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ja3yun · 2 months

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pour it | p.sh

bartender!sunghoon x bartender!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, cum plugging, choking, slight nipple play, pls never fuck your co-workers (saying from experience), mentions of alcohol ofc, not proof read, anything else lmk!

w.c: 3.5k

REQ: Imagine Sunghoon and you are bartenders for a club and all shifts you guys are always stealing glances at eachother or having lingering touches while you make drinks one day u need to go get more supplies from the back and the tension is so thick he can’t take it anymore and takes you on the boxes of supplies with messy alcohol pouring sex

a/n: hi! it's me and my inability to write a small drabble and turning it into a semi-fic. hope you don't mind, anonnie! i had a lot of fun with this but as someone who used to bartend during uni, you can imagine the flashbacks going through my mind (i also spilt the keg on me like this so, personal experience and some aj lore for you). hope you enjoy!

The club is alive with the throbbing beat of the latest hits, a kaleidoscope of coloured lights dancing over the crowd packed tightly onto the dance floor. The air is thick with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat, and the unmistakable tang of alcohol. Behind the bar, it's a different world, a fast-paced rhythm of cocktail shakers, clinking glasses, and the endless chatter of patrons.

You’re in your element, expertly mixing drinks, the repetitive motions are almost second nature by now. But tonight, there's an added layer of tension simmering beneath the surface. Sunghoon, your coworker, has been brushing past you intentionally for the nth time tonight.

The bar is small, and with Freshers Friday in full swing, it’s a given that there’s going to be constant cross-overs between staff, clambering for ice and lemon wedges. But does he have to hold your waist as he passes, fingers lingering just a moment too long, or reach behind you for a glass when there are plenty on his end? Each touch sends a spark of electricity through your body, your pulse quickening despite your best efforts to ignore it.

You steal a glance at Sunghoon. He’s busy pouring a drink, his jaw set in concentration, but there’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. His dark eyes flick to yours for the briefest moment, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. You turn away quickly, focusing on the drink order in front of you.

The club's atmosphere is a mix of chaos and thrill. Neon lights flicker and pulse in time with the music, casting a surreal glow over the sea of bodies moving in sync. The bass reverberates through the floor, through your bones, creating an almost tangible sense of energy.

“Excuse me,” Sunghoon’s voice is low, just above a whisper, as he leans in to reach for a bottle of vodka on the shelf behind you. His chest brushes against your back, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the cocktail you’re mixing, but it’s no use. Every nerve in your body is attuned to his presence.

“Do you mind?” you snap, but your voice lacks the bite you intended. It comes out breathy, more of a plea than a command.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Sorry, Y/N. It’s just so crowded back here.” His hand trails down your arm as he pulls away, and you shudder involuntarily.

You know he’s teasing you, pushing boundaries, testing your reactions. And damn it, it’s working. You can feel the tension between you two building, a palpable thing that hangs in the air, thick and heavy.

It’s been like this since he started working here a few months ago. Training him up was harder than anticipated, not because he wasn’t good at it or couldn’t follow instructions, but because it took everything in your willpower not to pounce on him. Once, you showed him how to make the bar’s signature Long Island Iced Tea. While he was pouring the Triple Sec into the mixer, the veins on his arms and hands strained, the muscles flexing with each precise movement. It was the moment you realized you had a hand kink.

Nothing could stop your imagination since then, constantly thinking about his hands on your throat, the way they would feel gripping you, controlling you. Every time he reached past you or brushed against you, those thoughts flared to life, vivid and consuming.

The club is a frenzy of movement and sound, but all you can focus on is Sunghoon. He’s making his way back to your end of the bar, and you can feel your heart rate spike in anticipation. He stops beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat emanating from his body.

“Need help with that?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, as he reaches for a wine glass on the rack above your head. His arm brushes against you, and the contact sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve got it,” you reply, but your voice betrays you, coming out softer, almost breathless. He smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. He is nothing if not cocky and you do nothing but fuel it.

“Sure you do,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His fingers trail lightly across your waist as he steps back, a fleeting touch that leaves you craving more. His cologne isn’t helping either, the dark musk of Sauvage engulfing your nostrils and filtering its way straight to your core.

You bite your lip, trying to regain your composure, but it’s no use. Your mind is racing, filled with images of his hands on you, the way they would feel exploring your body, holding you down. You can’t stop thinking about the power he seems to have over you, how easily he can make you lose focus.

Your manager comes up behind you both, pointing between you. “I need you both to change the Guinness keg. A whole team of Celtic fans just came in and they’ll bleed us dry in a minute,” he explains.

He doesn’t know that the innocent, very much part of your job request makes your heart stop for a moment. The charged energy between you and Sunghoon is so strong tonight that being alone with him, even for a second, could lead to losing all your inhibitions. You don’t mind fucking your co-workers, god knows you’ve had your fair share of fun with Jay and Heeseung in the past, but this feels different.

As soon as Sunghoon bites those teeth into you, figuratively and physically, you have a sneaking suspicion that there is no going back.

“I can handle it myself,” you say quickly, trying to avoid the inevitable. “It’s only a one-person job.”

But Sunghoon is already stepping forward, his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the stockroom. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll go faster with two,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, waving the manager off.

His touch is subtle but it feels heavy, and you curse inwardly at how easily he affects you. You let him lead you through the throng of staff, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. This is bad, very bad.

As you enter the dimly lit back room, the noise of the club fades slightly, leaving the sound of your and Sunghoon’s footsteps and breaths as the only chorus to the quiet song of the corridor. The corridor always gives you the creeps, the lime-green walls and chipped floor make you feel sick, sicker than you already are.

It’s not even that big of a deal, so what are you panicking for? Just go in, change the keg, and get back to serving duties. Plain and simple, easy as pie.

But as you reach the keg room, your hands are trembling slightly. You push open the door and step inside, the cold air hitting you like a slap. The room is filled with the metallic scent of beer and the cool hum of the refrigeration system. Sunghoon steps in behind you, the door closing with a soft thud.

He moves to grab a keg from the stack in the corner, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized by the way his muscles ripple under his white t-shirt. The fabric clings to him, highlighting every contour, every flex. His biceps bulge as he lifts the heavy keg effortlessly, and you swallow hard, feeling a fresh wave of heat course through you.

Focus, you scold yourself. You turn to the valve, reaching up to shut it off. Your fingers fumble slightly, the cold metal biting into your skin. You can’t stop glancing at Sunghoon, at the way his forearms strain, veins standing out in sharp relief. It’s distracting, and you’re not paying enough attention to what you’re doing.

You step forward to disconnect the old keg, but you don’t leave enough time for the pipe to empty. As you twist the connector, there’s a sudden, forceful spray of beer, catching you off guard. You yelp, trying to dodge the spray, but it’s too late.

Sunghoon is at your side in an instant, his hands covering yours as he twists the valve shut. But not before both of you are thoroughly soaked. The cold beer soaks through your clothes, making you shiver.

“Damn it,” you mutter, looking down at the mess. Your shirt clings to you, and you can feel the liquid dripping from your hair. You glance up at Sunghoon, and despite the situation, you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Nice going,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “You always this clumsy?”

“I usually know what I’m doing,” you retort, but there’s no heat in your words. You’re too distracted by the way his wet shirt clings to his body, outlining every muscle and defined bump of his toned stomach.

Sunghoon steps closer, his eyes dark and intense. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low with a hint of seduction, the rasp in his voice turning you dizzy.

“Yeah, just...wet,” you reply, shivering slightly. The cold beer and the cool air of the keg room are a stark contrast to the heat building between you two. You probably should have chosen a better sentence to utter into existence, knowing how it could be taken.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “You know, this wasn’t exactly how I imagined getting you wet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Your breath catches at his words, and you know you should leave it at that, laugh it off, and walk away. But with his close proximity and his breath fanning your face, you’re almost under his spell. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with curiosity and something darker.

Sunghoon steps forward, and you instinctively step back, making your back press against the cold wall of the keg room. He eyes you up and down, licking his lips as though he was a lion hunting his prey. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

The beat of your heart skips, and you nod, agreeing. You aren’t stupid, you’re just horny.

Leaning down to ghost his lips over yours, his eyes grow hungry as they hood over, boring into yours intensely. “I want to bend you over and fuck you so hard you can’t remember your own name,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “I want to make you gasp for air, to hear you scream my name until your throat is raw. I want to leave marks all over your body so everyone knows what I did to you.”

You're quivering now, and every syllable sends a zap of electricity into you. His hand moves down your arm, fingertips brushing your skin and leaving a path of fire in its wake.

“I really thought I was going to lose it up there and bend you over the bar and fuck you in front of all those punters,” he continues, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath. H

A whimper escapes your lips, unbidden, and his eyes widen in surprise and delight. “Oh? You like it when others watch? You want me to drag you up there and give everyone a show?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement and arousal.

You shake your head in a daze, lust taking over because all you can breathe in is his presence. “No...not there.” Exhibitionism isn’t really up there in your list of kinks, not really for your own dignity, you couldn’t care less about who sees you naked or fucked out, but you hate the idea of anyone seeing Sunghoon and getting ideas.

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion you thought you possessed until he started at the bar. The other bartenders flirting with him in the breakroom or customers asking for his number over the bar quaked your heart a little, injecting a tiny speck of green into your bloodstream. You might have been apprehensive to start anything with Sunghoon, but that doesn’t mean others get a chance to shoot their shot.

“Oh? So what I’m hearing is you do want me to fuck you?” he presses, his voice a husky whisper. His cockiness is showing once again, tongue roaming over his sharp canine lazily as his eyes drink you in.

“Yes,” you breathe out, unable to hold back any longer. The need in your voice is unmistakable, and it only seems to fuel his desire.

Rolling his eyes in relief, he undoes your apron from the front and lets it fall to the floor. “Finally,” he mutters, his demeanour switching from teasing to something darker, more intense. In a flash, he has your black trousers unbuttoned and fully off your body, your panties following, leaving you bare with only your soaked white work t-shirt covering you.

He grabs your waist and hoists you up against the wall, your legs wrapping around his hips instinctively. With one hand, he reaches and undoes the button of his own trousers, shimmying them down slightly and whipping out his cock.

As it springs to attention, you feel it graze your folds, so close to where you desperately need it. The heat and hardness of him against your wetness make you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Sunghoon smirks, positioning himself right at your entrance. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs, his breath brushing against your skin. “Watching you, wanting you...you kept me waiting too fucking long.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I need you.”

His eyes darken with lust at your plea, and without another word, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden fullness makes you cry out, your head falling back against the wall. He’s big, stretching you in ways that have your toes curling. You can feel every inch of him, thick and pulsing, as he fills you completely. It’s overwhelming, the way he pushes your walls apart, making you see colours you didn’t know existed.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, starting to move. His pace is relentless, each thrust hard and deep, driving you up the wall with every stroke. Your moans mix with his grunts, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small room. You’re thankful that the room is isolated in the middle of the basement or else you’re convinced everyone upstairs could hear you.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you. You can feel the power and control in his movements, the way he takes what he wants, and it drives you wild. “You like this, don’t you?” he pants, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and erratic. “You like being taken so hard you forget everything else?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper against the overwhelming stimulation. “Yes, Sunghoon, don’t stop.”

You bring one of his hands up to your throat, a silent plea for him to fulfil your fantasy. His eyes widen for a moment, and then a dark smile spreads across his face. “You want it?” he asks, his voice a dangerous whisper. “You want me to choke you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”

Sunghoon’s grip tightens around your throat, the pressure just enough to make your head spin, adding a delicious haze to your already overwhelming pleasure. Each of his thrusts feels like a shockwave of ecstasy, stretching you and filling you in ways that make your entire body tingle with need. His cock throbs inside you, the thick, hard length gliding in and out with a relentless rhythm.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls, his voice a guttural mix of pleasure and dominance. His free hand slides up your body, brushing over your sensitive skin, and his fingers tease at your nipples through the soaked fabric of your t-shirt, making you grateful that you wore a mesh bra today rather than your usual beat-up t-shirt. The contact sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, heightening the sensations.

Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him to stay against the wall, leaving marks that make him hiss and drive his thrusts even harder. Every push, every pull, feels like it’s unravelling you completely. The pressure around your throat makes your breathing shallow, and the world outside this small room seems to blur into insignificance. All that exists is the raw, primal connection between you and Sunghoon.

Clamping your walls down on him, you mewl out as the tip of his cock reaches a depth no other man has been able to reach, kissing your cervix with intimacy and urgency as you suck him in with each clench of your core.

Hissing, Sunghoon’s head burrows into your neck, his palm now pressed against your jugular in a beautifully punishing manner. “Fuck, Y/N, your cunt is so greedy for it.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and your moans become more desperate, more pleading. You arch your back, pushing yourself further onto him, needing him deeper, harder. “Sunghoon, I’m so close,” you whimper, your voice breaking with the intensity.

He responds with a fierce, primal growl, increasing the pace of his thrusts. Each movement is forceful, almost punishing, but it’s exactly what you need. “Cum,” he commands, his voice rough and demanding. “I want to feel you cream all over me.”

With that final command, the pressure around your throat and the relentless pounding of his cock push you over the edge. Your body trembles violently, and you cry out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Your orgasm is all-encompassing, a dizzying mix of pleasure and release that leaves you gasping for breath, clinging to him.

Sunghoon’s own release follows almost immediately, his body tensing as he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name with a raw intensity. His cock pulses with each spurt, filling you completely. The heat of his climax mixes with the remnants of your orgasm, creating a deliciously overwhelming sensation.

He holds you tightly, his breath ragged against your neck, as both of you ride out the aftershocks of your climaxes. Slowly, he eases his grip on your throat and pulls back slightly, his eyes still dark with desire but now softened with a trace of concern.

Sunghoon’s gaze softens as he looks at you, his breath still coming in short, ragged bursts. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, his touch tender against your flushed skin. “You okay?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur, filled with concern and dissipating lust.

You nod, a satisfied smile on your lips despite the trembling of your voice. “More than okay,” you breathe out, your body still trembling from the intensity of the climax.

Sunghoon’s eyes hold a mix of tenderness and desire. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The contrast between the gentleness of the kiss and the fierceness of what had just transpired sends a shiver through you. “Good,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and soothing. “Because we’re far from done.”

He slowly lowers you to the ground, his hands steady and careful. As he kneels before you, a look of wonder crosses your face, mixed with a lingering haze of desire. His fingers, still slick with your combined release, gently part your folds, teasing and exploring.

You gasp as his fingers find their way to your sensitive entrance, carefully stuffing his dripping cum back into you. The sensation is both intense and oddly comforting, a reminder of the connection you’ve shared. Your breath hitches as you feel the warmth and slickness inside you.

“Sunghoon-” you start, but his gaze, both commanding and affectionate, cuts you off.

“Keep that there until our shift is over,” he instructs, his voice firm but laced with an underlying promise of more. “I don’t want a drop of it out of you.”

His words send a fresh thrill through you, a combination of pleasure and anticipation. “When we clock out, you’re coming back to mine, end of story,” he continues, his tone brooking no argument.

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and eagerness. “Okay,” you manage to say, your voice steadying despite the rush of emotions.

“Great,” he smiles innocently, as if he didn’t just fuck you so good you thought you saw Jesus marking you off the gates VIP list. “Now help me with this keg.”

_____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazz

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #aj writes #aj drabbles #kinda #enhypen x reader #enha x reader

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kennadeek · 2 years

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Columbus Home Bar Wet Bar

#Mid-sized trendy single-wall marble floor and multicolored floor wet bar photo with an undermount sink #recessed-panel cabinets #gray cabinets #marble countertops #yellow backsplash #metal backsplash and white countertops cocktail shakers & bar tool sets #home bar #gold tile backsplash #backsplash venetian gold #recessed panel cabinets

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aashwarr · 1 year

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30+ Must Have Food Mods for Realistic Gameplay By Ashley Plays

Miscellaneous.

MadeinBrazil Water Filters

Custom Food Interactions

Custom Drink Interactions

Canned Soda

Small Spaces Mixer

Improved Spa Day Tablet

Icemunmun.

Custom Recipes

Martini Shaker

Around the Sims.

Functional Tea Pots

Edible Junk Food

Edible Chocolate

Alternative Picnic Baskets

Oni.

Oni's Recipe Pack

Takoyaki Hot Pan

Littlbowbub.

Grannies Cookbook (Add-Ons)

Hot Chocolate Machine

Home Barista

TianaSims.

Coffee Time

French Press

TianaSims Cookbook

Somik & Severinka.

Cookbook S&S

Functional Baby Food

Chocolate-Covered Strawberries

Functional Beer + Beer Bottles

Functional Whiskey, Cognac & Vodka

Functional Champagne

Functional Wine Bottles

Bar Cocktails

Functional Drinks Tray

Functional Stands

Functional Blender and Protein Shakes

Functional Bottle Warmer

Functional Set for Sakes

#aashwarr #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 mods #gameplay

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hazbinshusk · 5 months

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husk x fem!reader (called 'my girl' by husk, although non-specific on body parts)

he's never been able to say 'no' to you, even when there's other people in the room. praise, light daddy kink, affection in french, and sex behind the bar. 1k words.

***************************************************************************************

Leaning your elbows on the polished wood of the bar, you rested your chin on your hands with a smile. Husk met your eye as he turned away from the glassware to face you, sighing even as his own lips quirked up on one side in a smirk. “What are you thinkin’?”

“Me? Nothing at all,” you replied, faux-innocently. “I’m just looking for a refill.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied dryly, reaching for the cocktail shaker. “I know that look, doll.”

Your smile widened despite your attempt at nonchalance, and you bit your lip. “I just thought you might be lonely over here is all.”

“So, you ditched the movie night just to say ‘hello’?” he asked, nodding over to where the rest of the hotel residents sat in front of the TV. It was the latest in a long line of activities designed to build comradery among the staff and guests.

“Maybe.”

“I ever tell you that you can’t lie for shit?”

You snickered, accepting the drink he slid your way. “Okay, so maybe I had a thought.”

“Dangerous.”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked.

Husk groaned softly at the suggestive tone in your voice. “You know I want to, sweetness. But I can’t leave ‘til the last guest does. Boss’s orders.”

“But Alastor isn’t even here,” you pointed out with a pout. There was no way the radio demon could have been convinced to spend an evening in front of a television screen.

Husk grimaced apologetically, his claws ghosting against the base of his throat for a moment. “Not how it works, doll.”

You sighed, downing your drink and setting the glass back on the bar. You reached across the bar to rub your fingers through the soft fur on his cheek, smiling as he leaned into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment.

Husk gave you a small, wistful smile as you withdrew and turned away again. He jumped, letting out a small ‘mrrp’ of surprise as you rounded the bar instead of returning to the others.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Keeping you company,” you told him with an innocent shrug. Husk’s eyes widened, his ears folding back as you pressed a hand up against his crotch. You felt him twitch under your palm. “I’ve missed you today, daddy.”

“Oh, you are evil,” he muttered, casting a nervous glance over at the others.

“Please?” you drew out the word with an enticing smile, your other hand scratching through the downy fur below his navel.

Husk shuddered, his head falling forward against your shoulder. Your smile widened and heat rose in a shiver up your back as you felt his lips and the rough slide of his tongue against your collarbone. His hands took hold of your hips, his ear twitching as your exhale tickled it.

“You’re gonna be nice and quiet for me, right doll?” he asked, his voice deliciously rough as a soft, steady purr reverberated through his chest. You nodded, and his smirk widened, his teeth glinting in the bar light. “That’s my good girl.”

***

You bit back a moan as Husk pressed himself into you at an agonizingly slow pace, the two of you exhaling together as he bottomed out. He withdrew just as slowly, the barbs along the length of his cock making you shudder. His lips dusted over your back, dulled by the fabric of your shirt, his claws pricking at your waist.

He had you bent over the bar, your fingers curled white-knuckled around the edge of the counter. You rocked forward with each gentle, torturous thrust of his hips into your ass, listening to the quiet hums of pleasure he made each time you tightened around him.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” he murmured, trailing claws down along your thigh. “Such a good girl…”

You whimpered, head falling against your arms as your back arched.

“No, no, no, c’mon kitten,” he whispered, hands tightening as they found your hips. “Eyes up. Don’t want us getting caught, do you?”

You shook your head, a moan catching in your throat as he thrust into you harder than before.

“You sure?” he teased quietly, leaning over you so his breath tickled the back of your neck. “You sure you’re not gettin’ all hot just thinkin’ about gettin’ caught?”

You whined, slapping a hand over your mouth as you rocked your hips back into his.

Husk chuckled in the back of his throat, sliding one hand up under your shirt to slide his claws along the small of your back. “That’s my filthy girl.”

“Fuck, Husk…” you moaned into your palm, eyes rolling back as the bartender’s cock brushed up against that sweet spot inside you. Your thighs were beginning to shake, and you could feel the inside of them growing slick with your own arousal. “Please…”

Husk hummed, his lips touching the nape of your neck. “You wanna cum, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, your brow furrowed with the struggle to keep quiet.

His teeth sunk gently into your skin before he lathed the mark with his tongue. “Go ahead, sweetness. I’ve got you.”

You bit down on your hand as you came, eyes squeezed closed. Husk groaned low in his throat as you tightened around him, his hips stuttering into yours as his own orgasm spilled into you.

“Fuck…” he drew out the word in a shaky whisper, his forehead pressing between your shoulder blades. You whimpered as he pulled out of your slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs. “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.”

You hummed, light-headed, as you wiped at your thighs with a napkin and pulled your clothes back into place. “Tu me gates toujours si bien, minou.”

Husk smiled affectionately, kissing the corner of your jaw. You pulled his suspender back into place. “Seulement le meilleur pour toi, ma chérie.”

“Y’know,” Angel’s voice suddenly sounded from the other side of the room, and you jerked away from Husk. “You too are cute ‘n’ all, but if you could wrap whatever the fuck you’re doin’ up, some of us need a new drink!”

#husk x reader #husk posting #husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel husk #husk smut #my fic #husk fic

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attapullman · 8 months

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The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples.

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out.

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall.

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge.

“I can make you a pink lady.”

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious.

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip.

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again.

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

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junkissed · 2 years

Text

cranberry concoctions

member | bartender!joshua x f!reader genre | smut, a little angst & a little fluff, 1920s prohibition au, speakeasy au word count | 4.6k synopsis | you came to the infamous diamond glass looking for a good cocktail. instead, you found love in a hot bartender who also makes the best cosmos you’ve ever had. warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly kids), reader smokes cigarettes (only 2), big dick joshua, the sex is not historically accurate sorry, actually most of this isn't historically accurate oops, praise, some degredation, multiple orgasms, name calling/petnames (slut, whore, darling, sweetheart, baby, my lady), kinda size kink maybe (he has big hands i'm sorry i can't not mention it), creampie notes | lowercase intended. this is part of rose's sax, settlements, & speakeasies collab! masterlist will be linked here. this fic has taken so long but it's finally finished!! thank you all for your patience!!

you slip into one of the many empty seats at the bar, placing your beaded evening bag on the counter and pulling out a cigarette with a sigh.

“what can i get you, darling?”

you glance up to see a man in a crisp white button-down, casually swiping a rag along a glass mug.

“what kinda cocktails you got?” you reply, pushing the cigarette between your teeth.

“anything you can dream up, honey.”

you pause, taking the cigarette out of your mouth to think. “how about… cranberry juice, with vodka, and triple sec? and a little lime?”

he grins. “coming right up.”

he grabs bottles from the long shelves behind him, setting them back on the counter in front of you before pulling a cocktail glass from below the bar.

you slip the cigarette back into your mouth, your eyes following his movements as you pull your lighter out of your bag. you flip the arm up and flick the wheel, creating a tall flame that ignites with a pop, and you bring it carefully up to the end of the stick.

he pushes his sleeves up, revealing a small tattoo of what looks like a diamond on the inside of his wrist. your gaze catches it for a moment before your eyes flick up to find his looking back at you.

with his sleeves rolled up, you don’t miss the way his muscles bulge against the tight cotton of his dress shirt. he tosses the container effortlessly from one hand to the other. the tendons in his wrist flex as he flips the shaker back and forth, a gleam in his eye and a confident grin on his face as the bottle twirls between his fingers. you take a long drag and give him a smile.

“cool tricks you got there,” you say, sitting back in your seat.

“i spent a year abroad at school in london,” he beams, holding the mixer high in the air and tilting it slightly to let the pink liquid fall into your glass. “picked up a thing or two.”

he tops off the drink with a lime swirl, sliding it gently across the counter. you hold your cigarette between two fingers as you lift the glass to your lips, taking a small sip.

“mm,” you nod, smiling. “ ‘s good.”

the dark room is quiet save for the light chatter from other patrons and the sultry piano music coming from the opposite side of the room. it’s late in the evening—well, by now, more like morning—and the speakeasy is mostly empty. you’re the only one at the bar, and you’re also the only one here alone, noticing the few couples scattered around the room in booths, drinking and laughing together.

you sigh and take another drag off your cigarette.

“you waitin’ on someone, sweetheart?” the bartender asks with a sly smile, tossing the rag behind the bar. “boyfriend, perhaps? or a coworker? can get their drink ready for them, if you’d like.”

you scoff, resting your hand on the counter above an ashtray. “do you often get women comin’ in here by themselves, mister?”

he leans back against the bar and crosses his arms, but the playful gleam in his eyes tells you he isn’t offended. “not as often as i get pretty ladies like yourself in here,” he flirts. “and the name’s joshua. joshua hong.”

you stick out your hand to shake his, telling him your name. “so, joshua, what do you do? other than serve fancy drinks to pretty ladies, of course,” you say, taking another sip of your cocktail. damn, that is good. your friend wasn’t lying when she said that the diamond glass had the best drinks around.

“nothin’ much,” he shrugs. “i like to sing, sometimes. but not anything special. just a hobby.” he hands you a napkin, to wipe up the drops of your drink that splashed out onto the counter when you bumped it. “what do you do when you’re not ordering fancy drinks from sexy gentlemen?”

“thanks,” you say, squinting at him as you take the napkin, the name of the speakeasy embossed on it in pretty gold lettering. “and who ever said you were a gentleman?”

he smiles. “let me take you out to dinner and i’ll show you.”

your eyes widen, though you try to hide your reaction. “is that so, mister joshua?”

“mhm. and you never answered the question.”

you huff and raise an eyebrow at him. “how ‘bout i tell you over dinner instead?”

you take another big sip of your drink and look down at your watch to check the time. “shit,” you curse under your breath.

you look up and meet joshua’s eyes, standing patiently behind the bar. “i’ve got work in the morning– er, in a coupl’a hours,” you offer in way of explanation. “gotta run.”

“i see,” he nods, his features falling into a faux-serious expression. “the mysterious work.”

“better hold me to that dinner if you wanna find out,” you reply with a laugh as you pull on your coat.

he grins. “oh, i will, darling.”

you pull your bag off the counter and go to take out some bills, but a large hand falls on your wrist and you freeze.

“on the house,” he says with a grin, letting go of your hand and sliding your empty glass across the counter. “come find me if you ever want some company, and we can set up that dinner, hm?”

you nod at him, unable to hide the hint of a smile growing on your face. “i’ll do that.”

the next time you visit the diamond glass, the place is packed.

it’s earlier in the evening this time, so you aren’t too surprised, but you didn’t think there were this many people who’d break the law to come here in search of a little fun. but, then again, isn’t that why you’re here too? a little fun, a little drinking, and hopefully a little more flirting with joshua, if you can manage to find him again.

the bar’s crowded, and you can barely manage to find a place to slip in between all the occupied stools. you crane your neck to look around, searching to see who the bartender working tonight is. this time there’s not one but two men in stiff white uniforms, handing out bottles of beer and pouring wine for the patrons at the other end of the bar. you can’t see either of their faces, so you lean against the counter and pull out a cigarette while you wait.

you’re leaning down putting your lighter away when you hear a familiar voice call your name.

“didn’t think i’d see you back here so soon,” joshua says when you look up, meeting his eyes.

“came to collect on my free dinner, of course,” you reply with what you hope is a teasing smile.

he chuckles. “well, i hate to break your heart, darling, but i’m a little busy at the moment. how ‘bout i get you a drink instead?”

“fine by me.”

“same as before?” he asks, already reaching for a glass.

you pause to put your cigarette to your lips. “sure, why not. show me more of those gentleman bartender skills you like to show off.”

he starts pouring liquor into the shaker as he continues to talk. “i’m sure i’ve got other skills you’d like a lot better than my drink mixing, sweetheart. maybe i’ll show you after that dinner we keep talkin’ about.”

you suck in a sharp gasp of air, accidentally inhaling a mouthful of smoke and sending you into a coughing fit. you grab a napkin to cover your mouth with as you struggle to regain your composure, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second.

joshua just smiles, clearly amused by your reaction as he slides you your finished drink. “well, don’t lose your cool now, miss, i haven’t even done anything fancy yet. gotta give me a chance to wow you like a gentleman.”

you clear your throat, hoping your voice sounds at least a little levelheaded. “how very courteous of you, mister joshua. i–”

you’re definitely about to come up with the wittiest of comebacks, is what you tell yourself before you’re interrupted by a group of flapper girls, talking loudly as they walk up to the bar.

“and that’s when i told him, ‘if you don’t stop necking on with that sob sister from the newspaper’s, we’re through!’ he really thought i wouldn’t see through that baloney, screwing that reporter and then coming home to me as if he could have us both!”

the group bursts out laughing, and joshua looks over at them, then looks back at you. “mind if i go get these ladies seated, darling? then we can finish our conversation.”

you stutter out a “sure” and he gives you a wink as he walks away. even over the ruckus of the speakeasy, you can still hear him greet the girls, and it makes you irritated for reasons you can’t explain.

“well hi there, girls! how’s the partying goin’ for you all on this fine evening, and how can i make it better?”

the chorus of flirty, drawn out “hello”’s from the group makes your stomach churn, though you have no reason to care. it’s this man’s job to flirt with customers to make an extra buck and keep this joint running. to him, you’re probably just another broad with money to throw away on booze.

you turn around to see one of the drunker girls hanging on joshua’s arm, laughing at something he’s said like he’s the funniest man on the planet. the sight is enough to push you over the edge, and you down your drink in a huff, slipping a bill under the empty glass as you walk out of the speakeasy, pretending your feelings aren’t hurt.

you wake up the next morning feeling guilty about the night before. sure, you probably did overreact, but it had been a long day at work, getting badgered by your boss for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t like having women employees in his office.

and joshua seemed like a nice man, and even if he was just trying to earn some tips, at least he was friendly.

so that night, you put on your finest dress and head back to the diamond glass, hoping for the chance to talk to him again.

but as you walk across the bar, you see that there’s only one bartender at the counter, and it’s not joshua. he looks vaguely familiar, so you figure he must’ve been the other bartender working with him the other night.

“hey,” you call out to him as you sit down, and he turns to face you, black hair falling into his eyes.

“how can i help you, miss?”

“what’s your name?” you ask him straight away, and he furrows his brows.

“it’s vernon, miss, but i don’t see—”

“you work with a fella named joshua?”

vernon rests his hands on the counter, leaning towards you. “i do indeed, but he ain’t here right now. it’s his day off.”

you frown. well. that messes with your plans.

“you gotta pen?” you ask, grabbing a napkin from the stack.

he pulls a pen from his breast pocket and twists it open, handing it to you. you scribble something quickly on the napkin, then cap the pen and hand it back to him.

you fold up the napkin and give it to vernon. “when you see him again, can you give this to him for me? it’s real important, make sure he gets it.”

he looks confused, but he shoves the pen and napkin into his pocket. “i’ll make sure it does.”

you nod soberly and stand up from the stool.

“wait– d’you want anything to drink, miss?”

you shake your head, shouldering your purse. “no. that’s all i came for.”

and with that you walk back out the door, frustrated but at least a little more hopeful.

joshua, sorry for taking off last night. phone me and we can do that dinner if you’d still like. #: SE-0317

the wait for joshua’s phone call is unbearable, so instead of pacing by the telephone you try to busy yourself with something more productive: getting work done for your hard-boiled boss.

but even the pressure of his deadlines is enough to take your mind off what you’ve done. in fact, you don’t even know for sure if he’s single. for all you know you could be trying to screw a married man (though you didn’t notice a ring on his finger, but who can ever know for sure these days?)

the worst part is, you don’t even know for sure if he’s going to phone you, or if he even got your message. vernon seemed like a trustworthy guy, but maybe he and his coworkers get people like this all the time. maybe they’re having to fight off hordes of drunk, horny women with a stick. you scoff, thinking back to the last time you were at the speakeasy. that was certainly the case the other night with the flappers.

in all honesty, joshua was probably just being friendly, trying to make a repeat customer out of you. which he was successful in, of course; he had you hook, line, and sinker, and you didn’t even care. of course his offer to wine and dine you wasn’t genuine: it was a line, one he’d probably used on dozens of people, and you had fallen for it.

you’re so far deep in your own thoughts, you almost miss the sound of the telephone ringing in the other room; until you realize there’s no one else that would be calling you at this hour in the evening.

in a panic you scramble out of your chair, sprinting to the kitchen to grab the call.

“hello?” you answer, a little breathless but still holding onto hope.

“hi, sweetheart. thought you weren’t gonna pick up.”

you breathe out a sigh of relief at the man on the other end. maybe he really was sincere about everything after all, though you still don’t truly believe it.

“are you finally gonna take me out like you keep saying, or are you just tryin’ to get me to buy more drinks?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the shake of nerves in your voice.

“‘course i am, baby. i don’t just go around offering dinner to every woman i meet at work, y’know.”

your cheeks warm, and you hold the receiver closer to your ear with a smile. “flattery will get you nowhere, joshua hong, but i won’t deny it, i like to hear it.”

he laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound, one that you find yourself wishing you could hear in person.

“there’s a new restaurant on the main drag that i’ve heard’s real fancy,” he starts. “been meaning to try it, so i might as well take my pretty lady along with me, too, hm?”

you chuckle, leaning against the doorframe and twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "your pretty lady, huh?"

"wouldn't say it 'f it wasn't true. you've got me wrapped around your little finger, miss," he says, and you have to bite the back of your hand to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing noise in response.

he clears his throat, interrupting the silence on the line. “anyway, if you'd like, the speakeasy’s closed tonight for the holiday… could bring you back behind the bar after our dinner, show you a thing or two. although i got plenty of other nice things i could show you besides the drinks.”

"sounds like you got a grand evenin' planned, joshua," you say finally, swallowing your excitement.

"only for you, doll," he says, and even over the shaky static of the call you can hear the grin in his voice. "can i pick you up at 6 o'clock? just had my car waxed too; only the best for my lady."

"six is nice," you reply, still smiling.

"i'll see you then, sweetheart," he says, and the line goes silent as he ends the call.

exhaling a shaky breath, you put the receiver back on the hook and check the time on the clock across the room. better go fix your makeup before he gets here.

at 6 o'clock sharp joshua’s car rolls up in front of your apartment, freshly waxed and polished just like he'd said.

the drive to the new restaurant isn't far, but it feels like it stretches on for hours as you and joshua talk about anything and everything.

as for dinner, it by far isn't the best meal you've ever had, but your date's company more than makes up for the mediocre food.

as promised, after the dinner joshua drives you over to the speakeasy, using his key to open the back entrance where customers aren't allowed and lets you inside. it's an odd feeling, being alone in the space that's normally bustling with activity.

you slide into a seat at the counter as joshua grins, walking to the opposite side to stand behind the bar.

"sorry, miss, we're closed today," he says with a playful grin. "you'll have to come back tomorrow."

you giggle, playing along. "oh, but please, sir, can't you spare just a little glass of wine for me?"

the restaurants aren't allowed to serve alcohol, but even without it you feel tipsy in joshua’s presence, high on the excitement of being with him with nobody else around.

he places his hands on the counter and leans forward, his gaze meeting yours. "hmm, i could… but i think i have something better i could give you instead."

"better than wine?" you ask, pretending to be shocked. although if you've been reading this right like you think you've been, you have a feeling you know what he might be offering.

"mhm," he says, and he lifts a finger to beckon you closer.

you grin and lean forward to meet him across the counter, his lips locking with yours, and the feeling is heavenly. almost instantly you feel his hands behind your head, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. you tell yourself to fight the urge to moan, but when his lips part just enough to let his tongue slide into your mouth, all your inhibitions go out the stained-glass speakeasy windows and you decide, screw it, whatever happens, happens; not when you're having the most fun you've had in a long time and not when his touch feels this good.

he breaks away for just a second and to your surprise, jumps onto the bar and slides across, and then his hands are back on your body and he's kissing you more fervently than before.

"say the word and i'll stop, sweetheart," he moans, he really moans, but the thought of stopping doesn't even cross your mind as you pull him closer and lift your leg to wrap it behind his thigh.

before you know it, your back is against the counter and joshua is hovering over you. his large hands gently knead your breasts over the fabric of your dress and his mouth is still tangled with yours as you begin to feel heat pooling in your stomach.

"god, you drive me crazy," he breathes when your hands find his body and start to slide lower. you look up at him, one hand hovering carefully over the uncomfortably large bulge in his pants.

"please, joshua?" you ask softly, squeezing lightly around him and drawing another whine out of his gorgeous lips.

the second you hear his throaty "yes", your fingers are scrambling to undo his belt buckle and shoving his slacks down to his knees. his fingers are equally rushed, sliding over your back and quickly undoing the buttons holding up the fabric that hides your beautiful skin from his sight.

your breath hitches as he carefully slips the dress off your shoulders, watching as his eyes wander over you. he meets your eyes, fingers toying with the hem of your panties, and you nod, giving him permission.

“you’re even prettier than i imagined,” he whispers. his hands trail down your chest, mapping out every inch of your naked body.

his words barely even register, because you’re too busy staring at his hard cock. you figured he would be beautiful, but nothing you could’ve dreamed up in your wildest dreams would have even come close to what’s in front of you now.

you reach out and take his cock in your hand, holding him delicately and observing the way his eyes flutter shut. he lets out a soft sigh at your touch, and his hands settle at your waist for a moment before he reaches to grab your hand.

it doesn’t escape you how tiny your hand looks in comparison to his; while your fingers could barely reach all the way around his cock, his hand easily covers the space. the sight is almost hypnotizing. you carefully let go, bringing your hand up to the counter to brace yourself.

he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, and you moan as you feel the head of his cock begin to brush through your soaking folds. he breaks away, and you look up into his dark eyes, waiting.

“been stuck on you since the first time i saw you, sweetheart,” he groans, and you feel the heat in your core grow hotter at his admission, knowing he’s been wanting this just as much as you have.

he curses under his breath, and finally he starts to fill you up. the stretch is perfect as he rocks his hips slowly back and forth, pushing into you a little more with each movement. his brows knit together in concentration, and his lips firmly press into a thin line as his gaze zeroes in on your pussy.

you look down where he’s watching, and you also can’t help but fixate on the sight of his girthy cock inside you. he’s not even nearly halfway inside you yet, but the feeling is already making you dizzy with pleasure. seeing him stretching you open, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten almost instantly.

with his sleeves rolled up, you can clearly see the definition in his muscles, flexing as his hands slide across your half-clothed figure. his thick fingers hook around the straps of your bra, tugging them further down your chest to expose your breasts. he pushes his thumb into your mouth, and immediately you begin to suck on it.

he laughs, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your own spit across your nipple. “such a whore. should’ve known you would like that, my pretty slut.”

you let out a moan at his words, unintentionally clenching around him as he continues to push into you. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, enough that you know it’ll leave bruises.

your first orgasm hits you out of nowhere when joshua bottoms out in you. the feeling of his cock sitting snugly inside of you, filling you up to the brim and then some, is enough to send you over the edge without warning. joshua curses, your cunt squeezing around his cock as you ride through your high.

“fuck, just like that, baby,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his other hand snaking down to rub at your clit. “cum all over my cock like my good girl.”

when you recover enough to breathe again, you look up to find joshua staring down at you, eyes blown wide with lust. his fingers are still on your clit, your only source of stimulation since he had stopped moving his hips once he was fully inside you.

he meets your eyes and begins to drag his cock out of you, just barely pressing an inch or two into you with slow, meticulous thrusts.

he gradually begins to build up speed, his cock perfectly hitting every sensitive part inside of you until you can’t think straight. you let your eyes close, mouth falling open in pleasure at his pace.

“god, you look so pretty when you cum,” joshua growls, and it feels like you stop breathing altogether as another orgasm slams into you, his words drawing your high out of you like a command.

this time he doesn’t give you a moment to recover, instead pulling nearly all the way out before pushing into you with so much force, you can feel him moving you back and forth across the counter with each thrust, the smooth oak grain growing sticky with sweat with each sharp snap of his hips.

already sensitive from two powerful orgasms, you cry out his name, dragging your nails along his biceps placed on either side of your face as he holds onto the counter. his thrusts get rougher, plunging into you over and over again and already beginning to build you up for another.

“sh-shua, please,” you gasp, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders for support.

the drag of his cock against your walls feels heavenly, quickly sending you hurtling into yet another orgasm that has your legs trembling around his waist. the waves of pleasure seem almost never-ending as his hips jerk into you sporadically, until finally he throws his head back and buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you, his pelvis flush against your cunt. his cock pulses inside you as his orgasm hits, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up, a satisfying feeling like you can’t even fathom.

breathing hard, you manage to drag your eyes away from where the two of you connect to glance up at his face, and the sight is one you’ll never forget: his thick eyebrows knitted tightly together and his nose scrunched up, his beautiful lips parted in a breathy, high-pitched whine.

the bar is quiet, but your ears are ringing and your head is spinning from everything that just happened. joshua stands over you, his cock still nestled in you as he breathes in and out shallowly, trying to catch his breath. you stay still, too exhausted to move until you feel his cum start to drip down your leg and you force yourself to sit up.

but his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly and you stop. you feel so secure, so grounded, despite your shaky legs dangling off the edge of the counter.

he sighs and begins pressing kisses along your neck, though this time they’re softer and gentler, instead of frantic and heated.

he kisses you once more on the cheek, then walks around to the other side of the bar to grab a towel.

“sorry about the mess,” you say shyly, reaching down to pick up your dress off of one of the barstools it had landed on.

he comes back around, towel in hand, and kisses you again. “don’t be,” he grins, and he squats down so that he’s eye-level with your cunt, his cum still leaking out of you. you resist the urge to snap your legs closed as he gently wipes the damp towel over your skin, a little embarrassed despite him being inside you no more than a couple of minutes ago.

once he’s satisfied he lifts you up off the counter, setting you gently on the floor and helping you into your dress before putting his own clothes back on.

you slide onto a stool, watching him fondly as he walks back around to the other side of the bar and picks up another towel to wipe off the counter with.

“so,” he says finally, rolling up his sleeves with a cocky smile that makes your stomach do backflips. “what can i make you, darling?”

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rems-writing · 7 days

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Cyberpunk's bartender

》 Pairing: bartender!Wooyoung x gn!erader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 1,800 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Wooyoung chuckled to himself as he saw a group of girls walk inside the club and saw one of them stand out from the others. She looked sheepish and definitely did not want to be outdoors right now. He understood far too well that sometimes, people just don’t like being forced to go out. As soon as Mingi, the bouncer that let these women in, gave a signal and pointed to the incredibly shy girl that flinched at everything, Wooyoung nodded and gave a thumbs-up in return. After all, he was also used to helping introverts like that woman escape.

“I NEED THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES FOR BOOTH 1024!”

Wooyoung heard Jongho’s voice resonate within the dingy strip club and he nodded. He set to work on making the mixed drinks, pouring each amount of tequila perfect into the metal shaker before adding ice and closing it. He started shaking it with one hand while the other gathered three glasses so he could pour the drink in. Once he set the shaker down, he grabbed a strainer and placed it over the opened shaker before pouring each drink into the frosted glasses. He grabbed the tiny umbrellas and stabbed three maraschino cherries before topping the drinks with it.

“THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES!”

Wooyoung’s voice was incredibly loud, even through the booming techno music the strippers were dancing to. Jongho hurried over to the bar and grabbed the drinks carefully before thanking him and walking over towards the booth. Wooyoung sighed and quickly washed his tools so he could prepare for making the next few drinks. He hated using dirty tools when making drinks. He believed that the remnants from the last cocktail mixed in with the new cocktail would make it taste bad. It’s a silly ideology, but to him, it made the most sense. He was currently watching the crowd and observing the different dynamics they got going on here. Soon, he felt a presence in front of him and he smiled brightly.

“Well well. If it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You giggled and playfully rolled your eyes at his compliment. Wooyoung had first met you when you came in with so much stress. You weren’t one to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but you had just about enough. As an event coordinator and a travel planner, it seemed like you could never catch a break. The only upside to your job is that you were self-employed so you were your own boss and you could take as many days off as you want. After the occasions you helped out with, you were definitely taking a month long vacation.

“Do you say that to all your customers?”

“Of course not, doll. They aren’t as put-together as you.”

“Ok ok fine. Enough with your pretty words. You know the drill.”

“So the usual then?”

You nodded and Wooyoung set straight to work. He decided to put on a little show for you since you expressed that you felt fascinated with the way Wooyoung makes drinks. From a simple whiskey on the rocks to the most complicated cocktail (i.e. the cosmopolitan), you believed he had the magic touch. After Wooyoung set your drink down, you thanked him and took a sip. You were surprised. Your usual, which was green apple Crown Royal mixed with Sprite, tasted stronger than usual. Not that you didn’t mind of course. You had a strong tolerance. However, this normally only had one shot of Crown mixed into it.

“Woo. Did you put two shots in this?”

“I did. And before you ask, I didn’t fuck up. I added another shot intentionally. After everything you’ve told me, I figured you’d need to relax a bit more.”

Your heart fluttered at Wooyoung’s thoughtfulness and you thanked him by raising your glass to him. He poured his own shot and clinked his glass with you before knocking it back. He set his empty shot glass in the sink and handed you the menu.

“Order what you want. It’s on the house.”

“Woo, no -”

Wooyoung reached over and put his finger on your lips to shush you. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes and shoved his finger off, but for some reason, you felt a bit flustered under his touch today. It definitely wasn’t the alcohol speaking. You weren’t even tipsy yet! Perhaps it’s just the environment you’re in. After all, you were technically in a place where women’s hormones go crazy. Once upon a time, you used to be like them. Now? You had your priorities straight.

“It’s fine, doll. I mean it.”

“Fine… I’ll take the takoyaki and katsu pork bites please.”

“Want to throw some potstickers in there as well?”

“Sure.”

Wooyoung nodded and took your order to the kitchen while you sipped on your drink. While you were waiting for him, you noticed a girl trying to shrink back into the booth she was at with, who you assumed were, her coworkers. You chuckled as she tried her best to be a wallflower in a place such as Cyberpunk. You also felt bad for her as well. Mingi told you briefly about this woman and you honestly wanted to beat those women’s asses. Sadly, it’s none of your business. The most you can do is wish that she smoothly escapes them as soon as possible.

“One order of takoyaki, katsu pork bites, and potstickers for my favorite customer.”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped you out of your observant haze quickly and you turned around to see the food placed in front of you. You were salivating. After weeks of eating nothing but healthy food in your own home, you considered today a cheat day. You grabbed your chopsticks and picked up a katsu pork bite before eating it. Apparently, this was a new thing on the menu.

And you hoped they’d keep it.

“Woo… this is fucking bomb! Tell the chef to keep this on the menu!”

Wooyoung chuckled smoothly and found your love for bar food so adorable. He made a mental note to do that before he left. As he watched you eat, he couldn’t help but stare at you. The way your hair fell in front of your face (he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind your ear), the way your cheeks puffed up as you kept eating (there were a few crumbs stuck to the corners of your mouth and he wanted to wipe them away with his thumb badly), and the way you drank your strong drink with such poise? Yeah this man is in love.

“I NEED A ROUND OF SHOTS PLUS THE STRONGEST DRINK YOU HAVE FOR BOOTH 1117!”

Jongho’s voice broke Wooyoung out of his lovestruck stupor and he sighed deeply. He knew which booth Jongho was referring to. Setting to work, he first made the cocktail since it was a longer process. Once the drink was made, he took out a lot of shot glasses and placed them on the tray.

“WHAT ALCOHOL DO THEY WANT?!”

Jongho asked the customer real quick on what shots they wanted to order before yelling back.

“SOJU!”

Wooyoung nodded and took out some soju bottles before pouring the spirit into each frosted shot glass. Once he was done, he double checked to make sure everything was in order before shouting out to Jongho.

“A ROUND OF SOJU SHOTS AND A STRONG COCKTAIL!”

Jongho walked over and grabbed the tray once more before placing a dollar bill in front of Wooyoung. It was a tip. A generous one at that. Wooyoung pocketed the money before turning back to you. His eyes widened at the empty plate and they trailed up to you, still sipping on your drink as if you didn’t order so much bar food.

“Well I’ll be damned. I’m calling you Kirby with the way you practically inhaled that food.”

“That would require me having a black hole for a stomach though, and we both know I don’t have that.”

Wooyoung laughed at your sassy reply and nodded before pouring himself another shot.

“To our aspirations of becoming Kirby!”

You clinked glasses and knocked back your drinks before setting the glass down. Wooyoung took your empty glass and looked back up at you.

“You want a refill?”

“Nah. It’s ok. I think I’m done for today.”

“Perfect!”

You were confused as to why Wooyoung said that and said it in that tone. It wasn’t until your eyes landed on an empty shot glass that you realized what he was doing. You immediately shook your head.

“I have work tomorrow -”

“What time do your clients come in?”

“Uh… around noon or 2 PM.”

“Great! Now come on. Knock one back with me.”

“Wooyoung, I don’t know -”

“Did you drive here? If you did, I’ll take your decline.”

“Well no. My car’s in the shop so I took an uber here…”

“All the more reason to take a shot! Come on. It’s Friday!”

“Woo…”

Wooyoung took your hand in his and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You felt more flustered than before and you couldn’t help but find him so handsome underneath the dim lighting of the bar. His black hair was tied back into a small ponytail while two strands hung in front of his face. His jawline was sharp, his lips looked tempting and kissable, and his eyes were shining with mischief and amusement. There was also a sincerity behind them too.

“You work so hard, Y/N. You deserve this. I’ll take care of you. Like always.”

You didn’t say anything, prompting Wooyoung to continue.

“I’m not going to lie. I mainly just wanted to flirt with you and get a rise out of you. I’m fine with being friends. However, if you’re on the same wavelength as me, then I will tell you right now. I fell in love with you. I’m so in love with the way you talk, move, and hold yourself. I figured someone like me could never be with someone like you. But I’m willing to shoot my shot and give us a try. The question now is… are you?”

You were taken aback by Wooyong’s confession. The bartender that you like also likes you back. You felt your heart hurt when he said that he doesn’t deserve someone like you when in reality, it’s sort of the vice verse. However, seeing as he’s willing to give it a try, you thought “Fuck it.” in the back of your mind. You were independent, made good money, and had a stable life overall. Why not share that life with someone? You intertwined your fingers with his and a small smile appeared on your face.

“Yeah… I’m willing to give us a try.”

With that, you both took your shots, and the rest is now history.

#mirohsaurorasociety #other side outlaws network #illusionnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #Spotify

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onlyswan · 2 years

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summary: in which alcohol plus k-drama is equals to your and jungkook’s tears.

> fluff / wc: 4k

> warnings: oc’s first attempt at becoming a pro bartender lmao they both drink alcohol!!, alchemy of souls spoilers!! (they watch the ending of part 2), mention of a stab and blood, they cry over character deaths together >:( (sike?) maybeee a little surprise bc jk is so in love y’all idk what else to say </3 💍

note: welcome to the result of my jungkook + aos brainrot. you can read more of inwhich!jk in glasses in this drabble. :D thank you anonie who sent this ask! + as always i’d appreciate it a lot if you lmk if you enjoyed mwamwa <3

—

“i miss my boyfriend.” you sigh dramatically as you slump over the dining table, popping a vodka-soaked cherry in your mouth.

despite being hopelessly in love, you and jungkook don’t necessarily feel obliged to spend every second of every day with each other. of course, it was different at the early stages of your relationship, when you had to cross oceans and move mountains to spend time together, even if it meant hugging for only ten minutes and parting ways again.

however, things changed when you started living under one roof. the burning passion of your love isn’t dying down, no. in fact, you would go as far as saying that it is growing more gracefully ardent. after all, there is no greater peace than knowing that at the end of the day, wherever the street signs and the unmarked paths may lead you to, you and jungkook choose to come home to each other’s arms. is this not the real honeymoon phase, as they like to call it?

he left early this sunday morning to attend a small reunion with his childhood friends in busan, while you spent the day reading a book and painting the numbers one to ten of the little paint by numbers kit you stumbled upon at the book store last week.

it’s a sunny day on an abundant island, with a lighthouse standing close to the edge. and maybe, just maybe, you regret ignoring the simple flower bouquet beside it because the details drawn on this canvas are the literal definition of tiny. you ended up feeling dizzy by afternoon because of the strain it caused to your fucked up vision.

to make matters worse, the doorbell rung at around 5pm, and a minute later you were already unboxing the basics cocktail set you ordered two days ago. it includes a 18- and 28-ounce shaker set, jigger that has a dual-side (ounce and two-ounce) pourers, strainer, muddler, and bar spoon.

to summarize what you’ve been doing with your life lately: you’re trying to explore the random things you’ve always been curious about, in hopes that they’ll help you find new hobbies and interests.

you thought about baking, but jungkook already does that, and quite frankly, you’re not at a place in your life where you have a high capacity for the patience it requires. mixing drinks, on the other hand, takes a relatively shorter time to do. and what makes it even more enticing is that you can take a shot whenever you mess up, as if you’re playing a drinking game.

there’s no better way to spend your sunday evening, right?

“baby, why the hell are all the alcohol outside of the cabinets?”

right… except you’re already intoxicated… and the world is spinning. you’re desperately yearning to hug jungkook, so he can make it stop, but you’re not even sure if he’s coming home or he’s staying over at his parent’s house for the night.

you react belatedly to the confused voice, lifting your head to squint at the man who grabbed a bottle of white wine from the cluttered countertop.

“hey, who are you? the bar is closed. put that down.”

he laughs lightheartedly when he realizes how drunk you’ve gotten. as he places it back down, the bottle clinks against the cold white stone. your heavy head collapses on top of your outstretched arm as he walks towards the opposite side of the dining table.

you open your eyes, one before the other, when you feel a presence hogging your space. a sheepish smile curves your lips as the beautiful face of your dear beloved greets you.

jungkook’s prescription glasses moves with his scrunched up nose as he grins at you playfully. “it’s the boyfriend you said you were missing.”

you reach out for him as soon as he finishes saying the sentence, silently asking to be embraced. slaves to your touch — his hands, which are resting on the sharp edge of the table and the top rail of your chair, eagerly slip down to encircle your waist.

you lazily lean your cheek on his shoulder, revelling in his welcoming body warmth. “why are you back early? aren’t you tired? you should’ve just rested at your house.”

“mhmm, i had to.” he hums, deep and raspy voice making his chest vibrate against yours. “we talked about marriage and all that jazz. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

with an airy huff, you pull away to glare up at him childishly. “i sure hope you’re not thinking about anybody else.”

he runs his tongue across his lips, unconsciously tugging at the silver lip ring with his teeth, but his loving smile stays. “you know that you’re the only one for me.”

“still! i like to hear it from you sometimes.” you giggle before taking a sip from a cold glass of cherry limeade, a refreshing treat you’ve been enjoying since before he arrived.

“vodka?”

“vodka.”

you swallow once more before handing him the glass, swaying your feet under the table as the delicious mixture of sweet and tart permeates your tongue.

“mhmm, wow!” he exclaims after taking a sip, tilting the glass a little bit to the side to look at the light red beverage with knitted eyebrows. “wait a minute- why is this so good?!”

you excitedly tug at the hem of his sweatshirt, begging for more pats on the head. “i had a lot of fun using the shaker.”

he lightly kicks out the chair to your right so he can take a seat, shrugging off the backpack full of clean clothes you packed for him last night incase he wanted to stay longer in busan.

“i did well with this one, right?”

he enthusiastically nods in response as he takes another gulp, chewing on the block of ice that also managed to slip inside his mouth. you melt into his affectionate touch when he cups your cheek with his delicate palm.

“maybe making drinks has been your specialty all along.”

you frown in disagreement. “i’m not sure. i made bloody mary before that one and i don’t know if i did something horribly wrong or it’s just supposed to taste that disgusting.”

amused laughter racks his body as he takes in the endearing sight of your genuinely downcast expression. you jut out your bottom lip in annoyance.

“it really tasted like poison! i got goosebumps!”

“shit, now i’m scared of you actually getting alcohol poisoning.” the back of your hand is rewarded with a sweet kiss by jungkook’s vodka-stained lips. the wide doe eyes behind his glasses meet yours curiously. “your hand smells like coffee.”

“oh- oh! the dalgona martini!” you rip your hand away from his to point at the martini glass standing at the very center of the dining table. “i just finished that. it should still be cold.”

he carefully slides the glass towards him to avoid spillage, fascinated lips forming a pout as he observes the thick portion of dalgona sitting on top of the mixed baileys and vodka. he didn’t even notice it at all because it’s almost the same color as the wood. has his vision gotten that bad?

“this looks yummy. you haven’t tried it yet?”

you shake your head, which you instantly regret because your vision blacks out momentarily. you swallow thickly as you attempt to blink away the shiny, swirly shapes dancing infront of your eyes.

“fuck, no. i already had classic martini, and mule. i’ll throw up.”

“jesus christ, baby. how many drinks did you try making?” jungkook finds himself so worried that he harshly takes off his glasses without reason, putting it aside on the table.

you giggle loudly at his reaction, using your folded arms as a pillow. “that’s all! i promise! besides, didn’t you drink with your friends, too?”

his face glows with uncontainable fondness at the mention of his friends.

“i was talking and laughing the whole time that i didn’t even finish half of my beer.”

your hazy eyes study his jovial and carefree features, and just like magic, they make your heart feel lighter inside your chest. heavens know that you wish for nothing more in the world than to see him this happy everyday.

“i’m so glad you had a great time, my love.”

“me too. i’ll tell you all about it when you’re sober and capable of memory retention.” he pokes fun at your drunken state as he picks up the glass of dalgona martini.

you roll your eyes before impatiently guiding the drink to his mouth. “just drink it already.”

“oing?” he blinks in disbelief, sipping on the glass again as if his tongue could’ve possibly fooled him the first time. ”i actually like this one more. i didn’t expect that.”

you abruptly perk up in your seat upon witnessing his candid review. “what? you’re joking!”

of course… you’re cursed. it had to be the one you hated making the most.

truth be told, you impulsively made the dalgona martini simply because it’s the only drink in the last online blog you found that you had the complete ingredients for.

you were obviously not prepared enough for this activity. but baileys, vodka, sugar, coffee, and water? yeah, any house would definitely have those.

then came your ridiculous dilemma: despite being intoxicated, you’re still terrified of using the electric whisker. and so, you had to do the whisking the hard way. to put it lightly, it was absolute hell. your arms and wrists are sore after shaking and whisking vigorously for the past three hours.

“it’s exactly what i needed after a long trip.” he moans. his shoulders spring up in delight as he licks off the foam around his lips, and you use your thumb to brush it away from the spots he missed.

jungkook grabs your hand before you could pull away, making you audibly gasp when he sucks at your thumb in his cold mouth. his insatiable tongue pokes the inside of his cheek after.

“uh- i think i tasted a hint of soap.”

“‘course you did. i just washed the dishes, you dummy.”

his pink lips part open as he processes your words, but he quickly brushes it off with a shrug. he noisily takes another sip from the glass.

“i can just clean it off my tongue with more martini.” he argues with a dimpled grin.

he grants you with a quick kiss, smudging the foam on his lips and transferring some of it to yours.

“ugh, you’re so sloppy!”

his laughter echoes in your home as he walks away. “i’m taking this with me to the bathtub!”

“don’t take an hour in there again.” you grumble out a complaint. “we need to watch alchemy of souls!”

—

“even if you decide to seal that door, i know how heartbreaking it will be for you, so it does not upset me so much.”

the flashback from four episodes ago confirms that it was foreshadowing this moment — park jin had sealed the door of jinyowon, a deep cave where relics are protected so they won’t unleash life-threatening dangers upon the world outside. lady jin and maidservant kim are stuck inside the collapsing sanctuary, holding back said relics from escaping… and the latter is none other than his wife-to-be.

jungkook anxiously bites the nails of his thumb and pinky finger, switching back and forth. the television screen reflects on the lens of his glasses as his eyes become shiny with tears.

“is this really the final episode? there’s no season three?”

“no, it ends tonight.” you reply in between embarrassing loud sobs, attention trained to the man mournfully calling out his lover’s name over and over again as he clutches her engagement ring to his chest.

the hot tears you fail to catch stream down to your temples, and then your boyfriend’s naked stomach. you’ve comfortably settled on the bed after finishing your nightly routines. your head is lying by the bottom of his ribcage, and that’s where the other edge of the cozy blanket enveloping the two of you rests. you grabbed a small portion of the cotton in a loose fist, and you’ve been keeping it close to wipe your tears with.

“oh my god, i can’t fucking do this. my head is being split open.”

you toss aside the remote control after pausing the episode, crawling to the nightstand to pop the painkiller in your mouth, which you prepared to be supposedly taken tomorrow morning. maybe you’ve sobered up a little, but the combination of the alcohol and the woeful crying have resulted to an agonizing migraine.

with his long and slender fingers, your boyfriend removes the hair that stuck to your tear-stained face before tenderly wiping your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“making my baby fucking cry, too. i need that son of a bitch jin mu to burn in hell.” he curses to release his pent-up anger from the past 29 episodes, referring to the main antagonist of the series. the harshness of his tone contrasts the gentle kiss that lingers at the corner of your lips.

after drinking water, you wipe away jungkook’s tears with tissue paper, gingerly dabbing at the sides of his nose as well. he has a very sensitive skin, and because tears do contain salt, they can cause slight irritation and stinging when he cries. it’s something he once quietly complained about in passing, but somehow, it stuck with you throughout the years.

“does it hurt a lot?” he worriedly caresses the back of your head.

you meekly nod in response.

“should we just watch the rest of it tomorrow then?”

“noooo.” you drag out the word, shifting on the bed to return to your previous position. “my pain is nothing to compared park jin’s pain. i must persevere.”

and just like that, your tired eyes begin to water again. jungkook chuckles, affectionately holding your face in his hands. he isn’t surprised to find your skin to be warmer than normal.

“aigoo, your eyes are so red. at least put your glasses back on.”

“fine.” you mumble in defeat as you pat around the mattress, looking for the glasses you haphazardly threw aside when your intense emotions started to take control over you.

his rosy cheeks rise like buns in an oven as he smiles. “i love it when we match.”

—

park jin stands before the greedy individuals who conspired to steal the foundation of jinyowon, the fire bird, which dries up the world when it is awakened. it will be used in a rain ritual to create another ice stone, a ball of energy similar to that of the sun or a star. and to point out the obvious, having it in your possession would mean becoming the most powerful being there is.

“evil always does what it wants without ever stopping. but why is it that virtue always needs to prove itself over and over again?”

“…yes. i do wish to save her. i would do anything to save her, even if it meant i would lose my sanity. but even so, i will stop you from getting what you want. not a single one of you has the right to laugh at me… and call me… a hypocrite.”

you feel jungkook shiver below you. he is immensely engrossed with the actor’s phenomenal performance, flawlessly depicting what ‘seething’ anger means. he puts his tattooed arm underneath his head to get a closer view of the subtitles. these have to be some of the best written lines he’s heard from this show so far, and he hopes to remember them by heart.

the two of you watched with bated breath when he starts fighting against several warriors, and then it happens… jin mu removes the barrier of the fire bird as a threat.

“oh, fuck you!” you kick your feet in annoyance.

park jin is forced to focus his energy on re-sealing the fire bird, leaving him vulnerable to the attacks of his merciless opponents.

“no, no, no.” jungkook chants under his breath, heart thundering with fear. “this can’t be happening.”

you know what is bound to happen. they did show three coffins at the end of episode nine. but denial denial denial is a stage of grief after all, and so, with a broken sob, you squeeze your eyes shut.

when your eyelids flutter open, a sword has already been driven through the center of his chest, and dark red blood uncontrollably spills from his mouth. jin mu spitefully pulls it out from behind before he weakly falls on the ground. jungkook stays quiet, it happens so fast but he feels suspended in time, while your horrified crying carries on.

you unwillingly remove your head from his chest before you can cry a river over his shirtless torso, opting to sit up beside him.

“bunch of cowards.” he couldn’t resist mocking as the group scrambles to leave the place before it completely burns down, jin mu taking re-sealed fire bird along with them.

park jin jolts awakes coughing up blood. he painfully forces himself to lie on his back, and the camera reveals that he’s been holding maidservant kim’s ring all along. with trembling hands, he puts the ring on himself. you cover your own mouth as you listen to his worn out sobs.

a look of love and admiration shines on his dull eyes, and you swear that he smiles softly, before his arms fall limp on the dusty ground.

is the moon watching? and the stars? have they ever witnessed something so gutwrenchingly tragic?

“he wore the ring on his pinky! and it didn’t even fit halfway!” your glasses is left abandoned beside you again as you finally allow yourself to weep freely.

seeing that you clearly need a break after that heartbreaking scene, jungkook pauses the episode.

“that’s so cute, but-” you hiccup. “this is so unfair. they were supposed to get married and have babies!”

“oh, baby. i know.” he coos softly, hugging your side and peppering your cheek with kisses. his own tears drip from his chin and he brushes them away with the back of his hand. “their souls will be together in after life though, don’t you think?”

you gradually grow quiet and calm at the thought he proposed, but- “i don’t think they can make babies there.”

“shit.” he chuckles as his forehead lands over your shoulder, glasses slightly sliding down his nosebridge. “you’re right.”

“this is too much. i can’t-” you blow your nose in sheets of tissue paper before throwing them in the bin you dragged next to the bed earlier. “it hurts so much. they just wanted a peaceful life together.”

the two of you grieve for the what if’s and what could’ve been’s. he can’t possibly think of anything more tragic than being forced in a position to choose between the love of your life and the humanity; only to end up perishing at the hands of the evil who made you do it.

and what did he have left? a lifetime’s worth of love to take with him to the grave, and whatever’s left of his pride and dignity? jungkook wouldn’t want any of those. he only wants you.

he lifts up his head, a small smile playing on his lips, swollen and cherry-colored from the nervous nibbles of his bunny teeth. “we’re crying like this and they’re not even the main characters.”

“need to sue the writers for emotional damages.” you groan, tense muscles slowly relaxing in your boyfriend’s embrace. “how many minutes left?”

“40 minutes.”

“i can’t even open my eyes anymore. sorry, babe. my head-”

it’s almost as if it’s been dunked underwater. the throbbing pain spreads numbing pressure from your temples to the back of your head.

“i told you we can finish it tomorrow. it’s fine.”

jungkook briefly leaves your side. the television screen turns black after he pulls out the plug. he throws away the crumpled tissue papers, and then he places your glasses on the safety of the nightstand.

“how cute… don’t fall asleep on me yet.” he fondly coos at your half-asleep figure. “you’re dehydrated. drink some water first.”

a straw pokes your lips. with your eyes shut closed, you hold onto his wrist to steady the tumbler as you take a long sip. by the time you let go, the water has reached the line indicating that there’s only three quarters of it left.

you softly fall back on your pillow with a ‘thump’, turning your back on him to face his empty side of the bed. he also drinks his share of the water before filling in the blank beside you.

he hums in acknowledgement when you pull at his arm to make it your personal pillow, leaving his own glasses on the nightstand as well before facing you.

you give him a small hazy smile, threading your fingers through his soft and luscious hair. “love your pretty and healthy hair.”

“i love you.” he whispers like a confession as he strokes the back of your head. “close your eyes now.”

“i love you, too.” with a peaceful sigh, you nuzzle your face against his chest. “jungkook?”

“hmmm?”

“were you happy today?”

a lump grows in his throat, bigger than the one he felt when he was browsing through engagement rings online. emerald cut, cushion cut, round cut. sapphire, ruby, diamond. size 4, 4.5, 5, 5.5, 6, 6.5… he was hanging on the thin line that separated excitement and anxiety. the two-hour train ride passed by like a radio song he didn’t pay attention to. but you don’t need to know about that. not right now.

he swallows it down, embracing you tighter. “i still am… happy. if i delete those scenes from my memory.”

“me too.” you mumble before succumbing to the void of darkness beneath your heavy eyelids.

—

between the alcohol and the coffee that he simultaneously drank, it looks like the latter won the upper hand. more than twenty minutes later, jungkook is still wide awake, overcome by his clamorous thoughts. the conversations he had with his friends echo in his mind, and he paces back and forth between your shared past and future. the future… there is no future if there is no you.

he closes his eyes, instructing himself to focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest instead of the things he cannot control.

he kisses the top of your head. “i love you so much.”

however, he won’t be able to sleep peacefully until he learns what happens next. he needs the closure because he would truly despise having a bad dream about them. after all, they didn’t show maidservant kim dying. there is a glowing firefly of hope he’s been enchanted to follow into the abyss of the night.

with careful movements, he wears his glasses and his wireless earbuds. he holds his phone using the arm you’re lying on, while his hand under the blanket absentmindedly rubs your back, palm smoothly running up and down the expanse of your skin.

his jaw slacks open only three minutes after he picked up where you left off. jang uk, the male lead of the show, reveals to those grieving infront of the three empty coffins that their loved ones did not pass away.

the following scene unveils park jin, alive yet unconscious on a bed, and maidservant kim who is holding his ring-clad hand, weeping for the traumatic night the two of them suffered.

jungkook chuckles in great relief, blinking away the tears from his glassy eyes.

“fuck, they’re alive.”

—

“fuck, they’re alive!” you almost choke on the haejangguk, a hangover soup, that you started to heartily eat not even two minutes ago. “i almost died crying last night and it turns out that they lied to me?!”

jungkook chooses to feign ignorance. he innocently watches the screen with his wide doe eyes, bunny teeth biting at the rim of his glass of white milk.

“wow, i’m speechless.“ he squeaks out. “how did they even get rescued?”

—

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icallhimjoey · 9 months

Note

FINISH PART 5 NOWWWWWW ‼️‼️‼️

ALL RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT ‼️‼️‼️ Wordcount: 3.9K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

What the fuck were you doing?

You’d asked yourself this question about 43 times already, and each time, the answer changed.

He’d asked. And you had nothing better to do. He said he’d help. Would be rude to say no. Any excuse to hang out with him for a little bit, really. Especially now that you wouldn’t be able to see him at work anymore.

And you know what? Maybe there really was some magical way of getting your job back. Joe’d said he was going to talk to Martin and he had and then he’d sent an address. Told you to come over the next night.

So, you did.

You texted a picture of Joe’s flat and added, “this one?” and literal seconds later got a reply, telling you which doorbell to ring. Like a simple scroll up wouldn’t give you the same information.

As Joe buzzed you in and you stepped into the lift, you asked yourself again: what the fuck were you even doing?

You couldn’t have predicted what you walked in on. Not in a million years.

“Joe, what the... oh, my God...”

First of all, it was a little weird seeing Joe in a different place that wasn’t the bar. You had seen him in other places. Your own bed, for one. But still. It took a little getting used to.

Second of all, Joe lived in a fucking nice place. The type of place you would never be able to afford. Especially not now, with the loss of the job and all that.

And then thirdly, and what had you most shocked, his kitchen island looked like... it looked nothing short of an actual cocktail bar.

Bottles of liquor, all sorts, short fat ones and big tall ones, dark and clear, liquor bottles like the ones you used in the bar every day and then lots of others that you never touched. All of them full. Still sealed.

Amongst all of the bottles there were different types of glasses, a net of lemons, a net of limes, some large oranges, an actual blow torch, and not to forget, a full cocktail shaker set. All the equipment you needed to... well, to make cocktails.

“Welcome, welcome,” Joe said, walking around the island like he was stepping behind a bar and held his arms out wide. “Are you ready to get to work?”

You just stared at him. Stood in the middle of the doorway still, coat halfway down your arms, and you were more than a little confused. In shock too, maybe.

“So,” Joe clapped his hands together and was about to explain what you were looking at.

You had an inkling, though, and interrupted him.

“Shut the fuck up, this must’ve cost a fortune?” your eyes were about to pop from your skull. “An actual fortune– did you... please tell me you, like, I don’t know, you know someone who’s been able to bring this over and that you get to take it back later?”

He couldn’t have actually gone and bought all of this. Could he?

“Ah,” Joe let his held breath escape him as he bashfully smiled, looked at what was laid out in front of him for a second and their scrunched up his nose and waved it off. “Yea, ‘course I can. The unopened ones, at least.”

So, yea, he bought them.

From a store.

Great.

“Joe...”

“So,” Joe made big eyes at you, raised his eyebrows, and clapped his hands together again, shutting you right up as he went on to explain. “I talked to Martin, like I said I would, and he just... well, he just said that it’s a little difficult to have a slow learner on staff in a busy time of year, you know?”

You scoffed a little, couldn’t help the humourless smirk. Slow learner was... well that was one way of describing you.

“And, so look!” he gestured an arm across the island. Across all the bottles and the bar equipment.

“I... I’m looking,”

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Like this was going to work.

Like practicing making drinks would convince Martin enough to rehire you.

It wouldn’t. You knew it wouldn’t.

But, you took off your coat fully anyway, draped it across one of the stools on the opposite end of the island and walked around to join Joe where he was stood.

“Here’s the menu,” Joe said, picking up an actual menu from Hush-Hush.

“Did– did you steal this?”

“And here’s the Christmas menu,” Joe ignored you and just placed the stolen Christmas menu over the stolen regular menu in your hands.

You looked at it a second, thoughts going. You flicked your eyes up to scan across the bottles, then back down at the menu. Did he really... did he get every single thing you needed to be able to make every single drink from both these menus?

“Let’s start with the regular menu though,” Joe removed the Christmas menu from your still frozen hands and then moved an arm across to grab a martini glass. “And why don’t we begin with a dirty martini?”

Oh, this motherfucker.

“Hey– I know how to make one of those,” you took the bait immediately and turned your head to frown at him. He was stood... close. Gave you a mischievous little smirk that got you into all this trouble in the first place.

“I know you do,” Joe said, voice a low baritone that made you remember that you liked Joe a lot, and that you were in his flat and he was all close, and being sweet, and nice, and if you just leant a little closer you could kiss him.

It made you remember that last night when you’d gotten home you thought you’d never get to pretend to go and clean the surface of the bar again just to be closer to him, and now here you were, in his flat, and he was so close, and then he softly said, “I just really fancy one.”

Fuck off.

That made your breath go all wobbly.

Shake it off. Come on. You weren't this easy, were you?

“Well,” you started and had to clear your throat before continuing and placed fingers on the base of the cocktail glass Joe’d placed in front of you. You slid it over to him and finished, “You can make it yourself.”

It broke the tension and made Joe laugh as you started rolling up your sleeves.

Time to get to business, then.

Joe found his way around his island and sat down on one of his breakfast bar stools with his laptop opened in front of him.

And so it began.

Joe googled recipes. Googled how to step by step instructions, found video tutorials, and verbally coached you through making each drink, one step at a time.

Joe taste tested, just little sips, because he couldn’t let his mind get cloudy he said. But his mind got cloudy anyway. And fast too.

You were in his flat.

Mixing drinks. Mixing mai tais, cosmopolitans, old fashioneds, white russians, margaritas, mojitos and manhattans. Right there, in his kitchen.

When was he going to tell you that before you started working there, Joe didn’t go to Hush-Hush that often?

When was he going to tell you that sometimes he walked in and saw you weren’t on shift, he’d leave again?

When was he going to tell you that he doubled his tip on nights when you made mistakes that visibly annoyed Martin?

Would he ever tell you that he liked leaving rings on the bar just so you’d stop by him extra often to wipe it clean?

Probably never.

But maybe he would. Maybe he could get you your job back, and then later he could tell you.

Not now. He didn’t want to ruin what he was looking at.

You were in his kitchen, getting progressively dirtier as you spilled drinks and wiped sticky hands into your hair.

He loved it.

And Joe just got to look.

Pretended he was looking because he had to see what you were doing.

Had to check if you were making mistakes or not. So he could instruct.

It was just that... your face wasn’t what needed checking, was it?

Remember how he said you were lucky you were cute? Well... Joe was sort of lucky you were cute, he thought.

Joe watched you mix drink after drink, watched you turn his kitchen into a whole mess, watched as you tried to clean as you went, but instead clumsily knocked things onto the floor, only creating more mess as you went along.

After a while, after taste testing over half the regular menu, Joe grinned to himself and said, “It’s like I’m actually at The Hush.”

Because this was exactly what Martin would always do.

You grinned to yourself as you finished a vanilla chai tea white russian, one that Joe was already reaching out for, but, that looked so fucking good, you decided to go for a sip yourself.

“Oh, maybe not,” Joe huffed. “I usually get given drinks that no one else has taken a sip from already.”

You didn’t even care about Joe’s comment.

That really was fucking good.

“Holy shit,” you went for another sip, and got a loud, “Hey!” from Joe, whose reaching arm turned into two grabby hands. You easily let him take it from you and said, “That’s maybe the best drink I’ve ever mixed.”

Joe raised the glass to his lips and smelled it first. Then he held eye-contact as he took a small sip.

That small sip turned into a big... a bigger sip. A gulp. He was... oh, he was downing it. Drank the full thing in one go. Kept his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

And...

It was a little unfair that Joe looked sexier holding a drink. Like, he physically looked a lot more attractive when he had a glass pressed to his lips. When he made eye-contact with you as he drank. Especially when it was a drink you’d made. You didn’t know how that worked, it just was what it was, you know?

“Hmm,” Joe said, lips smacking as he put the glass down, now finally looking away. “I don’t know... good, sure. The best? Maybe not.”

You knew what Joe was hinting at, and when you saw him chance a glance at a martini glass, you rolled your eyes.

“If you want a martini, go for it, make your own, no one’s stopping you.”

Joe tried his luck with a sad puppy eye look thrown your way, and he so very nearly got you.

But he didn’t.

There were more drinks to be made. More cocktails to fuck up and fuck up again and then fuck up once more until you got them just right.

The mess in Joe’s kitchen grew.

And Joe got drunker with every taste-testing-sip.

But he was having fun, and so were you. Especially when Joe found a video of someone explaining how to do basic bar tricks and he convinced you to try and learn some, because how wild would it be to impress Martin with some insane bar tricks upon your return?

It had the two of you stood in front of his laptop, swinging glasses, twirling the shaker, throwing ice, and at one point, you were holding onto a bottle whilst trying to follow the steps on screen.

You giggled as you somehow tangled up your arms in the process of trying to get it right.

“No, look, he swings it– you’ve got to hold it like this,” Joe explained, like he was the expert here, and grabbed a bottle for himself to demonstrate. “And then you swing, under the elbow, all around, and then, into the gla–” Joe’s reflexes worked fast as he nearly dropped the bottle, nearly let it slip from his grip, both hands fumbling and catching it just in time, “Ahem, glass.”

“Wow, a true professional,” you sarcastically said, feigned impression that made Joe laugh.

“I promise it’s easy,”

“Hmm, yea, slow learner here, remember?”

“No, look, come here, you’ve got to...” Joe used the excuse of showing you, of helping you master a bottle flip into a pour, to pull you close. To pull you right into him, your back to his chest, his arms around you to manoeuvre yours into place.

With his head right next to yours, Joe spoke softly and kept you there until you got it.

Well, that was the plan.

But then you almost smacked the bottle into his face over your shoulder and he sort of had to abruptly move back to save himself from a black eye.

It had you both in stitches, and you loved the sound of Joe’s laugh.

You were having fun.

You were in Joe’s flat and he got you all this liquor to practice making drinks until you nailed them and you wondered when you were going to tell him that Martin didn’t just fire you because you were a slow learner.

When were you going to tell him that a guest claiming her phone had gotten stolen from her coat pocket made Martin look at the CCTV footage? That Martin had seen what had lead to you leaving the bar the way that you had that night?

It wasn’t just the mess you left, the key you hadn’t left in the letterbox, the loud music you left playing, or even the kissing behind the bar...

It was all of it added up.

All the standing in the way.

All the spilled drinks.

All the kind questions from guests, asking if if was just them or if their drink tasted funny and could it maybe be remade?

It all actively worked against you. And sure, you were cute. But it reached a point where cute wasn’t enough anymore.

Dropping a gorgeous limited edition expensive bottle of Dos Artes tequila had sort of made Martin see red for a second, and that had been it, then.

Martin had pulled you aside and had just listed reason after reason after reason of why keeping you on staff would be a bad idea. A mistake. He mentioned kissing guests behind the bar and you were mortified, went beetroot red, because you had no idea he knew.

Martin knew.

Joe, however, didn’t know. He didn’t know Martin knew.

And Martin hadn’t told him he knew.

Slow learner, Martin had said. You were just a slow learner.

Correct.

You were.

But you were also a cheap slag who had gone and fucked the one true regular of the bar instead of doing her job, weren’t you?

You probably weren’t going to tell Joe.

Or maybe you would. After finishing the Christmas menu, maybe.

But then you saw how Joe’s hands found his lower back, how he pushed his stomach out as he stretched a little, and you gathered that sitting on a barstool all night wasn’t doing his back any favours.

It was getting a little late.

“Why don’t you go and sit down on the sofa, and I will... I’ll just do the last couple of drinks, bring them over and get out of your hair, all right?”

Joe tried to protest, said if you thought he wanted you out of his flat that you were wrong, but you asked if his lower back thought so too, and soon after, Joe gave in and let himself drop onto his sofa on the other side of the open floor plan living space. From where you were stood, you could see the back of his head peek out over the sofa, and Joe tried sitting sideways for a second. Tried leaning into the back of his sofa with his side, but it really did feel nicer to let his back properly sink into the pillows, so he did.

He ended up turning the TV on and watched a little of a celebrity panel show before you came over and handed him a drink.

Joe took a sip, smiled with half-lidded tired eyes and said he loved it.

Made you blush as you took it back to the kitchen.

The same thing happened twice more, and every time you noticed how Joe was growing more and more tired. Was trying harder and harder to keep his eyes open still. Was inching towards sleep.

You watched his head slowly disappear into the sofa and couldn’t help but smile.

Joe was fucking adorable.

And Joe was the fucking best thing that came out of this job you had had for a few months.

And now you had his number and his address and he had yours.

But he was falling asleep. Had enough alcohol in his blood to just let sleep take him, pretty girl in his kitchen or not. You smiled to yourself and couldn’t get rid of it when you started tidying Joe’s kitchen as quietly as you could.

It took a little while. But only because you also decided to make him a dirty martini that you left on the coffee table in front of him.

With the kitchen somewhat tidy and somewhat clean, you grabbed your coat, stood behind the sofa where you carefully took the TV’s remote from Joe’s hands and turned the TV off for him. Couldn’t help bending over and pressing a soft kiss onto the top of his head, into his hair.

You didn’t need your job back.

You’d find a different job.

Plenty of places were looking. It was a busy time of year. Nearly Christmas.

You’d find a different place with a different boss and different things to drop. A different place with a different menu and different regulars that sat at the bar.

It felt kind of bittersweet, this acceptance of this being it as you switched off Joe’s lights and left his flat with butterflies in your stomach.

Sure, alcohol too. But butterflies, mostly.

A shame.

It would probably be a while before you’d see him again.

The next day, Martin called you.

Asked for you to come in for a chat.

You’d smiled to yourself and told him that it was extremely kind of him, that he was a good boss, but if he was going to offer you the job back, you’d decline. You thanked him, told him you’d treasure the experience of working at Hush-Hush for the rest of your life, but he’d been right letting you go. Should’ve let you go much sooner, probably.

Martin seemed confused, but didn’t ask further questions.

You told him to tell Joe thanks from you and said goodbye.

You thought maybe Joe would text you.

You thought maybe he’d even show up at your door, all bewildered, because what the fuck were you doing declining a chat with Martin after you spent an entire evening mixing drinks in his kitchen?

But no texts were received and no doorbells were rung.

Just as well.

It was Christmas and you were starting a new job and you had to put your best foot forward. This wasn’t the time to think of Joe. You’d think of him later, on those weird days between Christmas and New Years, where the whole world forgot what day it even was for a little while.

But Joe didn’t get it.

Martin had put down the phone and had looked at him and then said you didn’t want to meet. Didn’t want to come over. That you thanked Martin and also Joe and that you didn’t want the job back.

Joe thought maybe you’d text him.

Or that maybe you’d show up at his flat to explain.

But then he received no texts and no one showed up at his flat.

Should he text?

No.

It was Christmas.

There were other things to focus on. Like family. Gifts and food and family members he only really ever saw once a year around this time.

After an afternoon of opening gifts, Joe almost felt guilty for his wandering mind. People kept having to repeat themselves because Joe wouldn’t hear them the first time, his mind totally elsewhere.

With you, mostly.

You were probably also with your family, doing similar things.

Were you also thinking of him the whole time?

God.

Should he just text?

Casually wish you a merry Christmas?

Could he do that?

He could, right?

After that night?

After waking up to a lukewarm otherwise perfect dirty martini on his coffee table? One that he threw back before even thinking of breakfast, hair of the dog as his excuse.

Why didn’t you want your job back?

Was it him?

Had he done something wrong?

He couldn’t fucking shake it.

Couldn’t shake it when his mother told him to hurry because they were already running late, they’d miss their reservation if there were any more delays.

Couldn’t shake it when the host of the busy restaurant seated him and his whole family at a long table in the back, beautifully set for the sixteen of them.

Couldn’t shake it when they all got settled and a loud smashing of porcelain plates was heard from the kitchen, deserving a reaction from most tables in the restaurant.

And he grinned.

Reminded him of you.

Fuck it.

He was just going to text you.

Why not?

It was Christmas and he really did hope you were having a merry one.

Joe had his eyes on his phone when a waitress walked up to his family’s table, ready to explain the menu and take their drink orders.

“Good evening everyone, merry Chri–” your breath hitched in your throat when you saw who you were looking at.

Nearly made you cough, which caught his attention.

Joe looked up from his phone and couldn’t fucking believe it.

There you were.

His vision tunneled and his hearing went, because you looked absolutely beautiful, and he was just texting you, had just typed 'merry Christmas' and, there you were, saying the actual words, and God, what were the fucking odds?

You stared at each other a moment and you were unable to stop the corners of your mouth from curling upwards.

“Hi...” Joe mouthed, looking at you like there was no one else in the room, because for a moment, to him, there really wasn’t.

“Merry Christmas,” you finished, gathering yourself together as your eyes scanned his whole table.

It zoned Joe back into reality, and he listened as you explained the menu to his whole family. Listened as you answered a question his stepdad asked you. Sat back and watched you laugh at a stupid joke he made. Saw how you pulled a notepad from a pocket, clicked a pen and asked, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

You caught how Joe stifled a chuckle. Saw him shake his head like he couldn’t actually believe it. Watched as he raised his eyebrows and grinned, eyes pulling away from the menu to look directly into yours.

Say it, you thought.

Fucking say it.

“I’ll um...” Joe pretended to hesitate. Took a moment to show you his stupid schoolboy smirk.

You realised you’d already started missing it.

Good thing he was here.

“I’ll have a dirty martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #mistaken not stirred

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