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nohoney · 3 years

Text

the best way to get over someone (is to get under someone else)

note: Advice from my roommate when it came to my break up (but not taken too seriously of course lol)

warnings: 18+, drugging, dubcon, minor choking

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Everything felt terrible at first, you had regrets showing up to a party at the insistence of your friends, still getting over a recent heartbreak from just a mere fifteen days ago. All you wanted to do was be sad for just a little while longer but instead you’re forced out of your comfy pajamas into something a little more sexy and annoying heels to walk in. You were disgusted at people trying to talk to you, shrugging off flirty touches from interested suitors, and overall you were being a vibe killer. How could you feel bad about it when you were dragged against your will?

Drinks were passed your way to try to loosen you up, clear spirits mixed with some fruity juice and a slice of fruit to chew on, but they only seemed to get you more down. Instead your mind was swimming and your speech slurred when you asked if you could have something to eat because the alcohol hit you fast since you hadn’t eaten beforehand. You got drunk quickly, leaning against anything and anyone to prop yourself up and you were sad and drunk now.

Shit, I feel like shit.

You think that as you kneel in front of a toilet and purge your poor stomach empty, someone holding your hair back and another rubbing circles on your back to soothe you.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.”

“‘M not fucking fine.” You snap. “I just puked my guts out.”

“Ya got room for more now.” They say as they hand you a glass of water.

Fucking assholes.

You deny shots of whatever liquors and cups of mixed cocktails, snacking on the poor selection of food provided for your sensitive tummy. The party has three different bottles of cognac but no food? It puts you in a bad mood and you withdraw even further into yourself. You want to go home, eat something substantial, and be depressed while you masturbated yourself to sleep, one of the few ways to get you to rest since you got dumped aside from crying or staying up so late exhaustion makes you sleep. It goes one of two ways when you touch yourself, you either feel good and it’s so relieving that you sleep peacefully or it’s so mechanical as you touch your clit and push one of your toys inside you; either you’re actually enjoying yourself or it’s just a means to an end.

There’s no in between.

You feel halfway sober when someone convinces you, can’t remember who, to have just one last shot. “Last one, chill out for a lil longer and we’ll drop you back home okay?”

Fine, last one.

You take that last shot of cognac—disgusting— and chase it with a swish of cola. So now all you have to do is wait for your friends to take you home, leaning against one of the taller ones and she lets you rest your head against her shoulder. Normally you don’t mind such a little gesture like that, it’s nice of them to do so, but after half an hour she starts petting your head and for some reason it just feels... amazing. You’ve had friends per your head before and give you massages but this one just felt even better than all the rest. The music suddenly seems louder and when you actually listen to it, the bass vibrates your whole body and you think that music never sounded so good before.

“How do you feel?” A question asked with an expectant smile, like they know something is about to happen.

Good... I feel good.

“Do you wanna go home still?”

“Ah... I think I wanna stay a lil longer.” You tell them, snuggling into your friend’s body and they all cheer like they just had a huge victory. You smile along with them and accept another drink in your hand, surprised that you’re actually feeling good. You can barely remember how depressed you were a few hours ago and now you’re enjoying yourself. Even when you sit down, doing something as idle as running your own hand down your arm is so pleasurable.

It’s a hazed up pleasure that you’ve never felt before in your entire life, this euphoria, this happiness, this closeness you feel with not just your friends but strangers as well at this party that you don’t even know who it’s for. You wander away sometimes only to be pulled back, stick close to your friend group because you’re unable to see the predators in your blissed out state of mind. You’re just a defenseless doe and if you’re not careful, you’ll be the next kill.

“Where did you even get that stuff?”

“Dabi came through, she needed this! She’s been moping too much.”

“Of course she has! She just got out of a relationship, that’s normal!”

There’s arguing amongst your friends as you lean against a wall with a red cup that’s almost empty of the liquor that was once in it, looking absently around the crowd inside the home. ‘She’s fine, let her do her thing.’ versus ‘I can’t believe you did that!’ that captures your attention. It’s almost lazy how you look back at them and ask, “Did what?”

“Nothing baby, just keep chilling alright?”

“... Okay.”

You’re being fussed over, honestly the most affection you’ve gotten from anyone since being dumped, and it boosts your mood a little. You hadn’t even realized still that your euphoria is not from genuinely having a good time but instead that one of your friends swirled powder from inside a little pill and laced your drink with it.

“The come down! Have you thought of what might happen during the come down?”

“She’s fine! She needs this!”

Arguing amongst your friends, now they’re the ones killing your mood and you slowly move away from them as you set your cup down on a table. You idly drag your hands across the shoulders of people you pass by, not bothering to look back but wandering without a destination in mind. Few people try to drag you to them, wanna keep you company and tell you how pretty you are and if you wanna go somewhere else. No, no I don’t want to you say and flit off to you don’t know where.

You end up in front of a bedroom, wanting to lie down somewhere briefly and walk into it, barely noticing the other occupant who stands by the window with the screen placed on the floor, blowing cigarette smoke out the window. You crawl into the bed after kicking off your shoes, snuggling into the pillows and sighing in content, making yourself comfortable. You haven’t been this happy in a while, thinking your friends were right to take you out tonight and that you should be grateful they thought of you.

“Looks like you’re feeling a lot better.”

Your eyes snap open, finally registering the occupant in the room and you slowly sit up.

“Oh no, don’t get up on my account. You look rather comfy, the tab hitting you good?” The stranger waves his hand dismissively while the other takes a drag of the cigarette, easily blowing smoke out the window and keeping his eyes trained on you.

“Tab? I don’t know what you’re talking about?” you ask in confusion, propping yourself up against the bed and using the pillow you were laying on to act as a cushion. You wonder what the stranger in the room talks about, you were laced with something? You’d never really tried or experimented before so this was all new to you. Though when you start to think about the euphoria crept up on you and suddenly everything felt good and nice, you had to reconsider that maybe you weren’t just drunk after all. “F-Fuck... someone drugged me?”

The stranger smiles at you as he taps the ash off the tip of his cigarette, his lip piercing just catching in the light a little as he leans back rather comfortably. He’s a pretty man, a pretty handsome face with eyes like an ocean but something devious glints beneath the surface. You think idly that you’d like to comb your hand through his white as snow hair but the texture from where you sit looks a bit dry. Maybe it’s toon soon since your break up to start looking at anyone but your companion in the room catches your eye. “Not just someone, one of your little friends thought you needed a little pick me up.”

God, of course you weren’t just drunk you should have known!

You should feel anger, you should, but it’s hard to gather up the energy to be angry. In fact, you’re more distracted by the soft material of the comforter you’re sitting on, fingers scrunching into the blanket as you tilt your head in curiosity towards the stranger in the room. And it goes completely over your head how this stranger knows in the first place this piece of information. “I feel like I should be mad but I’m not.”

“Well good, no reason for your mood to be spoiled pretty girl.” he takes another drag once more, the cigarette burnt almost to the butt. “Would hate for that tablet to go to waste.”

“I... I guess.” you say with a shrug of your shoulders and pulling your knees to your chest. You do feel better right now and did manage to have a good time even if it was through an artificial means of doing so.

The stranger grins at you and you wonder if its the tab you unknowingly ingested but your heart flutters that such a handsome smile was directed at you. “Come on now, don’t sound so hesitant. Your friend didn’t get that tab for cheap so you better enjoy it.”

But I don’t even know what I took.

The cigarette butt is thrown out the window and the window screen is put in its proper place. The stranger makes sure its nice and secure before setting his gaze back on you and making his way over to sit on the bed with you. The bed dips with his added weight and you wonder what this handsome stranger’s body looks like underneath the dark hoodie he wears. The clinking of chains that hang from his belt also get your attention, never really attracted to this particular style up until now. “You talk like you’ve been keeping an eye on me this entire night...”

“How could I not when I see such a sad pretty girl moping at a party?” the stranger reaches one hand forward, the tips of his fingers just skimming over your calves and down to your ankle. You don’t know what it is about the action that’s so intimate but you bite your bottom lip as he rubs his thumb tenderly over your achilles heel. “What’s got you so down pretty girl? No wait, don’t tell me... judging from what I’ve seen, you got to have gotten out of a relationship not too long ago.”

Not wrong.

“Hm... he dumped you? No, you dumped him. ”

The crinkle in your brows gives him the answer he needs.

“Ah so you were the one who dropped him. Lemme guess, you just wanted a man to get his shit together, didn’t want to wait hand and foot for him anymore, just wanted a drop of love when you noticed that he started pulling away.”

Yes, yes, yes.

“Ah sweetie, if you were the one who dumped his ass then why so sad? Shouldn’t you be happy that you’re not gonna be catering to some hapless dude that was probably gonna drag you down even further the longer you stayed with him? It’s a time to celebrate.”

You should have been annoyed at this guy because sober you wouldn’t have really tolerated his choice of wording. Instead you were still distracted by the gentle touches of his thumb on your heel still. “I’m allowed to be sad even if I ended things, I still cared about the relationship until the end.” you explain as he gives you a smirk that once again has you feeling just a little bit flustered. “Aren’t I?”

“You are and you know what the best way of getting over someone is?” he asks this question without waiting for your answer. His hand grips your ankles and you’re pulled towards the stranger with your ass hanging off the bed and your dress scrunched up at your waist from the action, your heart stopping as turquoise blue eyes look directly down at you. “It’s to get underneath someone else.”

Oh fuck, are you even ready for a rebound? It hasn’t even been that long since the break up even though time had felt entirely stretched out since then.

“I bet all you’ve done is cry, stay in and sleep too much, listen to sad songs, function on the bare minimum just to get by right?” he asks you but he knows that he’s right what he says to you, as if he’d been watching you the second you became single. “It’s okay to grieve but tonight if you’re gonna cry, it’s going to be for entirely different reasons.”

Fingers rub your pussy through the fabric of your panties, just a simple black cheeky that’s dampening right at the crotch. It feels good, better than usual that you let out a tiny moan and your hips roll up in just the smallest fraction to feel just a little bit more. Of course the only person you’d been having sex with was your ex for the past two years and the thought didn’t occur to you having to tell any new person you wanted to fuck what your likes and dislikes were in the bedroom. But what is there to correct when this random man is touching you so good?

“N-Name? What’s your name?” you manage to ask.

“Touya.” he answers you, reciprocating the question in turn. “This may make me sound like a creep but fuck, I’ve been thinking about railing you ever since I saw you walk in here lookin’ all sad. Wanted to approach you myself but I saw how you kept on shutting down the other losers at this party.”

This handsome guy, Touya, was afraid of getting rejected by you? Maybe he’s just trying to flatter you but it does boost your ego just a bit. “Maybe I wouldn’t have turned you down if-if you came up to me.” you try to sound cool but stutter just a bit, breathing becoming heavier and your legs opening just a tad wider.

Touya chuckles as he slips a finger underneath you panties and pushes it carefully into your pussy, licks his lips as he watches you arch your back off the bed before deflating. “Well it’s a moot point now seeing as you’re here with me now, yeah?” Another finger goes inside. “What do you say baby? Let’s have fun, let me help you tonight like how that little tablet helped you feel good. I swear I’ll make you feel good.”

You’re drunk and you’re on something, you don’t know what but whatever it is helps enhance everything. It took away your pain and heartache, it’s in your veins and you think that maybe you just might be in love with whatever was given to you. You barely even notice how you cup one breast in your hand, massaging it the way you like it and pinching your nipple through the fabric of your dress. Oh right, you forgot that didn’t bother wearing a bra tonight but you’re grateful you went without it now. The high is temporary, your inebriated state is temporary, every part of you is singing with want for this stranger.

You’re not sober, you don’t really want this.

He’s leaning down, nips at the shell of your ear and a little teasing lick, makes your body shudder underneath him and you reverse your train of thought.

A smart decision is not about to be made but you don’t care right now.

“Fuck me, I wanna feel good!” you mewl, a breathy moan exiting your lips as Touya’s fingers press into that spongy spot inside you that has you going cross eyed. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

“Alright alright little girl, you already had me at the first one.” Touya chuckles as he pulls his fingers out of you and sucks your juices off his pointer finger and holds out his middle finger for you to taste yourself. It’s so damn lewd how your tongue teases around his finger, bob your head up and down briefly and Touya practically groans as his finger easily slips down your throat almost to the knuckle, your throat lewdly convulsing and a little gagging noise emits from you. “Fucking shit, you make me want to fuck your throat first.”

It’s tempting, very tempting, but you pull his finger out of your mouth and shake your head. You pull Touya down by the collar of the hoodie, lips just barely brushing against his. “No, fuck my pussy. Need it now!”

“You are a greedy bitch, I like that.” Touya laughs as he pulls your panties off and tosses them somewhere on the bed. His belt buckle clinks slightly as he undoes it, the sound of a zipper being dragged down and a mumbled ‘okay’ from between Touya’s lips as he jerks his cock briefly in his hand before leaning over you again. One hand braced on the bed and the other holds his cock but he doesn’t quite give it to you just yet. He slaps the head of it on your clit, enjoying how you yelp and glare weakly up at him.

“Fu-Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck!” you curse up to the ceiling as Touya plunges the length of his dick into you. It’s rather ineloquent how it happens but you’re not exactly looking to be fucked like a princess.

Make it nasty, make me a mess.

It’s rough, Touya fucks hard and fast into you as he holds your legs open for you, the bed shakes from the force of how his hips pound into you. If you’re being too loud as you cry out, he doesn’t say anything and just keeps his punishing pace. Sex on whatever the fuck it is you’re on, it’s so fucking good, feels so much better than the last time you got fucked that you think again you’re grateful for whatever you got laced with. You feel weirdly close with this stranger and it’s not just because he’s making a mess of your insides.

Oh who are you kidding, you only feel close to him because he’s making you a wreck on his cock. But he was right earlier about your ex, you had drained yourself dry for someone that couldn’t even give back a small scrap of affection. It was time for you to be selfish and maybe Touya’s right that what you need to get over your ex was to get under someone, and he’s doing that job for you right now.

“Need a nasty little rebound to help ya move on, yeah?” Touya grunts as he quickly sheds off his hoodie and throws it down on the bed, his shirt following as well. “Now you get to be as slutty as you want to be, you like the sound of that? One night stands can fuckin’ amazing, you get to just smash and be on your merry little way. No fucking expectations of seeing the other person again.”

Sober you would never agree to that but you agree with jerky nods of your head and ask Touya, “Use me like a fucktoy please?”

“Gladly.”

Once again he was right, you do cry but in pure pleasure. You can feel your voice going hoarse, reach up and grasp Touya by his triceps, dragging your nails down.

“Scratch my back you fucking cunt, make it hurt.” Touya commands you as he leans down closer to you. Your arms loop comfortably around his body and you fulfill his command, dragging your nails deliberately slow and you sob as he fucks you even harder. He likes the pain, commands you to do it again and you just barely catch how his voice shakes from his own pleasure.

The fucking is intense and your eyes can’t stop rolling to the back of your head, your arms falling limply to the side and you think Touya’s fucking you to heaven. But he won’t led you ascend just yet, sharply smacking your cheek and holding your face in his large hand. “No no no baby, no passing out on me. I wanna see you cum all over yourself and this dick.”

“I wanna cum... wanna cum please...” you whimper breathlessly, slowly dragging your hand to hold his wrist, directing it to hold your throat instead. “Choke me and make me cum.”

The pads of his fingers press down on the sides of your neck and you choke up, exactly how you wanted it. Sex with a complete stranger was something exhilarating that you didn’t think you’d ever partake in, always wanting to wait at least a few dates in before you let yourself get into someone else’s bed. Your doped up head romanticizes this moment, that later on you’ll look back and probably leave you wanting more sex. There’s not a single sober vein in your body at the moment.

Will sex even be the same after whatever drug you ingested metabolizes in your system?

It’s a question that you can ponder later, it’s practically fucked out of your mind as you get railed by Touya. You’re babbling about his cock and how good it feels in your cunt, that you’re cumming so much and he can finish wherever he pleases, use you however he pleases.

Your hand blindly reaches out to the side and pulls the hoodie into your arms, hugging it close to your chest. It smells like cigarettes and sandalwood, an interesting combination but you inhale it nonetheless. And you clutch it hard, your whole body shaking as Touya gives you a few more sloppy thrusts before going balls deep, the pulsing of his cock pushing you over the edge and you cum hard one last time. And that last time literally sends you to heaven, your vision going black but you try to hang on.

Touya pulls out, you can hear him telling you something about your shoes but you’re conscious is struggling to comprehend what’s happening.

An opening of a door and a call of your name.

“Thank god, we’ve been looking for you!”

Your body is being propped up but you can barely register anything.

Touya fucked my brains out.

“Touya? Who’s that?”

You’re leaning against someone as your feet drag along the floor, rough concrete a little unpleasant against your bare feet. Apparently your heels were nowhere to be found but you were found holding a hoodie and refused to let it go. You’re settled into a car, resting your head in someone’s lap as they stroke your hair. “I ha’ fun guys... losta fun...”

“(Name), where were you?”

“Told you... with Touya.”

“There wasn’t anyone at that party by that name.” your friend tells you.

Oh...

━━━━✧

If this is what it means to come down, you decide that you hate it.

Break up depression on top of coming down depression, no fucking thank you.

You sit on the couch, back in your comfy pajamas and having called out of work and feigning sick in order to recover from the night before. The tv drones on with some commercial playing in between the tv shows and you wonder if it should be worth spending the few extra bucks to get an ad-free membership on your streaming service.

Sighing out into the space of your living room, you listlessly watch the commercials and wait for the stream to continue until you hear a ringtone that you don’t recognize. Your phone is right next to you, the screen blank, and you wonder where it could be coming from. Your eyes drift to the hoodie that you accidentally brought back with you and realize the ringing is coming from the pocket. Fishing it out, you hold up the screen to read the name and slide the screen to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Fuckin’ hell, who’s this? How do you have my phone?” the voice on the other line snaps at you and causes you to frown; you are not in the mood to deal with that kind of shit.

“Your phone was in this hoodie I brought home, calm down.” you sigh as you pick it up and remember your one night stand. “Who the hell is this?”

“You say your name first.” the stranger on the other line is cautious in the way he asks his question. But when you state your name, he gives out a knowing ‘ah’ before turning all flirtatious. “Well aren’t you a naughty girl jacking my phone like that? You wanted to have another reason to see me?”

Ah it’s Touya.

You can’t really remember if he had left his jacket with you on purpose or not but you suppose the right thing to do would be to return both of his belongings. Clearly he had just forgotten his phone in the hoodie and was trying to play it smooth but you can’t say that it didn’t work on you. You sit up a little straighter and pull the hoodie onto your lap, idly tracing the pattern of the logo on the front of it and offer for Touya to come by your place to pick it up to which he agrees.

Even though you’re exhausted from the night before and you’re depressed from the come down, there’s a surprising spring in your step as you wash up and put on a decent pair of pants and shirt. At first you think of yourself as ridiculous for getting decently presentable for a guy you had a one night stand with when just the day before you could barely pour cereal into your own bowl to make sure that you ate because you were still sad over your ex. And yet you stare at the door in anticipation and hope that you look decent for Touya.

Stupid... why should I act this way over the first guy I slept with since the break up?

A knock on the door has you giddy and you force down a smile as you hold open the door.

Touya stands with your heels dangling from the straps in his hands and coyly asks, “Trade you these pretty shoes for my hoodie back?”

Looks like he wanted a reason to see you again too.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi smut #bnha x reader #bnha #tw drugs #tw dubcon

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

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The brothers with alcohol + when they're drunk

[what I believe the brothers would be like when drunk and their relationship with alcohol]

Side note, I'm not much of a drinker and only going off general knowledge I have - I've never been drunk before but this idea is keeping me awake, I just want to sleep in peace

My inspiration for some of these

Lucifer:

A social drinker and as a stress reliever

It's very aware of how much he's drinking and keeps himself in check

Refuses to drink anything that'll actually get him drunk in public

Wine is his go to for social events

It does nothing for him

If you wanna get him drunk it'll have to be either:

Whisky or brandy

He's a vulnerable drunk

Will cry

This man is repressing alot and it really shows when he's drunk

Mammon:

He can handle alcohol extremely well

Seeing as him and asmo go to parties quite alot he's use to throwing back shots

Has done a jeg-stand

For a fun time and the possibility of getting tipsy he'll have gin

To get him drunk he'll need to have margaritas

Think he's loud and impulsive already? Well get ready - it's tripled

He will take on any challenge, sing as loud as he can and will try to make stupid bets

But when prompted he will rant about his issues

Levithan:

He's very familiar with drinking

[as seen here, an empty bottle and singular glass]

Has a mini fridge tucked away in his room and has alcohol stashed away in it

From wines to Rum

He normally celebrates Character birthdays or any anniversarys of his favourite series with a long night of drinking

His favourite to drink is a fruity cocktail

Will drink those massive fish bowl ones without any hesitation

He doesn't really need a specific drink to get him drunk

But when he's drunk he's a mess

Super loud and quick to anger

Has tried to fight a lamp because it was 'glowing at him funny'

Satan:

Rarely drinks

Finds alcohol disgusting no matter how much he tries to add fruit or juice to it

Has mixed vodka into his tea

It was a surprise to Mammon and levi when they saw that Satan didn't even seem to notice when they put vodka in his latest brew

Only drinks to be social, you'll see him do two glasses and that's it

BUT, if it is a situation where he gets drunk

B E W A R E

He is the avatar of wrath for a reason

A very angry drunk

Get him drunk at the risk of the people's safety, you've been warned

Has been seen crying in an alleyway and petting a cat

Asmodeus:

As said in mammons; they party and are use to drinking

All his drinks are aesthetically pleasing

He does it mostly for the pictures

LOVES anything fruity or extravagant

He doesn't really have any specific drink but he keeps his drinking range limited anyway

He doesn't like ruining his public image nor wants to be seen as ugly

So if you're planning to get him drunk it'll have to be a 1 to 1 situation

When drunk he's very flirty

But thats a given

Will say the first thing that pops into his head without any hesitation

Can be pretty rude

Is known for spewing out all the gossip he knows

Please don't tell him any secrets when drunk - they won't remain a secret

Beezlebub:

It's difficult to get him drunk

He doesn't drink anyway but if he's in charge of looking after any of the party animals

He will drink some but keep it limited

Seeing as he eats alot between drinks and even sips itself it takes AGES for him to even get tipsy

Doesn't have a preference or any specific drink

If it tastes bad he'll be less likely to drink it so fruity Alcohol is best

Discovered candy floss alcohol and it became an instant fav

If you somehow get him drunk he's very touchy

His hands will be on your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, head at any given second

Will cuddle you all night

Less timid with affection and let's himself be selfish

Can tend to forget his strength though

Do be careful

Belphegor:

It is impossible to get this man drunk

He gets extremely tired when tipsy

So far hasn't ever gotten past being tipsy

He doesn't care if it tastes bitter or smells awful

He just wants to drink

Likes to mix his alcohols together in hopes it'll make something good

Rarely drinks but will just casually grab a bottle if he wants to

If by a miracle he gets drunk he will become clingy

He's a sleepy drunk so nothing much really changes for him

Would most likely get into a bar fight and sleep half way

Very much attracted to anything flashy or colourful, if you need a drunk belphie to give you space

Just sit him Infront of a lava lamp or a TV

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

“You make me call your name

Now I gotta have one more taste

One shot of your whiskey kisses all on my lips

I keep coming right back.”

- Whiskey Kisses, Mic Lowry

A/N: hello :D this one shot was intended to just be a blurb of bartender!harry teaching the mc how do body shots (thank you to the lovely anons that suggested the prompt) but then it spiraled and now here we are with a full-on piece! I hadn’t written true, start-to-finish smut in a while and figured it was time for some filth 😌 hope you enjoy!

masterlist : ask : bartender!harry tag

word count: 10.5k

content: friends with benefits, flirty pest!harry, teasing, fingering, and oral baybeeee

preview:

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

He places down the lime, expertly halving it down the center and then quartering it in another swift cut, leaving the fruit in four even wedges. He wipes the knife off with a dish rag, twisting around to chuck it in the dirty dish tub behind him. He picks up one of the slices between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up proudly for emphasis. “There’s the disgusting college frat party version of body shots, and then there’s the proper adult version.”

Harry’s nose crinkles in distaste as an afterthought, his next sentence clarifying. “We’re doing the latter because personally, I think it’s gross to drink anything out of someone’s belly button.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

The phrase was said with nonchalant humourous intentions, but it makes the pit of her stomach tighten nonetheless. She can’t keep it at bay, not when she’s heard those same two words come from him under very different contexts— not when he’s panted them into her mouth in such a desperate, needy way, eager tongue lulling across the inside of her top lip as his long fingers had marked bruises along her jaw, hips roughly meeting her sore inner thighs.

It’s ingrained in her head and she can never disconnect it and she has a feeling Harry recognizes that, which gives him all the more reason to bring up such matters as often as possible just to fuck with her.

And he truly is well aware of the effect it has. He damn well knows the way it disorients her when he offhandedly uses pet names and remarks that have made appearances during their sexual encounters; he knows the way it revs her and it amuses him more than anything to see her fidget and fumble to keep composure. He adores having that influence over her and he thrives on wielding it to his advantage.

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Harry reaches across the bar, hovering the lime wedge over her face. He taps it gently against the center of her lips, the acidic juice rubbing off and making her skin tingle. “Open up for me, yeah?”

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

or Harry teaches Y/N how to do body shots but lime juice isn’t the only thing that ends up dripping down his chin.

///

“I can’t believe you’ve never done body shots before.”

“It’s just never come up!”

Harry snorts in mild, disbelieving amusement, the still atmosphere of the room staining with the sound of his multiple rings clacking softly against tempered glass.

He takes a firm grip around the neck of a Casamigos tequila bottle, dismounting it from its signature spot on the center shelf of the liquor wall, turning back around to face Y/N. He sets the alcohol container down on the waxed wooden surface of his work station, absentmindedly rummaging through one of the clean equipment tubs stored beneath it.

She can’t help the way her lips twitch fondly at the obvious cinch between his thick brows, his mouth slightly down-turned in a pensive pout as he fishes for something out of sight.

Harry comes up fruitful, a black metal pour spout glitzing dully under the muted lights of the closed bar. He unscrews the cap from the tequila jug, carefully fitting the accessory into the neck and turning it tight for good measure. He taps his fingers triumphantly against the crystal clear glass, rings once again filling the empty space with chimes.

Harry’s gaze locks with Y/N’s, brows shrugging in a playfully expectant manner, one corner of his soft lips flicking upwards with sly mischief. “Get up on the counter.”

She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow propped casually on the tabletop to support the weight. She snorts dismissively, shaking her head a tad. “I don’t think so.”

He points at Y/N scoldingly with the tip of the spout, both brows jerking upwards in a deadpan expression. “You’re absolutely fucked in the head if you thought you were gonna confess to a bartender that you’ve never done body shots and leave without doing some. Now hop off it and get up on the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, slumping her shoulders with begrudged annoyance. “No.”

Harry stares at her for a second, reading her body language carefully— the pads of her fingers tapping jestingly against her cheekbone, the tiny crooked grin curling her delicate lips, the way her eyes are half-lidded in amusement, and the taunting rebellious sheen glinting across the glossy surface of her irises. She’s not refusing due to comfortability reasons; she’s refusing in order to purposefully get on his nerves.

He’s not surprised— pushing his buttons is one of her favorite hobbies, usually because the flirtatious teasing and joking defiance spurs into another one of her favorite pastimes: Harry thrusting between her legs.

It’s obvious now that she’s being a pest to get a rise out of him and he’s more than willing to give it to her. Too willing, if he knows what’s good for him, but he can’t ever seem to resist her— can’t resist how much he loves the way she tugs at his strings so effortlessly.

Harry releases his grasp around the long neck of the liquor bottle, setting his palms flat against the smooth red oak of the pub table. He teeters forward on his hands, ducking down until his line of vision is level with Y/N’s, so close to her face their noses unintentionally brush. The distance separating them is nearly nonexistent, so slim that she’s enveloped in a sphere of his intoxicatingly delicious scent as it wafts up from his flexing neck, tingling her nostrils with notes of ocean salt, cedar wood, and vague whiffs of the fresh linen candle that is continuously alight in his flat.

He shackles her into place with unwavering eye contact, the darkened emerald hue around his pupils gleaming challengingly as his fluffy, shiny curls frame his strong jaw so beautifully it’s likely considered sinful. The white tee he’s sporting strains against his broad chest, the blocky, baby blue Enjoy health! Eat Your Honey! text stretching across his pectoral muscles, the doodle of a smiling bumble bee tempting her with the message’s double-meaning. She hates that she can see his nipples printing through the sheer cotton fabric.

The warm breath of Harry’s words scorches her barely trembling lips, his lashes dusting the tops of his high cheekbones with a sultry, domineering air. His accented voice is thick and dark as the syrup he mixes into his cocktails, low in sound but heavy in impact.

“Get on your fucking back or I’ll stretch you out over the counter myself.”

Y/N decides it's in her best interest to oblige.

She currently lays flat across the sleek counter, her hands folded across her tummy, digits tapping nervously at her abdomen.

Harry is off to the side, retrieving a few other ingredients that seem to be necessary for what they’re about to engage in. She sees him shuffling about through her peripheral vision, glancing up at her sparsely and she can just make out the way his lips are cracked into a shit-eating grin at how easily he’d managed to set her in place.

She turns her head to face him fully, cheek pressing along the cold surface below her and causing her spine to involuntarily shiver. Her toes curl in her checkered sneakers as she anxiously waits for him to speak up, watching as he pulls out a black paring knife from below the edge of his bartending station.

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

She glowers at him from the side, her grumble strained and therefore lacking any real mass. “Shut up.”

He coos with exaggerated fondness, attempting to stifle an arrogant smirk. “I’m just happy to be your first time, s’all.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“And yet you always end up in my bed. Funny how that works, innit?”

The tendon along Y/N’s jaw visibly tenses and Harry snickers to himself as he fits the fruit slice between her teeth, the peel facing inwards so that the part he actually needs is accessible. He then slides a bit further down the counter until he’s standing right beside her resting hips.

He goes to lift her olive green knitted sweater, pausing for a second right at the hem. His fingers twitch excitedly as he glances up at her for permission, craving the rush that comes with absorbing her body heat. “Can I?”

Y/N jerks her chin once in a nod, teeth biting down harder onto the lime wedge when she feels his cold digits brush along her sensitive belly.

Harry pushes her jumper upwards, bunching it up just under her bust. He can see how anxious she is from the way her lower stomach jolts.

His hand grabs something off to the edge of her scope and when it comes into focus, she sees its a metal salt shaker. He suspends it a few centimeters over her body, tapping out a line of salt that starts just above her navel and ends halfway up her stomach. She does her best not to move; the last thing she wants to do is make a mess over Harry’s freshly swept floorboards.

He sets down the container, snatching a tiny transparent red glass from one of the decorative drying racks, flipping it rightside up onto the table and laxly pouring out a tequila shot.

“This is the right way to do it. Pay attention ‘cause I’m only teaching you once.” His light-hearted tone eases some of the gnawing in her bones.

Harry bends down, the warm air that puffs from his mouth hitting the bare skin above her belly button and Y/N suddenly anticipates the feeling of his hot lips running across her tummy.

Her entire body begins to quake, overwhelmed by the flurry of sensations. The trembling is hard enough that Harry notices, eyes flicking up to meet her’s, brows furrowed in a teasing chastising fashion. “I can’t do this unless you stay still, Road Runner.”

Y/N has a difficult time talking over the citrus slice in her mouth, her words muffled but understandable enough. “Sorry— don’t know why I’m shaking but...but I can't stop.”

One of Harry’s hands squeezes her outer thigh reassuringly. “I’ve had my lips on you in way more intimate places than this. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

Y/N sputters into a round of nervous giggles. “Fuck off.”

Harry gives her a disciplinary look full of faux sternness, trying to defuse the tension with some comedic relief. “Stop shaking or I’ll have to hold you down.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to hold me down, then.” She quips back, kinking her eyebrows with attitude.

What Harry does next she really wasn’t expecting at all.

She’d figured he would pin her hips down against the counter to keep her still, but instead Harry coasts a palm up the center of her barely-clothed chest, fingers wrapping securely around her throat.

She nearly inhales the lime wedge.

The pads of his digits squeeze her jugular with just enough strength to jar her system into reboot, her whole body going deadly still in his dominant grasp. He presses the back of her neck down against the cold wood, coaxing her back to straighten out properly so she doesn’t start quivering again. The whole situation is utterly erotic and Harry knows it. The feeling of her pretty throat straining against his palm is all too familiar— they’d been in the same position not even three nights ago, though it had been on the floor of his bedroom and they'd both been wearing way less clothes.

Harry was confident this would get her in line easily. The shock factor of such a bold, brazen move all out of the blue was bound to distract her enough to rid anything else from her mind, including the anxiety. The image it sketched was just a plus: Y/N staring at him all doe-eyed over the tops of her dewy cheeks, lashes fluttering with that needy innocent aura that makes the underside of his balls ache. It’s the same look she gets when she’s spread out across his sheets, clawing at the sides of his torso and pulling him deeper inside, begging for him to go harder.

She had instinctively choked out a teeny whimper the second she felt his hand enclosing around her throat and he’s ashamed to admit his knees had buckled. It had been such a sweet, melodic sound and the fact that he had drawn it out of her so easily was threatening to pop a stiffy into his flared corduroy pants. Not to mention how good the contrast of his lilac polished nails looks against her supple skin, which seems to be glowing in the dim, bourbon-tinted lighting.

Harry licks over his mouth slowly, bottom teeth tugging at his upper lip. When he speaks, it’s soft and deep, stirring the gravel in his chest. “Better?”

Y/N boggles her head in a jerky nod, eyes flickering down to where her stomach is permanently clenched due to the heavy atmosphere of the room.

“Alright, then.”

He leans down once again, glimpsing at her one last time before he makes contact with the plush mound of her stomach.

Harry’s tongue feels warm and textured as it slides upwards over the salt trail, the wet sensation sending her nerves into a numbed frenzy, a certain prickling washing across her scalp and pinching at the shells of her ears.

Y/N drinks up the picture before her like a tall glass of fine wine, her mind absorbing every detail with crisp awareness.

Harry’s messy auburn ringlets fall across his face due to his angle, the silky locks kissing across his prominent jaw and structured cheekbones. His lashes drop over his eyes in a euphoric stupor, faint pulses of white hot energy traveling across Y/N’s flesh and fizzing every cell of his. The salt burns the damp skin of his mouth, grating against his tongue as he works his way up as slowly as possible, refusing to surrender the sweet taste of the delicate skin that undercuts the bitterness of the ingredient.

Y/N’s hand acts of its own accord, fingers prying away from clutching onto the edge of the counter and trading it for Harry’s roots. Her grip cards into the hair along the nape of his neck, following the curve of his skull right behind his small ear.

The area is one of many sensitive spots she’s become accustomed to toying with since they had developed their unlabeled relationship; the vaguely sensual manner of this entire exchange has her unintentionally falling back on muscle memory.

Harry’s actions pause for an elongated second, the broad expanse of his back visibly contracting under the fabric hugging his torso. His tongue leaves her body— much to her pining disapproval— as a small needy hiss escapes his swollen lips, accompanied by a breathy weak sigh through his nose. “Fuck…”

It’s a sound she’d had the pleasure of hearing before, usually when he was getting close and would try to hold off for the sake of dragging everything out. It’s desperate, it tremors, and it packs a punch like nothing else; it means he’s getting into his head about how she’s making him feel and there’s nothing hotter than watching him space out from how much bliss he’s drawing from her— from this. From something as simple as touching his mouth to her skin.

Her thighs tighten together, the area between them growing uncomfortably warm. She wills her hold to ease up and nearly blacks out when he cradles his head into her palm, silently pleading with her to not completely pull away.

Y/N croaks out an apology for her sudden harsh behavior, bottom lip wobbling as his eyes list upwards to meet her own and she notices his pupils are blown way out of proportion. “S-Sorry. Force of habit.”

His head gives a choppy shake within her frail grip, teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. His voice comes out as an airy, intense whisper, almost as if what he’s about to utter next is something so private not even their shadows should be allowed to hear it.

“Don’t be sorry, minx. Was praying you would. You know how much I love it when you’re rough with me.”

With that last comment leaving her embarrassingly breathless, Harry sticks his tongue back out and laps up at the last couple of granules of salt left on her stomach, planting a sloppy, delicate kiss along the crest of her belly button for good measure.

The way she gasps lightly strokes at his ego, a coy simper bracing against her tense tummy. Y/N holds in her next exhale to avoid giving him the satisfaction of gloating, trying her best to diffuse the bristling at the ends of her fingers and across her slightly damp cheeks.

Harry proceeds to sponge his warm, cushiony lips to the different pressure points he, too, has grown extremely familiar with, talking in between each stop on his trek.

He travels up the extent of her belly and across the center of her chest over her jumper, his words heavy and sticky. “Y’know I can tell when you’re holding out on me, right?”

He pools wet, tender pecks into the groove of her throat and onto the curve of her strained neck, finally reaching her face and gently bumping his nose against her chin, a stipple of his mouth chasing the gesture. He murmurs his thoughts in a low tone, brushing the pads of his fingers across her jaw and trailing underneath in such a sweet, admiring manner. He wanders upwards and halts right where her bottom lip curves the deepest, gluing one more light, lingering kiss to her cupid’s bow as the grip around her throat tightens just a hair. “And you know I’m more than capable of coaxing it out of you.”

The hand that is wound into his velvet curls falls limply down the side of his tanned neck, coasting across the strong build of his shoulder and down to rest flat against his slightly heaving chest, nestled between both of his pecs, the joints of her digits vibrating with his gradually swelling heartbeat.

Harry’s nose grazes over hers as he takes the lime slice from between her teeth, juice spurting and streaming out the edges of her mouth as a result. She instinctively licks across her itching skin, just barely skimming Harry’s lips as he pulls away with the fruit wedge in his mouth. She can feel the way his pulse jumps against his ribs just before her hand slips away due to the distance; it leaves her wondering if he had felt her own thundering against the palm he’d had around her jugular.

Harry grasps the halve between his index finger and thumb, fervently draining it as quickly as possible to get the tough part out of the way, tossing it into an unseen bin. His nose scrunches up at the sour, pungent taste, the buttoned tip twitching as one of his canopy green eyes squeezes shut, head ruffling in a sharp shake as if to regain his bearings. She can feel her stinging lips jerk with the beginnings of a fond smile at the way his loosely structured ringlets bounce to his motions.

Harry talks through a full mouth, hand fumbling for the sleekness of the shot glass. “Fucking hell, that’s the worst of it.”

He finds it when his knuckles accidentally knock across the rim, digits wrapping around the small cup securely and jetting it up towards his face while blindly aiming for the general vicinity of his mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitterness coating the underside of his tongue. He pounds it back without a hitch, Adam’s Apple bobbing grandly as the liquor sears its way down the back of his throat, accompanied by its accessory ingredients. Harry slams the stout glass down onto the counter, mouth pursing and both eyes screwing shut as the curdling aftertaste fades into a dull throb that froths the pit of his stomach with a recognizable warmth.

“You would think you’d be able to handle your alcohol better, being a bartender and all.”

Harry’s eyes fly open at the coy remark that tinges the chilled air of the bar, vision zeroing in on its source as she lays across the wooden table with her sweater smoothed back into place, her intertwined hands resting calmly along the dip of her navel, and her enticing lips curled into a mildly condescending smirk.

His brows jump up daringly at Y/N’s dig as he sets down the crystalline cup, quietly clearing his throat to make sure his voice doesn’t crack. He lewdly circles the tip of his forefinger around the hem of the glass once, twice, and then a third time before finally speaking up. “Someone’s being a fucking brat tonight, hm?”

Y/N’s eyebrows mimic Harry’s, her expression slathered in fake cluelessness, though the corners of her mouth betray her with smug glee. “Who, me? I would never, I’m an absolute dream!”

He pushes the glass as far away as possible— he wants to avoid it falling victim to what their conversation is insinuating. “A filthy wet one, at that.”

Y/N’s knuckles whiten as her grip intensifies, her lashes blinking sluggishly. “Is that so?”

Harry leans down, the hairs along his skin standing up as his forearms make contact with the cold surface of the table. He slinks his head to the side, continuing to dance around the subject they both know this talk is unmistakably leading towards. “Very much so.”

“So was that your plan all along, then? To get your mouth on me just to be a pest about it afterwards?”

He bites into the pad of his thumb to muffle a chuckle, irises twinkling like sea glass, framed by his perfectly sculpted, jokingly furrowed brows. His words are unapologetically blunt, biceps rippling against the flimsy sleeves of his tee as he shifts his weight, pastel yellow Vans squeaking against the polished oak ground. “It truly wasn’t my intention, love. But then you let out that pretty little moan and yanked at my hair so hard I saw stars and, well...quite frankly, I can’t let you get away with that, now can I?”

Y/N swallows heavily, drinking up a deep inhale to replace the oxygen Harry has robbed from her— the way he’s knowingly twisting the rusty golden H ring around his middle finger is doing her in.

Her voice lodges in her lungs, the result being a docile, needy tone and the aching between her legs is too much for her to even attempt to mask it. “What do you want from me, then?”

Harry stops turning his ring, instead walking his first two digits over her hip, picking at the button on her jeans mockingly and scoffing in dark amusement when she squirms. “Beg me for it.”

The word slips past her lips all wispy and eager with no remorse or shame whatsoever. “Please.”

Harry pops the metal clasp of her jeans open, smiling deviously around the thumb between his teeth. “Again.”

Y/N puts more emotion into it, trying to convey how much she wants him so he’ll quit this annoying charade. “Please, Harry.”

He folds the flaps of her pants outwards, slowly tugging down the zipper and purring in pleasant surprise when he sees she’s sporting the pair of maroon lace panties he adores so much. “Please what?”

“Please—” She chokes up as she watches him flirt ominously with the tiny bow on the waistband of her painties. “Please touch me.”

Harry hooks his finger into the dainty material of the undies and pulls it back from her abdomen; the potential of the band snapping down onto her skin has her eyes watering. The pastel purple lacquer on his nail glints teasingly while a demand drips from his lips, thick and leisurely as his sight flickers sideways for a barely existent moment, interested in what lays below her undergarment. “Touch you how?”

Y/N’s self-control is wearing critically thin and it’s taking every fiber of her being not to pounce on him this instant. Instead, both of her hands snap around his wrist, the beaded bracelet he’s sporting stamping into her palm. She clings to him like a vine, guiding his fingers below her panties, lungs stuttering as his icey, chunky rings catch on the hood of her clit. Her voice is dry and uneven as she arches her hips just a tad against his cupped fingers. “Like this— touch me like this.”

Harry stays completely still for a few suspenseful heartbeats, staring at her with the colors around his pupils kaleidoscoping with different hues of muted sage and bright rosemary, the amber specks shimmering with silent power. Then, his hand begins to move, the pads of his digits lulling lazily against her core, bolts of bliss shooting up her spine.

Y/N breaks their cemented gazes, watching in a starved haze at the way his knuckles and jewelry tent the flimsy lace of her underwear as his large hand bobs between her parted thighs. She can feel how wet she is— can feel how it coats his skin and makes his touch glide over her with ease. She can see the way his forearm flexes with effort, bent on infusing pleasure into every crevice of her body until she’s left breathless and quaking. Veins carve their way under his smooth, inked skin, shifting and bulging beneath the intricate rose tattoo and creasing the portrait of the nude mermaid she so strangely fancies.

Harry removes the thumb of his free hand from between his teeth, bite marks indented into the soft tissue from how hard he was working on keeping himself together. He caringly tucks a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, his chaste demeanor heavily contrasting the vulgar scene unfolding a foot away.

This juxtaposition of tenderness and eroticism is so typical of him when it comes to sex and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t live off it. The polarity between his gentle, soothing personality and the absolute filth of his sex habits constantly keeps her on her toes, excited to see what comes next and restless to take whatever he has to offer. There was never a boring moment with Harry and she never felt like her desires went unattended; he always gives her exactly what she craves— both the sweet and the sour.

It’s similar to the incredible drinks he’s so well-known for: an even ratio of top shelf ingredients kept at a perfect balance, mixed thoughtfully to provide a signature cocktail that keeps her coming back for more.

The tang was evident in the way Harry would bend her over the back of his couch, tainting dark bruises onto her hips as he would work himself inside her, gasping broken curses into the shell of her hot ear and grunting at her to continue pushing back against him. It’s in how he would decorate handprints across her ass whenever she’d slow down even the slightest, giving a relentless yank at her roots and scratching down the center of her spine until her back would arch obediently. The honey was in how he would then contradict his dominance by planting a gentle kiss to the back of her tense shoulder and to the nape of her sweaty neck, following the gesture with a tight, bashful mumble of, “God, please don’t fucking stop. You feel too fucking good for this to stop.”

The bite of the liquor was in how Harry was willing to drag her up the metal and glass staircase to his loft during the busy hours of a Saturday evening, shoving her flat across the expanse of his kitchen island and ripping his tee over his head. It’s in how he would stuff the shirt in her mouth to stifle the screams he was hell-bent on weaning out of her, all because he had a full pub just one floor below but he didn’t give a single fuck; he just had to feel her stretching, writhing, and pleading under him. The toothache of the syrup was present in how just before he’d stuff her to the brim, he’d dapple his lips to the tip of her heated nose in a quiet instance of reassurance, accompanied by a teeny boyish smile that would hold more warmth than all the rays of the sun.

The acidity of the lime was prominent in how Harry would tug her into his lap and slam her down against his thighs, hooded eyes electric with greedy satisfaction at watching her mewl and quiver with every deep stroke she’d take of his cock, the bottom of her tummy bulging from its girth and length. It’s in the manner in which he’d snake one arm taut around her love-bite tattooed waist, the hand of the other weighing its first two digits heavy on her tongue until she’d gag and whine. The agave nectar undercurrent in tequila was distinguishable in how after they had both dismounted their highs and she had collapsed into his chest, dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets, he would nurse her jaw with the palm of his hand, thumbing over her swollen bottom lip with dreamy affection clouding his dim green irises. He would kiss at the top of her matted hair, tracing her water-beaded hairline with the bridge of his nose and cooing out a compassionate, “Did so good for me, pet. You always do so good.”

Their relationship was sweet and it was sour and it was beyond anything she could’ve ever hoped for or expected. It was definitely beyond what Y/N had expected when she’d set foot in the bar all those weeks ago, tagging along with a friend simply to appease their insistent request, hiding herself in the booth farthest from the thick of the ruckus to make herself as invisible as possible. Bars weren’t necessarily her scene; she’d rather people-watch than throw herself into the middle of a throng of half-conscious, sweaty bodies. She hadn’t expected that the lanky, built, incredibly attractive bartender with an eclectic fashion sense would even notice her, let alone clamber up onto the bar and yell across the room, singling her out as the chosen candidate for the nightly round of complimentary shots.

She hadn’t expected they’d hit it off so well either, mostly because she had harbored a few traces of resentment towards him for forcing her out of the safety provided by her sequestered nook, and also because he had the most stupidly infuriating gorgeous smile she had ever seen— it was authentic, inviting, and it gave her an odd sense of soothing familiarity, which was unsettling considering he was a complete and total stranger. She hadn’t expected he would stir up jitters in her stomach, but after getting a spoonful of his personality, it seemed to be inevitable. He was sarcastic and giddy, full of inappropriate jokes and endless bundles of heart-fluttering giggles; when he engaged with her, he made her the epicenter of his world, which was so rare to find in people these days considering there was always somewhere to be or something else to do other than entertain some random person that was nothing more than a customer.

But no, he gave her his full and undivided attention, listening to every word that rambled out of her mouth as he propped himself onto the counter on his elbows, chin resting on his knuckles with a delicate, encouraging aura highlighting the edges of his rosy mouth. Harry kept up with the conversation without a catch and returned her energy and enthusiasm tenfold. He remembered small details of the stories she was sharing and actually laughed at all her jokes, despite the fact that half of them came out as a jumbled mess; the way his emerald eyes were sparkling under the starburst design lights hanging above-head was fucking with her ability to form coherent sentences.

Talking with him felt like stepping out into the sun on a canvas-worthy spring afternoon, the warmth of the heat waves running its fingertips along her bare arms and absorbing into her skin, making her bones ache in the best way imaginable. Making him smile felt like the shy caress of a faint draft, the wind smelling of honeysuckle as it wove its way between the ruffles of her clothing and skidded over the apples of her cheeks. Hearing his laughter was the equivalent of sitting in a field of grass, the ground warm under her touch, the blades silky between the creases of her fingers. It was buoyant, loud, and admiringly bold— it lacked the insecurity that tended to hold others back from fully enjoying themselves, scared of looking weird or making an unpleasant noise that might garner them disapproving looks. Harry laughed with his entire gut, a hand resting on his stomach as if to keep himself from bursting open, the ends of his eyes wrinkling and his two blocky front teeth showing. The tip of his nose would even twitch some, which was probably the most peculiar aspect of it all, yet it easily became her favorite mannerism of his.

She was taken by him from the get-go and it’s almost pathetic how fast he’d had her wrapped around his pinky.

Y/N hadn’t expected to feel like that around Harry and she had used the vodka shots as an excuse for her overdramatic thoughts, but there was a frayed wire in her mind that had continued to spark for the remainder of that night, wondering how it was possible to connect with someone so effortlessly and provoke such chemistry so soon.

However, what Y/N hadn’t expected in even the slightest was ending up perched on top of the sticky wooden counter after the bar had closed, her arms wrapped around Harry’s strong shoulders as his hips had rocked between her naked thighs. She’d caught his tiny gold hoop earring between her teeth while she poured cracked moans into the dip of his ear, his tongue stifling the burn of the bite marks he was scattering along the underside of her clenched jaw, the low rumble of his accented voice— dense from the liquor— urging the heels of her shoes harder into the backs of his thick thighs.

“Been wanting to taste your lips all fucking night.”

One night stands were few and rare for her before that blurry, alcohol-induced detour. They were risky, unpredictable, and a right plague to leave behind the following morning— an hour or so of fun just didn’t seem to be worth the probable cost. But with Harry, it was like she was sold on the idea before it had even been an offer. He’d had a mesmerizing pull about him that left her wanting to get to know him better in every context humanly available, whether it be physical or emotional. He had puppeted his pretty face and boyish charm without issue and she had been in over her head long before she’d even realized she was sinking.

What made it that much more appealing was that he wasn’t even trying— he was just being himself. The flirty yet non-overbearing, cheeky yet respectful persona he displayed wasn’t a display at all, it was just who he was and that innocent legitimacy is what propelled her to button their lips together the second he had made a move.

A hesitant bundle of pecks had turned into a deeper, hungrier round of kissing that had been speckled with half-suppressed whimpers. It had then morphed into Y/N clumsily crawling over the counter and toppling into his awaiting arms, her whole body buzzing as he had giggled into her mouth between heavy breaths and feverish whines.

The sloppy make out session had led to her fumbling with the leather belt around his slender hips as he had peeled her jeans down to her knees, his forehead falling against hers while he chewed his lower lip raw with impatience. It hadn’t been too long before he had moved her panties to the side with a tug of his index finger, her palm groping him shyly through his trousers and earning a soft, throaty, “Proper tease, aren’t you?” and then Harry was dipping inside her with a hiss streaming past the cracks of his gritted teeth. The drinks in their systems had acted as kerosine, setting every nerve alight as their bodies molded to one another’s quirks and customs, finding much-needed comfort in learning what made the other tick. She can’t recall how long it had lasted— she had been too lost in his company to care about the hands of the aged bar clock on the wall. When he had finally spilled inside her, it felt like forever and too soon all at once. Y/N had fallen apart right in his arms as the flat of his tongue tended to her racing pulse, blurbs of incoherent praise scraping across the roof of her mouth.

And now here they are, after what feels like decades later, on the very same tabletop that had christened their “no strings attached” relationship in the first place. And here Harry is, lovingly petting at her hair while his fingers work her towards utterly ruining her underwear, his intensely colored eyes reading every jolt of her features like the pages of an immersive novel. And here Y/N is, working her hips to match his rhythm, teeth cutting along the inside of her bottom lip as tight exhales falter past her nostrils.

She tilts her chin up, the back of her skull skidding against the counter, every dent and notch in the wood catching on her scalp and helping anchor her back down to reality. Her head halts when the blots of bronze in Harry’s irises come into view.

His defined features have softened into an expression of doting awe, sculpted brows relaxed with endeared curiosity as his usually prominent cheekbones take on a softer appearance, crimson lips slightly agape. He’s studying her closely, basking in how she responds to his actions and using her body language as a cue. He continues to nuzzle at the baby hairs along her damp forehead, eyes flitting across different points of her face, waiting for her to give him any sign as to what he should do next.

Y/N wills one of her hands to untie from around Harry’s lazily flicking wrist, trembling fingers climbing up to tether around the pearl necklace laying daintily within the dip of his collarbones. The beads are ice cold to the touch as she knots them around her knuckles, her sight sewn to his lips.

The infatuation she carries for them is sad, really. Y/N thinks he has the most beautiful pair she’s ever seen, the softest she’s ever tasted, and definitely the most skilled she’s ever felt. She could gawk at them forever if time allowed, following every ridge, curve, and peak, idolizing all the different shades of pink that are never quite the same.

But lips weren’t created for the purpose of just being seen— not when there’s so many better uses.

Y/N gives the necklace a signifying tug as a quiet, vulnerable mutter betrays her, her interest still plastered to his swollen mouth. “Kiss me.”

Harry swallows thickly, struggling to catch a breath under her hungry stare, ears flaring at how frantic her sentence had come out. The emotion seems to have worn off on his own voice.

“Say it again.”

The pearls pinch at the loose ringlets that tickle the back of his neck, straining against his skin as she beckons him forward more insistently. He poises himself a mere inch from her mouth, her shaky exhales fanning over his cupid’s bow and fuck, he loves the suspense of it all. Loves the dynamic they share of toying with each other until the tension is practically palpable.

The hollow of Y/N’s throat flexes as she grapples with her words. “Kiss me. Please.”

And when he does, coincidentally enough, sweet and sour is all her muddled brain registers.

Harry always tastes sweet. His lips have an inherently sugary quality to them, almost as if he’s dipped them in honey; it’s as addicting as any other part of him. His tongue is sour. It carries the remnants of the lime and tequila he’d just doused down, the flavor trickling through her taste buds and causing an aching throb along the back of her jaw.

Harry’s fingers shift down from her hairline, his thumb settling on her cheekbone as the other four splay across the side of her face. The kiss is gentle at first, yet teeming with need, and it gradually starts to swell into a more passionate tempo. He slots their mouths roughly, turning his head to delve deeper, noses bumping and eyelashes brushing.

Y/N’s so far gone that when Harry suddenly buries his middle finger inside her, she literally screams into his mouth.

“Fuck, Harry— oh my God!” Her hips thrash upwards into his palm as he sinks up to his amethyst lion head ring.

His wet, moany whisper streams directly into her chest. “Christ, you’re fucking soaked.”

Harry pumps the digit into her groggily, savoring the sensation of her squeezing around it as his thumb continues to stroke at the sensitive nub higher up. The soft sounds that drip from her bitten lips, the lusty fog over her glimmering eyes, and the way she’s guiding his hand nearly make him soil his pants.

In any other circumstance, he’d be too ashamed to admit it— to admit that some casual fingering has him squirming— but with Y/N, he won’t even attempt to defend himself. She has him whipped and it’s more than obvious; fighting it is useless. Whether that extends into emotional territory or not…That’s something he’s not prepared to untangle.

Instead, he just focuses on the moment— on what they have right now; on what she has him feeling presently, which is plenty. The confession airs itself without much effort.

“You look so good like that— gonna make me cum without even touching me.”

The remark makes a lightning rod zip down her spine. “Y-Yeah?”

Harry draws back from her mesmerizing mouth, worrying her bottom lip between his teeth and letting it snap back. “You have me making a fucking mess of myself, pet.”

Y/N yanks him closer than before, planting a peck to his chin and then suckling lightly at the crescent along his upper lip. Her voice struggles to keep steady. “Want another finger.”

“Another one?” He slowly pulls out from between her thighs, aligning his second middle finger accordingly, rings clacking together. His typical snark is ever-present in his scoff. “So demanding.”

He can feel Y/N grin smugly against him, her tone mimicking his from earlier. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

Harry rams her request inside, cooing with faux sympathy when she cracks a yelp.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He curls the two fingers upwards, hitting a familiar spongy spot that he knows will drive her mad.

“Thought this was what you wanted, yeah? For me to fuck you like this?”

His prediction materializes in the way she claws at the collar of his t-shirt, grabbing at anything she can get as her body starts rocking, riding his fingers. Harry grips her face in a flare of dominance, nudging at her lips with his own.

“Baby just wants me to make her feel good, right? Y’want me to make you cum so hard you can barely walk up the stairs to my flat?”

He’s plucking at a chord at the pit of her stomach, her thighs trembling in response and he furrows his brows into a cautionary expression that warns her not to clamp them shut. It takes every fiber of her being to keep her legs from clenching together.

Harry persists with his teasing, picking up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb relentlessly playing with her clit.

“That is where you’re gonna end up, isn’t it? Same as always— spread across my bed in one of my shirts with your panties hanging off my dresser and my fingerprints bruised across your hips.”

“Harry, I—” Y/N can’t even finish the thought, the words dissolving on her tongue as he bites at the flesh along the slope of her jaw, his own syllables charring her nerves.

“S’not like the underwear matters much, anyways. You won’t need it until around noon the next day, considering you usually spend the entire morning bouncing on my cock. I’m not complaining, though. It’s the highlight of my day, if I’m being honest. You just look so cute pulling at my boxers, half asleep with that needy little pout on your lips, not to mention how adorable it is to watch you crawl across the bed into my lap with your nipples peeking through the fabric of my tee.”

Her hand leaves his wrist and spreads over the back of his, fingers carding between the cracks. She shoves him further inside and his jaw goes slack in aroused shock. She’s so shameless about it all and it makes him twitch in his trousers.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. And, shit, I can’t stop thinking about the way my shirt just bunches around your thighs while you’re fucking yourself on me, thrusts deep and lazy as you beg me to play with your cunt while you use me to get yourself off. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, love? Using me to make yourself cum? Meanwhile I just sit back with my arms behind my head until you get close. Then you’re scratching across my shoulders and panting into my neck, telling me how bad you want me to fill you up because you like how warm I make you feel.”

Y/N’s balancing on the edge as Harry spins a miracle between her drenched thighs and she feels embarrassed for the puddle that’s likely spreading over the bar counter.

“Such a dirty fucking girl. Especially when you grab my hand and place it right here.” He ducks his head and kisses at the center of her throat for emphasis, a conceited hum thrumming deep in his chest when she whimpers. “That’s when you decide to get into the proper filth. Stuff like, ‘You’re so fucking big, H. Already have me sore.’ and ‘Want you dripping down my thighs.’ But there’s so much more than that, though. What’s that one word you fancy so much? Need you to jog my memory.”

He’s switched to using his whole palm to rub at her clit, pounding deeper until his icy, chunky rings continuously thunk wetly.

Y/N abides to Harry’s condescending question, gritting out the answer shyly. “Daddy.”

“Oh, that’s right. Daddy. How could I possibly forget when you always whine it into my mouth? ‘Harder, daddy, please.’ and ‘Want you to cum, daddy.’ and ‘I’m your good girl, daddy.’ And how about what you have me call you? Fuck, you just can’t seem to get enough of it. Your eyes always roll back when I tell you what a slut you can be. There’s that one phrase that you seemed to really enjoy the other day. When I said, ‘You’re such a darling little slut for me, aren’t you, baby?’ and you just melted.”

Y/N feels a familiar spark igniting at the pit of her abdomen, uncontrollably building. “Harry, I’m gonna—”

All his actions immediately stop, fingers going limp between her legs.

The sob she releases is anguished and irritated. “No, no, no— please don’t stop. M’close, H, please.”

Harry looks down at her over the crests of his brightly pigmented cheeks and she hadn’t noticed until now just how much this was impacting him, as well. She’d been so in her head she had failed so catch the way his whole body is trembling.

He speaks so low and delicately it’s hardly audible, but the meaning of it punctures right through her ribs and into her gut.

“Wanna feel you cum in my mouth.”

A few extended heartbeats tick by before his suggestion sinks into her brain and then she’s struggling to sit up onto her elbows, already in the process of swinging her legs off the edge of the pub table.

Harry’s drops to his knees with a hollow thump to the elegant wooden floor, large clumsy hands fiddling with the waist of her jeans, riding them down her clammy thighs. Y/N maneuvers herself into a somewhat upright position, sitting back on her palms, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bar counter for support. He finishes easing her out of the high-waisted denim bottoms, discarding them on the ground beside his calf.

Harry runs his warm touch up her goosebump-ridden legs, groping at her outer thighs and yanking her closer until she’s balancing on the cliff of the waxed surface. Y/N can’t stifle herself from swinging one arm out from behind her, blindly fisting at the curls along the crown of his head, shivering when he mewls weakly. He stipples his hot lips up her knee caps and along her inner thighs, spreading her open wider and wider as he trails upwards. His grip firms around her hips, holding her in place in preparation for the wriggling and twisting he knows she won’t be able to reign. Harry eyes her center with drunken desire, toying with the waistband of her racy lace undies, taking some time to just get a good look at how dark the fabric has become.

Y/N takes this opportunity to ogle at him herself, gnawing the inside of her left cheek raw at how incredible he looks on his knees. His lavender flared pants compliment the polish on his nails, the pastel yellow of his Vans peeking through as he lounges back against his heels. Amidst all the commotion, his white shirt has become half untucked from beneath his belt and the desperate messiness his image paints is nearly enough to finish her off. Especially as her sight wanders upwards, catching on the small silver hoop shining on his right ear and then leveling with his view, his eyes owlish and puppy-like as he leans forward all the way and presses a lingering kiss right over the wet patch of her panties.

His voice is spaced out and distant. “Been thinking about eating you out all day.”

Harry flutters pecks up to the elastic of her undergarment, taking it carefully between his teeth and tugging downwards. Y/N remains as still as possible as he coaxes the article off, one hand massaging at the back of her calf while the other stays secured to her hip.

Once the last bit of material is out of the way and she’s finally bare, Harry straightens himself into perfect posture, hoisting both of her legs over his solid shoulders in one swift motion. Her heels knock against his taut back muscles, digging in with anticipation as he bites bruises into the junction where her inner thigh meets her crotch.

Y/N tilts his head up a bit to get his attention, her tone bleeding. “Need your tongue. Please.”

He nods numbly in her grasp, wetting his lips slowly before answering in a hushed murmur. “Gonna give it to you, dove. Gonna make my girl feel so fucking good for me. Always do.”

And he truly does; Y/N never doubted that. From the first kitten lick he gives, she knows she isn’t going to last long.

His light strokes meld into deep, needy lapping, the flat of his tongue dragging against her clit in long trails, warm and silky. Every time he gets to the hood at the top, he gives a few quick flicks with the very tip, causing her to wring at his curls almost cruelly. He then proceeds to duck down until he’s at her entrance, flirting his tongue around the rim and dipping it inside as far as he can before the back of his throat begins to ache.

He keeps this rhythm going firmly, every now and then allowing himself to wander some, suckling at the outer lips of her heat and gifting the area sticky kisses that make her shudder.

Y/N’s head falls back between her shoulder blades, the weight straining the back of her neck but she’s too high off him to force her joints to comply. She can only muster enough energy to comb her fingers through his satin locks, scratching at his scalp in agreement as broken sounds of encouragement sting the back of her throat and drive his every move.

“You taste like heaven, baby. So fucking sweet, can never get enough of it. Could spend hours on my knees for you.”

Harry prods the bud of her clit with the tip of his button nose, puckering his lips around it and sucking feverishly, grinning into her cunt when her legs clasp harder around his neck. He talks over a full mouth, the vibrations pinballing up the knobs of her spine. “Liked that, didn’t you?”

She adamantly shakes her head yes.

He coats his palms along her outer thighs, squeezing teasingly and prying them open enough to get a better range. He then shakes his face, tongue expertly caressing every nook and cranny.

Y/N’s nails crunch against the wood that runs along the underside of the counter. “Yes, yes, yes— shit, thank you.”

Harry presses his lips together tightly, tugging at her folds for the heightened stimulation, preening at how the digits in his roots spasm. “More than happy to help, minx.”

She manages to crane her neck forward, chin pressing into her heaving upper chest as she stares down at him with so much lust her eyes water. He returns her starved gaze, the lower half of his face utterly drenched, cheeks glistening with her excitement as the corners of his darkened mouth prick his dimples into place. Every ragged breath and every watery moan is inflating his ego beyond reasonable.

“I’m so fucking close, Har.”

He pushes his tongue deeper, head bobbing with newfound purpose as his lashes flutter up at her temptingly. He looks borderline ethereal with the amber lights reflecting off his glossy, cocksure irises, arms flexing with the strength it takes to keep her tethered down, the inking on his tan skin jumping to life.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, hm? Want you dripping down my chin.”

This orgasm is definitely one of the best Harry has ever given her.

It boils over from the bottom of her tummy, a relieving glow surging through every vein and warming her from the inside out. It splinters her bones with unimaginable pleasure, her whole body caving forward as he eggs the climax to its full potential. He continues licking into her tirelessly, brows raised in amused glee as he watches her come undone at the seams, crying out his name as the waves of satisfaction roll out from the bottom of her feet to the very tips of her ears.

When Y/N finally regains her composure from the unrealistic surge, she nearly collapses right off the side of the bar table.

Harry intercepts what otherwise would have been a very unpleasant finish to the experience, mounting onto his feet and wrapping a strong arm around the dip of her back, keeping her upright and safe.

Her forehead plops against his, a dreamy giggle escaping past her marked-up lips as the last currents of gratification fade away. Harry’s own boyish chuckle tinges the electrified air around them, his free arm coming up to use his wrist as an impromptu cloth, wiping away the leftover wetness. It’s a simple gesture but it makes her belly throb.

He then cradles her face with both of his obscenely warm hands, spongeing his lips to the tip of her unfeeling nose in an endeared, affectionate manner, all the lust in his mood replaced by loving concern. “You alright? Wasn’t too much?”

She wobbles her head half-heartedly, mind still submerged in the aftershock. Her throat is so battered she can barely get out her words. “It was perfect— you’re always perfect.”

To her unexpecting entertainment, Harry’s cheeks and neck dye a dull shade of raspberry red. He follows the outline of her plump bottom lip with his thumbs, attitude bashful and sheepish. “You flatter me too much. My head’s not gonna fit through the front door.”

Y/N snorts playfully, kissing softly at the pad of his left thumb. “As if your head isn’t big enough already.”

“Heyyyyy!” He pouts childishly, bumping his brows to hers as a minute show of revenge. “S’not the way to treat the bloke that just tongue-fucked you into nearly passing out.”

His friend rolls her eyes at him grandly, pinching at his stomach jestingly. “Ever so humble.”

“Keep myself grounded, don’t I?” Harry pulls away from their embrace, ducking down to retrieve something from the floor. He comes up with her crumpled panties hanging off his index finger, pressing his lips together to keep from bursting into a round of immature giggles. “I believe these are yours.”

Y/N snags them, giving him a pointed, deadpan glare as she tentatively slips them up her naked legs, shimmying them over her hips.

A comical memory suddenly surfaces into the forefront of her thoughts.

“Y’know what’s funny? If I recall correctly, you said we weren’t gonna have sex on the bar anymore. Something about it being ‘unsanitary and unprofessional.’”

Harry freely splutters into the cheeky laugh he’d been trying to muffle, casually crossing his arms over his broad chest, tongue sweeping over the front of his top teeth coyly. One edge of his mouth flickers upwards into a shit-eating simper. “Well, this technically wasn’t sex.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N flattens her palms against the wooden counter, hopping off smoothly and sweeping her jeans up off the ground. She’s not sure what magic Harry used to get her pants off without removing her sneakers, but she knows she doesn’t possess it. She toes off her checkered trainers and begins easing her foot through one leg. “What was it, then? Meditating?”

Harry scowls humorously at her quip— it’s an inside joke that pertains to the code word he now uses for “masturbating.” It was courtesy of a drunken customer once asking him for advice on what to do when they couldn’t sleep and Harry had said meditating was a good way to unwind. Y/N had been visiting that night—as she did every weekend— and was sitting two seats down from the exchange when she had overheard the conversation, giving him a knowing smirk over the rim of her highball glass and shrugging her eyebrows slyly, her quiet mumble pouring a blush into his ears. “Yeah, sure. I’ve helped you meditate plenty through the phone.”

Harry leans his lower back against the edge of the pub counter, crossing his ankles and giving his wide shoulders a nonchalant shrug. “It was a little bit of touching and some innocent cunnilingus.”

Y/N scoffs sarcastically, shoving her other foot into the opposite pant leg and yanking it up over her bum, buttoning the article with finality and smoothing her sweater down. “‘Innocent cunnilingus.’ The irony of it all.”

Harry kicks Y/N’s Vans towards her with the flat side of his own. “What’s ironic is you mocking me as if you weren’t begging for it a few minutes ago.”

She wiggles her toes into the shoes wordlessly.

“S’what I thought.” Harry taunts.

Now that she’s fully dressed, Y/N slowly drifts closer to him, finding amusement in how his stance straightens in sudden interest. His forearms tighten a smidgen over his pecs, fingers tucking underneath his pits so she doesn’t see them tapping anxiously.

Y/N stops once her chest bumps against the shield he’s built before him, his neck visibly tensing. When she speaks, it’s suggestive and her undertone resembles velvet. “You know what’s the most ironic thing of all?”

Harry jumps when he feels Y/N’s hands wrinkling the fabric of his graphic t-shirt, a harsh tug untucking it fully from below his waistband. Her hands slip below the material, cold, pliant fingers tracing over the toned muscles of his stomach and massaging at the love handles along his torso. “That you went through all that trouble of showing me how to appropriately do body shots, but you don’t really know if I learned it.”

He starts picking up on her hints, his biceps contracting at the feathery sensation of her fingertips spelling out random letters across the wings of his butterfly tattoo. He cocks his head down to get a better look at her, chin pressing into the alcove between his defined collarbones. Her lips are so close he has to force himself to keep from chasing them.

Harry entertains the little game she’s dishing, voice low and heavy. “I guess that is pretty ironic.”

Y/N reaches over his hip for something behind him, her hand coming back with one of the leftover lime wedges nestled at its center. She glances up at him from beneath her thick lashes, luring him in with that hypnotic aura she always works to her advantage. The lime slice ends up between her inviting lips, the rine facing outwards in the same manner Harry had placed his.

Y/N then balances herself forward onto the tips of her toes, the pads of her digits digging into his chest ever so slightly for reinforcement. She stretches her neck until her face is level with his and goes in as if to kiss him, transferring the lime into his mouth, juice squirting out and fizzing over his itching skin.

“Get up on the counter.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles dirty fanfic #harry styles dirty imagine #bartender!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #smut #harry styles #1d fan fiction

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ddagent · 2 years

Note

Oooo can I get a John/Delenn meeting at a part drunk pls and thank you

You certainly can! Happy reading :)

17. meeting at a party whilst drunk au (John/Delenn)

SEND ME A SHIP (John/Delenn; Ed/Stede) AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

Taking a sip of his champagne, Captain John Sheridan smiled politely at the passing dignitaries circulating around Babylon 5′s Zen Garden. Across the cocktail party, Captain Edwards, Commander Sinclair’s replacement, laughed with one of the Joint-Chiefs. One of his golf buddies. Everyone knew how Captain Edwards had received one of Earthforce’s most lucrative postings. Not that John was particularly bitter he’d been overlooked – twice. He’d rather be out commanding the Agamemnon and making first contact with new races. Like the Deltarans, a small, agricultural world who grew a wide range of fruits and who had just signed on to Babylon 5.

Enjoying the citrus taste on his tongue after he took another sip of champagne, John let out a content sigh. Yep. Nowhere else I’d rather be.

“Oh!” A small object collided into his side. On instinct, John immediately steadied the woman who had knocked into him. His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her out of the orbit of the passing Drazi ambassador. She – and her half-empty glass – pressed into his chest. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

John looked down and realised he had unwittingly prevented the Minbari ambassador from twisting her ankle. Despite their positions – both historically and geographically – she seemed in no hurry to remove herself from his grasp. In fact, the Ambassador stared openly into his eyes and took another sip of the fruit punch provided from the party of the hour.

“You are Captain Sheridan.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Ambassador Delenn, isn’t it?” Like there was another half-human Minbari onboard.

However, she shook her head, dark curls tumbling over her slight shoulders. “No, I am Ambassador Delenn.” The Ambassador then hiccupped and let out a delighted bubble of laughter. Well, that’s three things I’ve never seen before. A Minbari hiccupping, laughing, and drunk on punch. “You are very attractive, Captain Sheridan.”

“Uh, well, thank you.” He lifted the glass that was digging into his sternum and took a quick sniff. No alcohol. Not surprising: he knew the effect it had on Minbari. But that still didn’t explain why the Minbari ambassador was acting as if she’d had one too many. “Why don’t we get you some water, Ambassador?”

His progress was halted by her hands on his face. Soft fingertips traced the line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. There was a patch just under his chin that he’d caught shaving and her touch hovered, soothing. “I would not even say you are attractive for a Human, Captain. You just are.”

“Well, you are...” John trailed off. He had eyes. He had two divorces. There was no reason – other than damn common sense – for him not to stare. His gaze became lost in hers and for a moment, John was caught up in wave of jealousy for Captain Edwards. To see such beauty everyday - John would give up the stars themselves.

“Captain. I, uh—”

Ah, hell. John knew that look. Sparing the Minbari ambassador the embarrassment – and Earth a diplomatic incident – John easily steered Delenn behind a bush and held her hair back as she experienced one of the downsides of being Human and drinking too much. John couldn’t help but smile as he stroked her back and offered murmured words of comfort. One day they’re shooting at you; the next, you’re helping them throw up behind a fruit tree. What a universe.

#prompts #delenn #john sheridan #delenn x john #babylon 5 #ship: john x delenn #logicalblueeyeshadow

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griff-us · 3 years

Text

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

#james bucky barnes #james barnes #reader insert #bucky/reader #bucky/you #james bucky barnes/reader #james bucky barnes/you #mcu fic #mcu reader insert #reblogs more than welcome #actually encouraged #thank

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Stagnant (Taywhora) - pureCAMP

A/N - I keep wanting to write some fun diamond chaney stuff but rn I’m going through some shit so I have created angsty taywhora. You’re so welcome <3

Love isn’t supposed to taste sour. Love isn’t supposed to go off, like opened milk left in the fridge too long. When love breaks down, it should be explosive and intense, because logically, scientifically, all that energy has to go somewhere. Atoms, molecules, chemicals, matter can be created but not destroyed and all of that. It’s physics. All of that love, that energy, has to be channelled somewhere, so it should be channelled into a bright flame, severing any bonds as the energy dispels.

It shouldn’t just… be like this. Like a tiny hole in a balloon, slowly and silently deflating rather than the sudden, heart-stopping pop. Like that moment where you take the bottle of milk from the fridge, take a whiff, and sort of wrinkle your nose. Because it’s vaguely unpleasant, enough to know it’s a little off.

Love should be more than that. If it’s not, was it ever really there?

A’Whora wonders if she should start writing a diary, confiding in a journal, whatever. It’s not something she’s ever considered before, not with Tayce. She tells Tayce everything, every last pet peeve and irritation or deeply analysed personal flaw. There are no secrets between them, it’s honest and open and A’Whora has never felt more understood than she does with Tayce. Tayce feels like someone who she finally fits with, the jigsaw piece that slots in perfectly. Tayce is perfect.

Tayce hasn’t changed, but they have. Something is different now. Maybe another piece fell out of place, and the picture is incomplete now. If that’s the case, then why does their relationship feel like it’s taking the brunt of the loss?

They argue. No one would bat an eyelid at that; flirty banter is entirely their thing, insults delivered with a single raised eyebrow, gasped responses with faux high intonations, specific looks. But these arguments, this bickering… The flirtation, if it was ever there, certainly isn’t now. Sometimes Tayce does things, and A’Whora feels like little twigs are being snapped in her chest. She feels like she’s sitting in the fields trying to listen to a teacher while someone next to her won’t stop tearing up the grass and tossing it around. She feels like someone is endlessly clearing their throat and she can’t tune out.

But it’s Tayce. How can it feel like that when it’s her? A’Whora loves Tayce. She knows it.

She thinks it.

The beginning of the end starts with Tia. Tayce knows all about A’Whora’s opinions on Tia, starting with how insufferably annoying she’d found her, then morphing into the guilt of she’s a perfectly nice and funny person and I’m so shit to her and I feel so bad that I judged her like that and acted like a bitch when there was nothing wrong with her and then, finally, to the friendly toleration. They get along fine just now, and while they never really choose to hang out one on one, it doesn’t feel like a loss or a dig for either of them. They’re friends, and it’s good.

The girls are all out for brunch. Or, they started at brunch, and then blinked and it was 7pm, and the cocktails they’d shared at lunch started to sound a lot like hey we’re already out, we may as well go out out and now they were out out, nestled into a pub with an empty pitcher and too many glasses on the table in front of them. A’Whora can barely rest her elbows on the sticky wood without knocking a glass or two over, but they’re packed in like sardines and putting her arms down means brushing up against Tayce.

They’re dating, but for some reason touching her casually like that feels wrong. Not dangerously wrong, glaringly wrong, or evoking some kind of deep sulphuric hatred that burns holes through her stomach. Just… off, like touching the unprotected relics in an old church. You can, but it feels a little like you shouldn’t, even though nothing will happen if you do.

She keeps her elbows on the table. The stickiness bothers her, but not as much as the looks that Tayce sends her way when their arms accidentally touch. What does that look mean? Why is it so irritating?

Tia pulls focus, thankfully, grinning like she’s never grinned before in her life and digging through her purse. Veronica has her arm looped around her waist, sitting close enough that Lawrence and Ellie have room to sit beside them. It’s a good thing Bimini and Asttina are small, because A’Whora and Tayce are nowhere near as snuggled up as those two.

When she finally stops digging, Tia presents a hand like she’s a princess expecting a kiss, and everybody’s eyes are drawn to the ring adorning her finger. If she’s honest, it only caught A’Whora’s eye because Tia’s choice in jewellery is usually much flashier and cheaper than that, but she reasons that obviously Veronica chose it, and then the reality of what’s happening kicks in. Tia and Veronica are engaged. They’re getting married. Everyone, A’Whora and Tayce included, excitedly congratulates them. She’s genuinely happy for them, but she’s not genuinely happy. It doesn’t make much sense.

Maybe it’s the cocktail buzz, but A’Whora feels funny. She registers two sensations at once, managing them by way of urgency. First, she mumbles something about needing the bathroom and click-clacks her heels up the stairs into the women’s, finding it mercifully empty, or close enough. She picks the first available stall and awkwardly crouches over the bowl, trying to gag, waiting for it so she can finally feel better.

She pukes twice; some of it gets on the wall, but only a small amount. She holds her breath as she fumbles in her bag for tissues, cleans it up as best as she can, and steadies herself. Too much fucking sugar and fruit in those cocktails, she thinks. They taste amazing and feel terrible. Her stomach still feels horribly fragile, like it’s separating in the middle, but when a test heave brings up nothing, she decides a regular drink, non-alcoholic, will probably settle her.

Before leaving the bathroom (and after washing her hands), she opens up her phone and follows her second instinct, tapping on the screen until everything’s confirmed and then tucking it back in her bag and heading down the stairs. She won’t tell anyone she’s been sick, because that’s both embarrassing and would ruin the fun.

When she rejoins the table, Lawrence is halfway through a roaringly funny anecdote that involves burnt toast, Ellie being a disgusting whore, and possibly a ruined anniversary. Everyone is howling with laughter; Tia’s hanging off of Veronica, Ellie’s clutching her stomach, Bimini and Asttina have both thrown their heads backwards off their chairs in laughter, and Tayce is laughing so hard she’s completely silent, vibrating. A’Whora sits down and forces a chuckle just so she fits in, desperate to maintain at least one of her jigsaw puzzle pieces while she can. Tayce clasps a hand over her knee as she laughs, and the touch is not uncomfortable, but unwelcome. She gently moves her leg away from Tayce’s hand - Tayce stops laughing, looks at A’Whora, then looks away and resumes her laughter like it’s nothing. It was something, but for now it needs to be nothing.

It just solidifies the idea in A’Whora’s mind that she’s done the right thing.

The following morning, she suddenly remembers it. They’d both awoken a bit headachey, but otherwise fine, fresh as daisies even. Ellie keeps texting the groupchat about her wicked hangover, and as she says something about am literally desperate enough to try raw eggs at this point A’Whora mutes the chat, not wanting to get distracted.

Tayce is in the living room, not a stitch of makeup on, wearing a big t-shirt with Eeyore on it and a pair of grey shorts hidden somewhere underneath it. She’s absolutely beautiful, breath-taking, stunning. No one in the world is built like she is.

A’Whora wonders if it’ll ever be enough.

Steeling herself, she makes her way into the living room, briefly stopping in front of the hallway mirror. She looks a mess, hair in a gravity-defying bun, dark circles under her eyes, the remnants of last night’s lipstick still smudged on the inside of her lips. Does Tayce think she’s just as beautiful when she sees her like this? Is there still beauty in her ugliness?

“Morning, you,” She greets, injecting a cheerful note into her voice. Tayce nearly jumps out of her skin, but when she turns around she meets A’Whora’s eye, mercifully, with a smile that looks genuine.

“Hiya love,” Tayce replies, beckoning her to come and sit on the sofa next to her. “How you feeling after last night? Have you seen all of Ellie’s bitching?”

A’Whora sets herself down, leans into Tayce’s side, embracing the early morning closeness before it can evade them. Her head rests on her girlfriend’s shoulder, and neither of them move to rest it elsewhere, so it’s a good start.

“I don’t feel too bad, head’s a bit fucked though,” She admits.

Tayce laughs, causing her shoulders to bounce and wobbling A’Whora’s head. “Here, I think your head was fucked before a couple of cocktails, babe.”

She’s not wrong. A’Whora grants her a laugh which is only a little bit fake, and then sucks in a breath to start speaking. Unfortunately, Tayce beats her to it,

“And all this about our Ronnie proposing to Tia? You know, I was thinking about it all night but I didn’t wanna say anything and make it all about us, but what are they gonna do about the hen do? Like, a joint one, or two separate ones on different nights where all but one of us is out?”

It’s a very fair point, but it’s so far from important in A’Whora’s mind that she brushes it away. Dwelling on the success and excitement of another friend’s relationship is hardly going to ease the tempest waging war in whatever part of her body processes weird emotions that feel the need to migrate to her chest and stomach. She’s happy for them. Her feelings end there. It doesn’t need discussion.

She presses a kiss to Tayce’s shoulder, feigning nonchalance over the topic. “I don’t wanna talk about them, they have it all figured out and that’s boring. I, however, did something last night.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow and waits. A’Whora pulls up her phone, shows the screenshots of the booking confirmation.

“We’re going on holiday!”

A second passes. Then another. Then another. Silence.

Then, Tayce hunches her shoulders and A’Whora takes the cue to remove her head, to stop resting against her, to sit up and be serious. She sighs heavily, glancing at A’Whora’s phone again and then up at the ceiling, her enthusiasm about her friends and a night out stripped away immediately.

“A’Whora…” She hates when Tayce uses her name properly, it feels wrong now after getting used to so many nicknames and pet-names. “What- We’ve got work, we can’t just jet off on holiday whenever we want.”

Is this the first hole in the balloon, the start of the slow deflation, or is it one of many slowly letting out air, gaining speed with every interaction that goes the wrong way? Either way, there’s a sinking feeling in A’Whora that just won’t let up. She doesn’t even want to try - she considers cancelling the booking, giving up the tickets, apologising for such a stupid oversight. But no, she wants to try. Making an effort is important, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and let things sputter out like a dying fire. They will burn bright or not at all.

“I know I - I rushed it, a bit, and I’m sorry I didn’t think that far ahead. But I think this’ll be good! Just you and me, away from all the stress and chaos, some proper alone time.”

She feels like they’re never really alone. They’re not, when she thinks about it - friends always texting, TV always on, always aware of the presence and existence of other people when the whole world used to be just Tayce and A’Whora, A’Whora and Tayce, and everyone else was secondary. Her plan had been pretty bare bones, but a long drive through Middle America until they reach sunny California feels like it can fix things. They can reconnect properly on the long drive, fall in love with being in love again, and then bask in the sunshine and luxury of wherever in Cali takes their fancy when they make it there. Escaping to a place where just for a while, they’ll be the only ones… That sounds good. That sounds like what they need. The panacea of relationships, the reminder of what they were.

Tayce agrees to go.

“You know, I literally hate people and I can barely be alone with someone for ten minutes without getting pissed off but I honestly feel like I could sit here talking with you forever,” A’Whora admitted, blushing and laughing at Tayce’s expression. “No, really! We could go anywhere, where shall we go? Barry Island?”

Tayce snorted. “Oh fuck off with that, Lawrence’ll never let go of this bloody Gavin and Stacey thing she’s got going on if we go there. Anywhere but that.”

They collapsed into laughter, mindful of gear sticks and cupholders digging into their sides as they went limp. A’Whora feigned offense, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her bottom lip in a childish pout.

“I’m just annoyed that her joke means I’m the bloke of the relationship. Fucking Gavin, I mean he’s such a wet wipe.”

“I wonder if that would make Lawrence Nessa though?” Tayce pondered, gasping as genius struck her. “Oh my god, Rory, would that make Ellie Smithy?”

A’Whora was sure her stomach was going to fall out of her body with the force of her laughter, so sore she couldn’t do anything besides screeching and trying desperately to stop, to no avail. The car was parked up in a lay-by overlooking the sea, still with no destination in mind as of yet, but they were happy to observe the view as they munched their sandwiches, scrambled for a plan and tried to assign each of their friends a Gavin and Stacey character. (Bims was obviously Pam, if she was slightly more unhinged.)

Tayce wiped her eyes. “This is beastly. Alright, alright, where are we actually going then? Do we have any plan at all?”

A’Whora shrugged. “Drive til we find somewhere that looks nice?”

“Sounds good.” She leant over, the two of the meeting in the middle for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Happy six months, gorgeous.”

It’s not the same. Of course it’s not the same. Everything is different now, so why would this be the same?

America is big. Big enough that you can drive and drive and the landscape will stay the same, dusty and yellow with nothing else to see beyond the occasional sparse red rock. There is nothing for miles in any direction, and they are the only car on the road, just driving through endless space.

At first, she’d thought that the big open space would make it easier to run from their problems, the simplicity providing some clarity into why everything seemed to have shifted and allowing them space to fix it all. Instead, the emptiness was just exacerbating her own emptiness, a barren landscape horribly reminiscent of their lives at home.

They had been so colourful, once. When had the barren desolation crept in? Where had it all gone?

America is so big, and they are so small.

Some of these Middle America states are so similar that the line between them seems to just be an arbitrary thing, as the sign indicates they’re somewhere new while the landscape suggests they’re anything but. Tayce is driving, occasionally tapping her fingers on the wheel in tune to the music, which A’Whora pretends doesn’t annoy her. It used to be endearing, but hours of tap tap tap feels like some tame iteration of water torture. Then she feels ridiculous for such a dramatic comparison, and tries to count her blessings.

She’s in a beautiful country with a beautiful girl. She should be happy.

They both should.

“So we’re due in California in like two days of driving, yeah?” Tayce checks, still drumming away on the steering wheel. “Where are we staying tonight, then?”

A’Whora shrugs. “I just thought we’d find somewhere along the way, a motel or something.”

Apparently that’s the wrong thing to say. Tayce huffs.

“What, so we’re just driving aimlessly? You didn’t book anything?”

Her memory jolts back to their six month anniversary, almost forever ago now in the timeline of their relationship. She doesn’t know if Tayce remembers any details of that day, or just the fond memories that she clings onto as best as she can. Before she even says it, she’s knows it’s stupid, knows it won’t work, and is annoyed at herself before Tayce even can be. In fact, she knows it’ll start an argument. But what else is there to say?

At least their arguments have a bit of passion, a tiny spark. Nothing like the explosions, but maybe it’s a start. It’s better than letting their love sit stagnant and off until it slowly disintegrates.

“Drive til we find somewhere that looks nice?”

She thinks about sharing a kiss, feeling a sort of young happiness that melts away everything else in the world. She thinks about how lucky they felt.

“For fuck’s sake, A’Whora. I thought you would’ve at least planned something for your little impromptu holiday,” Tayce snaps, turning off the music. Thank God - no more tapping.

“My impromptu holiday? This is about us, Tayce, which apparently you’re too blind to see. I did this so we could spend some time together alone and actually start getting on.”

“Start getting on? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s all in my head then and I’m the bad guy. I just mean that we’ve been bickering a lot and I thought that getting away from home would help us recalibrate and get back to normal, Christ.”

“This isn’t a coming of age film, you can’t just jet off to fix things. We’re fine, but this is a bit of a piss take because there’s nothing literally anywhere and we have no idea when the next place to stop will even be. Can you at least look on your phone for somewhere instead of making this into a fight?”

“I’m not making it into- fine, yeah, I’ll look. There’s no signal, though, we might need to get further towards a town before we can look something up.”

“Fuck me. This is so relaxing, I’m so glad I booked a week off to do this.”

“I was trying to do something nice, you don’t need to be like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Let’s just - I’ll put the music back on, we’ll keep going.”

They drive in silence.

Four hours later, there’s a motel. It’s a single isolated building in the middle of the emptiness, with neon signs that buzz and hum with electricity and flicker on and off. There’s only three other cars in the car park besides theirs, all aggressively American looking, but it’s dark and they’re both too tired to care. It looks like the kind of place that a murder is definitely going to take place, probably tonight, but Tayce stacks up the chairs in front of the door in case the lock fails and flops down onto the bed, exhausted.

“This is fucking delightful.” She comments dryly. “I guess it’s an authentic American road trip experience, though, so I’ll give you credits for that.”

Her tone is unnecessary - A’Whora prickles. “Oh wow, thank you so much for all the credit you’re giving me. I feel so inspired to do nice things for our relationship again now.”

It happens again. Arguments, none of them screaming matches, no blinding fury and passion, no explosive fights and hateful sex and the feeling of losing it all, so throwing everything in at once to stoke the flames. It’s just another small thing, again and again and again.

They’re fighting and there’s just no reason for it whatsoever. No one has done anything wrong. No one has said anything wrong. They love each other, desperately, and they’re fighting.

Eventually A’Whora realises what they’re doing, and it hurts somewhere deep and cavernous in her chest. Their love won’t end in explosions and flames and hysterics and tears, but they’re still arguing and bickering for a reason, just not the one she thought.

If love is supposed to be so big, all grand gestures and bleeding heart fights, then what are they? Were they ever in love?

It doesn’t matter. The truth is, they’re just breaking something because they don’t know how to fix it.

There’s no fixing this.

They don’t make it to California.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #purecamp #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #breakup #angst #lesbian au #stagnant

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imbellarosa · 3 years

Text

i promised the lovely @the28thofseptemberr that i would do her tag game which is wonderful and actually i'm really excited!! This was super super fun thank you for the tag i love you a LOT !! <3 <3

if i were a month i’d be: 🎶time turns flames to embers, you'll have new SEPTEMBERS, every one of us has messed up too 🎶. Idk I think i'm like the beginning of fall where everything is bright and vibrant and a little sad and the sun is still out but there's a bit of a bite to the air and you're starting to wear your sweaters and jeans and boots and red lipstick with scarfs. I think that's me.

if i were a flower i'd be: A sunflower! They're a bit magic, and you're meant to make wishes on them, and they symbolize adoration and longevity and loyalty, and I always think they're so bold. They bloom larger than any one flower has any right to do so, and then they turn their heads to face the sun as if it were made for them.

if i were an album i'd be: XOXO: From Love and Anxiety in Real Time by The Maine which is very much how this summer has been.

if i were a mineral i'd be: Hmmmmm pyrite maybe? Almost precious, but valuable for reasons other than beauty, and highly flammable.

if i were a sound i'd be: Really loud laughter. Or the heartbeat of someone I love. It's my favorite song.

if i were a color i'd be: Red. no competition at allllllll. That's the color I most associate with myself anyways, and I wear it well hahahaha

if i were a drink i'd be: whatever the fuck that one chocolate milkshake cocktail the Irish bartender served me last night was. Poor guy got yelled at for his troubles. Hope he's doing good today hahaha. That, or margaritas or tequila shots, which are likely more like me.

if i were a fruit i'd be: Peaches or Pineapple. Sweet and a bit sour and perfect with ice cream.

if i were a quote i'd be: "Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say 'No, you move'.”

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

if i were a tv series i'd be: Once Upon A Time. I've never related to a character more than I do to the main character of that show. Or else maybe Good Omens? God knows my life is certainly wacky enough for it.

if i were a movie i'd be: Star Trek: The Voyage Home. If you have not seen it PLEASE watch it i cannot beg you enough.

if i were a fashion brand i'd be: UMMMM hahahaha I know NOTHING about fashion but maybe Nike? I hate how they run their business but almost all of my workout clothes are Nike and I like the 'Just Do It' logo, because that's very much how I handle life haha. Um other than that, probably some second hand shop.

if i were a mythological creature i'd be: A witch! Actually, I likely already am, a bit flkasdjflkdsaj

if i were a taste i'd be: Tequila. No comparison. This is absolutely how I want to be remembered.

if i were a scent i'd be: The smell of the ocean air. I think more than anything else, I'm like the ocean.

if i were a fabric i'd be: Knit wool or something equally as warm, I think? Or else whatever those really soft sundresses are made of, or worn denim. Something comfortable and for every day use definitely.

if i were a bodypart i'd be: Ankles, probably. Scandalous by Victorian standards, and they keep you moving forward. Or else wrists, where I collect all of my memories.

if i were a song i'd be: Peace by Taylor Swift, as @dependsonwhospitching well knows. 🎶"The devil's in the details, but you've got a friend in me/ Would it be enough? If I could never give you peace" 🎶 and also 🎶"And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild..." 🎶

OR!!!

To Noise Making by Hozier, which goes 🎶"You don't have to sing it right, but who could call you wrong? You put your emptiness to melody, you're awful heart to song. You don't have to sing it nice, but honey sing it strong. At best you find a little remedy, at worst the world will sing along." 🎶

OR!!!!

Love and War in Your Twenties by Jordy Searcy which says 🎶"You could be with anyone you wanted, you could take that job they offered and move down by the ocean but I love the way your hand feels when it's under mine" 🎶 and " 🎶This world makes me dizzy, how'd we get so busy? No one tries to take the time it takes to turn your Love into a love or friends into a family. Well I don't want any false religion, I will practice loving you with no conditions" 🎶

if i were a god my 4 attributes would be: hmmmm i really don't know? Maybe some sort of green thumb, some healing powers, and I don't really know what else? maybe the power to end war and hunger and poverty and global warming. Those are four right?

I am tagging @evilovesyou @whatagreatproblemtohave @queenlokibeth @foreverfanficaddict @kissylarry @bluewinnerangel and @dependsonwhospitching

#long post for ts #this is a post about meeeee #i really really had to think about some of these #anyways this was SUPER fun!!

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itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto · 4 years

Text

Poker and Cigar Night

Authors note: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing Fiction in about ten years, so please be aware, it may not be great! This has been in my drafts for a month or so now, and I finally wrote it as the full thing tonight! Please enjoy!

--- / Italics = Time skip

Notes:

Series 5 slight spoiler and a reference to Brooklyn 99.

Possible triggers: Swearing, smoking (cigarettes), drugs (weed & cocaine) and poker.

Word count: 2K

Another week is almost over at the FBI and the team are all wrapping up the last case, back at Quantico. Y/N sighs, one more statement to type up and she is done. She rubs her temples, and looks at her empty coffee cup, then to her boyfriend Spencer, who is working opposite her and looks just as tired as her. “Would you like another coffee boo?” She asks grabbing her mug and putting her other hand out for Spencer’s.

“Yes please pumpkin.” He replies, kissing her hand meant for the mug which makes her giggle and then he places the mug gently in her hand. Even after dating Spencer for 3 years nearly, Y/N is just both still as in love with Spencer as she was back then. Spencer has always called her ‘Pumpkin’ as she loves Halloween just as much as him, and he will do anything to make her smile, especially as they deal with such awful things at work.

Y/N goes over to the coffee machine, where Penelope and Derek are there kissing. “Come on, not in front of the coffee machine guys.” Y/N groans, pretending the coffee machine has eyes and covers it.

“Not like you and pretty boy haven’t kissed over here whilst waiting for the coffee to brew cupcake.” Morgan chuckles, as Y/N rolls her eyes. She and Derek grew up on the same tough neighbourhood, and are best friends, having always had each-others backs since they were little.

“Do you guys want a cup or are you going to continue snogging?” Y/N asks topping up her mug keeping it black and adding an unhealthy amount of sugar for her sugar loving boyfriend.

“Yes please!” Penelope says, handing you her cactus mug and Derek’s mug which you top up.

“Before I forget to tell you, Rossi is hosting his monthly poker and cigar night tomorrow, are you and pretty boy coming?” Derek asks taking a sip of his coffee.

“Can you bring a dessert if you come? I have a craving for your cheesecake.” Penelope says to you, as she sips her coffee. Everyone loves these nights, it is a chance for you all to un-wind, get drunk and stay in Rossi’s mansion. Last time Emily brought some cocaine and you all got a bit giggly.

“I’m in.” You smile, “I’ll see what Spencer is doing but as far as I’m aware, he has no plans.” You grab yours and Spencer’s mugs again, and Spencer’s desk. “Boo, Rossi is holding another poker night tomorrow, are you in? I’m going, and I’ll be making a cheesecake.” You say, putting Spencer’s mug down at his desk, noticing he changed his background (or asked Penelope to do it) to a photo of you and him on Halloween nearly 3 years ago, the same day he asked you to be his girlfriend. The photo always makes you smile, because you are both such goofs for Halloween.

Spencer adjusts his crutches by his desk, so they don’t fall on you as you sit on the edge of his desk, and sips his coffee. “Sure.” He smiles as you give Derek a thumbs up, “Would you like to stay over tonight pumpkin? I don’t like being alone in my apartment at the moment, especially after being shot.” Spencer says to you, with puppy eyes.

“Of course, boo.” You yawn and take a long sip of your coffee. Spencer kisses your hand again, as you giggle looking down at your converse.

“How many statements do you have left pumpkin?” Spencer asks. “Just one, plus a German statement translation for Rossi.” You smile, you are nowhere near as clever as Spencer, but you do speak 10 languages fluently.

Hotch walks over. “Are you going tomorrow Hotch?” You ask him, getting up from Spencer’s desk, as Hotch nods, “Of course Y/N.” He smiles at you. For some reason, Hotch only seems to smile at you, and it is clear you are his favourite.

“Ah, wonderful! I shall make pasta for all and I hope it’s lemon cheesecake Y/N.” Rossi winks at you.

At Spencer’s apartment the following evening…

“There.” You smile, adjusting Spencer’s tie. “All handsome.” As you go on your tip toes to kiss Spencer on the lips, which Spencer returns.

“You look stunning Y/N, I can’t believe you are all mine.” He smiles even wider. Whilst dating Spencer, you wore make up and he always told you that you looked beautiful without it, and for nearly 3 years now, you haven’t worn it since. “Are you nearly ready pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, as you nod booping his nose, and go back to putting your hoop earrings in.

15 minutes later, you get in the car Rossi sent for you holding Spencer’s hand with one, and the cheesecake with the other. The driver puts your bags with spare clothes and pyjamas for you both in the boot.

---

After half an hour, you arrive at Rossi’s mansion. “I’ll never tire of how big it is.” You say, holding Spencer’s hand. “Title of your sex tape.” Spencer smirks at you, making you blush slightly. “You’re such a fucking dork. I mean the mansion.” You say, giggling at the Brooklyn 99 reference, which is one of your favourite shows to watch together. You walk to the door slowly as Spencer says, “I am your fucking dork.” and uses his cane to ring the bell.

“Ah, there you cuties are!” Penelope says, as she opens the door with JJ.

“She brought pudding!” JJ smiles taking the cheesecake off you to put in the fridge.

“I also brought him. He says he is a pretty boy, so I said he can come.” You smile as Spencer blushes and nuzzles his head into your shoulder as you walk into the mansion.

“What would you like to drink boo?” You ask Spencer, helping him sit down.

“I have beer, wine and fruit cocktails.” Rossi says pouring a glass of wine for himself.

“Whatever you’re having pumpkin.” Spencer says, putting his crutches next to him as you nod, and take a beer for you both, handing one to him.

The night progresses, and Rossi knocks it out the park, as usual with a fantastic pasta dish. “Grazie Rossi.” You say as he hands out your cheesecake, as everyone tucks in immediately.

“This cheesecake is so good Y/N.” Penelope says as she licks her plate.

“Shit me it’s good.” Emily says taking another slice.

“I got to lick the bowl when she made me one yesterday, for recipe testing purposes.” Spencer says, squeezing your hand gently.

“You’re so lucky kid. A fine woman and one that makes desserts.” Derek says

“I know.” Spencer smiles, nodding as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m right here chocolate thunder. I can hear you.” Penelope says glaring at Derek.

“Poker time everyone.” Rossi says as he hands out the cards.

Two games have gone by, and Spencer has won them both. You’re all getting pretty drunk now too, as the alcohol keeps flowing. “Y/N, please don’t let Spencer win the third game.” Aaron says, in a typical Dad tone.

“Sir, I cannot control my pretty boy.” Y/N says as seriously as she can without giggling.

“Except in bed.” A drunk Spencer whispers in your ear, making you blush.

By the third game…

“Oh fuck yes, come to Mama.” You smile, as you finally win a game and take your winnings as everyone groans.

“I think that calls for a cigar.” Rossi says, “Boys, let’s go over to the tree and leave the ladies alone for a bit. Ladies, my staff will bring you over cigars.” He informs.

“Oh good, I can get these out now.” Emily says getting some joints out.

“I’ll take some of those for evidence.” Aaron says taking a couple.

“Evidence? Suuureee.” JJ slurs making you all giggle.

By the tree…

“I can’t believe I have been with Y/N for nearly three years now.” Spencer says as he lights his cigar, passing the lighter to Derek.

“Thanks kid.” Derek says lighting up. “That means I have been with baby girl for nearly 7.” He says trying to work it out in his head.

“Take it from me Derek, always remember.” Aaron says as he takes a puff from his cigar.

Rossi nods in agreement, “You love her don’t you, kid?” He asks Spencer who is staring at you from the tree.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be walking as well as I am if it wasn’t for Y/N. She’s been to all of my appointments and therapy with me.” Spencer smiles and lets out a puff of smoke from his cigar.

The guys continue chatting meanwhile, at the girls table…

“I always feel like I am back working at a Gentleman’s club when I have a cigar.” Y/N says, remembering back to when she worked at one in her late teenage years.

“I feel fancy as fuck.” Penelope says finishing off her glass of wine and pours everyone another glass.

“You are fancy as fuck.” You, JJ and Emily somehow all manage to say at the same time, before laughing.

---

“They are clearly having too much fun over there. We should go back.” Hotch says, hearing the girls laugh at yet another joke.

“Yeah, the joints are out now.” Derek says

“Last time Y/N was stoned she wrote a poem about why she loved me and told it to me in Russian. I still have it somewhere.” Spencer says, laughing at the memory of the last Poker night you all had. “Isn’t that right pumpkin?” He asks wrapping his arm around your waist, as you giggle.

“Yeah. I don’t know what you said, but yeah. Totally remember.” You say as you pass the joint to him, which he takes a puff of and sits back in his chair and invites you to sit on his lap.

“I don’t want to hurt you boo.” You say to Spencer.

“You won’t pumpkin. I promise.” Spencer says softly, as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“What a fun night this has been.” Aaron says, as he sips his whiskey.

“Did you use a positive word Hooch?!” Penelope says, sipping a cocktail and putting the umbrella from it in Aaron’s hair.

“Yes, I did.” Aaron says glaring at you, as you take a photo before Aaron notices it’s there.

“I’m so glad this case is over. We all needed this to unwind. Thank you Rossi.” You say to him

“You’re welcome Y/N.” Rossi smiles as he pours himself another whiskey.

You light up a cigarette and snuggle into Spencer’s arms as you are a bit cold. “Aw, you cold pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders as you shudder.

“Can I take one pumpkin? I left my cigarettes in my work jacket.” Spencer asks you.

“You don’t need to ask boo.” You insist and hand him one with your lighter.

An hour later, you all call it a night, and take a guest room each.

“That was such a lovely evening.” You say to Spencer as you get out of your dress, and into your pyjamas.

“It was pumpkin.” Spencer says as he takes his mis-matched socks off and gets into bed, opening his arms for you to cuddle into.

You cuddle into Spencer’s arms, “I love you Spence.” You smile looking up at him.

Spencer kisses your nose and smiles, “I love you too Y/N.” He smiles before biting his lip.

“What is it boo?” You ask, noticing him bite his lip, a sign of him being nervous about something that is on his mind.

“I was just thinking... It’s ok if you don’t want to. I’ve really appreciated you staying with me whilst my knee recovers, helping me shower, go to all of my appointments, see my Mum with me or on my behalf, helping me get ready, being a fucking amazing girlfriend...” Spencer began. “Would you like to move in with me?” He asks

“I’d love to boo.” You smile up at him. “Goodnight.” You say kissing his lips.

“Goodnight pumpkin.” Spencer smiles returning the kiss. “How did I get so lucky?” He thought to himself, as you both went to sleep.

Taglist: @pumpkin-goob @hopebaker @aperrywilliams

*Part 2 coming soon!*

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #Matthew Gray Gubler #my fics

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Note

Hazel, can I request - “you’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face, but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection” for Malum?? Love you!

MALUM!!!! I love them so much I LOVE them so much.

This is a sickfic so there is mention of vomit/throwing up but that doesn’t actually happen in the fic

"Mike?"

Michael tears his eyes away from the television at Calum's gentle, slightly hoarse call. They have a rerun of some cop show on, mostly for background noise since Calum is drifting in and out of sleep and doesn't want anything he has to pay attention to but also doesn't want to be bored. He's still a little pale from the loss of fluids and nutrients that come with his stomach bug, but from Michael's quick assessment his fogginess seems to be more from regular tiredness than the illness. He's splayed out on the couch in pajama pants and an old, soft shirt, hair messy and visibly drooping, but he's not lurching for the bucket on the ground or looking worse than he had earlier in the day.

He still is somehow the most beautiful person Michael has ever seen.

"Yeah?" Michael asks, leaving his armchair to kneel by the couch. "What do you need?"

Calum swallows, throat clicking from lack of moisture.

"Fluids?" Michael asks.

"Yeah," Calum says.

"Want to try the fruit juice again?"

Calum nods. Michael read a thing online about giving sick people a spoonful of the juice from canned fruit cocktail every so often, and so far it's been working without upsetting Calum's stomach more. Between that and the apple juice Michael froze in ice cube trays that Calum occasionally requests to munch on, he's been okay. As long as he keeps everything down for another hour, Michael thinks they'll be able to try some toast.

He goes to the fridge and gets the can of fruit and a spoon while Calum props himself up. Calum reaches for them when he gets back to the living room, carefully taking a few spoonfuls of the syrup then slumping back against the cushions and handing everything to Michael to take care of, either in the growing pile of stuff on the side table or the kitchen.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Bored," Calum says.

"We're watching Hawaii Five-0. There's at least one explosion every episode and you're bored?"

"Shut up," Calum says, swiping at him half-heartedly. "I'm sick. Don't be mean to me right now."

"I'm just saying, we could switch to one of those daytime talk shows instead if you want."

Calum snorts derisively.

"I hate being sick," he complains.

"I know, babe," Michael says, smoothing back his hair. He doesn't feel warmer than usual, and the lack of fever means he'll probably be over this in a day.

"When I said I wanted a day off of work, this is not what I meant."

"I know, babe."

"I miss eating real food."

"I know, babe."

"And you're a shit nurse."

"Hey," Michael says.

"Sorry. Just wanted to be sure you were paying attention. I didn't mean it."

Michael smooths back his hair again, then leans forward and kisses his forehead. Calum pushes weakly at him.

"No, stop. You're gonna get sick, too."

"No I won't," Michael says. "I've been waiting on you all day. If I'm going to get sick, it won't be from a kiss."

"No more kisses," Calum says. "I'm serious. I don't want you to get sick. It sucks and I'll have to take another day off to take care of you and you complain a lot when you're sick."

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me."

Michael rolls his eyes, because everything in his life is somehow about Calum at this point.

"It's fine, you hate me now. I get it," he says dramatically.

"No, no, that's not it," Calum says, reaching out, fingers brushing his cheek. Michael turns and kisses his palm, then takes Calum's hand in both of his.

"Last kiss for now, I promise," he says. Calum smiles. He looks soft like this, eyes warm and full of affection. Of course, Calum always looks soft when it comes to Michael, but there's a different vulnerability to him like this, letting Michael dote on him and accepting all of the affection that that entails. Michael would love to stay under his gaze forever.

"I love you," Calum says softly. "Thanks for taking care of me."

"Always," Michael says. "You'd do the same for me."

"Eh, maybe," Calum teases.

"I could kiss you and get sick and we could find out," Michael threatens.

"No, you promised!"

"I know. I won't," Michael says. "As kissable as you are at any given moment, I will restrain myself like you asked."

"Thank you." Calum sighs, eyes fluttering closed then back open. "Sorry. I'm still tired."

Michael isn't surprised. He was up for half the night emptying his guts in the toilet.

"Go back to sleep. If you're still fine when you wake up, we can try toast."

"Yay," Calum cheers half-heartedly. He's already closing his eyes again, breathing starting to even out. Calum has always fallen asleep startlingly quickly, a process which is sped up when he's sick. Michael sneaks in one last kiss to his hand before returning to his armchair, ready to wait until Calum needs him again.

#my writing #malum #drabble #this is a Short Boi it's less than 1k #also they are watching Hawaii five-0 beacause I am watching Hawaii five-0 #I LOVE H50 SO MUCH!!!!!!#it's so messy they violate so many human rights but it sure is a darn good time #and steve and danny are in love so <3

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years

Text

Make Me Wanna Kiss You

Dean x OFC Rhea, 1200 words, cute fluff and food

Written for my sweet @winchesterxfamilybusiness Make Me Swoon 250 Followers Challenge. Sabrina, it has been a delight to get to know you! I admire you as a person, a fangirl, and a friend. Hope this makes you swoon

Rhea sighed as she locked the door behind at the small family-owned restaurant where she worked. The last lunch customer had just left, and now she had only a couple of hours before the restaurant would reopen for dinner, and plenty of work to do in the meantime. She had to chop vegetables for salads, fruit for cocktail garnishes, and slice the bread that would go on the table with every meal. There was also cleaning to be done and silverware - always silverware to be rolled.

But first, her own lunch. One of the perks of this job was that the owners provided a meal between the seatings. Usually it was a burger, hot sandwich, or the daily special, whatever the kitchen needed to get rid of, but it was free and better than what she could cook on her own.

Lately, though, there was an added attraction to employee meal time: the handsome new line cook, Dean Winchester.

He had started a couple of months ago when the last line cook stormed out in a huff over food safety measures. Dean fit into the kitchen like he had always been there.

At first, Rhea had been attracted to him for his good looks. His handsome face, sprinkled with freckles, was all chiseled angles, except for his mouth that was ridiculously plush. His apple green eyes were bracketed by lines that deepened in the rare moments that he laughed.

He turned out to be a hard worker, steady and less temperamental than most of the kitchen staff she had worked with over the years. He moved from stove to line to fridge to broiler with grace and rhythm that reminded her of a dancer. And his hands, those broad knuckles, scarred and freckled - she had lost moments, sometimes, watching him work.

Dean didn’t talk a lot, but Rhea had managed to gather that he was new in town, that he had a younger brother, and that his pride and joy was his car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala he referred to lovingly as Baby. He smoked, of course, drank a little too hard, and was inked as far up his arms as she could see under his black chef’s jacket.

Lately, she had started to linger in the kitchen when he made her lunch, for no reason other than she wanted to be near him. Sometimes she felt like she was talking to a brick wall, but then occasionally he would chuckle or simply crack a smile so bright it made her blush.

“It’s sandwich day!” He greeted her with a wide grin. “The other waitress already got hers and went-” he gestured with a spatula at the door. “So pick what you want, whatever you want, that I can put between two piece of bread.”

Rhea paused, taken aback.

“But wait.” Dean continued. “Let me guess, BLT on wheat toast, extra crispy bacon, add cheddar and avocado, side of fries.”

“How- how did you know?”

“I pay attention. You like things a certain way. And I know you usually eat the veggies of the day, but I see you sneaking fries off the warmer.”

Rhea blushed, but it was true. “Okay, but I can’t eat a side of fries every day. Do you know how much fatter I’d be?”

Dean’s expression turned dead serious. “First of all, there is nothing fat about you. Second, who cares? Life is short. Eat the fries. I like to see a woman who enjoys her meals.” He turned away suddenly, as if afraid he had said too much.

He was silent while he made and plated not one BLT but two. He handed her both and took off his apron before he spoke again.

“C’mon, its a clear sunny fall day. Let’s eat outside.”

“Outside?” Rhea was confused. The restaurant didn’t have outdoor seating. But Dean held the back door to the kitchen open and she followed. Around the corner there was a messy pile of milk crates. He set three in a row against the side of the building and settled onto one.

Rhea set the plates on the center crate like it was a table before sitting down. The sun-warmed brick of the building felt good against her back. When she picked up her sandwich, it was perfect. For a few moments, they ate in comfortable silence.

A sudden gust of wind drove a shower of yellow and orange leaves in their direction, and she laughed as she tried to keep them off her food. Dean picked one up and looked at it almost solemnly.

“I guess if the leaves are falling, it’s time for me to cook fall food. What do you think of pumpkin soup?” He turned to her, as if her opinion mattered for the restaurant menu.

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “Eww, no. Everything is pumpkin this time of year. I like a good slice of pumpkin pie, but there can be too much of a good thing.”

Dean smirked as if there was something funny about that before he spoke again. “What do you suggest then?”

“Mac and cheese. Nothing like good old fashioned homemade cheesy pasta. And you can do so much with it, you can make it simple or fancy, you can add veggies, you can put bread crumbs on top, plus it’s not too expensive and everybody likes it.” Her voice trailed off.

“Great idea! See, I knew you were a lady who knew her food. Plus, my brother says I make the best mac and cheese in the world. Of course, he might be biased. When we were kids, we often didn’t have anything else. So I’d do my best to dress it up, add hot dogs, marshmallow fluff.”

Rhea laughed, but Dean was dead serious. “Well, it sounds like he thinks the world of you. I’m sure you are a great big brother, although now I have some doubts about your culinary ideas.”

Dean was the one who laughed then, head back, eyes crinkled. The thought crossed her mind that he looked younger when he was happy. When his eyes met hers again, they held a question she didn’t quite understand.

“But as long as you promise to keep it a little more traditional, I’ll try anything you want to make.”

“You gotta stop doing that.” Dean held out his hand unexpectedly over their empty plates on the milk crate table.

“What?” Rhea slipped her hand into his. His palm was warm and he curled his finger over hers.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

She searched his face for any sign that he was joking, but his eyes shone earnestly and his lips curled with hope.

“What makes you think I don’t want you to kiss me, Dean Winchester?” She answered at last.

Their first kiss tasted a little bit like bacon, and as Dean brought one hand up to caress her face, the wind blew another cascade of leaves down around them.

Rhea had things to do, food to prepare and silverware to roll. She had mac and cheese to taste in the future. But that afternoon, with the sun on her face and Dean’s lips on hers, there was nothing else she wanted.

*** SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl @supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy @winchesterxfamilybusiness Gay Screaming: @boondoctorwho, @cherry3point14 @cracksinthewalls, @fookinghelljensensthighs @itmighthavebeenintentional, @justcallmeasmodeus, @lastactiontricia @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mskathywriteswords, @rockhoochie, @there-must-be-a-lock, @thoughtslikeaminefield

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #make me swoon

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thekitteninlove · 3 years

Text

While i think that Dean is a complete S, i'm guessing that Dalim is an SM, so in this fanfic Dalim will be interrogated for some info using some naughty techniques 😈

Rating: R 18+

I was sitting at the counter in Dalim’s pub, which was empty at the moment because it was closed. Yesterday he invited me to this place, saying that he wants to spend some time with me, but I knew he had some ulterior motives. He always has them. I’m sure that one of them is to get some info out of me for his lord. But unknown to him I also have some ulterior motives. I kept seeing him even after I found out he was working for the enemy because I also wanted to get some info out of him. You know how the saying goes, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’. I just have to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything.

“It’s quite hot outside” He was smiling at me. “You must be thirsty. Would you like a drink? It’s on the house”

“Yeah, that’d be nice” Which drink should I order? I think it’d wise to order something low in alcohol and refreshing. Hmm… “Then I’d like a Sherry Cobbler”

“Alright, princess. Coming right up”

I watched him as he started preparing the drink. I think he might be trying to get me drunk, so he could make me spill some valuable information. This is why I ordered a drink low in alcohol. I need to be careful around him. He’s a sly man. I think I know why he made this tavern. By making his customers drunk he could extract as much information from them as he wanted. Usually, when people get drunk, their guard is completely down because their brain ceases to function properly and they stop thinking about the consequences their actions might have. This is such a dirty trick.

He placed the golden drink filled with ice cubes and some fruit slices in front of me. “There you go. Enjoy~”

“Thank you” One drink of this shouldn’t make me drunk, but I mustn’t order more or who knows what I’ll end up revealing. I took a sip from the cocktail and its sweet and fruity taste filled my mouth. We began talking about our lives and what we’ve been up to, but at one point the conversation drifted to a more important topic, the Land of Reason.

“So you’re saying that instead of magic, you use… electricity?”

“That’s right” Giving him some info about the world I come from should be fine. I mean this is all common knowledge. It’s not like I’m divulging some state secrets, such as the experiments the Government carries out in area 51.

“How do you do that?” He looked like he was trying to figure out how someone could live without magic.

Uh… that question is a bit difficult to answer since I’m not so familiar with this topic. But he seems genuinely interested, so I tried my best to answer him. “Well, we use various energy sources, such as the power of flowing water, wind power or solar energy and transform them with a machine so that the electricity generated by this can be used for lighting, electrical appliances and other things” This is a pretty simplistic explanation, but I hope it’s good enough.

His eyes widened with realization. “Oh, I get it.”

Well, I gave him some hopefully interesting info, so he better give me some too. “How do you use those magic crystals? They don’t have a switch or anything else you can use to turn them on” He’s a researcher at the Magic Tower, so he must know a lot about magic.

“Huh? So you’re interested in magic too? Well, it’s quite easy to use a magic crystal. Anyone can do it. You only have to imagine what you want. For example, if you want some light then you just need to imagine the magic crystal lighting up”

Oh, it’s easier than I imagined.

“You should try using one. That way you’ll better understand what I’m talking about.”

“I want to do that, but do you have a magic crystal?” I was so excited about it. I’ve never used one before.

“Of course. I always have at least one on me.” He leaned down and took out a magic crystal. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it here near all those glasses and wine bottles. Let’s go over there” He pointed towards the other side of the pub.

We went there and he handed me the magic crystal. My fingers briefly touched his when I took it from him. For some reason, i… wanted the touch to last more. No! I shouldn’t have such feelings for him. I have to snap out if it.

“Now close your eyes and push all the thoughts out of your mind. Concentrate only on the crystal.”

That’s easy for him to say. I find it hard to make my mind shut up, but I’ll try. I closed my eyes and did my best to push my thoughts aside.

“Visualize the magic crystal and imagine how it gradually lights up”

Alright, I think I can do this. Now I have to make it steadily shine brighter, not suddenly. There’s no need to rush.

“Well done princess, you did it”

I opened up my eyes to see that the magic crystal was indeed glowing. I did it! I looked at Dalim. He had a faint smile on his face. A question popped up in my head. Why is he teaching me how to use this? Aren’t we on opposing sides? Maybe he doesn’t consider me a threat. Probably he thinks that even if he teaches me how to cast spells I’ll never be able to win against him in a fight. This cocky bastard! Okay, maybe I don’t have enough knowledge about magic to win against him, but there are other ways I could win. I’m pretty confident in my planning skills. Actually, I have a few plans that might prove fruitful. But for now, I need to extract some info from him. “Thanks for teaching me this, but… why are you doing this?” I asked him

It didn’t seem like he expected this question. “Huh? Well, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my lady” He flashed me a dazzling smile.

Damn, he’s so charming. Wait, is he trying to… “Are you trying to win me over to your side?”

“What? No, I’m being serious” If he was feigning innocence, then he was good at it. “Are you doubting me, princess?”

Oof, I don’t think I can hide my doubts anymore. “Well, it can’t be helped. You worked for Amon and I heard that he escaped from prison. Do you know anything about that?” Although I asked him this I wasn’t expecting him to give an honest answer, which was fine because I had an ace up my sleeve.

He looked like he was in a tight spot. He furrowed his brow as he tried to come up with an answer to my question. “Princess, i… don’t know anything about this case”

Oh, so he’s going to play innocent in the end. He was Amon’s right hand man and he might still be, so he must know something. I guess it’s time to use that ace. I doubt that trying to get him drunk will prove to be very effective because he has a high alcohol tolerance. However, the plan I came up with should be good enough. I tightly gripped the magic crystal in my hand and focused. I heard Dalim exclaim in surprise as a sudden flash of light illuminated the room.

“Princess, I can’t move. What’s going on?” He sounded confused

Yes! It worked. “Don’t worry, Dalim. If you’re a good boy and tell me what I want to know I’ll let you go, but if you’re not… well, I won’t go easy on you”

“Huh? Tell you… oh, I get it. I shouldn’t have let my guard down around this naughty princess.” He sighed and then turned his gaze to me “Sorry, but I’m certainly not a good boy”

As expected, he chose the hard way. Time to have some fun. His deliciously attractive body was bound by magic and I could do anything to him. I felt a smile spread over my face at that thought. Hmm, how should I torture him? I heard that tickling is one of the world’s worst punishments, so let’s start with that. First I need to find the spots where he’s most ticklish. I went over to him. I took off his vest and then started unbuttoning his shirt. He was watching me intently, which made me a bit uncomfortable

“What sinful things will you do to me, my lady?” Despite the situation he was in, he was smiling.

“You’ll have to wait and see for yourself” After I took off his shirt too I went to grab the tickler from my bag. I’ve been looking forward to torturing this bad man for a while now. He wasn’t the type to give up easily, but that only made things more fun for me. I was always up for a challenge.

I started tickling his neck and he soon began laughing. Although I don’t feel ticklish there I know that for a lot of people that’s a ticklish spot. Hearing him laugh was… quite enjoyable.

“Are you ready to give up now?” I asked him

“Hahaha, absolutely not”

I think there were some tears of laughter forming at the corners of his eyes. Hmm, I don’t think tool will make him say anything. But that’s fine, we’re just getting started. I put the tickler aside and sat on the table in front of him.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to show you something for a while now” I said as I started unbuttoning my shirt. “I brought some sexy and lacy lingerie and I want to hear your opinion on it”

“Ah, yes, it makes you look more ravishing than ever” he said in a throaty voice

“Thanks, I like how my breasts look in this bra. It makes me wanna touch them” I put my hands on my breasts and squeezed them. “They’re so soft and squishy. I’d let you touch them too, but you need to tell me where Amon went.”

That earned me a grin. “You sly princess”

“Oh, or maybe you’d like to put your head between my squishmallows? Or something else?” I gave him a suggestive smile. “You can touch me however you want. You only have to answer one question”

“I didn’t know you were such a temptress” He seemed like he was thinking of all the dirty things he could do to me if he wasn’t bound by magic.

Of course he didn’t know that. I don’t show this side of me to just anyone. I started fanning myself with my hand. “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” I scooped out some ice cubes from the drink Dalim gave me. “Maybe I can cool myself with these” I put a few in each hand and started rubbing myself with these. “Mmmh, it feels so good” I need to cool myself down there too. I laid face up on the table, then parted my legs and began to rub an ice cube over that spot. Whew, I’m getting so hot. I grabbed some more ice cubes and started rubbing them over my body with the other hand. I glanced at Dalim. He was looking at me with so much passion in his eyes I caught my breath. Doing such naughty things in front of him while he’s staring at me like that makes me more aroused than I thought I’d be. The ice was melting on me, so I was steadily getting wetter. “Mmh, Dalim, you can come and rub something else over me instead of ice if you at least give me a hint” I was growing impatient and running out of ideas.

“Ah, princess, as much as I’d love to do that, my lord would get angry at me if I told you something like that”

Ugh, he was surprisingly obstinate. Realizing that this won’t work either I stood up from the table and walked over to him. “I know that you have a weak spot for the ladies, so I decided to exploit it, but… you’re so stubborn” I took out the flogger and smacked his butt with it. Then I gripped the bulge in his pants and said “You’re hard, aren’t you, you pervert?” I smacked him again. Oh, if I stimulate him around here, then maybe he’ll finally surrender. I took off his pants and underwear. “You got so wet just by watching me touch myself? You perv” I said as I used the flogger again. I then put my thumb on the tip of his cock and started stimulating it.

“Ah~, touch me more”

I spanked him again. “Not until you say what I want to hear”

“You mean princess” He sounded discontent

I looked up at him. “Awww, you’re pouting. So adorable” I gave his pouty mouth a quick kiss. “I’m sure you want me to do all sorts of naughty things to you” I put the flogger aside and began to slide my hand slowly down his body, while the other one was still teasing his cock. “Maybe you’d like me to leave a trail of kisses over here or lick you there. Or maybe you want me to cool you down with some ice, then heat you up again with my tongue”

“Mmh, yes” He looked so hot right now and he was completely under my control. I could do anything I wanted to him. I giggled. This is so much fun.

I brought my face close to his ear and whispered “Then tell me. Tell me what I want to hear”

“Ah, I can’t” The way he said it sounded like he found it hard to refuse me, which made me wonder why he was so loyal to Amon

I used my hand to spank his sexy ass before I licked his neck. “Are you sure? You don’t know what you’re missing”

“Mmh, you're good at interrogating people” He shot me a grin

He just won’t give up, will he? I brought his hand up to my lips and sucked on one of his fingers. “Don’t you want those lips around your cock too?”

“Oh, yes, I’d certainly like that, but I really can’t tell you anything”

Damn, he’s a tough one. What should I do? Maybe if I keep teasing him like this he-… I was shocked when I saw him suddenly moving. He quickly turned me around and held my arms behind my back.

“How did you break free?” He couldn’t have broken the spell, could he?

“There was only a little bit of magic left in that crystal. You used it all up”

Huh? No way! I didn’t think it’d last such a short time.

“Now, I think you’ve teased me long enough. It’s time to get what I want” He said in a low and deep voice, which made my heart flutter in my chest.

While he was holding my hands with one hand he used the other one to push me down on the table. He took off my panties and started to move in and out of me at a fast pace.

“Ahhh~, Dalim” His movements made me moan loudly

“You wicked princess… you were exploiting… my weakness. Ohh, you won’t… get away… with this” He managed to say while gasping for air.

He was fucking me hard over the table, while I was moaning and panting heavily. His free hand was roaming my body and giving me even more pleasure.

“Mmmh, your body is so wet… from those ice cubes. … My hand slides easily… over it” He then took off my bra and squeezed my breasts.

“Ohh~ yes”

“I’ve been fantasizing… about touching these… for a while now”

I was at the mercy of his gratifying touches until he considered that I’ve got what I deserved. His thrusts left me breathless and his mouth made me feel like my body was melting like ice cream. He held me in his pub, doing all sorts of perverted things to me, for hours until he let me go.

#ikerev #ikemen revolution #ikerev dalim #ikerev dum #dalim tweedle #fanfic #one shot #smut #ikemen series

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mxillusion · 4 years

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Hello! I'm in love with your scenarios ❤️ Can i request college!au minhyuk with enemies to lovers trope and prompt no. 58? Thank you in advance!

Heya, Love! ♡ Thank you so much for your kind words and for being so patient with me. I really really hope you like it. I got carried away a little, but that’s nothing new I guess. lul. Hope it turned out the way you wanted it to be. Stay safe & thank you so so much for requesting. ♡

YOU’RE PERFECT, I HATE IT

➝ genre/warnings: mostly fluff / none

➝ words count: 3500+

➝ summary: You just hated him so much. Whenever he could, Minhyuk tried his best to annoy the hell out of you and even though you always tried your best to just ignore it, you had to admit that it turned out to be impossible. No matter of hard you tried, he always found a way to ruin your day. That’s what he tried that night too, not aware of what’s about to happen.

Stop staring. Just stop staring!

You tried your best to ignore him, his stares and that god damn smirk on his face. Although you were in the middle of a conversation, you had real trouble to do so. He intended to distract you and you hated yourself for unintentionally let him. Minhyuk perfectly knew how to annoy the hell out of you, it seemed as if this was his life task. He always found a way to bug you, whether it was during classes or in your free time. That guy just seemed to be everywhere.

You didn’t even know why he was here in the first place. To be fair, this hasn’t been a party where you had to be invited, and he was an independent human being, but that didn’t change the fact that you didn’t want him to be here. For a moment you thought about asking a friend to kick him out, but you didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, so you had no other choice but to let him be. He didn’t need to know how much his presence bugged you.

“Y/N?” The voice of your best friend snapped you back to reality. “Did you even listen to me?”

“Hm?”

She exhaled, raising a brow at you. “You let that going to happen again?“

You looked at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t even pretend!”

The drink in your hand was emptied within one gulp as you placed the glass back on the table a little too powerful. You turned your back at him, so you wouldn’t have to see his stupid face anymore. Your lips formed a silent “sorry” while you shrugged your shoulders in apology.

Today you wouldn’t let him ruin your evening, no matter how hard he’d try. You wanted to have fun with your friends, laugh and dance and not thinking about Lee Minhyuk, that’s for sure. So you ordered a second drink for the both of you, while you listened to your friend’s story more closely this time.

And it worked. You just enjoyed being here, simply having fun and not giving a damn about anything. Classes have been hard the last few weeks and semester break was now around the corner. Finally.

Later that night you found yourself at the bar again, while your friend was in the best company. That guy had been ogling her the whole time until he finally made his way to you, asking her if she wanted to dance with him. Without letting him finish, she pulled him on to the dancefloor and was nowhere to be seen since then.

You sighed, playing with the fruits in your cocktail, wondering when you’d finally be asked to dance.

“Hello, beautiful,” you heard someone say next to you. “That dress really suits you well.”

With a light smile on your lips, you looked up, just to lose this smile the second you saw who it was. Minhyuk. The nerve of that guy!

“Get lost."

He chuckled, furrowing his brows with that edgy smirk plastered on his ridiculously beautiful face. Under other circumstances, he’d probably were just your type, but since he was who he was, that wasn’t a thing at all.

"Don’t be so bold. I haven’t even done something.” He looked quite amused since he knew it was only a matter of time until you burst in anger.

“You’re here. That’s enough,” you barked, glancing at him just for the shortest time before you dedicated yourself to the drink again.

Minhyuk cocked his head, his eyes still glued to you while he allowed himself to examine you a little more. He was kind of astonished about your reaction. Yes, he knew you didn’t like him, but this just seemed to be a whole new level.

“I was just about to order a drink, that’s all. I would offer you one, but you already had four this night. That’s probably enough.”

You felt your blood boiling in your veins, as your heart started to beat at an angry pace. To be honest, you weren’t surprised he’d still been watching you, but the fact that he certainly knew how much drinks you’ve already had was too much. Even for him.

“Thank god that’s none of your business.”

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks, mom, but I can take care of my own pretty well.”

You heard him chuckle again with a dangerous spark in his eyes. “Dad would’ve been more correct, you know? But you can call me daddy, too. It’s up to you."

"You’re disgusting,” you hissed as you shook your head. He was such an idiot. Why couldn’t he just let you be? You somehow tried that too, it wasn’t that hard. Okay, maybe it was.

It has never been easy with him. Since the very first day, you disliked him and, to be fair, that feeling was probably mutual. You remembered the day you first saw him and that he caught your attention within seconds. He was talking to a friend of his while queueing in the cafeteria as you were sitting with a friend right in front of him. As he looked at you, he instantly winked and gave you the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen, making your heart skip a beat.

Just a few hours later you saw him again. He was waiting in front of your room and for a moment you thought he’d been waiting for you. Your cheeks turned red as you imagined he asked around to learn more about you. But as you shyly smiled at him, your door was opened, making him turn around automatically. That’s when your roommate came out, smiling brightly at him in order to hug him tightly. The way he wrapped his arms around her made clear they already knew each other. Probably more than you expected.

He looked back at you, winking again while he held her in his arm. You curled your lips and looked away, wondering how audacious he was. Going out with someone you knew, but conspicuously flirting with you without even trying to hide it.

You just shook your head as you walked into your room, not paying any attention to him and the looks he gave you. With a deep sigh, you plopped onto your bed, burying your face in the softness of your pillows. It was just too good to be true.

They came back late that evening and you just rolled your eyes as he left your room just the second you came back from the bathroom. He almost bumped into you but you prevented that by protectively holding your hands between the two of you.

“Oh, hi." There it was again. This smile that made your heart throbbing like crazy.

"Hey,” you simply replied, trying to walk past him but he grasped your wrist to hold you back.

“Not so fast, Love. I don’t even know your name.”

You snorted, furrowing your brows while you sized him up. “Don’t call me that!”

“As I said, I don’t know your name. If you’d tell me, I may consider obeying."

"Y/N”, you said hesitatingly, just so he’d never call you Love again. At this point, you had no idea that this was just the beginning.

“Are you always that grumpy, Y/N?” He chuckled, glancing at you with amused eyes.

You curled your lips, trying to fight the urge to fold your arms in front of your chest. He’d probably laugh even more about you and you didn’t want that to happen.

“That’s none of your business, I would say."

"I take that as a yes."

You rolled your eyes, freeing your arm as you realized he still held it. "Whatever,” you mumbled, leaving him behind to walk back into your room.

From that day, it only got worse every time you saw each other. Which was quite often, since it seemed as he’d date your roommate from now on. You didn’t dare to ask her since you never get along very well, so that kind of question probably was way too private to be asked. But the fact, he came by every so often, and the way they were acting with each other, seemed to make it quite clear. But that was no reason for him to stop flirting with you. Like, not at all. Whenever he had the chance he complimented you, no matter how inappropriate it was, he came way to close whenever you came across each other, making it look like it’s the greatest game he ever played. He had way too much fun bugging the hell out of you and soon it became some kind of habit. Until today.

An audible sigh, coming from his direction, brought you back to here and now. Minhyuk ordered his drink and you did your best to ignore him again. You just hoped he would leave as soon as he received his order so you could catch your breath again.

“You know,” he said, taking a sip of his drink, “Making you mad is so easy. I’ve been trying to see if I could set a new record."

You had trouble not to punch him immediately, but you tried to stay calm as best as you could. He shouldn’t get the satisfaction he was craving for so badly. You gave it to him way too often anyway and you really should try to control yourself, no matter how hard he plagued you. But you were a hothead, at least when it came to him and you probably weren’t able to change that in any kind of way.

"Well, now that you found out, you can finally get lost!” You grinned mischievous, tilting your head. “I’d wish you a nice evening, but I honestly don’t care, so…"

He laughed, winking at you as he made his way back to his friends. You exhaled, clutching the drink in your hand much harder as necessary, while you gazed after him. You just hated him so much!

Soon your best friend found her way back to you, looking quite irritated. "Are you okay?” she asked because she probably saw you with Minhyuk a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s just being a douchebag. As always."

"I swear, one day I’ll punch him. If I could just have five minutes alone with him, he’ll wish he’d never even met us!”

You chuckled while you examinated her petite frame. She was a lot smaller than you and probably would break her bones if she’d really try to punch him. Or… anyone.

“Let’s just drop it. I’d much rather hear everything about Mister Handsome. Who, by the way, is ogling at you all over again.”

She giggled as her cheeks blushed slightly. “He’s such a good dancer. And I can only imagine what else he could do with the movement of his hips. If you know what I mean."

You shook your head in amusement while you listened to everything she had to say about Mister Handsome. He was back with his friends but it was just a matter of time until they’d leave together because it was quite obvious how this night would end for both of them.

He came back just a few minutes later to carry her off. She smiled at you in excuse, but you made very clear that it was okay if she wanted to leave now.

Just as you thought about leaving too, a very good-looking guy made his way to you, asking if he could buy you a drink. He was super cute and seemed very nice since it was surprisingly easy to talk to him. To be fair, you weren’t interested in meeting someone new anymore, since it was quite late already, but you gave it a shot anyway. And as you saw out of the corner of your eye that Minhyuk was watching you with hooded eyes, you only got more interested. You wanted to see where this would end.

You talked for a while but you didn’t really pay any attention to him. Yes, he was quite cute, but he turned out to be deadly boring. And, to be completely honest, you got distracted from a certain somebody all over again. You watched his reaction whenever your admirer touched you or came closer in any other kind of way and. Minhyuk didn’t even seem to hide how much he displeased he was.

"You wanna leave?” Gorgeous murmured into your ear. That’s when you realized you wouldn’t go anywhere with him. Yes, flirting was kind of fun, but you definitely wouldn’t spend the night with him.

“Just let me refresh myself first."

He nodded and you hurried to get away from him. You’d just disappear without telling him, so you wouldn’t have to have that unpleasant conversation where you had to tell him how boring he actually was.

As you were about to leave the bar, someone grabbed your arm to pull you with him into a darker corner.

"Hey, let go of me!"

Minhyuk glanced at you with a dangerous spark in his eyes. "Was that really necessary?” he growled while you wiggled your arm out of his tight grip.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I think you know that pretty well”, he muttered, coming a little closer with every word. You took a few steps back but soon felt the wall in your back and you knew you couldn’t move any further. He placed his hands on the wall behind you, trapping you between his arms.

“N-no,” you tried to reply, but you only managed to whisper. The sudden closeness overstrained you, but you tried to overact.

“I know you like me. So stop pretending you’d be interested in anyone else but me.”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell are you talking about?"

He chuckled and looked directly into your eyes. "I know you tried to make me jealous. And I have to admit you succeeded."

You had to suppress a victorious grin and irritated yourself by the sudden awareness of his words. You wondered if that’s what you intended to do and you soon came to the conclusion that he was right.

"But now you have to admit something, too."

Your heart was beating faster while you thought about what he wanted you to admit just now. You gulped, watching him with big eyes. "W-what?”

A slight smirk laid on his lips while he slowly and seductively brushed one of your hair strands behind your ear. His fingertips lightly touched your chin, to hold it up so you’d have to look into his eyes.

“Your aversion towards me is nothing more than an act. I know how you’re looking at me when you think I don’t notice."

You gathered all of your courage to sustain his intense gaze, while you grinned mischievously. "Dream on,” you breathed near to his lips.

He let his arms sink as he groaned in frustration. “Y/N, knock it off!” He exhaled, trying to figure out how to end this mess. He had enough of it, but he had no clue how to change things as long as you weren’t able to be honest with yourself.

“Honestly, why do you hate me so much?"

You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. What a stupid question.

"I can count on all then of my fingers why I can’t stand you.”

“Then tell me! I’m dying to know.” He frowned, waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. “Because I don’t get it, Y/N. The day we first met it seemed as if… Well. I just don’t get why everything got out of control this fast.”

“You are an idiot!” You furrowed your brows by your stupid answer. Well, that wasn’t as devastating as intended. Like, not at all.

Minhyuk tilted his head, waiting for more to come but there wasn’t. “Wow, interesting.” He made a step towards you. “See? You don’t even know. So just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“I’m just your type, aren’t I?” The smirk was back on his face while he waited for your reaction. He knew he was right, he just felt it the second you first met.

“M-maybe?”

“And if you’re completely honest, you don’t want to leave with him. You want to leave with me."

You gulped all over again, trying to shake your head but you couldn’t succeed. The tension between the two of you reached its next level. It took all of your self-control to not give in.

"You may be attractive, but I’m not sleeping with you,” you stuttered, trying to sound much more confident than you actually felt.

Minhyuk laughed. “You say that now,” he said jokingly and winked like he always did. “I could change your mind within seconds, but I try to refrain. At least for now."

His facial expression grew softer again, he wasn’t in the mood for any games at the moment. He wanted to know everything and he was quite sure that there wouldn’t be any chance like that any time soon, again.

"Now, truth be told, what did I do to you? I’m dying to know!”

You raised a brow at him, wondering if he was being that clueless. “Are you serious?”

He just nodded, waiting for you to explain. “I don’t want to be your minor subject,” you mumbled, sorting all the thoughts in your spinning head.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“What I mean?” You exhaled, becoming angrier at this point again. “You’re dating my roommate already. So what’s the point of flirting with me that offensive? You’re not even trying to be subtly. I mean, I saw you and you know that. And you dared to just pretend like I was completely clueless.”

That’s when he laughed again, this time much louder and it seemed like he was mocking you. You curled your lips, feeling the anger grow with every passing second. “This isn’t funny!” you grumbled.

“Yes, actually, it is!”

You felt even more hurt now and you just wished you hadn’t said anything in the first place. Being an idiot was one thing, making fun out of you and your feelings a whole other.

“And what was it, that you think you saw?” he asked, coming closer again. “Did you see me kiss her?”

You shook your head. “No, but- ”

“She’s the girlfriend of my best friend and consequently a friend of mine,” he explained and you automatically felt like a stupid lamb. “They broke up a few days before we first met. I wanted to help them by trying to convince her she made a mistake because I was hoping she’d take him back.”

You just stood there, not knowing what to say or think. Your head felt empty and was spinning even faster now. How the hell did you come to that conclusion so fast, without any given proof? Yes, he touched her and yes, he was being very charming, but you just realized that didn’t prove anything at all.

“So you’re not- ?”

“No.”

Your cheeks turned red in embarrassment as you realized how childish your behavior has been all the time. How stupid and cringy you acted all the time.

“Don’t you guys, you know, talk? I mean… you just could’ve asked her.”

“To be honest, we’re not exactly at good terms.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said with an amused grin on his lips. “So… that’s all? You’re just being jealous for no reason?”

Of course, he had to be sassy again. That probably never would change, no matter how much you liked each other. “I’m wasn’t jealous,” you objected, making him chuckle again. “I just don’t wanna take the back seat, you know?”

He nodded understandingly, placing his hands back on the wall to push you carefully against it. For the first time, you felt his body on yours and you allowed yourself to savor that feeling to the fullest.

“What now?” you whispered, feeling your heart racing full of anticipation.

Minhyuk slightly shrugged his shoulders, but you didn’t even notice. His face slowly approached yours, but he held in for a little longer. “All I know is that, if you don’t tell me to back off, I’m going to kiss you. Right here, right now."

"Then stop talking, and do it!”

He grinned as he overcame the last distance, hesitating for a short moment while he waited for your reaction, but your eyes were already closed. That was enough for him to do what you’d asked for and the next second his lips met yours. A tingling sensation rose inside your stomach, making your body shiver as you wrapped your arms around his neck. One of your hands ran through his hair while the other was placed on his shoulder. His mouth worked against yours eagerly, making you feel like passion would consume you. He pushed his body against yours, wanting to be even closer to you if that’s even possible. All the misconceptions and all that anger were forgotten the second his lips brushed yours and at this very moment, you couldn’t think straight anyway.

Minutes later you separated, to catch your breath. That’s when you dared to open your eyes again to look straight into his. He was just so sexy.

“Let’s get outta here,” he directed, pulling you along with him and you stumbled after him. Well, maybe you’d leave with him yet.

#monsta x #mx #minhyuk #lee minhyuk #minhyuk scenario #minhyuk imagine #minhyuk fanfic #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #monsta x fanfic #fluff #enemies to lovers #kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop fanfic #request #college!AU

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