the winnings of a one hundred euro buy in.

Lando starts to protest, but you move from the table to your seat before he can get a word out. You put on your headphones and pull out a book. Oscar follows Carlos in the pursuit of sleep. Two hours down, six more to go of the flight.

You feel a presence beside you and look up from your book.

“What’s up?” you ask, pulling an earbud out, marking the page of your book and setting it down.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. You glance around the plane as he inches closer to you. You feel his hand brush against your arm.

“Lando,” your breath hitches, his face close to yours.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, your head tilting up against your better judgment.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper, lips almost brushing his.

“Why not?” you get the sense that he doesn’t care as your head starts to spin and there is a strange pull between you.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” you state.

“Good, this is just a bit of fun, right?” his hand runs up and down your leg as you fight your body from getting closer.

“Right,”

“So kiss me,” Lando’s voice is breathy as he connects your lips. You pull back as you feel yourself losing control.

“Lando, we can’t, not here,” you shake your head, trying hard not to be pulled in by his puppy dog eyes and curls.

“Ok, what if we talk instead?” he sits back in the chair. You let him ramble, feeling yourself start to drift off. Lando notices you yawn as you try to carry on the conversation.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you apologize, shifting in the seat to a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay, planes always put me to sleep too,” Lando doesn’t take your sleepiness to heart.

“Wanna listen to music?” you ask, pulling out your headphones. Lando simply nods, taking an earbud from you.

He feels a light weight on his shoulder a few minutes later. A quick glance tells him that you fell asleep. Lando can’t stop the butterflies in his chest. A beautiful woman is unintentionally using him as a pillow, it’s natural. He will never admit that he has a crush, but he wishes that you didn’t insist it is all for fun. Lando knows that Oscar doesn’t trust him with you, despite your recently rediscovered friendship. He will just have to prove it.

Unfortunately for Lando, you see more of Oscar and less of Lando during the weekend. You also left earlier than planned, citing a family thing that needed you back in Australia.

Oscar talks to you frequently, but you don’t show to a race. Lando asks questions, and even finds your social media, but it’s private and Oscar gives vague answers. It is nearly a year until Lando sees you again in Singapore.

Oscar and Lando are exploring Marina Bay when a casino advertisement catches Lando’s eye.

“Osc, is that-“

“Y/n,” Oscar finishes Lando’s sentence.

“Play where champions play. Poker champion? I thought she didn’t know how to play,” Lando reads the ad and your description. You started playing some public tables and tournaments in the past year, the sponsorship and casino money was alluring. You play private tables most of the time, but a tournament or two never hurts.

“I guess we were wrong,” Oscar stares at it.

“She lied to me,” Lando is shocked, he thought you had some natural talent, but you let him teach you. He feels a little stupid.

“She lied to all of us. It kinda explains why she never told me how she got rich or what her job is,” Oscar frowns, watching as security exits the casino to escort a guest in from the black SUV.

Without thinking, Lando moves towards the entrance. “Y/n!” he calls out to you, watching your head snap over in surprise. Oscar approaches Lando, staying a few steps behind.

“Lando? Osc? What are you doing here?” you ask, the security silently encouraging you to keep walking.

“We have a race-“ Oscar starts, but you cut him off.

“Don’t stand there, follow me in,” you tell them before saying something to the security. Whatever you said, it lets Lando and Oscar get near you.

“You have better security than we do,” Oscar says.

“Well, the casino wants to protect its assets,” you shrug.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Lando seems off, colder than usual. You glance around.

“Not here, in my suite,” you say, leading the way to one of the best rooms available.

Lando and Oscar gape at the opulence, it’s nicer than their rooms.

“You are here for a race?” You ask as you pour a glass of water.

“Yeah, do you want a pass?” Oscar asks without a second thought.

“Sure, maybe I’ll bet on you to win,” you smile, crossing the room to take a seat.

“Why are you here?” Lando asks, first Vegas an Monaco, now Marina Bay.

“Work. I’m playing a few tables and a tournament for sponsorship purposes,” you lean back in the chair, not sure of how much you should say.

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, curious at the standoff and tension between you.

“I lied. I only recently started playing public games,” your eyes narrow a little, gauging the room.

“Why?” Oscar asks, bringing himself into the conversation.

“Why I lied or why I only just started playing publicly?” you don’t get an answer so you choose to answer both. “I lied because I wasn’t comfortable with my career and I didn’t want to be judged,” your arm raises to scratch your neck, an emotional cue that you haven’t been able to stop yourself from doing. “I also didn’t want to embarrass you. I only just started playing publicly for more money and casino sponsorship,” you watch their reactions, crafting your words carefully based on the small cues they give you.

“So what do you do exactly?” Oscar pries.

“I play card games and casinos invite me to play worldwide. It attracts regular people to have high caliber players in house, and the expensive tables are lucrative for me. It’s simple marketing,” Lando looks at you, the wheels turning in his mind.

“So you do work for the casinos?” he asks, wondering if his first guess from when he met you was right at all.

“You could say so, yeah, in a way,” you look between both of them. “Any more questions?”

“How did you start?”

“I just kinda fell into it. Picked up a lot of games quickly and had natural luck and talent,” you answer, you seem so nonchalant about it.

“How rich are you?” Oscar knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but he’s curious anyway.

“I am not answering that,” you laugh, almost affronted that he would ask. “Let’s just say, I could retire right know and live very comfortably for the rest of my life,” you answer. It helps that you’ve made some very good investments over the year to build your net worth. Even if you lost money on an expensive buy in, you’d be well off.

“Holy shit,” Lando whispers, glancing at Oscar who meets Lando’s eye. There’s a subtle shift in the air. The way they look at you now is different. It’s like even though they knew you were rich from how you dressed, they didn’t know how so it was pushes aside. Now it matters to them. This is the reason you don’t tell people. Not because they are likely to ask for money, it’s the judging. Like the way you earn your living makes you a bad person.

“Look, if you guys want to judge, that fine. I made my money legally and that’s what matters to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am contractually obliged to make an appearance and play a public table,” you stand up, resolute in yourself and the choices you’ve made with your life. If they judge you or want to act like they don’t know you going forward, that’s their prerogative. Lando and Oscar watch as you leave, one security guard remaining by the door to escort them out.

“Should we follow her?” Lando asks, feeling like they’ve fucked up. They didn’t have to say a word, the way they reacted told you enough.

“Yeah,” Oscar stands, a pain in his chest at how quickly you turned cold. “There’s a reason she keeps people at an arms length, I think we are that reason,” Oscar murmurs, the shame setting in.

“Can we watch her play?” Lando asks the guard as he brings them back to the main floor.

“Yeah, check the map over there,” the guard points to a wall, leaving Oscar and Lando to fend for themselves. They stay silent as they walk through the casino, finding the poker tables. A small crowd is near yours spectating.

“Why didn’t she tell us from the start?” Lando asks quietly as they approach.

“I assume she doesn’t want people to ask for money, same reason we don’t always disclose our career,” Oscar shrugs, he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to admit it.

You are sitting at a 1,000/2,000 no-limit game of hold'em. Typically you would be at a super high roller table, in a fancy room, schmoozing with execs and other professional players. But this is a business appearance, and all you have to do is win a few hands then you can leave the table.

“Maybe. Maybe she thought that because we were rich, we would understand and wouldn’t judge. We are her friends,” Lando’s voice cracks slightly, they stay silent as they are within earshot of the table.

They lean against a railing, separating the few people near them from you and the table.

Oscar feels bad for the people brave enough to play you. Your eyes are cold and calculating, not one muscle on your face moves as you observe. You slowly build a depth of knowledge about your opponent’s, balancing poker strategy with the emotional game. It’s impressive.

“She’s like a strategist and driver combined,” Oscar murmers, barely loud enough for Lando to hear. Lando simply nods in agreement as you toss a coin into the pot, calling the bet. You are not only doing the strategy that a team would do for Lando and Oscar, but the emotional game that Lando and Oscar do when driving.

“This is so hot,” Lando whispers as you seem to win with ease. Luck seems to naturally fall to you, but it’s just skill. You glance up from the little bubble of the game, noticing Lando and Oscar watching, but you make no indication of it.

“There’s been rumors that she is going to join a professional tour,” someone beside the two drivers says, quiet enough that it doesn’t disturb the game, but loud enough that it catches Lando and Oscar’s eye. So you were serious about being more outward about your career.

Lando and Oscar are gone by the time you leave the game, and you aren’t surprised. You don’t stick around, you just collect your money and retreat to your room. Typically you would indulge in the amenities that the casino has to offer- the bar, restaurants, spas, etc. When you get to your room, there is an envelope near the entrance. You open it and find paddock passes for the weekend. Your hand shakes slightly as you pull them out, a frown settling on your face.

Despite your better judgment, you show up to the first free practice. You don’t wear the gear that the boys got you, opting for a neutral outfit.

“Y/n L/n! I’m Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing,” a man extends his hand out to you. “I’m a huge fan so I was thrilled when your agent reached out to request paddock passes,” your eyes narrow slightly in confusion. You don’t have an agent. He does look like he would follow the poker world though, and your emergence into the public tables has been a hot topic recently.

“Thank you for having me,” you shake his hand. He turns and waves a hand, your eyes follow his motion.

“These two are our drivers, Lando and Oscar,” Zak introduces you but you don’t offer a hand to shake, keeping them folded in front of your chest. Oscar’s heart hurts, a year of rebuilding the friendship washed away.

“We will show her around,” Oscar offers, having some free time.

“Thank you, Oscar,” you ignore Lando, finding it harder to forgive him. You’ve known Oscar for longer, which makes it easier, even if it shouldn’t.

“Right, I’ll see you later,” you don’t dare to look at him, his dejected voice tells you enough.

“I’m really sorry, I was just stunned. It’s not really a career you think about,” Oscar starts, knowing you’ve already had a tour of the McLaren area.

“I take it you are my so-called agent?” you ask, ignoring his apology.

“Guilty. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to give you the option of acting like you don’t know us, in case you needed space,” you nod at Oscar’s words, processing them with every step around the paddock.

“I talked to Lily. I’m sorry for storming out on you abruptly. I realize that it was a complete one eighty from how I was moments prior. You weren’t the one judging, and I overreacted a bit,” you take a deep breath, offering an apology of your own, one specific to Oscar.

“You think you overreacted because you were scared of being in that position already. You had a right to remove yourself from the situation, and I’m sorry I had a part in it. You are my friend, and that is more important than anything else,” Oscar bolsters you, and reiterates his apology.

“Thank you, it means a lot to have you as a friend,” you open your arms slightly, inviting your typically stoic friend in for a hug. Oscar carefully wraps his arms around you, not much of a hugger.

“Should we talk about the other elephant-“

“Nope,”

“Gotcha. Want ice cream?” Oscar asks as you stand outside of Ferrari.

“Always,” you tentatively follow him inside.

“I was jokingly adopted by Charles, now I get to come in and get ice cream,” Oscar shrugs, explaining as if it’s no big deal. You are out as quickly as you went in, but you acquired your target.

“Some fans posted photos of Lando and I leaving the casino, we got asked if we had gambling addictions,” Oscar tells you between bites.

“Really?” you choke back a laugh. “What did you tell them?” you ask, curious as to how they played it off.

“We said that wanted to see if it was like the casino in Percy Jackson,” you shake your head, taking another bite of the ice cream.

“Well, that’s one excuse. By the way, are you even allowed to have ice cream right now?” you ask, realizing that he’s probably on a diet.

“No, but it’s worth it. You’d be surprised how often drivers break their diets. It’s not like major, just a little cheating,” Oscar waves it off. By the time you return to McLaren, it’s like nothing happened between you. “I’ll be back in a minute, wait here,” Oscar says, leaving you at a couch while he disappears into another room. Lando takes the opportunity to pounce, sitting in the chair closest to you.

“Y/n? Can we talk?” you feel your heart freeze. You turn your head away from him slightly, staring out the window. “Please?” his voice breaks, and you silently look at him. You don’t say a word, but he takes the bit of attention you’ve given him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I judged you when you offered your trust. I hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and I know that it’s hard to forgive in moments like that,” Lando shifts closer, but still keeps some distance.

“I expected more from you,” the words sting as you look back towards the window. Lando looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I know. I never wanted to ruin what we have,” your head snaps over to stare at him.

“There is no we. We kissed once, and it didn’t mean anything. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” you practically seethe and Lando is afraid he poked the bear.

“Right,” Lando whispers. He knows his reputation. One he’s wanted to change since meeting you, but you don’t know that. “You’re right, I misspoke,” Lando says even if it kills him to. “I just meant that we had a friendship starting and I was excited to get to know you more,” he covers his butt, telling you what he thinks you want to hear. You don’t expect it to hurt, but it does.

“It takes more than that. It will take time and effort,” you don’t know why you are making him work for it, but the words feel right. Lando’s eyes light up a little, there is a chance. Maybe he can find a way to win you over, but there is one big obstacle in the way. The one standing in front of him. Oscar.

“We have to get ready for our first practice session. Feel free to take food or drinks,” Oscar tells you, silently telling Lando to leave. You give Oscar a nod, letting him know you are okay.

Surprisingly, it’s you who finds Lando next. It does take until after the second free practice, Oscar and Zak kept you busy. You can’t help but feel a little guilty after sitting with your thoughts. He’s in a quiet spot, leaning against a railing. You wouldn’t have known it existed without Oscar unintentionally giving it away. The secluded spot is invisible to the rest of the paddock and cameras, perfect for being alone. It’s odd, seeing him so quiet. You stand beside him, a decent amount of space between you.

You can tell he knows you are there, but neither of you speak. It’s an odd comfort, standing in silence with someone whom you admittedly don’t know that well. Your silent standoff, like a game of chicken, ends when Lando unintentionally steps closer and you take the first metaphorical step.

“One chance. One shot to earn a fragment of my trust back,” you murmur into the darkness, eyes trained on the night sky above. You didn’t think you would care, that you could dismiss him like every other guy who hurt you before. You didn’t expect to feel guilty.

Lando doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a kiss. It’s different than the one shared on the plane. This is tender, unrushed, nearly a year of yearning being poured into it. His hand finds your neck, fingertips in your hair as you melt into the kiss. The other hand finds itself on your waist. You may not know where you stand with him or your readiness for any semblance of a relationship, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lando gently pulls away to breathe, his eyes searching yours as his hands keep you close.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to be better, to strengthen my relationships and working on myself to be worthy of you. You made me want to be better, even if you didn’t want me. I don’t know where you stand as compared to last year, but I want you,” he stresses his last word, driving it into your soul and it hits you. He doesn’t care what you do for a living, if you are rich or poor, or even that Oscar is likely your closest friend. He likes you enough to want to better himself.

“Lando, I-“ the words leave your mouth before you begin to think.

“Shh, don’t say anything unless you mean it,” he stares into your eyes, igniting a fire deep inside. Something shifts with that fire, a stone building your resolve.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, allowing yourself to be pulled back into Lando’s orbit. His soft lips kissing you once more - this time with more passion yet just as soft as before.

“We can take this slow, at whatever pace you need,” Lando promises against your lips. He feels like if he lets you a step further away, you will disappear for another year.

The rest of the weekend passes by with stolen glances, quick kisses in hidden corners, and the thrill of brushing hands. You feel like a school girl, but this time you and Lando agree to keep in touch and already have dates planned.

Keeping it quiet only lasts until the end of the season. You couldn’t hide it from Oscar or keep it a secret, so you were upfront with the truth - things are starting to turn serious.

You are in Monaco when Lando returns from Abu Dhabi. You spent the week setting up your new apartment, choosing a cheaper place. It helps you feel like you aren’t wasting money when traveling.

A knock on your door prompts you to pause your music, rushing towards the door while trying not to hip check one of the boxes in your living room.

“Surprise!” Lando grins holding takeout bags in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!” you throw your arms around him, taking in the moment.

“I got an earlier flight, didn’t feel like partying two nights in a row,” he says into your shoulder before stepping out of the hug and into the apartment. He looks around, setting the bags on your wooden dinner table. “This looks so much nicer than when we tour it,” Lando compliments your hard work. The lighting is soft and inviting, plush rugs adding a coziness that makes him want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch that looks perfect for a nap.

“Thanks, it’s really coming together,” you smile, there are a lot less boxes, most just decoration that need placed. You help Lando with the dinner, settling in on the couch to eat. Lando was right, the couch is incredibly comfortable and soft.

“So I was thinking, my friends do this card game night a couple times a year, and I want you to join me, if you’d like,” Lando proposes between bites, locking eyes with you.

“You want me to meet your friends?” you nearly choke on your food. Sure, Oscar knows that you and Lando are seeing each other, but that’s it.

“Well, I’d really love for you to meet them as my girlfriend,” Lando studies your reaction. The way you instinctively school your face to not give a reaction before your brain reminds you who you are with, then a smile creeps onto your face.

“I would love to meet your friends as your girlfriend, but this isn’t you bringing me with you as an advantage?” you ask just to be sure and because you are still processing that he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Well, it is a plus, but I just want them to know how awesome you are and rub it in their faces,” Lando sets his food on the coffee table and moves closer to you so your knees are brushing.

“Lan,” your voice is soft, overjoyed at the thought. You set the food aside and lean in to kiss him.

“So, what do you want me to do first?” Lando looks around the room at the boxes, ready to help with whatever you need.

“Lando, you just finished your season. Don’t worry about the apartment,”

“I want to help my girlfriend set up her new home,” he insists.

“Well, in that case, let’s start… in the bedroom,” your sly smile turns to a grin as Lando chases you into the bedroom, his arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and carry you to bed.

You lay under the sheets together, bodies pressed against each other, the darkness of the room inviting for deep conversation.

“Why weren’t you ready when we first met?” Lando asks the question that he’s wondered since seeing you in Singapore.

“Every guy who I got close to, every friend I made, always did one of two things: try to use me for my money, and or ghost me because they thought I was a criminal,” you admit, allowing yourself to come to terms with it. You answer a question Lando never dares to ask aloud - why Oscar and Lily seem to be your only friends. His heart hurts for you, you don’t deserve that treatment, even if he hurt you in a similar way before.

“There is nothing wrong with your career. You play legally and honestly, no one has a right to judge,” Lando reassures you, you whisper thanks and savor the comforting silence of the room.

Lando rarely leaves your apartment those few days, only going to retrieve the essentials. Now you sit in his friends apartment, liquor flowing as you are deep into the card games.

Lando whispers in your ear, a mixture of flirting and telling you to stop sandbagging yourself. His leather jacket covers your shoulders, he claimed to be too warm with it on while you were a little cold in your t-shirt.

“Read it and weep,” you show your hand, grinning as the boys groan and Lando laughs. He wishes real money was being spent, you already ran a couple of his friends out of the game - including himself.

“Where did you find her? She’s much better than you,” one of the guys teases Lando, who wraps an arm around your chair. Your cheeks flame a little as you nod in agreement.

“It isn’t hard,” you laugh, swatting Lando’s hand away as he lightly pinches your shoulder.

“Didn’t any of you do a background check on my girlfriend? You need to learn from every girl group ever,” Lando shakes his head, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Hm, we do tend to know everything about a guy our friend is seeing,” you hum.

“Detectives, all of them,” one of the guys agrees as another is furiously google searching you.

“Holy shit. You are so much cooler than he is,” another tells you, making your cheeks even more red. Lando captures the moment in his memory, how adorable you are when you blush.

“I make more than him, so he’s my WAG,” you tease as an outlet for the mix of embarrassment and flattery.

“And I’m proud of it,” Lando doesn’t lie, he would rather be your WAG than have any other girl by his side. Another round gets dealt and you hone in on the game.

“You’re so sexy when you play wearing my clothes,” Lando whispers in your ear and it takes every bit of willpower in you to not react. It’s like a game to see how far he can push your limits. “I can’t wait to take you home,” he says before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hand moving down to rest on your hip.

The alcohol in your veins makes it hard for you to control yourself. His jacket weighs heavily on your shoulders, as he continues to whisper his plans for you later that night. Your skin is alight as his fingers trail the bit of exposed skin at your hip.

You fold, having a bad hand and your mind spinning with desire. A fake yawn gives Lando a cue to cut in.

“I am afraid it is past our professional’s bed time,” Lando’s eyes shine playfully as you avoid the smirks on his friends faces, the ones that tell you they know why you are leaving.

“Well, this isn’t a casino, no need to be up this late,” you yawn again, playing along as you stand. Lando gives his goodbyes as you exchange the always awkward ‘nice meeting you’s’.

You hand is warm as your fingers interlock with Lando’s. He leads you down the stairs and out to his car, giggling as you tell him to slow down before he breaks an ankle. Pure bliss is how Lando would describe it. Just the two of you in the empty street, stars twinkling in the night sky, Lando pinning you against his car with your hands around his neck. You would give anything to stay there forever.

[temilyrights]

just go with it

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: reader runs into an old frenemy at the bar and enlists melissa to play her date. hidden feelings are revealed. inspired by the movie just go with it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: alcohol (beer), swearing, old bully.

a/n: this was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy <3 i think i included all the warnings but as always pls let me know if i missed anything! if u wanna be added to my taglist just lmk or fill out my form on my masterlist!

The night hadn’t exactly gone to plan, not that you were complaining. The Abbot family were supposed to be celebrating reaching the end of another quarter, even going as far as to select a bar up to Ava’s standards with extravagant cocktails and comfortable booths (but still with a generic enough dart board that Melissa would turn up). Ava had shoot down your usual place saying, “Girl, I’ve got a reputation to uphold and even entering that place would lose me 1K on Instagram,”

However things had immediately started to splinter when Gregory and Janine failed to turn up, still very much in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. And then Barbara had ordered two cocktails which had immediately gone to her head and called Gerald to come and pick her up. Jacob got a text for Avi and ducked out apologetically, Mr Johnson disappeared somewhere, and then Ava declared she couldn’t be seen dead out in only a group of three so she ditched, which meant less than two hours into the night only you and Melissa remained at the bar. 

You’d initially been irritated, having looked forward to a family night out all week. But when Melissa dragged you to the dart board saying “We don’t need ‘em.”, her hand warm in yours and her smile bright. You’d suddenly forgotten every thought you’d ever had.

“Another bullseye for me!” Melissa smirks victorious, dancing as she turns around to face you. “I think that means ya owe me a drink, hon.” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t bring yourself to care that deeply at the sight of the redheads joy. She seems to be having a great time, despite everyone leaving. And you’re determined to soak up every moment of this additional out-of-school Melissa time until she decides to call it a night. 

It feels like a blessing, and the sight of her in a strappy leopard print top with enough cleavage to cause your brain to short circuit when she‘d first arrived definitely didn’t hurt. She looked beautiful with her red curls down past her neck, and her brown leather jacket and red high heels on. Any day now you were gonna get this raging crush under control and not look at Melissa Schemmenti and see the sun, any day… 

…just not today if your traitorous heart had any say. 

“Another of the same?” You ask, nodding towards her beer with a grin on your lips. 

“You betcha.” She shimmies closer to you, her teeth biting into her lip. “And when youse get back we’ll have another game. If you can take the heat.” 

Your face heats up and you force out a laugh to cover up how wildly attractive you find her. You push yourself off the barstool and side step her. “Uh yeah, another game sounds good. I’ll be right back.” You step back, giving her a slightly too tight smile before you run away to the bar. 

So chill Y/N. Wow, excellent game. If she didn’t want you before, I bet she does now.

You groan as you approach the bar, resisting every bone in your body that wants you to slam your head very hard against the bartop to hopefully knock some sense into yourself because that was just plain embarrassing. Instead, you settle on waving down the bartender and ordering two yuengling's. 

They make quick work of your order and you pay and mutter a polite, “Thanks,” before turning away with your drinks, ready to head back to Melissa. Determined to not make a complete fool of yourself this evening. 

“Y/N L/N!” A shrill voice calls and your blood runs cold, “Oh my god, is that really you?” 

Your eyes fall close as you blow out a breath and send a hail mary that maybe, just maybe, that voice won’t be connected to the woman you believe it to be. 

Of course, life doesn’t work like that and when you open your eyes you come face to face with your old college ‘friend’. If a friend meant someone who constantly put you down and had to be better than you at all times. Suddenly the last day of college doesn’t seem long enough ago, god you could’ve gone the rest of your life without seeing this woman and that still wouldn’t have made up for the torment of the three years of friendship with her. 

“Alisha, Hi.” You grimace. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I know!” She cackles, “I’d never expect you to be somewhere this close to classy. I remember the dives you loved in college.”

Your smile tightens and you force a humourless laugh. “Well, great to see you Alisha, but I really should be getting back to-”

“No, no, no, come on we must catch up!” She interrupts. She shakes her hair performatively and presents her hand, showing off an obnoxious diamond, “I, of course, got married. My husband is here actually and you must meet him.”

“Congrats, but I really should be getting back to my-” 

“I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” Alisha waves a hand. 

She grabs the hand not holding the two bottles of beer, her face etched with pity. “I noticed you don’t have a wedding band. It’s okay, your time will come.”

You try to shake your hand free, but Alisha’s grip tightens. “Seriously, Y/N, not everyone can be as lucky as-”

“Hey hon, everythin’ alright?” Melissa interrupts, an obvious edge to her voice. Her hand perches on the small of your back as she gives Alisha a once over, and despite the other woman being four inches taller than her, you know Melissa could take her effortlessly. 

Alisha’s eyes widen before melting into a smirk as she extends her hand, “Alisha, Y/N’s closest friend from college.” 

Melissa looks at you before looking back at Alisha and scoffing, “Right.” 

Alisha drops her hand, but doesn’t look disturbed, in fact she looks more excited than you’ve ever seen her, if you exclude that one house party she threw where she got the entire football team to attend and ended up sleeping with the quarterback. 

More than slightly disturbed, you push the beer in Melissa’s direction, “Here, sorry.”

“Thanks, hon.” She accepts the drink, her fingers brushing yours as she does. 

You watch Alisha hungrily eat up the action, and you know what’s gonna happen next before she even opens her mouth. “So, you’re Y/N’s girlfriend?”  

The redhead’s eyes widen, her drink pausing on its way to her mouth. And before she can reject it, and Alisha’s face grows even more victorious in your pathetic aloneness, you jump in and answer. 

“Fiancée, actually.” 

You should be awarded an Emmy for the way you keep your face straight and don’t cringe as both Melissa and Alisha swing around to face you. 

“I left my ring at home,” You roll your eyes. “She only popped the question recently. Haven’t quite got used to wearing it yet.” 

“Really?” Alisha questions, eyes narrowing. “Well now you must join my husband and I for drinks. We can toast to the newlyweds and newly-engaged.” 

She grabs your hand, pulling you away before you can protest again. You look back at Melissa, silently begging for help, but she just watches you with an arched brow and smirk before she takes a long sip from her beer and saunters after you.

Alisha doesn’t release her grip until you reach the booth in the corner of the bar. Her husband, an even taller man, presumably quite handsome if you’re into that sort of thing - but in your opinion quite boring looking - sits scrolling on his phone and nursing what looks like a whiskey sour. 

“Honey, I found some friends.” She says, sitting down beside her husband. “This is my best friend from college Y/N, and her fiancée…oh,” Alisha tips her head, smiling widely “In all that excitement I didn’t get your name.” 

Melissa doesn’t respond, instead signalling you to slide in the booth first so she can be on the end. 

“It’s Melissa,” You respond, ignoring the redhead’s dark look for sharing her personal information. 

“Traitor,” She mumbles quietly into your ear, her breath hot. 

You roll your eyes, even as you struggle to breath properly. If she’d saved you when she had the chance you wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“What a lovely name,” Alisha gushes, and you don’t need to turn to see Melissa’s glare.

Alisha drops her head to her husband's shoulder, who wraps his arm around her back with a boy-ish grin, “And this is my husband, Victor.” 

“Ladies, nice to meet you.” 

You force a smile and take a long sip from your beer. 

“I was just saying to Y/N how funny it is running into her.” Alisha laughs, “We’re only in Philadelphia because the jet needed to refuel. It was not part of our plan,” She rolls her eyes, “Honestly, can you imagine living here?” 

“What’s wrong with Philly?” Melissa challenges, eyes narrowing

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be my first choice.” She waves her hand, like she hasn’t said anything offensive. “Victor and I live in California, but we’re heading to Paris because this one’s talking at a convention for dentists.” 

“Wow, impressive.” You nod politely.

“You ended up here?” She asks, pity evident in her tone. 

“I chose here. I love Philly. I’ve got an amazing teaching job and an amazing group of friends. It’s a really good community.” You say seriously. There were some things Alisha could make you feel insecure about, but Philly was never going to be one of them. You were happy with your life. 

“And your fiancée, right?” She challenges, “How long have you been together?” 

Melissa’s arm wraps around your waist and she tugs you tightly into her side. You try not to let the surprise at the action show on your face. 

“Two years. Known each other for three through. She swooped in and saved me when the kids were drivin’ me mad and kinda hasn’t stopped since.” 

Your heart flutters as you stare at Melissa from beneath your lashes, warmth settling in your chest. You know the exact moment she’s talking about, it’s the first time you properly met, about a month into teaching at Abbott. You’d heard the commotion coming from her classroom while your first-graders were in music class, and had popped your head next door - just to check - and found a clearly stressed out redhead trying to control a large class of second and third graders. 

You’d made your way in, with a calm “How can I help?”. Melissa had just thrusted worksheets at you and pointed towards the third-graders. From then on you popped in to help whenever you had a free lesson, and if it meant staying later to catch up on lesson planning you decided it was worth it, especially as it led to one of your favourite friendships.

“You have kids?” Victor asks. “I love kids.” 

“No, teacher. We work together.” 

“Oh, that makes sense. Y/N was never one to have much of a social life outside of her work.” Alisha rolls her eyes, “Of course she’d have to meet her partner at her place of work too. She never had much luck when it came to dating, always so alone.” She juts out her bottom lip patronisingly. 

“I dated.” You defend, “I just happened to put my studies first, which was the whole point of being at college.” 

Alisha nods and takes a sip from her drink. Your eyes narrow at her. You don’t realise your hand has tightened into a fist until Melissa pulls it into her lap and begins gently caressing your knuckles, slowly coaxing it open again. 

Victor’s phone rings, an obnoxious beeping sound that shocks you enough that your hand pulls away from Melissa’s. You miss the touch instantly, wanting to reach back but knowing you shouldn’t. 

“Oh sorry girls, I should take this.” 

“He gets lots of important calls.” Alisha supplies proudly, as she slides out of the booth to let her husband out. Melissa lifts her brows, shooting you a look of disbelief and you struggle not to laugh.

They stand together beside the table. Victor drops his forehead to Alisha’s and inhales deeply. “Your beauty, your drive, your wit.” He breathes dramatically.

Alisha hums, “Your intelligence, your thirst, your strength.” 

Their nose’s rub together, and you swear your soul leaves your body as you watch them open mouthed in disbelief. You turn to Melissa whose face is screwed up in outright disgust. 

Alisha sits back down, a content smile on her face. “It’s something we do whenever the other person leaves. Say what we love most about each other.” 

“You really ain’t from Philly, huh?” Melissa laughs, taking a long sip from her beer. 

“You guys should try it.” 

“I ain’t doing-” 

“I don’t think-” Melissa and you both start to say at the same time.

“Not everyone can do it.” Alisha waves. 

Your eyes narrow and Melissa puts down her beer. 

“You know what, we’ll do it now.” You say, determined. 

Melissa smirks, eyes bright with challenge as she looks between you and Alisha. “Sure thing, hon.” 

“Okay, just look into each other’s eyes and say three things you love most about each other.”

You turn to face Melissa, knee’s brushing against hers. You blow out a breath, suddenly nervous looking at her this closely. Her green eyes hold your gaze, a reassuring smile on her face and it helps you steel yourself. 

“Okay. Uh, I love how much you care about the kids.” You start, easy, honest, tame. “You do so much for them, more than anyone even realises. But they love you so much. You’re a phenomenal teacher. You’ve got such a beautiful heart, even if you do try to keep it hidden.”

Melissa listens to you with soft eyes, a wet chuckle breaking from her lips.

“It’s not even just the kids. The things you do for Barbara, Janine, Me. You are extraordinary. I see how much you care, I see your kindness.” The words flow from your lips, the truth that you should probably keep hidden. 

She scoffs, shaking her head, “I ain’t that soft.” 

“I love how safe you make me feel.” Your breath shakes as Melissa’s eyes widen. God too much, too honest, but maybe she’ll just think you’re selling the lie and won’t know just how true every word coming from your lips is.

“Whenever something happens you’re the person I want to find. And you just know how to make it better. Before you, I never needed someone else, but now I literally…I just, I don’t know, I gravitate towards you. When I’m with you I just know everything is going to be okay. I feel safe, like together we could take on anything.” 

“I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you.” She smiles gently. 

Your heart stutters, “And your smile, god that smile.” It makes you soar, you can’t breath as words spill from your lips, “I love it. I look forward to lunch everyday because I know I get to see that smile. Your smile starts my day, and everytime I get to see it I feel like I’m doing something right.” 

She stares at you and you clear your throat, breaking your gaze. “And that's three.”  

Melissa grabs your hands, her fingers stroking your knuckles, prompting your eyes to return back to hers. “My turn.” 

You nod silently, unable to speak as you watch the women in front of you. Heart pounding. 

“I love your company. No matter my mood, it’s good. You’re just nice to have around. Whether I’m cookin’ for you, we’re drinkin’, or we’re stressin’ out over work. It’s fun with you.” She shrugs with a shy smile.

You grin. God your heart can’t take this. It still pounds and you can’t differentiate between truth and lie. She sounds so honest, eyes so gentle and you desperately want to fall in and believe every single word leaving her lips. 

“You’re stupidly generous too and I love you for it, even if it makes me wanna hit ya sometimes.” 

She rolls her eyes and you both chuckle. 

“You say I have a good heart, but I watch the way you keep giving to everyone around you without expecting anythin’ in return. You’re always offering to cover a lesson or lunch shift, even though I know it means you’re staying at school later to catch up on lesson plans.” 

You shift, you really hadn’t thought she’d noticed. “It’s nothing really.” 

“It’s somethin’. You’re good. Like, actual good, and you don’t find that often.” 

Your eyes soften, tears threatening to pool as you itch to reach out and pull her in, kiss her. 

“And you know what else I love? Your eyes.” She nods, with a shining smile. “When they catch the light? Stunnin’. They are so expressive, always shining, sayin’ things even if you don’t.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, eyes locked with hers. Wondering maybe if-

“I won a competition for the most beautiful eyes.” Alisha’s piercing voice interrupts. You jolt away from Melissa, having entirely forgotten about the other women’s presence. 

“I’m pretty sure I’d still win if you entered. No offence, Y/N.” She laughs shrilly. 

You drain the last of your beer, your chest still tight and your bearings off. 

Melissa snaps. “Alright, I’m done. I dunno if your parents were too nice to you as a kid or didn’t tell you they loved you enough but either way I don’t care. You ain’t speaking to my girl like that anymore, especially if you think your ugly ass fake contacts in any way compare to her stunnin’ fuckin’ eyes.” 

Alisha’s face finally falls. 

“So goodbye, we’re leavin’. And you and your guy can get the hell out of Philly fast before I find someone to jack your dang car.” She grabs your hand, fingers entwined with yours and tugs you from the booth with her. 

You laugh, feeling lighter the further away you get from the gobsmacked women you left behind. Melissa weaves you between people and out the bar, not letting go of your hand until you're safely outside and the door has shut behind you. 

“That was…” You look at the redhead, shaking your head and grinning, your entire body buzzing. “God, I just…”

She chuckles, her hand landing on your waist. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Her other hand digs into her back pocket pulling out her phone, “I’ll call a cab.” 

Your heart thunders. Your hand reaching for her chin bringing her face back to yours. She’s so close…. “You are extraordinary.” 

Her cheeks pink as she tries to shrug off your touch, “Y/N,”

“No.” You breathe, bringing her back to look at you. Your gaze falls to her red painted lips, your chest tightens. And you know you could let go, step back and you’d both pretend this moment had never happened, but you don’t want to. 

You want to lean in and kiss those pretty lips. Finally say fuck the point of no return. Because all the fears and risks that were keeping you from plunging in all seemed irrelevant when your body felt this alive. 

It’s like you’d finally woken you and you knew you didn’t want to go another day without kissing Melissa Schemmenti. 

You lean in. Melissa’s shaky breath expelling against your lips before she meets yours. Tentative at first, once, twice, three times, before her hand fists into your shirt and yours moves to her hair, and then a moan is pulled from her lips and your gone. Frantic and heated you devour each other. Her phone is roughly shoved into your back pocket so she can paw at your ass and then she’s walking you back into the wall. Her body is finally flush against yours and you gasp in delight as you drown in the sensation, unable to think clearly as you passionately kiss her.

When you finally separate, you’re both breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other. Melissa’s lipstick is a mess, her lips swollen, and you think she’s never looked more beautiful. 

“Ya mess.” She tuts affectionately, breathing still broken as she reaches out to wipe her lipstick from your lips. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You chuckle, grinning like a fool. 

She rolls her eyes and you want to kiss the expression off her face. You lean in to do just that, but she steps back, her eyes shifting away from you. 

“Hon,” She shakes her head, finally wiping the lipstick off from around her own mouth. 

A pit lands in your stomach, panic coursing through your body. No. You’ve come this close. You weren’t losing her now. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel this too.” 

She looks at you, eyes soft and pained, “‘Nd you can’t want this.” 

“Did you not hear a word I said in there?” You ask incredulously. “God, Mel, all of that. Every single word. I meant that.” 

“You meant it?” She questions, unsure. 

You shrug, vulnerable, exposed. “Of course. How could I not? You’re the best person I've ever met.” 

She scoffs, wet, stumbling forward back into your arms. “Fuck you.” She murmurs and captures your lip. You expect it to be harsh and heated, but she’s so gentle and slow, her lips tenderly moving against yours like you’re something to be treasured and if she pushes too hard you might break. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lovingly when you separate. She watches you in awe, eyes so gentle and you’ve never felt so content in your life. 

“I meant everythin’ too.” She confesses.

You grin and press a quick peck to her lips. “I had my suspicions.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. You wanna actually get out of ‘ere?” 

You laugh, “Yes, please.” 

“Leftovers and beers at mine?”

You hum in delight, not missing the way Melissa’s eyes darken, her eyes dropping to your lips. “That sounds perfect. And watch something on Netflix?” 

“Whatever you want, hon.” She responds, dragging her gaze away. “I’ll call a cab now.”

She takes a couple steps away, to make the call and you unashamedly watch her the entire time. Your eyes taking in her figure and lingering on her ass. Because, hey, who can blame a girl. 

It was Melissa goddamn Schemmenti. 

Your teeth pulling at your bottom lip, do nothing to suppress your grin.

I guess you really might have to thank everyone in Abbott for leaving tonight if this was the result. 

You weren’t quite a big enough person to thank Alisha. 

You would have gotten there without her.

Eventually.

taglist: @aburman03

[darlingshane]

Rocking your f-me pumps

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: You're out on a Friday night and meet a certain deputy who can't stop flirting with you at the bar.

CW: +18, explicit, smut, pwp, p in v, flirting, dancing, horniness, drinking, semi-public sex, crack, pet names, making out, foreplay, some sort of roleplay.

Word Count: 3,1k

— Links: AO3 // Shane Masterlist

With the impossible mission of not falling on your face in the process, your feet dangerously rush across the uneven concrete sidewalk that takes you from the parking lot to the bar. Maybe you’ve gone too far with your outfit, but it’s Friday night, after all. You’re looking to make an impression, and the dress you’ve picked to go along with the uncomfortable pair of fuck-me pumps you’re rocking for the occasion will definitely take care of that part—you’re sure.

When you cross the door into the bar, it’s as rowdy as usual on a night like this. Loud and crowded— most seats are taken, people are dancing at the back below the glow of a red neon sign, others play pool while waiters haul trays left and right. You find a few heads turning at your passing, as you expected. This is probably the wrong dress for a hole in the wall like this, but you had put it on to cause a reaction of one person in particular.

You glance around one more time to find that special someone who’s sitting at the end of the bar.

Biting your bottom lip, you stare at him like prey, sharpening your teeth and claws before approaching him with caution.

“Mind if I sit here, handsome?” you ask the man, pointing at the empty stool beside him. He’s a deputy from the Sheriff department. He’s wearing his uniform, but his tan shirt is completely unbuttoned, showing a black tee underneath.

“It’s a free country, darlin’,” he says without glancing at you.

The deputy tilts a beer bottle up to his lips, taking a generous gulp of as you study his profile and his rough, defined features. The angle of his jaw is something to admire. He’s clean-shaven, but there’s still a faint shadow of a stubble, matching the thick black of the curls that adorn the top of his well-shaped head.

“Thanks, Deputy,” you carefully take a seat on the bar stool, crossing one leg over the other, and wave at the bartender.

“Call me Shane, I’m off duty, sweetheart.”

“Thanks Deputy Shane.”

He scoffs, and it’s then that his eyes finally turn to the side to gaze at you for a split second before noticing that ridiculous dress you’re wearing.

When his neck swivels again, he darkly stares at you, head to toe, like he wanted to eat you alive. His jaw slacks, almost hitting the counter and if you look closely, you can see his mouth watering taking in the full sight of you. The cleverly exposed skin, the way that dress hugs your figure in all the right places, the sheer fabric of it revealing more than it needs to; more than you're even used to.

“Anything wrong, Deputy?”

“Hm? No. Everything’s perfect,” he drawls before tearing his eyes away from you.

Pleased with his reaction to your outfit, you bat your eyes, glancing over the subtle shrug of one of your shoulders. “That’s what I thought.”

Then, you wave your arm a second time at the new bartender, but he ignores you again. He saw you both times, and he’s not even serving other patrons, he’s just staring at the game playing on mute on the TV.

“Can you believe this fucking asshole?” You slightly bang your fist on the sticky bar counter to express your frustration. “Is this kid new here or what?”

“Hey, buddy!” Shane raises his voice over the music to call his attention. “C’mere and serve the lady.”

The guy barely nods at you to acknowledge your presence or ask what you’re having. You just order an old-fashioned cocktail and hope he doesn’t screw that up. You also order a beer for the deputy as a thank you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. Next one it’s one you, Deputy.”

“Thought I said you can call me Shane.”

“I know, but the whole uniform thing is really… imposing. And I’m a good girl. I wouldn’t like to disrespect the authorities. It’s ingrained in me.”

“Good girl?” he scoffs, glancing at you sidelong, using the bottle in his hand to point at your body. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but good girls don’t usually dress like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he remarks that word with a casual shrug, silently implying what you both know, that your full get-up doesn’t scream—I’m about to leave for church. It only says—I’m driving directly to hell to pay for all my sins.

“I don’t like what you’re suggesting, mister,” you mutter as the bartender finally brings your drinks.

“I’m just saying. Look around and check out the sophisticated clientele of this fine establishment.” He says with mockery. “There’s a guy by the slot machines in a greasy, leather vest that’s looking at you like you’re a porterhouse steak. He’s practically drooling all over the floor. He's one minute away from putting his hand in his pants and rubbing one to your name. I’d be careful walking to your car if I were you.”

You can’t help but snort before checking out the guy he’s referring to. The guy in question shifts on his boots and draws a lewd smile at you when you briefly look at him.

“Ugh, you're right.”

“I told ya. Nobody comes into this hellhole looking like you if you weren’t looking for trouble or soliciting, darlin’.”

“Maybe not.” You press your teeth to your bottom lip for a second. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m sitting next to a cop.”

“That's right. As long as you stay by my side, you have nothing to worry about.” Shane locks eyes with you. “You still haven’t told me your name, sweetheart.”

“You can call me whatever you want, darlin’.” Your eye flirts with a cheeky wink.

“Yeah?” He pauses for a second to think. He glances at the cherry adorning your drink and asks, “how about Sherry? Would you like that?”

“Sure, I like that. “You lift the glass in your hand to take a sip. “I’m not soliciting, by the way. Just so we’re clear.”

“Didn’t think you were. Prostitutes don’t usually take that much time and effort to fish for a client.”

“Are you talking from experience?”

“Maybe.” His lips form a downward curve as he scratches his jaw with the tip of his thumb. “So, tell me sweetheart, if you’re not soliciting, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m in a band.”

“A band, huh? Like a rock band?” His eyebrows arch a little higher.

You shake your head. “No, not a rock band. I'm in a concert band.”

“Hm, with saxophones, flutes, and all that shit?”

“Uh-huh,” you take a bigger sip of your glass.

“What instrument do you play?”

“The clarinet.”

“You any good?”

You half shrug. “Let's say I have a natural talent.”

Then, you pick up the cherry from your glass and slowly suck it between your lips as a double-entendre, putting him under a spell as you rip off the stem in one swift motion.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I’d love to, Deputy.” You grin as he shifts on his seat. “That is, of course, if you have a good instrument. I won't just take the first one that comes around. I like to take my time picking a good one.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he answers quickly, boasting, “let me assure you I have a fine, tuned instrument. It has never disappointed anyone who's ever got the pleasure to play it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” With a quick flick of your tongue on your lip, you gaze shamelessly at his crotch to make an initial assessment. It's hard to tell by the way he is sitting. The folds of his pants makes it harder to see an outline.

“Can I ask you something now, Deputy?”

“Shoot.” He tilts his beer to his lips.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, if I was a prostitute, would you arrest me?”

“Told you I’m off duty.”

“So… If I were to do something illegal right now, would you turn a blind eye? Is that what you’re implying?”

Pausing, Shane puts down the bottle, sending his opposite hand to land in the middle of your thigh as his face leans in closer.

“For you? I’d do anything you want, darlin’. Even turn a blind eye or both. I'd even turn in my badge if you asked me to. I'd kill any guy who'd dare to look at you with so much of a stink eye.”

“Interesting…” You shorten the distance to his face, your nose nudges the tip of his own, “who’s the bad boy now, huh?”

“I never claimed I was a good boy.”

“Hmm, no, I suppose you didn’t.” The tip of your tongue juts out, and you slowly lick his bottom lip before firmly planting your lips against his mouth.

When you can’t hold up the charade any longer, you laugh against his lips and pull back slightly as Shane laughs along with you.

“Hey, baby,” you reach with your hand to cup his jaw, and wipe the spit you left on his lip with your thumb.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You finally greet each other as usual. You’ve been going out for a while, but from time to time, you like to play a little and pretend you don’t know each other. You’re not sure how it started, all you know is that you both clearly enjoy this pretense as a form of foreplay, even if it’s a little silly at times. The only downside is that neither of you can hold the fantasy for too long. Eventually you always start laughing, but you're getting better at it. And it doesn't matter if it's not perfect, cause it works like a charm.

“You’re late,” he says, his warm hand squeezing your leg.

“I know, I’m sorry. My car was acting up again. I could’ve texted you, but I didn’t wanna mess up our pregame”

“It’s alright. I’ll check it out this weekend, yeah?” He brings his face closer so he can kiss your lips again. “You know, next time… do call me. It’d be fun to do this on the road. You could be a damsel in distress and me, an asshole who would only help you in exchange for certain favors.”

“That sounds kinky. I love it.” Scrunching your nose, you seize his mouth once again. This time, your lips part, and you invite him for a deeper dive into your mouth that he quickly takes over with the delicious swirl of his tongue that firmly plays with yours.

The hue of your advertised make-out proof lipstick ends up smudged on his lips when he pulls back.

“You know, that color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes.” You use your thumb to wipe the stain from his mouth.

“I should kiss you more often then.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” you pull his face closer so you can continue peppering his mouth with an endless amount of kisses. It’s hard to stop. He tastes and smells so good you can’t help yourself.

With music playing in the background, when the mood shifts to something slower, Shane drags you to the dance floor. You anchor your arms to him, trying to balance yourself on your impossible heels as you sway together to the melody of the song playing. You adore the way he stares at you when his forehead leans on top of yours. One of his fingers traces the shape of your jaw. A second later, your face is held inside his palm as an inescapable wave of desire forces him to conquer your lips again, as if his life was on the line and the only safe haven was your mouth. Your head spins with the dizzying swirl of his tongue that leaves you breathless over and over. The tone of the music changes to something sexier, and so does the rhythm of your bodies that follow suit. You part from his kiss as the heat rises, and spin around in his hold to press your ass against his bulge. His mouth latches at the crook of your neck, viciously printing a love bite as a reaction to the sensual swaying of your hips, making him harden behind his uniform slacks. You throw an arm back and place your hand blindly on the back of his head, making a fist with his curls.

“Everyone is looking at you, darling’” he purrs in your ear, clutching his hands to your waist, following your moves.

“Yeah? Let ‘em.” Your cheeks feel like burning when you say that. You avoid at all costs looking around to see anyone staring. Instead, you gaze over your shoulder to focus solely on him. “Bet they're jealous I've already picked my guy for the night.”

“You bet this sweet ass they are,” he squeezes your backside firmly as you find the soft skin of his earlobe and suck it between your teeth. It makes him lose his mind when you do that, but not as much as when you're sucking his cock. He becomes a feral creature when you take him fully between your lips.

You press your teeth a tad harder on his lobe, and he pulls back at once. He retaliates by biting your neck with the same force.

Letting out a gasp, you close your eyes and let Shane and the music take over your body. His hands roam your body anxiously to touch every part of your skin, covered or not. The sultry neon lighting of the dance floor acts as cover for you and other couples around.

There's something that has risen to rock-hard perfection, rubbing at the curve of your hips as the song comes to an end. During that transition, you suddenly feel your hands propped against the paneling of the wall, and him completely pressed against your back. One of his hands slips under the hem of your skirt at the front as he drags his hardness over your ass while his fingers play over the thin lacy fabric of your underwear, stirring your arousal.

Your panties are soaked by the time he manhandles your body so you're facing him again.

With glaring lust spilling out of the wildness of his gaze, he now shoves your back against the wall with little care. He's the hunter now, and you're the prey, and you can tell he's not looking to go easy on you.

Shane licks his lips, and without warning, he seizes your mouth once more with such vehemence, it makes your center send a jolt of electricity across every cell of your body. With teeth, tongue, and hands, he devours every bit of you as if you were made out of his favorite food. It's violent and delightful to have him all over you like that. It’s easy to get lost in that cloud of ecstasy when all your body craves nothing but being taken by him. Shane is firmly pressed against you. His rough hand lifts one of your thighs over his hip, forcing the skirt of your dress to fold up your leg, so you can feel the outline of his erection when he fits his crotch between your legs.

“Shane… Shane, baby,” you moan unintelligibly in his mouth, slightly coming to your senses. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else?”

“Hm? I thought Sherry was more adventurous.” His lips are automatically drawn to your neck once again.

“She is.” You hold his head between your palms and straighten his neck so you can look at his eyes.” But that doesn't mean she wants to basically copulate in front of all these people like fucking animals.”

“I don't think they’d mind.” Shaking his head, amused, he nudges the tip of this nose against yours. “It would be the first time these walls have seen some copulation happening.”

“Well, I do mind.”

When you're done protesting, you head out the bar to drive home, but you don't make it farther than the parking lot.

Unable to keep his hands off you, by the time you've reached his truck, he's practically ripped off your panties. There's barely a thread holding them together when your favorite deputy opens the door to the passenger seat to his truck. Without bothering with climbing inside, he bends you over that same seat, removing the remains of your underwear completely so he can collect your arousal in his fingers.

Much like the inside of the bar, there’s no doubt the parking lot at the back has seen its fair share of action, but out here, the difference is that there's practically anybody.

Either way, you leave the car door open to shield your dirty deeds. While Shane stands behind you, you look over your shoulder after hearing the clinking sound of his belt unbuckling, just in time to see his raging erection being released. Biting your lip, you watch him spit on his hand and spread it all over his shaft to have an extra layer of lubrication. He leans forwards and whispers in your ear to stay quiet before shoving his cock bluntly into your dripping cunt. You gasp and close your eyes, feeling every thick inch of him stretching you up nicely. His warmth breath bathes the back of your neck while he quickly picks up the pace. Right off the bat, his thrusts come sharp and hard to have you clenching around him before everyone even notices what you’re up to. This is about a fix, a quick release to quench that fire burning at your core. Pleasure ripples through your body with each push. You have to press your teeth harder on your lip to keep you from crying out. Shane coos your ear with encouragements mixed with a fair share of fucks and other curse words.

The grip of his hands tightens at your hips when he’s about to come. You can tell by the way his cock throbs and the erratic push of his hips searching for that sweet release. Your legs are about to give up when you feel the fire in your center expanding outwards, making you contract harder around him in one tight squeeze that earns you a good grunt out of him. A second later, his warm, sticky substance comes out in quick spurts, coating your walls, filling you up like a cream puff.

“Fuck, Deputy, you really know how to make a girl's legs shake.”

“You're not the only one with a natural talent, darlin’.”

— Credits: stunning divider by @firefly-graphics