#Smart Home Bartending

[drinkinlovecom]

Shake Up Your Home Bar

Shake Up Your Home Bar

Discover the Exciting Future of Home Bartending The future of home bartending is bright, as more and more people are turning to this as a way to entertain friends and family in the comfort of their own homes. As technology continues to evolve, so do the tools and techniques used in home bartending. From automated cocktail machines to smartphone apps, home bartenders have access to a wide range…

[holyscream]

AU where Molina is the janitor at Honey’s agency and he supports his boyfriend’s acting career by “disposing” of actors who he hears might be taking his roles. Very romantic

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[reidmania]

ILL ALWAYS COME GET YOU | SPENCER REID

description ;

Drinking your feelings after a bad day isn’t always a great idea, good thing your boyfriend, Spencer will always come get you.

Warnings ;

Fluff, slight angst but nothing crazy I dont think there is any gender mentioned, but let me know if there is, Mentions alcohol consumption, bad day at work, crying, basically spencer just comforting the fuck out of drunk reader. I think thats it.

a/n ;

i need spencer reid to comfort me when im drunk. NOT MY GIF!!

There was heavy blows of cold air that passed through the streets, the ones which were only being lit by the half broken street lights on every corner.

You could hear the faint sound of the music playing inside the bar that you had just stumbled out of, mixed with the cars driving past on the street. After maybe 5 drinks too many, everything was a little bit blurry, everything sort of sounded the same all at once.

Shaky hands reached for the phone that was buried somewhere in your big jacket pockets. The jacket was big and warm — not enough to shield you from the cold air.

Was it a smart decision to go to the bar and drink your body weight in alcohol — no, but emotional and stressed, you weren’t completely thinking straight when leaving work at merely 5pm, it had been hours, nearing 11.

It was meant to just be a couple of drinks to take the pressure off, then when the bartender asked you if you were okay, and the tear-flood started, every drink after that was a no brainer, soon enough you had enough to no longer worry about the damage the amount of alcohol you were consuming would do to your bank account.

Your hands fumbled with your phone, grateful for face ID since you doubted you would be coordinated enough to type your password without messing it up countless times and ending up locking yourself out of it.

It was a slight struggle trying to press on your contacts, when a few — probably just as drunk people, walked out of the bar behind you, reminding you that you were still stood in the doorway. After you shuffled over slightly, now out of the way. Your eyes stared at Spencer’s contact through blurry vision, considering whether or not it was worth calling — He was still working when you last spoke, maybe he was still at the office, busy, or better yet in bed asleep.

After a small sigh left your lips, the warm air from your mouth contradicting the cold air on the streets, a stem of steam followed your breath, which you found fascinating in your drunken state for a moment, before your attention was pulled back to your phone by the ringing sound.

Seeing Spencer’s contact light up your phone brought a small smile to your sad face, you were quick to answer, yet it took a minute to realise you had to put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You heard Spencers voice, softening a piece of your chest slightly. You assumed maybe he had been saying hello for the few seconds it had taken for you to pull your phone to your ear.

“Hi” You muttered back, drunk feet shuffling slightly as your words slurred. There were a few people still wandering around, going in and out of the bar, talking to each other or giving you strange looks which would’ve made you a little more insecure if the alcohol didn’t influence that part of your mind.

“Hey angel.” Spencer said, letting out a soft sigh of relief hearing your voice. “Where are you? You aren’t home” He said, voice itching with slight concern.

Your lips parted as you realised he had come home and you weren’t there — which would’ve been confusing because he knew you finished work hours ago, maybe you should have told him beforehand that you were planning on drinking your feelings in tequila shots.

“Im drunk” You said, not quite processing the question you had been asked.

You could hear Spencer chuckle on the other side of the phone, “I can tell baby, Where are you?” He asked, his voice was so soft and gentle, it almost made you emotional.

“Um” You hummed, spinning on your heels which only caused you to stumble slightly over your phone feet as you looked at the bar, which had its name written across the top, only that was a bit harder to read within your blurry vision.

“I dont know.” You pouted slightly, “That one bar” You muttered, hoping maybe he would know the exact one you were talking about. You assumed he would — it was the closest bar to your shared home, and the one you two went most often.

“Yeah?” He muttered, you nodded. Yet he couldn’t see that. There was a sound of slight shuffling on the other side of the phone, before you heard a door open and shut.

“I don’t think I can drive” You frowned as you looked around to try and find where your car was parked, you had come straight after work.

Spencer chuckled again. The sound was so comforting to you in your drunken state. Maybe it was silly how it made your downturned lips shift upwards into almost a smile.

“Im gonna pick you up, Angel. Just stay where you are for me okay?” He said. You heard another door open and close, which you assumed was his own car door. You hummed softly in agreement.

For the course of the next few minutes there was no conversation had between the two of you, you sat silently watching the cars on the street, while Spencer drove the few minutes down the road to the bar.

Soon the call ended, leaving you to frown as you stared at the phone, seeing it go back to where it was before you answered the call — on his contact. Before you even got the chance to call him back and cry about how rude it was for him to hang up on you like that, you heard your name being called.

Your head turned to the sound of his voice. He was standing there — still in his work clothes, making your frown only deepen, he hadn’t even had the chance to relax or change before he had to come pick you up.

“Hey baby” He cooed, taking your face in his hands as stood in front of you, taking in your puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the soft skin on your face.

You subconsciously leaned into the touch of his warm hands as you looked up at him, “You’re here” You said, sighing softly as you relished the warmth his body radiated.

He nodded, “Of course Im here. You wanna get home? You’re freezing.” He said, shaking his head softly, moving his hands from your face to your hands — which were seemingly colder.

You nodded wordlessly, he took that and wrapped his arm gently around your waist, leading you to his car. You tried not to stumble but it wasn’t working, without Spencer there holding your body tightly against his own you probably would’ve already fallen flat on your face. If he noticed your stumbling — he didn’t say anything.

He helped you into the passenger seat, before leaning over you slightly to pull your seatbelt on, despite your best efforts to do it yourself.

“But my car—” You muttered, sitting up a bit straighter as the realisation dawned on you that your car would be left here, your head turned slightly as the passenger seat door closed, Spencer didn’t say anything, before walking over to the drivers seat.

He got in. He must of noticed your distressed eyes staring at him when he looked over at you, pulling his own seatbelt on. “Your car is fine honey, we can come get it in the morning.”

You chewed at your lip as you looked down, nodding wordlessly at his solution. He drove without saying anything, but his hand sat warmly ontop of your thigh, thumb rubbing up and down gently as your head laid back against the head rest.

When you arrived outside your shared home, Spencer was quick by your side helping you out of the car and into the house, where he sat you down on the couch. The house was warm, which lead you to believe he had turned the heater on when he got home — or before he left to pick you up.

He returned to the living room with a large glass of water. “Drink” He hummed, handing you the glass. His hand stayed holding it till he was sure you had it tight in your grasp.

You nodded, taking a few small sips of it, before lowering it slightly. He shook his head dismissively, “All of it, Honey.” He said, two of his fingers brushing under the glass, encouraging it back up towards your lips.

You sighed, before obeying. Taking a few larger sips of water before the glass grew empty. Spencer hummed approvingly, taking the glass from your hands; standing up.

“Where are you going?” You pouted, looking up at him with a small hitch in your eyebrows. You could feel the heat blowing down from the ceilings, onto your bare legs.

Spencer paused in his movements, giving you a soft smile as he noticed your concern — as if you believed maybe he was leaving. “Getting you more water” He said.

“Spence.” Your tone was warning, dismissive of the idea of having to drink another large glass of water. He just continued walking to the kitchen. You heard the tap turn on and off before he returned, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of you rather than in your hands.

“You don’t have to drink this one all in one, you can just sip it” He said, before taking a seat next to you again, watching your head nod up and down softly.

You chewed at your lip, avoiding his gaze as even in your drunken state, your mind couldn’t seem to stop working over time — which was what got you in this position in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly, his body turning more towards your own. You looked up at him for a moment. It was a dangerous question he was asking, especially in your current state.

“I don’t know” You shrugged. It was the best you could muster up without spilling every little doubt in your mind. You didn’t know. You guessed that drinking your emotions automatically meant you weren’t okay, but it wasn’t like you were dying, or anything you wouldn’t get over.

Spencer sighed, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you in your own world, living in your head. He knew you did this — overthought everything, worked yourself up.

“Why did you drink?” He asked, realising this may get more of an answer out of you to what was actually the matter — what the cause of your drunken state was.

You leant into his shoulder slightly, head resting on his chest, under his chin. His arm wasted no time wrapping around you shoulder, only pulling you in closer.

Your voice was quiet, words still slight slurred as you spoke — but they had been the whole time. “Work sucked” Your voice was barley audible — Your boyfriend would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying you his full attention.

That was a rare occasion anyways.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asked, hand rubbing soothingly over your clothed arm. You were quiet for a moment as you felt the tears reoccur in the back of your eyes. It seemed they had been there all day.

You shrugged, only making his frown deepen. He realised quickly — talking about it was not what you needed right now, what you did need in this moment — he was unsure of.

So he asked; “What do you need honey?”

You felt a hot tear against your cheek at the question. You were quick to wipe it away, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

“Can you just hold me?” You asked, he could hear the sadness in your voice, the need and desperation for some sort of comfort.

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head, humming in response. “Course I can. Do you want to go change? Get into bed?” He asked softly, pulling you slightly away from his chest to look at your face, his own falling slightly as he noticed the big wet tears on your cheeks.

You nodded as a soft sob rippled from your throat, making his frown deepen. His thumb was instantly wiping your eyes softly. “Oh sweetheart” He cooed at your sad eyes. “Come on, lets go to bed”

Before you could even move to stand, his arms were around your waist, lifting you up gently. His hands holding you close to his chest as he walked to your shared bed room.

The entire way he was muttering sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you that everything was okay, that he loved you.

He placed you gently on the bed as he walked towards the wardrobe, He changed himself quickly into his pyjamas, any other time you would’ve cooed and adored the way he looked.

“Your clothes or mine?” He asked. It wasn’t an uncommon question, sometimes after showing together he would ask you if you wanted to wear his clothes or your own. It was a cute nothing.

“Yours.” You muttered, hand pulling to brush strands of hair out of your face as you watched him nod, grabbing out a pair of your own sweatpants, his t-shirt, and your favourite hoodie of his.

It was funny at first when you discovered he actually owned hoodies.

He was by your side moments later, gently pulling the big coat off your shoulders, before undressing you from the business attire you had been wearing all day, helping you into the clothes he had brought out for you.

Only minutes later your head was resting against his chest — the tears had officially stopped, his arms wrapped around you as your legs intertwined with his.

“Take the day off tomorrow” He whispered softly into your hair. You could feel the alcohol slowly processing away, not enough to be sober but enough to be a little more there.

You would’ve argued any other time, but you just nodded against his chest, before leaning away slightly, reaching over to grab your phone from where Spencer had plugged it in on your beside table.

He chuckled, grabbing your arm, “Tomorrow baby, not now.” He said softly.

You again didn’t argue, returning to your position before, hand scrunching into the fabric of Spencer’s pyjama top gently. “Thank you for coming to get me” You muttered tiredly as your eyes closed, breathing in his scent that only soothed every muscle in your body.

“I’ll always come get you.”

[wereallydobevibing]

Too Young | John Price x Reader

I used to post my stories on tiktok under the username @codlover but I figured since tiktok might get banned I should delete that account and post it here. Here’s one of the stories.

Feel free to use my work as a prompt/inspiration. Better yet, feel free to write your ideal part 2 just MAKE SURE YOU CREDIT AND TAG ME.

WARNINGS: Age Gap

“Welcome home, Captain.”

As he falls back in his seat, his gaze lifts to meet yours - his little muse behind a marble counter, his favorite bartender at his favorite bar. 

“That’s John to you, sweetheart,” He says, and he watches with satisfaction as you wordlessly pour out his usual drink without even having to ask what he was having.

You were a young girl, early twenties, working towards your bachelors at the nearest university, but before that, you’d gone to trade school. You were a hard worker; doing hair in the morning, attending classes in the noon, closing the bar at night, studying any minute that was free. 

I’ll breathe when I have everything I want, you told him one night, when he noticed how your shoulders seemed to be heavy with the weight of your profusion of responsibilities. He wished he could help you carry some of them, or at least blow some air into those lungs that seemed to collapse whenever finals came around. 

John admired you – sweet, smart, and focused. He would’ve liked to have you on his Taskforce if that’d been that path that you chose, but, for the sake of flirting, perhaps bartending was the better option. 

He’ll miss you when you graduate and go off to start a new chapter in your life. 

You set the drink down on the counter, pushing it forwards and leaning your weight on your elbows. It was a slow night, but you figured now that John Price was here to pay you his company, time would tick faster than you wanted it to. 

The first hour and a half of his visit is a basic conversation – how was deployment, how does it feel to be home, how long before his next call in? He talks a little about his team – you’ve heard about “Soap” and “Ghost” and “Gaz” many times before, Price only ever allows you to know them by their callsigns, though, for privacy's sake, and only tells you very minor details. But after one or two glasses, Price allows himself to be free of his professional nature. His 141 men know 

“How come you never bring your boys around here, Captain?” 

“John,” You’re leaning so closely, he’s able to flick your nose as he corrects you. Not too hard, but very much playful. “And if I brought my boys around here, they’d never leave. Soap might steal my favorite girl.”

“Your favorite girl is too busy to be stolen, John,” You remind him, and you don’t say I’m too busy trying to give myself to you.  

Closing time comes all too quickly, as you figured it would. On a Monday night, there are generally very few customers, and you’re able to start your side work at exactly eleven o’clock. John sticks around as you clean up and count the register, offering his company. Being that he was such a regular, he even knows where to find the broom and shortens your to-do list by sweeping the floor. 

This is your favorite part, when you lock up the door and begin your walk home with Captain John Price at your side, allowing you to hook your arm through his. Like a gentleman, he’s always happy to walk you home. 

“No boyfriend, yet, [Y/N]?” He says, lighting a cigar, “No one to tell me off for walking so close to their girl?”

You giggle, “No boyfriend. If I did, though, I don’t think you’d be one to be worried about it. Unless it was that guy you mentioned earlier – Soap? Maybe you could introduce us?”

“He’s too much fun, I think,” John sniggered.

“Are you saying I’m too serious?”

“Serious enough, fun enough. Soap is too much fun.”

 “Aww,” You feign a pout, “You don’t want me to like him, do you?”

As you finally approach your apartment door, John lightly shoves you toward it. He pulls the cigar away from his lips, leaning against the wall with a smirk. 

“You can have that one if you want, love,” he says, “Don’t come bothering me when you’re with him, though. Can’t have both.”

“No, I couldn’t,” You agree, you gesture to your apartment, “You won’t let me let you in.”

He hums, watching you unlock and push open the door. You lift your eyes to gaze up at him through your lashes, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. 

“Come have a glass with me, John, I can bartend for you here, too.”

The back of his hand reached out, stroking the subtle skin of your cheek. He would love to come inside and know the structure of your home, and the decorations that would be a complimentary extension of your personality. When it came to you, he was Pandora and you were his box. 

You were a beautiful girl, and the thought of having your company outside of your work hours was enticing. He wanted to know you like the back of his own hand, he wanted to see what was inside this box, but John knew better than to cross this line – that line being your doorway. 

Oh, how he wished he was at least ten years younger. 

“You know I can only go so far with you, love,” He says, taking another draw from his cigar. “Your doormat is the limit.”

It’s not the first time you heard that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. As mentioned earlier, you were an ambitious girl; you were often berated in your early childhood by your mother for trying to get away with the same stuff over and over and over again until you finally learned the secret to getting away with your innocent little crimes successfully.

As you said once before, you’ll breathe when you have everything you ever wanted. 

Blaze

0 notes

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part One: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts, he just really wants to make sure your silly little girl brain doesn’t get in the way of your safety, you have a cat, Anakin is a bartender [diary entries from Ani’s perspective] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: May 2nd

The Cerulean was filled with loud music, flashing lights, and the stench of sweaty guys and spilt beer. Over-kill perfume on the girls who so desperately wanted my attention, writing their numbers on their drink coasters after finishing their stupid little cocktail. The occasional ‘break it up guys, c’mon’ yelled out at a pair of ‘roided up college boys. Peanut shells stuck to my sneakers at the end of the night, going home and washing off the stickiness from working behind the bar.

All things I was used to.

But you… not you. Every time I caught a glimpse of you tonight it was like the first time all over again.

Pink, skirt, sneakers, crop top. Such a cute little outfit; it made you easy to spot, easy to track, easy to watch over.

I have your drink order memorized. I so hoped you’d come back for another so I could hear your voice, to see your pretty little lips move just for me again. But you didn’t. Because you’re a smart girl. You knew that without a man around to look out for you, you’d be pretty hopeless if you got too tipsy. It only made me want to protect you more. You’re too soft, too sweet, too innocent to worry about the big nasty world around you.

That’s my job now.

I’ll always keep you safe, but I also want to keep you happy. You deserve the world and more, and I’ll give it to you.

I’d destroy the earth to build it up again in your design. I’d live for you, serve you, die for you, at any moment you might ask. Just say the word and I will. I promise I will.

Note: Motion sensors

Date:

May 23rd

Anakin walked a safe distance behind you, his hands in his hoodie pocket, his hood up and head down. It was dark out, the only light was from the street lamps.

Sometimes when he walked you home he just wanted to run up and grab you by the shoulders and shake you; ask you to please for once just pay attention to your surroundings.

You walked around with your headphones in, ignoring everything and everyone. Yeah it was a straight shot to your apartment from the bar. Only having to cross the road once during the mile long journey down the sidewalk. But a mile was a good stretch of space and there were plenty of people who passed you. A handful of creepy, unlit alleyways you could be dragged into.

You were practically asking for it.

He just had to remind himself that this was just another reason you were so lucky to have him. He’d watch over you, so you didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about nothin’.

Anakin stood by the corner store dumpster and watched as you trotted up the steps and tapped the door code into the keypad of your apartment building. After the door shut behind you and he saw the keypad flash red, he knew you were safely locked inside.

It took approximately one minute and 14 seconds for you to jog up the steps to your door, depending on how tired you were he could add a few seconds and not worry. But anything over 20 seconds had him sweating in a panic.

Tonight though you were right on time, his phone pinged with an alert that your door had been opened, and successfully shut behind you. Now he could breathe a sigh of relief and make his way back to work.

His boss was kind enough to never question why he skipped out for about 20 minutes a night or two a week. Anakin smoked, it wasn’t unlikely to assume he just got a little distracted scrolling on his phone during his smoke break or maybe just needed a few minutes of peace.

Now all he had to do was suffer through three more hours of monotonous work and try not get a head start on his hearing loss from the shitty music.

Then he could go home to you.

The cloak of stress he wore when you were out of sight vanished quickly when he perched on the fire escape and peered into your living room. Poor thing. You’d fallen asleep on the couch again.

Not that he minded. It made his night that much better when he could sit closer to you. It was a pain to climb the ladder of the building next door and sit on the rooftop so he could see into your bedroom window. Very inconvenient, but worth it everytime.

He sat quietly, observing you and the way your lips twitched while you slept, as though you were having a conversation with someone in your dreams. Probably him, he thought.

“Oh, your blanket… you’re gonna be cold if you keep squirming around like that, your blanket is gonna end up in the floor.”

His fingers itched to pry open the window and tuck you back in, but he didn’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. No breaking and entering.

He decided it was time to head back to his own home after that, he couldn’t stay much longer without: a) falling asleep b) forcing his way into your apartment for the sake of keeping you warm.

So he trekked to the sidewalk, wiping off the rust stains on his palms from the old metal fire escape. Shoving his hands back into his hoodie pocket after blowing you a goodnight kiss.

Diary Entry: June 6th

You owe me big time young lady.

You left your door unlocked and your window cracked open. It is 3:00am, what if someone snuck in? Then what would I do?

Die probably. I’d probably die if something happened to you.

Therefore, I bit the bullet and helped you out. I’m lucky you’re a heavy sleeper and I’m not easy to startle or else we both would’ve had a big scare tonight.

I cracked open your window, slipped in quietly, lowered it behind me, locked it. Double checked it and then triple checked it just in case.

When I turned around- christ that fucking cat. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. Guard dog? Who needs a guard dog when you’ve got that monster running around?

A quick blur of orange and a loud *reeeareow* was the only warning before it- sorry, Boogie, climbed up my leg with her little pitchfork claws. I handled it well, you’d be proud. I picked her up by the scruff and gave her a light bop on the noggin’ just like you do when she’s in trouble; except I didn’t kiss it better afterwards, I think she would’ve eaten me if I tried that.

Any-who, I carried her with me to the kitchen and got her a little treat from the cutesy kitten jar on the countertop. Then she decided we could be friends or well… maybe or maybe not I don’t really know, I guess we’ll see.

I plucked your spare key from the top of the fridge and quietly left your apartment. I locked the door and checked it several times, just in case.

As I walked down the steps I saw that the super was kind enough to leave a reminder that the keypad code had been changed, how nice of him! You are awfully forgetful sometimes. No worries princess I took a picture for safe keeping.

I need to change the batteries on or door sensors soon anyway, those little button batteries don’t last very long you know.

It was only when I got home that I realized I still had your spare key… tsk tsk Anakin. Ah well, that just means it won’t fall into the hands of someone it shouldn’t. I’ll keep it safe.

I love you 🖤

Diary Entry: June 7th

You know, come to think of it. Now that I have a key I should get a few new items for your apartment, that way I can keep an eye on things for you while you’re away.

Note: Hd1080p microcam x4

There will be a bot to go along with this series! This is really short compared to my usual posts: I just wanted to give all my little lovelies a snippet of what’s to come.

Part Two

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[multifariousqueer]

Hi! I see your looking for felix requests?

Can you do a felix who is obsessed with a reader who doesnt care for him?

Fsfs babes!!!

Warning: Felix being a stalker, Farleigh being a catty bitch, fluff, I think that's it

“Dude, stop staring," Farleigh says in a huff.

"Don't be ridiculous, Farleigh I'm not staring" Felix defended, despite his tireless efforts, his attempts at convincing others and himself that he wasn't obsessed with your being were in vain as no one believed him, not even himself.

Felix had noticed you from across the quad at Oxford on the first day of school. Your brown eyes glowed as your chest heaved with laughter at your friend's joke. He watched in envy as your full attention was placed on your friend and how he got to bask in your presence. From that moment on, Felix was obsessed with you.

It started out simple enough, Felix joined all of your classes and he would always sit a row behind you so he could watch you and what you were doing; Felix justified this as him wanting to learn more about you(and smell your hair). Whenever you would raise your hand in class, Felix would swoon over how smart you are. He took notice of how you would turn to your guy friend and high-five him whenever you got above a B on a test or quiz and Felix's brows would furrow in jealousy and envy as your guy friend absorbed your attention. Felix began to question what drew you to him so much, was it his money? Felix had plenty of money. Was it his looks? Felix considered himself more handsome than most. So what was it? He didn't know, but he was willing to learn.

Felix started to slip you anonymous gifts and letters to your dorm every week. He bought you anything and everything, from roses to tennis bracelets worth thousands. You once walked into your dorm and saw a diamond necklace and a new iPod on your bed(after ranting to your best friend about needing a new one) with a note that read:

"A very pretty necklace for a very pretty girl ;). Love, your secret admirer"

You squealed and thought that your best friend had gotten it for you. The next day in class, you thanked him profusely only for him to look confused and say:

"uhhh thanks?"

Felix's blood began to boil. He couldn't believe that this Jag was taking credit for a $5,000 necklace and a new iPod that Felix had gone out of his way to buy. It wasn't a huge expense on Felix, he bought it with some money he found in his dorm but it was the principle of the fact that irked his last nerve. From that moment on, he despised your friend and began his plan to win you over.

Felix wasn't stupid, he wanted to keep tabs on you so he had the iPod implanted with a tracker so he could have your documents on his phone. Next, he saw that you were going to the pub so he decided to make his move there and ask you out by buying you a drink. He saw your message to your friend about loving a specific scent on men and he went out and bought it the next day. Felix put on his best outfit and gathered his friends to go to the pub.

You were sitting in a black dress that was a tad bit too short and nursing a cosmopolitan. Felix saw you and his eyes immediately lit up:

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Farleigh teased, holding a cigarette and smirking

"Shut up, Farleigh" Felix said, blushing as he made his way over to you.

He walked up to the bar and asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan on him:

"I'll buy the lady's next one" he said, confidently

"Oh! Thank you but I was just about to head home" you said

"Nonsense, it's only 12 on a Friday," Felix said trying to get you to stay.

"No no, I should get home and study but it was nice speaking to you and Thank you for the drink offer" you said, attempting to excuse yourself but Felix's strong build held you in.

"Oh come now, Y/n. Have fun it's just one drink" he smiled

"How do you know my name?" you asked confused

Felix realized that he had slipped up. He was supposed to ask your name and you were supposed to introduce yourself in a story that he would tell your future children.

"Uhh we're in the same class" he stumbled

"Which class?" you asked

All of them. But Felix couldn't say that because he didn't want to scare you off so he settled with:

"Literature"

"Ohhhh. Hey don't you sit behind me? Oh! You must be Felix" you stood up, suddenly remembering where this suave stranger was from

"Yeah haha. Small world, huh?" he said, relief littering his tone.

"Yeah" you cooed.

"Well I should leave but maybe we could get drinks another time, here's my number," you said giving Felix the number to your new ipod.

"Yeah of course, darling" Felix smirked

"Darling?" you asked, tilting your head a bit smiling

"Yes?" Felix let out a cheeky smile.

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 21

Chapter Twenty-one

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "Equal"

📍WC: 3.2k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance

📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, suggestive, slight mxm, mentions of minor character death and gang violence

📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

📍 AN: I felt like posting it a bit early (aka need some serotonin for my writing again)

masterlist | Previous | Next

You had demanded Wooyoung take you home, staying quiet on the ride and ignoring both him, and the others on the screen. Er well, pretended to.

It was quite difficult to keep a straight face as Wooyoung and Hongjoong had a conversation about how you tasted. Seonghwa had left the room in frustration when Hongjoong wouldn’t stop, Yeosang going with him hesitantly to eat it seemed. You hadn’t bothered putting your underwear back on, mostly because Wooyoung had cleaned you up with them and then kept them in his hand as he did drive you home.

You had wanted to talk about what just happened, but the fury and shame had been just a bit much. A fresh sting on the burn you felt over Mingi and San.

Clearly you could do nothing with one of them without the others being involved or knowing about it. Almost as if they had an intent to share you. How you felt about that would remain to be seen- once you did calm down.

That didn’t happen until you were back in your apartment, in your shower, leaning against the wall and thinking about the day.

Again, you were in some deep shit.

Something was going on between the Pink Boa’s and their head group the Golden Circle and Wooyoung just slapped you right in the middle. The fact it’s his mother that runs the Boa’s, and that if she goes down the unit will take such a huge hit you could kiss your job, maybe life, goodbye.

Yet at the same time, Hongjoong had trusted you with this undercover mission. And you knew enough about him, about the tightness of this unit, to know that you would not be put in such a meaningful situation without trust in your capabilities.

Without respect for you.

Your chest warmed at the thought, corners of your lips pulled up into a grin before you were aware of it. He was putting faith in you. Though the alternative was that he put you in a situation where if you did fuck up, you would be removed by someone else’s hands.

That thought wiped the grin right off your face.

Was this another test? Either you could handle the work, the underbelly, or else you would be taken out?

Instead of fear coursing through you, you stepped out of the shower with a grin. You could handle this. You would handle this. There was no way you were going to back down. There was too much to lose, too much at stake and not just for you.

The sex aside, your previous unit aside, this was a job- this was more than a job - and you were determined to do it right.

Daily Wooyoung picked you up and took you Downtown. Daily he took you back. You worked night shifts as a bartender and waitress at the club, revamping your wardrobe with some clothes that were suitable. Wooyoung never stayed around while you worked, but Yeosang would ask you about certain things on the car ride back.

Certain customers. But he would also mention some irrelevant things. Asking about a drink you made, or complimenting your outfit for the day. They were few and far between in the week that passed but definitely had an effect. 

It was also cute how he never looked you in the eye. Cuter how he would force the screen off whenever Wooyoung would start to tease him for complimenting you. Now that he wasn’t hating on you, it was hard to ignore how soft he seemed.

He was smart, attentive to every detail and observant to the point that it was impressive. Even with the multiple screens in front of him, which was a guess, he was able to pick up on details you hadn’t been able to while inside the building itself.

Of course the night Wooyoung had eaten you out wasn’t forgotten entirely. Yes it wasn’t brought up again, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were nowhere to be seen and other than Yeosang avoiding eye contact there was no other sign that he had watched. It was Wooyoung who would constantly remind you, every time he dropped you off at your apartment he would follow you up, begging to come inside and get a taste again.

”I’m going to wither away without another taste soon. Come on Goddess. Please? I know you loved it. Please use me.” He would beg up until you shut the door in his face. He’d leave with a whine, but you were always left hot and bothered. You had loved his mouth on you, how desperate he had been to taste your cum and to hear your moans.

Every time he begged you were more and more likely to give in. Until Mingi got involved.

Wooyoung was begging as usual, and this time you were debating on giving in, letting him pin you to the door and nose against your neck while he whined. “Please. Just another taste. You could use my cock this time if you want? You want to don’t you?” He pressed closer, hands fiddling with your skirt that was the shortest yet and that might have been the reason Wooyoung was even more desperate than usual today.

Your fingers played with his black and white strands of his hair, exposing your neck and letting him press kisses there. He really did whittle down your defenses, play into your desires, and there was just something about him that made him hard to resist.

The sight of Mingi a few feet away, gawking with a pained look in his eyes, was enough to have you pushing away though. Wooyoung whined, holding on tight, just to have Yunho rip him off you. “What the fu- oh, Yunho.” Wooyoung’s curse quickly turned into a grin as he took note of the two of them. A grin that faded with confusion as Yunho was staring him down with a hardness you hadn’t expected on his features.

Mingi wasn’t taking his eyes off you however. He looked… worse for wear with a busted lip and scrapped up cheek, his hair cut and dyed differently to give him a more ruffian look. But nothing was a bigger shock in his appearance than his wide boba eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears and vibrant pain.

It pissed you off that he had the audacity to act hurt over this. Standing up straight you immediately shifted your demeanor to a defensive stance. “What? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

Mingi winced at your harsh tone and for a moment you regretted it. The moment was dashed away when Yunho turned on you quickly and boxed you in, hands braced on the door by your head. “Are you satisfied? Do you plan to hop on his dick and then get pissed when he tells us about it?”

You jutted out your chin, glaring up at him. “Considering three of you already watched it, I doubt I’d get pissed.”

“What?” Mingi gawked, turning to Wooyoung for an answer. You expected the latter to have a shit eating grin on his face.

He happily filled in the blanks as well. “Ate her out in my car. Forgot to turn the camera off. Yeosang, Captain and Vice saw it all. Got off to it too.”

Yunho scoffed above you, hand moving to your neck and thumb pressing up into the soft spot under your jaw. “So why the fuck did you get pissy?”

“Because of Chan!” You pushed him back immediately, anger searing through you. How dare they get defensive! “Because you passed around something so vulnerable about me but wouldn’t let me in. Why do you all get to know of my pathetic rejection and release from my last unit? But you keep me in the dark about everything concerning you and the unit? Pass me around like some fucking toy to use and yes, I like the physical contact but god dammit!” You pushed at him again, stumbling Yunho back into Wooyoung. “I want to be your equal. And you haven’t treated me like that. Neither of you. For fuck’s sake Wooyoung is the only one who has. Who has been honest. I know more about him than either of you and I spent more time around you!”

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared them down, trying to keep up the intimidation and anger but the way your voice had cracked hadn’t been lost. Your own words rang inside your head and it was true.

Even after a week, learning more about the Boa’s and this world that was quietly weaving through the city you grew up in, the most important thing you wanted from this unit was to be their equal. And if that came to sex, to more than just co-workers, you still wanted to be their equal. Especially if sex was involved you wanted to still be a part of the unit, a part of their team.

Was it so wrong to want a place to belong?

Angrily you wiped the unshed tears as they were too shocked to move. “You’re all so God Damn confusing. Doing shit like this. Getting upset I let Wooyoung touch me, contemplate letting him fuck me, but stopped with you? Won’t let you. You made it so damn clear you wanted me gone at first.”

“Princess-”

“Don’t Princess me!” You cut off Mingi. “Can you really fucking blame me for this? You had the fucking audacity to get upset over this? I seriously can not with you right now.” Huffing, you turned towards your door. “For the last time, I’ll talk to you when I’m ready to.” With the last bit of anger you walked into your apartment ready to shut the door.

But Yunho was stepping in behind you, locking the door behind him and quickly closing the distance between you. When you reached out to push him away he grabbed your wrists, backed you against the wall and pinned you there. “G-get off me! Fucking jackass!”

Squirming in his hold you ended up bringing your knee up into his crotch roughly, just for him to groan and hold both your wrists with one hand and grab your leg with the other. Slotting his thigh between yours, he slid you further up the wall and pinned you there with his body weight.

He kissed you, shutting up the string of curses leaving your lips and instead resulting in you biting his. He pulled away, muttering your name in a soft plea to calm down. It was the nickname that had you stilling. “Butterfly please- I’m sorry.”

“S-sorry for what.” You stammered out, attempting to make eye contact as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Everything. All of it. For putting up my walls. For all of us. We haven’t been fair to you.” He pulled away just enough to stare you down, a softness there you weren’t used to seeing on his features. “You… remind me of my dad a little. In particular, in the way you’re righteous to your own morals. The justice system is second to you right? What comes first is protecting the people and giving them the justice they deserve.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with this since he brought up his father of all people. You could remember the long list of articles about his father. A good samaritan, a cop who volunteered at schools and children centers and worked with his wife, who was a nurse at children's hospitals, often. He had an amazing track record, and you had a feeling Yunho would be a bit similar. 

Well, the fact he had you pinned up against the wall after forcing himself into your apartment aside that is.

“He… he’d take me on patrols sometimes. Or have me come up to the precinct when there was a child in his care. Mingi was… one of the regular ones.” The more he spoke the less you wanted to run, full on here to listen now that he was finally opening up to you. Realizing this, he dropped your arms and lifted your other leg so you were straddling his waist. “My father opened up our home to him. He became my best friend, always over, even skipped school to hide in my room. Dad got him to go to school regularly, to do well, and he did.”

Resting your forearms on his shoulders you took in the sight of him. The vulnerability he was finally letting slip free despite the promiscuous position you two were in. “Found out Mingi was one of those kids often dragged into gang business. The one that died you got all riled up about… that could have been Mingi you know? I think about that a lot. I get angry about that a lot. And you.” He reached up, cupping your cheek and letting his thumb run over the corner of your lips. “You reacted just as he would have. He wouldn’t stop until he got justice. He worked so hard to make the streets safe for kids and you saw how it is now.”

You softened in his hold, remembering clearly how his father had died. Gang violence. What seemed like petty gang violence and was reported as such, you had noticed a pattern. “The Silver Dogs took a hit out on him… didn’t they?” That’s how they resolved the conflict. That’s one of the things you had learned in your time undercover and your research.

Yunho chuckled wryly, bringing his lips to yours, ghosting soft touches but not giving you what your body apparently craved. “You are something, butterfly, having figured that out already. I can see why they’re dead set on you. You fit, more than you realize. More than we like, really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said with a bit of a pout.

He chuckled with a bit more warmth, lips trailing over your jaw to your neck, just under your ear. “You’ll see. Just… promise me you won’t regret it? You’re going to get deeper, and deeper, into our shit. Into this world. Into our unit. And into our hearts. You really want that? Because if not, you're not only going to get hurt… you’ll hurt us. Hurt Mingi, and Wooyoung and San. You care about them right?”

You nodded as you tilted your head back, giving him access. It was astonishing how you melted in his embrace considering you had been angry moments ago, but you supposed that was because he was being vulnerable with you. It felt like he was giving you a piece of him with this information, like he was giving you a piece to the unit. “I do care… I want to be a part of it.”

He sighed heavily, setting your legs down and pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “We want you here too, I promise. Jongho excluded. He’ll warm up soon enough.”

With a huff, you tugged at his hair to pull him away and have him look at you. “Does that just mean for sex, or as an actual partner in this unit?”

His eyes widened slightly but he laughed the next second. “Butterfly… Wooyoung told you we all fuck each other right? It sort of goes hand in hand.”

The image of Hongjoong licking cum off his fingers, accompanied by Wooyoung kissing San, floated through your mind. He did say that but… “All of you? Even sour puss Jongho?”

He shrugged, hands running over your sides. “Well, that’s a little different. He’s sworn off women for one, and two… he really only fucks Yeosang and Wooyoung. The latter in frustration. But this is a partnership, both in the field and in the bedroom. Does that bother you?”

You found yourself grinning up at him. “Surprisingly… no. But that does make you all the oddest detectives I have ever met or heard of. Wooyoung especially since he made the cut through other means.”

“He told you about that?”

“Mhmm. Met his mom too. Oh, should I not be saying that?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine here. With us. It’s proof that we are opening up to you though. Already meeting the parents.” He wore a cheeky grin on his lips as he stepped away, receiving a light slap to his arm from you. “There you are. My butterfly is back.”

Heat rushed up your neck and settled in your stomach. “Will you leave now?”

He gasped over dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “We just had a touching moment and now you want me gone?”

“Mhmm. I’m exhausted and I don't plan on jumping on anyone’s cock tonight. Besides, I’m sure Mingi is waiting for you.” You pushed him gently for the door, glad he was at least moving now.

He stepped out a moment later, Mingi still out in the hall but so was Wooyoung, both wearing solemn expressions. Wooyoung hung up the phone the second he saw you, both of them lighting up at the sight of you.

Yunho smiled over at Mingi and quickly pulled him into an embrace, now pressing their lips together. You laughed, shifting to rest your hand on your hip. “Point proven Yunho.”

“Are you still upset?” Wooyoung asked from your other side, reaching out for your arm and latching on.

Tearing your eyes from the two giants now making on- seemingly having forgotten you- you turned towards him. “I’m good Wooyoung, why don’t you head home?”

He pouted, glancing over at the two towers as Yunho mumbled things for just Mingi’s ears. “Mm… alright. Just, one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“San wants you to call him. He won’t stop pestering me for details. And uh-” He quickly kissed your cheek. “Call me if you need anything, Goddess, not just to get off.” He was almost shy as he offered it up, which you found endearing.

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed a soft kiss to the mole under his eye. “I will. Go rest. And you-” You turned towards Yunho and Mingi then, “please don’t be too loud.”

Unfortunately they took that as a challenge. Even going so far as to moan your name. It irritated you, caused you to toss and turn and wish that you had taken up Wooyoung’s offer now if only to spite them.

You were ready to do so the next day, hearing a knock on your apartment door. You were already reaching out to grab his shirt to pull him in and take him up on his usual offer when you realized that it wasn’t Wooyoung.

Seonghwa stared down at your hand on his mesh shirt, brows knitted together. He didn’t say anything until you quickly retracted your hand and stepped back, rambling apologies. “May I come in?” Quickly you stepped back to let him in, taking in the mesh shirt over a tank top, as well as jeans with an attached half skirt and boots, even his hair and makeup was done differently.

As soon as you shut the door, before you even got a chance to speak he said “We need to talk.”

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Can you believe this top fit me perfectly only a month ago? So, like, I know my bf is totally lacing all the drinks he makes me with breast-growth pills. Like one time I even caught him mashing something up when he asked if I wanted a Long Island iced tea and he made some excuse like it was an aphrodisiac he was giving both of us. Like, my dude, my boobs have quintupled in size since we started dating half a year ago, I think something might be up. He's such a dunce, but he's really sweet and an amazing bartender. Free drinks, and all the cocktails I could ever want at home are a small price to pay for ever-growing, giant breasts.

I decided it might be fun to play chicken with him. So, he thinks I'm gonna get mad and he'll have to back off? Nah, I blocked him on this account. I mean, every woman should have a social media account they hide from whoever they're dating, that's just smart. So, to all of you, my lovely followers, I think it's time we played a game called: Is He Actually Committed? He's making me grow a massive pair of tits because that's his fetish, cool, and he thinks he's hiding it from me, probably also a part of his fetish. No problem. Let's have some fun.

I took a pic of some pills I found in his room and you guys said they're 100% the ones he's using on me. I'm gonna order a truckload of them and play as dumb as possible, pretending I don't suspect a thing or blame him whatsoever. I'm gonna keep taking these pills, triple what he's currently drugging me, force my poor boobs to grow totally gigantic, and act none the wiser. Eventually he'll get cold feet when I start having severe mobility issues and need help doing pretty much anything, and my boobs will STILL keep getting bigger, and our little chicken will simply have to come crying to me that he stopped drugging me and can't understand why my boobs keep growing, at which point I'll reveal either he takes care of me and makes me his little immobile wifey with colossal Hentai tits that weigh 200lbs each, or I'm gonna call the cops and tell them I have proof he was drugging me and forcing me to grow breasts so big I can't even walk! Guys don't really think this far..... Unless he wants me to grow my boobs that big, in which case..... ummmm..... either way I have a devoted man to take care of me after my tits get too big for me to lift? So yaaay? I mean, it'd be kind of hot that he wants me boobs that massive..... not gonna lie."

[dtrghost]

this is part 2 to the flirty ghost oneshot i made. enjoy ;)))

part 1

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x bartender fem!reader

synopsis: Price invites the team out to a night at a renowned club in London after a job well done. Team 141 watches in surprise as Simon flirts with the hot bartender ;). I made simon rich, because I find rich guys hot, so yeah. a bit sub!ghost because he'd do anything for a girl like you.

warnings: mentions of ghost "stalking" you a bit, references to male masturbation, flirty (probably ooc) ghost, alcohol, pining, smut 18+ only, rough sex, slapping, spanking, squirting, degrading, cunnilingus, size kink, no protection (be smart and careful people), praise, cursing, consensual sex, brat taming, you're welcome yall, enjoy ghost fucking you dumb. NOT PROOFREAD.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

The day couldn't go by slower for Simon. He planned the date with caution, making backup plans for his backup plans if the initial attempt didn't go as he expected it to. He wanted this to go smoothly and perfectly, he wanted you to like him, to want him just as much as he wants you.

The previous day he told the team to go on without him, saying he needed some air as he walked off, leaning against the brick wall of an alley for a smoke while he waited for you to finish closing up. He essentially walked you home without you knowing, following you back to your place which wasn't too far from the bar.

He admired the way you walked, the grace, the confidence, all at a slow, leisurely pace which gave him more time to get a look at your lower half. How your plump, round ass moved with each step he took, sending a number of fantasies through his head to think about as you took your time back to your apartment complex. He was glad when he saw it was a nice place in a safe area, moving to another alley on the other side of the street and scanning all the windows in hopes to catch a glimpse of you.

He watched a curtain open, seeing your face peek out to look at the street. He was deep in the shadows, and he relaxed knowing it was near impossible that you'd see him as you took a look out. You didn't close it though, turning around and putting on some music that he could just barely hear. You danced by yourself, taking off your blazer with a sigh in relief. He watched as the muscles in your back moved, getting a nice view of your side profile as you walked off somewhere else in your room. He would've stayed the whole night to see if he'd get lucky with getting a glimpse of your fully naked form, but he wanted to save that sight for the next night.

When he got back to his flat he went straight for the shower. The cold water couldn't kill his erection however, and he found himself whimpering as he furiously fisted his cock to the memory of your body swaying to the music as you slipped off your jacket. He moaned at the idea of feeling you move against him, your hips grinding into his as he mustered up the courage to dance with you just to feel the sensation. He came at the image of his small glimpse of your beautiful breasts as you disappeared into the room he wished he was in.

Fast forward and he was now standing in the mirror, checking over his outfit which consisted of a white button up, a black blazer with a black tie, and dress pants. He left the mask on, noticing the look of interest when you first saw it and basing the decision of the assumption that you liked it. He got in his car and drove first to a floral shop, customizing a beautiful bouquet, purple flowers peaking through the wrapping as he went back to his car.

He then drove back to the bar, hand gripping the wheel and stick shift tightly to steady himself from the nerves lighting up in his body as it came into view. He could smell the flowers sitting on his passenger's seat, lavender flooding his senses, just as your lavender perfume did the night before. He got out, receiving a number of glances as people walked out.

"Look who's back, and well dressed." Your voice made him sigh in relief, partly expecting you to not be there as a way to tell him you didn't want anything to do with him. He looked at your outfit as he took a seat at your bar once more. You wore a black, silk dress that hugged your curves beautifully. It was on the shorter side, giving everyone a nice view of your smooth, glimmering legs that were further complimented by the heels you wore, giving you a bit more height that would never compare to his.

"I look like rubbish next to you sweetheart. You're fucking beautiful." You chuckled, nodding to your coworker you asked to take your shift for the night so he could take you out, walking out from behind the counter as he stood up. You took notice of the flowers in his hand, humming in delight as he handed them to you.

"These are beautiful Simon. Thank you." He watched you smell them, relishing the smile you gave him that he'd already etched into is brain the night before. He offered you his arm and led you out of the bar. He opened the car door for you, helping you inside with his hand that looked enormous as yours rested on it. He shivered at the tingles that shot up his spine and flooded his palm from your touch. Once you were situated in his passenger's seat you looked back at him, hand still in his.

"You okay?" You watched as he lifted his mask just to the bridge of his nose before leaning his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on the back of your knuckles. The action left you breathless, your heart beating out of your chest as he shut the door and went to the driver's seat with a cheeky smirk on his face, pulling his mask down.

You glanced over to him, and fuck did he look hot driving. The glimpse of his lips left your mind running to the things you wanted him to do to you, and Simon could tell. He watched your thighs press together as you shifted in your seat, trying to move your mind away with the music playing quietly in the background.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours lovie?" He asked, his voice sending waves of arousal down to your heated core. You chuckled, clearing your throat.

"If I told you that I don't think we'd make it to wherever you're taking me. Which is where by the way?" He felt his cock twitch in his pants, exhaling deeply as he kept his eyes trained on the road to try and avoid looking at your thighs or at the deep V of your dress.

"You'll see sweetheart." Simon knew you had a thing for his voice. He could tell by the shivers you'd get when he called you a pet name, how you'd mentally stutter for a moment and have to recuperate before responding. He'd use that all night, and you knew it. You arrived at a restaurant, a very nice one at that. He got out quickly, rushing to your side to help you out before walking inside.

The hostess hesitated at first due to the skull mask, but she recovered and directed you to a booth in the back, you sitting across from him as menus were placed in front you. You ordered your drinks, and you looked at him mildly surprised.

"No alcohol tonight Mr. Riley?" He chuckled, eyes creasing and glimmering at you making your heart skip a beat.

"Not tonight love. I need to be present for what I'm going to do to you." You smirked, pointing your tongue to the side of your cheek and chuckling.

"I think it'll be the other way around Simon." You raised a daring eyebrow at him, watching as his eyes bored into yours analytically. He found something that made him chuckle and you falter.

"We'll see pretty girl. we'll see."

"What don't believe me?"

"I never said that."

"That look you just gave me implied it."

"I've given you quite a few looks tonight, I can't seem to recall the one you're referring to." You rolled your eyes playfully, grinning down at your menu. Dinner went smoothly, throwing teasing remarks at each other that were contradicted with the sultry glances as you ate. The tension forming between the you two left you hot and heavy in your chair with anticipation, almost sighing in relief when the check came. He offered a hand to you, and you exited the restaurant hand in hand.

Before he could go to the driver's seat you tugged him back, his hand on the roof of the car as he looked down at you curiously. Your mouth went dry, eyeing his frame that was beautifully complimented by his outfit.

"Y/N. Y/N L/N." His eyes widened for a moment, smiling happily under his mask knowing that he'd successfully earned your name and met your standards. You watched his hand come up, fingers brushing over your cheek, then your other cheek, and finally wrapping around your neck gently. You were enamored by him, the roughness of his skin against your soft neck, the amusement and want dancing in his eyes like a candle flame at the feeling of your pulse against his fingers.

"Hello, Y/N." He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, how fluid and easy it sounded to him. He returned to the driver's seat and looked over to you with a question.

"Your place." You answered quickly making him chuckle. The throbbing of your pussy and his dick was only made worse by his hand massaging your thigh, your head leaning back against the seat with a quiet curse. You two practically jumped out of your seats when he pulled into the driveway, laughing together as he ran to his front door, key already out and ready to unlock. Once the door shut he yanked off his mask and you yanked his tie, bringing him in to a deep kiss that made you both moan in satisfaction. His lips were soft and plump against your own, kissing you with a passion you'd never felt before.

"Such a good girl for me tonight." He mumbled as his hands settled on your waist, lifted you up and against him. Your legs wrapped around his waist and he pressed you against the wall, his erection grinding over your clothed center with need. You pulled away, finally getting a chance to look at his face. His eyes were blown with desire and lust, his jaw strong with a few scars that decorated his skin. You could see him falter for a moment.

Did you like him? Was he-

"You're beautiful Si." Your words silenced every insecurity he had in the moment as his hands squeezed your thighs. He thanked you with another kiss to your lips before he walked you two over to his bedroom. Your back hit his bed, his shoes being flicked off to the side as he hovered over you, your lips never disconnecting. His hand moved down from the side of your head to your neck, and contrary to the gentle grip he had before, you gasped for air as he squeezed and pressed down on your trachea.

"To answer your question from earlier.." He started, pressing a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"I don't believe you. At first I thought you were just trying to challenge me." He chuckled to himself at the thought of your small frame trying to overpower him.

"But now I see you're just a fucking brat that needs to be put in her place." You whined, squirming underneath him for friction.

"You want that love? You want me to fuck the brat out of you? Looks like I already did with those eyes." You stared up at him with big, watery doe eyes that made him curse.

"Such a good little slut for me lovie." His other free hand traveled down your body, cupping your clothed pussy, feeling it throb against him hand.

"So wet already." He moaned. With a final kiss to your lips he got on his knees, pulling your body to him. He hiked up your dress to your waist, groaning at the sight of your black lace panties in front of him.

"Do you like these?" snapping the waistband against your skin. Before you could answer he ripped them off, disregarding the now ruined material to the side. You didn't care.

"Hope you're ready to buy me another pair." You teased, lifting yourself up with your elbows to grin down at him. He chuckled, licking a slow strip up your wet cunt, watching your head fall back in relief.

"Oh fuck lovie, you're fucking delicious."

It was then you knew that he had to have some major experience to eat you out the way he was. You could feel everything he was doing, the slow circles around your swollen clit as he licked his name on your pussy.

"Could eat this perfect cunt for hours." He moaned, feeling his throbbing, painful erection begging to be touched under his pants. He didn't let up though, he kept his arms locked down on your hips to pin you to the bed and take whatever he gave you. His tongue moved to press into your wet clenching hole, tongue fucking you with skilled finesse. "Simon! Oh fuck yes, fuck don't stop, fuck make me cum." You begged, your hands tightly gripping his hair as he focused on making you see stars. He chuckled, his fingers replacing his tongue, moaning at the feeling of you clenching around his digits. He pressed a sweet kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself as his fingers moved slowly in and out of your dripping sex.

"Fuck you're tight. You wanna cum lovie? Let me feel your cunt cum on my fingers?" His lips grazed against your ear, whispering dirty, obscene things to you as he didn't change the grueling pace of his fingers.

"Simon" You whined, bucking your hips into his hand. He 'tched', leaning his head back and slapping your cheek just hard enough for it to sting a bit. He chuckled at your soft moan and clench around his fingers.

"Needy thing aren't you. I'm taking my time with you sweetheart, so be a good little girl and take what I give you. That's an order."

"Oh fuck Simon."

"It's lieutenant to you slut."

His fingers left your pussy, listening to you whimper at the loss of contact as he slipped the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

"Lift f'me pretty." You lifted your hips and he tossed your dress off to the side, resuming the assault on your aching cunt. The edging went on for what felt like forever as you watched him use his tongue and fingers to bring you to the edge of ecstasy, only to be left empty and disappointed as he pulled himself away completely.

"Lieutenant please." You cried, tears rushing down your temples in frustration.

"Shhhhh, let me do this right. Just a little more." He cooed, his tongue returning to your clit with his two fingers stretching you out. It wouldn't be enough for his size, but it was better than nothing. He loved the sweet sounds coming from you, how you moaned his rank and cried his name just before you came. He hummed, satisfied by how wet and on edge you wore, pulling away and listening to your heavy breathing as you caught your breath.

You listened to him fumble with his belt, your lids opening just enough to see him take off his pants and boxers.

"Holy shit. Simon... that's not gonna fucking fit, you know that right?" You were never the type to inflate a man's ego with such a cliche statement, but he was far bigger than any man you'd ever been with before. You took it in fully, the red tip that was desperate for attention, the girth and length that intimidated you as the vein coming up the side gave it some definition.

"All that prep wasn't for nothing lovie." He tore off the rest of his clothes and pulled out a condom from the pocket of his once disregarded jacket.

"I'm on the pill." He smirked, tossing it off to the side and settling in between your legs that were arched on either side of his thick waist. He lubed himself with your wet arousal, rubbing his length against your puffy cunt that ached for him.

"It'll fit Y/N, and if it doesn't.." He trailed off, pressing the tip into your tight hole and moaning at the feeling of you clenching around him. You moaned as his hand wrapped around your throat again, squeezing and leaving you gasping for air as he inched into you, inch by inch.

"I'll make it fit." With a quick thrust of his hips, his cock hit your cervix as you cried out at the stretch. He was massive, and he watched as you pussy clamped and sucked him in.

"Oh fuck this pussy was made for me. You were just meant to take my cock sweetheart. Oh yeah." You thought he was going to start slow, give you some time to adjust, but he meant what he said when he told you he'd fuck the brat out of you. His pace was brutal, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against you resonating in the room as he fucked you.

"Fuck s-so big Simon."

"I'm in your fucking stomach love. Fuck would you look at that." He chuckled, taking your hand and pressing it on your lower stomach, letting you feel him fuck you.

"Your cunt's got a vice grip on me. You're so good to me love, letting me fuck you like this. You like being my little slut don't you." You cried your answer, his moans filling your ears as a string of curses followed them. The wet sounds were so lewd, it only turned you both on more. You felt yourself there, that familiar clench he loved so much signaling to him that you were going to cum.

"You can cum now pretty girl, come for your lieutenant." He began rubbing your clit and you felt your abdomen tighten as you screamed his name, squirting your juices all over his waist and cock.

"Oh fuck yeah. You're a squirter love? Should've told me that earlier." It was too much, you couldn't handle it, pushing at his chest as you shrieked at his pace speeding up with the thumb on your clit.

"Take it Y/N. Wet my cock again, fuck you're so hot. So beautiful." He leaned down to your ear, nibbling at the top as tears rushed down your cheeks, legs shaking as he fucked you.

"That's why you're mine. All fucking mine." He grabbed your jaw gently when you didn't respond, your brain having gone numb as you wildly buckled your hips into his and clenched around his dick.

"Oh, I've fucked you dumb have I?" He leaned back, lifting your legs so your ankles rested on his shoulders, moaning at how much tighter you got.

"That's alright. Just keep making a mess for me." He hit your sweet spot over and over, his thumb on your clit never slowing down as you wet him, the bed, and even the floor with your cum. You couldn't think, the only things coming out of you being screams, cries, moans, and slurred mumbles of his name as your squirted and came for him over and over. It began to hurt, but it felt so delicious that you couldn't bring yourself to tell him to stop. You wanted him to ruin you, to fuck you into the next reality where he'd do it all over again until you were satisfied.

Even with how rough he was being, you could feel him worshipping you, pressing kisses on your skin and relishing the feeling of your tight cunt gripping his cock. His hand connected with your cheek, snapping you back into the moment. You noticed how erratic his thrusts were now, how they were losing rhythm as he approached his own climax.

"Want you to be here for this lovie. You're taking me so well, you're such a good girl f'me. You gonna let me breed your cunt?"

"Fuck, cum for me lieutenant, fuck your cum into me. Please. Please breed your pussy." Your. Your pussy, you said.

"Oh fuck. You're a minx you know that. I'm gonna cum in you, fill you with my seed and put a baby in you. And you're gonna do it with me." He fucked you hard and fast, just the way you liked it, both of your cursing and moaning each other's names as you came for each other. His body shivered and jolted as he filled you up with his cum, sending thick long ropes of his seed into you while he whimpered your name. You two stayed there for a moment, catching your breaths.

"You did amazing Y/N. You did so well for me." He pulled his head back, suddenly filled with worry at being too rough with you as his fingers gently ran down your cheeks, feeling your legs shake.

"I'm alright. Best fuck of my life." You muttered, wrapping your arms around him and pressing kisses on his shoulder. He chuckled, hands running through your sweaty hair lovingly as you soaked up each other's presence.

"Hopefully not the last."

"Definitely not the last. You're mine Simon." You felt his chest rumble against yours as he laughed, shaking lightly in your arms as he looked at you.

"All yours Y/N. Now lets get you cleaned up." He slowly pulled out of you, shushing your whimpers with a sweet kiss before helping you up. He anticipated your inability to stand, his arm swiftly hooking underneath your knees and holding your bridal style.

"Hope you called out from work tomorrow. Can't exactly make drinks like this can you." He teased, his cheek pressed against the top of your head as your cheek pressed against his chest.

"Shut up Simon."

"Not what you were saying earlier-"

Smack

"Alright alright! Bloody Americans."

And that concludes this oneshot! I hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave requests or message me!! I'll do my best to get to them when I can. Thank you for reading and i'll see you next time. Ciao!

@namelessghoulette626 @ghostlythots @brallieforever1 @daryldixonh0e @discofern @fandomsinthegalaxies @simonsslvt @meandjoemama @lundenloves @starstruckmiraclekitty @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @havoc973

[cameronspecial]

Some People Can Change

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Mentions of Drugs and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Rafe really does want to change, but what happens if nobody else believes he can?

A/N: Rafe isn't a murderer and doesn't hide dead bodies in this one-shot, but everything else he does in Canon happens.

Masterlist

Y/N Y/L/N was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Rafe wasn’t planning on interacting with her after she left his bedroom. He was a Kook and she was a Pogue, who worked as a bartender at the club. However, when he woke up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of “Dance The Night” accompanied by her dance moves, he knew she wasn’t really going to be leaving his life after today. Plus, her advice was life-saving. “I think I’m going to do something really bad,” he confessed to her, sitting at the kitchen island with coffee in hand. She looked at him in understanding, “Well, you said going to, which implies it has happened yet. And if it hasn’t happened, then you always have a chance to fix it. It’s up to you to own the fact that you recognize it isn’t good and to stop it.” This led to Rafe stopping the murder of his father that he put into action. 

———

Ever since that day, Rafe is not often seen without his arm around Y/N, looking at her like she is his world. Because she is. He knows she wouldn’t put up with the shit that he pulls on a normal basis, so he made an effort to stop his vices. He is just grateful she is relatively new to town and hasn’t had the chance yet to hear the gossip about him. This means he has a chance to turn his life around before she finds out. But no one in his life actually believes he can change. 

“I told you, Barry. I’m not dealing or using anymore. Not cocaine, not weed. I gotta go cold turkey,” Rafe reiterates, sliding the drugs and gun towards the pogue. “And I certainly don’t need this gun anymore.” Barry shakes his head and pushes the item back toward Rafe, “You really think you are going to last man? You aren’t going to be able to stay away from these just because of her. You can’t change man.” “You’re wrong. Every time I do drugs, I’m making the conscious decision to turn towards them. Y/N is helping me realize that I have other ways of coping with my issues,” he gestures his hand toward his chest to prove himself. “Come on, Country Club. Just take them back.” Rafe grows frustrated with this conversation. Instead of fighting back and yelling at the dealer, he tries to take deep breaths to calm himself. It sort of works, but nobody is perfect. So he storms out of the trailer with the loud clang of the front door closing behind him. 

He gets home from Barry’s storming into the living room with his anger clear on his face. “Love, what’s wrong?” Y/N poses, lowering the volume of the TV. Rafe gives her a harsh look, “WHAT THE F-!” He can’t finish his yelling because Y/N is already gently placing her hand on his sternum to guide his breathing. “I know you are angry about something, right now, but that gives you no right to displace that anger towards me. So if you feel the need to release this negative energy, then I would like for you to channel this feeling through working out, please. I’ll come to see you to talk after half an hour.” Rafe knows that she is correct and she probably got these ideas from a psychology book she bought. God, she’s so smart. 

Rafe heads up to the punching bag in his room and starts throwing punches at it. As promised, she comes to check on him after some time. “Now that we’ve calmed down, do you want to talk about it?” Y/N inquires, bringing his hands into her smaller ones and giving his bruised knuckles a kiss. He nods at her, “Yeah, I just went to give something back to a… uh… a friend and he insisted that I still needed it. It was frustrating.” His subconscious knew the problem was deeper than that and this caused tears to threaten to spill. Rafe is quick to hide his face behind his palms. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that this is the true root of your crying. Do you think you can talk about it?”

“Uhh, no. I don’t think I truly know what I’m feeling. Can we just cuddle and think instead?”

Y/N is happy to oblige, lying down on the bed and opening her arms so he can rest his head on her chest. 

———

“No, Rafe. I have to tell Y/N. She deserves to know,” Sarah argues, making her way back into the house from the back patio. Rafe is quick to follow her. At the same time, Y/N is heading towards the same door from the bathroom. “Tell me what?” Sarah turns towards the girl, ready to tell her about Rafe’s faults. 

“Rafe is a liar and thief and violent and a drug addict. He isn’t a good person, sweetie!” 

“I may not have been a good person and I admit to being everything you’ve said but I’m trying to change. Y/N helped me realize that I need to change.”

“Ooh, like you can change. Honestly, no offense Y/N, but we both know this road to redemption act is all going to go away once you get bored of her.” 

Rafe wants to yell that it isn’t true what Sarah is saying, but he remembers the breathing exercises Y/N taught to help calm down and puts those into practice. He knows adding more anger to this argument is just going to lead toward a slippery slope of words he will regret. 

“You may believe that, but I don’t. So I’m sorry I stole the cross and melted it down. I know that it can’t bring back the artifact for Pope. But I’ve already given the money I got from it to Pope and made a donation with my own money to the church.”

“Well good for you, doing one good thing to not feel guilty and to tell Y/N you are a good person.”

“I know about all of this already. Thank you for wanting to tell me, Sarah, but I already know everything and I would like to get the rest of the information straight from Rafe, now,” Y/N interrupts the argument before it becomes never-ending. Rafe’s palms are pressed into his eyes and she knows he is trying to hide his tears. She does not allow the conversation to continue; instead, brings him upstairs and moves his hands from his face. She wipes the tears away and presses a kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to hide your tears away from me.”

“Why can’t anyone believe I can change? What if everyone is right?”

“Don’t say that. I believe that maybe not everyone can change, but some people can change. And you are definitely a part of some people.”

“How can you say that about me with everything you’ve known about all this time?”

“Because the Rafe that I was told about would’ve ended that argument with violence. He was violent, rude, a liar, stole and relied on drugs like it was water. The one before me approached that argument with recognition of his wrongdoing. He is working on his anger, is polite, tells me the truth, always pays for me and attends NA. He is one month sober. That is how I know you have changed.”

“Nobody else believes I can.”

“I know, love. I know it hurts. But right now let’s just focus on who does believe. You and Me. Then we can use this belief to prove everyone else wrong.”

“Okay, I can do that. I love you, Y/N/N.”

“ I love you too, love.”

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | Rafe Cameron (part one)

MASTERLIST (series) | x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, asshole, and has mood swings.

Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?

Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.

But it's very rare to have a Kook.

It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.

Locals don't tip.

Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.

Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.

Why?

Because he's an asshole.

"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."

You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.

"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."

Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.

But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.

Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.

"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"

His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.

You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.

He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."

You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.

Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."

You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.

"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"

"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."

"What's so funny?"

"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."

Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.

"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"

From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?

"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"

Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.

He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.

"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."

You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.

Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.

"What the fuck?"

"I think it's time for you to leave."

He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"

"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."

Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.

Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"

—

That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.

But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.

You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.

You didn't care.

Your coworker can get his tips.

As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.

"Rafe wants to talk to you."

You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.

"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.

"He said he's willing to wait."

That means he was expecting you to say no.

You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."

"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."

You smile at that. "Exactly."

Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.

Then another.

You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.

He remained until he was the very last customer.

You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.

With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.

"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."

"You finally ready to talk to me?"

"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.

But, you were too hopeful.

"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.

"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.

"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."

"I remember."

"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."

"And old-fashioned, but continue."

His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."

You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.

"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."

"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.

"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"

You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.

"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."

Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.

"Pretend?" You repeat.

"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."

"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.

He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."

You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."

It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.

But, he never employed you again.

"Do you see where I'm going now?"

You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.

"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."

His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."

That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.

"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."

"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."

You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."

You turn your back to him but he stops you.

"I'll pay you."

You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I don't want someone else."

He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.

You were serious.

"I'm sorry, I truly am."

Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.

With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.

You thought it would be the end of it.

Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.

★ part two ★

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[vanillanaps]

Still Get Jealous | Steve Rogers

Request - Hello, I think you are a master writer and I have a drabble of blurb request only if you’re up for it though. Could you write a jealously trope for steve using the song red high heels? :> If it doesn’t inspire anything, that is okay. Thank you!

A/n - I must’ve forgotten how to write drabbles/blurb cause babyyy I got carried again lmaoo. But, unfortunately anon I didn’t find inspiration with the song you requested I still wanted give you jealousy and red high heels, hope it still fulfills you!!

Category - Steve Rogers x Reader, Angst

Warnings - Steve is a jealous asshole with a reckless mouth, reader drinks to ignore the pain

Word Count - 1.3k

♡♡♡♡

It had been approximately two weeks since Steven Grant Rogers left you alone in your apartment after he had broken up with you. In just a little over a month, it would’ve been your year anniversary with Steve. You were both happy and getting ready to take things to the next level, so it was beyond shocking when he sat you down to explain that he ‘just couldn’t do it anymore’ but you were smart enough to spot the bullshit.

Regardless, you cried. You were falling in love, hard and fast just for him to up and leave you out of the blue. But, as the second week of sulking had taken its time slowly ending, something in you snapped. You realized that you shouldn’t be home, crying and depressed about a man who clearly couldn’t give a rats ass about you.

Wiping your tears, you sat up as you searched for your phone in your tangled sheets and blanket. Once you found it, you quickly dialed the number of your favorite girl who could easily take you out of your slump, “Wanda?”

“Hey, Y/n. I’m so glad you called, you haven’t been responding to my text, I was worried.” She had answered the phone with concern in her voice.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just,” You paused, sighing as you threw your covers off of yourself, jumping out of bed, “I’m just sick of crying over Steve you know? I want to go out, I want to have fun, I want to get back to who I was before him—and I wanna do it tonight.”

“Tonight? Y/n, are you sure you’re ready?” Wanda questioned. She was fully supportive of getting you out of the house, but she just wanted you to be sure.

“Yes, tonight. Be ready in an hour.” You told her, hanging up before she could respond, knowing she would try to mother you. Get your real feelings out as to why you were so suddenly ready to go out. But that’s not what you wanted. Even if it was for one night, you just wanted Steve off your mind.

♡♡♡♡

The music blasted loudly in the speakers surrounding the club, the atmosphere through the roof. As you took it all in, you could slowly feel the man slipping from your mind, “Let’s get a drink!” You shouted to Wanda. The two of you held hands as you shuffled to the bar, careful not to lose each other in the club, “Tequila shots please!”

“How many?”

“Just keep them coming!” You shouted to the bartender. He nodded, pouring up the shots and passing them over onto the counter.

“Are you sure, Y/n?!” Wanda asked, picking up her shot as you grabbed yours.

You nodded, “I just need one night not thinking about that—idiot!”

She nodded before holding up her glass to cheer with you, “To forgetting about that idiot!” You both laughed before clicking your glasses and taking the shots.

As promised, the bartender kept the shots coming after each time you both finished one. You felt there was no better way than drowning your sorrows than letting the liquor run through your body, mellowing you out and then letting you forget about the world surrounding you.

But no alcohol in the world could help him forget. Not as he stood in the back corner of the club, watching as you and Wanda take shots back to back. At first, it didn’t bother him. You were out with your friend, having a good time. His ears didn’t turn red from anger until he saw what you were wearing. You had his favorite number on.

A black, skimpy, body con dress that squeezes you in all the right ways, showing off your attributes that he loved. Barely covering your ass so if you were to bend over, the entire club could see all of you. You had your hair in his favorite style and not to mention that red gloss that was painted across those lips that felt like heaven to him. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Steve made his way closer to you, not close enough to be seen but close enough for his eyes to trail those legs that used to be wrapped around him 24/7. Catching those red, sexy, strappy, five inch stilettos that he bought you. The ones he use to fuck you endlessly in. How could he be such a fucking idiot.

“Wanda, I wanna danceeee!” You slurred, all of those shots starting to take control of your mind and body. You felt good, you felt great.

“Come on!” Taking her last shot, she grabbed your hands quickly pulling you to the dance floor.

You weren’t sure when it happened or how it happened, but at one moment, you were dancing with your best friend, having the time of your life. The next, your ass was pushed up against some man’s crotch as you grinded on him. His hands trailing to any part of your body he could reach. You didn’t mind though, you deserved this. You especially didn’t mind when he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder and neck. For the moment, you were enjoying it and then—you weren’t.

“The fucks your problem dude?!” The random man yelled when you were snatched from his hold.

Your body ran cold when you pulled yourself together, just long enough to see who ruined your dance, “Steve?! What are you doing?!” He ignored you as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the club and to the exit, “Stop it! Let me go!” He didn’t stop until he got you outside of the club, “What’s your issue?!”

“Two weeks huh? That’s all it took for you to be in the club? Dressed like a hooker and dancing like a slut?” Steve shouted. Immediately he regretted it when he saw the look on your face, but there was nothing he could do to take it back now.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that Steve? You broke up with ME for no reason! I cried for two weeks straight because of you! But now, since I’m in the club, with a hooker outfit that YOU bought me, by the way, I’m a slut?!”

Steve's blood was running hot and he was running of anger and jealousy, “You’re drunk, Y/n.”

“I’m not drunk!” You shouted, right before stumbling over your feet, “I’m not that drunk! I’m sober enough to realize that I was doing and to tell you to leave me the fuck alone! I’m not going to spend the rest of my life crying over you when you don't want me! And that stunt you just pulled? Let alone calling me a hooker and a slut all in the same breath? I’m glad we broke up!” You felt it, you felt the tears starting to bubble underneath your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall, “Just leave me alone! I just want to be the person I was before you ruined me, you asshole!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He called out as you started to back away from him, “I broke up with you because I was scared! Everything between us was moving fast and—and I didn’t know what to do so I left!”

“I don’t care, Steve! I don’t care! It’s too late!” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any more excuses. Not wanting him to ruin your night anymore than he already had, “Go find someone else to be scared to fall in love with.”

Just then, Wanda came running out of the club, relieved to see you standing there, “Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you! I was worried.” She breathed, but halted in her tracks when she saw Steve a couple feet away, “Steve? What are you doing here?”

“Leaving, he’s leaving.” You responded for him, turning your back to him and facing Wanda, “Let’s go back inside, I need another drink.”

She nodded, wrapping her arm with yours as the two of you headed back inside without so much as a glance back at the man who realized he truly lost everything.

[bornagainmurdock]

blind date // matt murdock

"Matt?" You walked up to the bar after hyping yourself up outside of the bar.

Your friend had set you up on a blind date with her friend from law school. She hadn't told you much about him, just that he was incredibly handsome and extremely smart.

"Hi. You must be Angél's friend. It's nice to meet you." He held you his hand for you to shake, waiting for you to grab his hand.

You looked him up and down and smiled. He was dressed really well, which you expected for a lawyer. The first red flag you noticed was his choice to wear sunglasses inside.

A few minutes into talking, Matt calls the bartender over, and orders a drink, before allowing you to order for yourself.

"Ah. A mule kinda person, hmm?" He joked with you, holding his hand out for the bartender to pass his drink to him.

"Sunglasses indoors kinda person, hmm?" You sassed back without fully thinking.

"Oh, did Angél not tell you? I'm blind. I prefer to wear my glasses." He wasn't offended. Matt thought it was funny that for the past twenty minutes you had no idea.

"Oh my god, Matt. I didn't know. I'm so sorry." You covered your face with your hands blushing so hard.

He laughed. This situation wasn't uncommon, but it was entertaining every time.

You took a long sip of your drink hoping the alcohol would kick in faster and you didn't have to feel embarassed anymore.

Matt continued the conversation and tried to get you feeling comfortable again. He asked about what you did for work, where you grew up, your astrology signs.

At the end of the night Matt unfolded the cane from his back pocket— something you wish you would have noticed earlier— asked to grab your arm and lead him out of bar to the street.

"I don't want to be too forward," Matt started with a smile, "But I would really like a second date."

"I would love that, Matt." You smiled back at him. "I've never been on a blind date before. This was kind of exhilarating."

Matt tried to hold back the joke, he really did, but it was too late. "You're lucky. Well I only go on blind dates."

He started laughing before you had even processed what he said, you face turning red once again when his words caught up to you.

"Oh my god." You whispered.

"Next week, same time same place?" He let go of your arm to reach to hold your hand even if just for a second.

"Or you could come over to my place." You said boldly.

"Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Speaking of your place, can I walk you home?"

"I'd like that."

You reoriented yourself so Matt could grab onto you once more, starting to walk the few blocks back to your place.

[spicerackofblorbos]

Sapphire | Leon Kennedy x bartender!fem!reader

☾ summary ➼ part II to Amethyst, you invited Leon to stay the night after he kindly drove you home in the dead of night. Long-hidden feelings finally reveal themselves in a passionate heated exchange.

☾ content/warnings ➼ fluff, canon world, mutual pining, SMUT (18+), p in v, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected sex, afab!reader, adult language

☾ wc ➼ 6.5k

After making sure his car was locked, Leon follows close behind you as you step up the few stairs to your front door. Luckily you were smart enough to turn the porch lights on before leaving – though that seemed like where your luck had run out for the day.

You are quick to insert your key and turn, pressing down on the handle at the same time so that the old door opens with a groan. You are instantly hit with a burst of warmth from the dimly lit interior, creating goosebumps down your arms.

"Do you live by yourself?” Leon asks behind you, his blue eyes trailing around the small area of your house he can see.

"Yes and no." You say simply as you carefully tug your keys from the door handle. A large yawn escapes you as you step over the threshold, Leon on your heels. He makes sure to close and lock it securely for you with a few clicks.

"What does that mean? You don't have any family members hiding so they can get the jump on me and chop me up, do you?" Leon watches you slide your work shoes off before tucking them neatly into a shoe rack at the base of the stairs leading up to who knows where.

He makes sure to do the same, placing them by the rack as there wasn't any room. From what he could tell, every pair of shoes was the same size, so either you lived alone, or your family had the same size shoe.

"Nah, that's a few houses down." You joke from down the hall. Leon follows your voice to find you digging into a small closet full of spare bedding and towels. The way you had bent down gave Leon a full view of your curves, and he forces himself to look away.

When you find what you were looking for, you clutch them to your chest and turn around. Leon is a lot closer than you thought he’d be, causing you to squeak in surprise. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry.”

Both of your statements come out in unison, followed by some light laughter. You remember in the beginning of your friendship with him, he rarely laughed or even cracked a smile. The day he did both was a small victory that you hold onto even now.

And you never got tired of hearing and seeing them. The way Leon laughs is so endearing to you. His sapphire eyes half close, the creases by his eyes scrunching. The laughs were always deep and rumbling, a soothing sound to your ears.

“No one here but me… and Matilda.” You say, looking past Leon to the small black cat that sat on her haunches at the end of the hall. Her pale-yellow eyes watch Leon, half with curiosity and the other half with caution.

You don’t catch the way Leon’s eyes widen at the name, a familiar one to him that he hasn’t heard in a while. He turns around to face the little creature, giving her a small wave and smile.

“Well, at least you have someone to keep you safe.” Leon says, twisting back to face you again.

“She’s the most ferocious guard cat you’ll ever see.” You chuckle as you brush past Leon towards Matilda and the base of the stairs. The subtle hint of aftershave and sandalwood tickles your nose as you do, and you find yourself breathing in a little deeper to hold on to the scent before it inevitably disappears.

“I have a couch down here, but honestly, you’ll be more comfortable in my living space up here.” You continue. You watch as your shy cat runs off towards the kitchen as you approach.

When you make it to the top of the stairs, you’re faced with your little living space. The previous owners had originally used this as an upstairs studio but since you were the only human in the house, you turned it into an office and living space. Your own personal haven.

On the left of the room is a lush L-shaped sofa, littered with various soft blankets and pillows – your favorite napping spot. A small coffee table separates that side and the other where a mid-sized flat screen sits on top of a little media center. On the back wall is a small window overlooking the backyard, curtains and blinds closed as they always were when you were gone for work. And right next to the couch is a full bathroom, the door half open and decorated with your favorite colors.

Considering this is the room you spend the most time in, it’s very personalized to you. Leon couldn’t help but trail his eyes over every part of this room, noting every piece of your personality splayed out. His gaze finally lands on the bookshelf next to the media center, full of the trinkets and gifts he’s given you. He smirks as he makes his way over to them, eyeballing the glittering prizes and remembering exactly when and where he retrieved them for you.

“This shelf will be worth a fortune one day if you keep this up.” Leon teases.

After placing the bedding and towels down on to the coffee table, you turn to watch Leon as he leans towards the shelf to take a closer look. The way his back muscles ripple in his moistened shirt sends tingles through your body.

It’s not like you’ve never seen his muscles, but without the low lighting of the bar and closer proximity than usual, you can’t help but marvel at his whole physique. With every shift in weight, the thin cloth of his shirt tightens and loosens around his strong shoulders. You avert your eyes quickly when you notice he's about to turn around.

“Well, that’s if I decide to sell them. But I could never. They’re gifts, after all.” You walk back over to the top of the stairs and turn to face him before stepping down, your palm lightly placed on the half wall separating the stairs and the upper floor.

“That bathroom is all yours. I think I have some clothes that might fit you, I just need to find them first.” You purse your lips then start for the bottom floor, leaving Leon to his devices.

Leon watches as you descend until you’re out of sight, then sighs through his nose. He grips onto the towels and heads into the bathroom you had pointed out, shaking his head of the thoughts that swirl in his mind as if that would do anything to help.

It doesn’t take him long to strip out of his wet clothes and step into the shower, shivering from the sudden change of temperature on his skin. As the warm water cascades down his sore and worn-out body, he mentally kicks himself.

He shouldn’t have taken you up on your offer. He’s crossing a boundary he had long promised himself after the first month of being your regular – letting himself get close to you. It’s not like he didn’t want to be close to you, far from it, actually.

What he feared the most was getting you into danger because of the nature of his job.

Leon didn’t know if his next mission would be his last. Not to mention, if he were to finally indulge you with information of what he did on his ‘business trips’, it could put you under the government’s spotlight. That was something he couldn’t dare let happen, not to someone as precious to him as you were.

While stepping out to dry off, his mind stays clouded with those negatives, but even so. Thoughts of you break through like rays of sunshine and he finds it increasingly harder to talk himself out of the what ifs of a real relationship. What would it mean to not only kiss you softly but to also grocery shop with you? Every single mundane thing he could think of would be miles better having you by his side.

A soft knock brings him back to the present.

You watch as the bathroom door slowly opens in front of you, a little bit of steam escaping through the crack. Leon stands in the doorway, half covered with a towel wrapped around his lower body. Droplets from his dark blonde hair fall onto his bare shoulders and chest. You knew he was muscular but this…

You blink a few times as you gather yourself and meet his eyes, feeling the heat of not only the steamy bathroom but from shyness radiating into your cheeks. In your arms are some clothes you had struggled to dig out, about Leon’s size you hoped.

“Uh, here.” You say quickly, shoving them in his chest before stepping back a few feet. “Let me know if you need something else or they don’t fit. I’m sure there is some of my grandfather’s stuff around here. I just didn’t think you’d want to dress like an old man.” You ramble and laugh nervously, averting your gaze from his figure.

“Thank you, I appreciate this.” Leon says with a grin, pretending he didn’t notice your reactions for your sake. A few witty lines dance around his mind, but he bites his tongue.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” You say quickly before awkwardly turning and heading down the stairs.

Despite it edging towards six A.M., you find yourself brewing a pot of coffee after a quick shower of your own, now wearing an oversized sweater and sleep shorts in place of your work ‘uniform'. While the bubbling sound of the coffee maker fills the kitchen space, you find yourself leaning against the kitchen island facing the backyard. The sky is starting to turn a dark navy blue, signaling the oncoming morning.

“Coffee at this time of night?” The sudden voice startles you, your body standing up straight and spinning around quickly.

Leon stands in the archway that connects the kitchen to the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised. At first glance, the clothes you had provided him with were a size or two too small. The band t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sitting flush like his wet shirt had in the car. The joggers were a few inches above his ankles and hugged tightly around his thighs and…

You turn to face the coffee pot and watch as the last few blackened drops fall, pinching your lips tightly at the sight of the subtle outline of his lower body.

“Well, technically it’s the morning.” You reply simply, fighting to keep your voice steady.

You hear Leon’s heavy-set footsteps as he walks into the kitchen, then the squeak of wood on the wooden floor as he pulls out a chair at your island, settling into it. You busy yourself by opening the cupboard above you and grabbing two mugs.

“How do you like your coffee?” You ask, your back still turned towards him. You pull down your sugar container then step to the fridge to grab your creamer.

“Black, please.”

You take a moment to pour the steaming liquid into each mug, doctoring yours up the way you like it first. With both in hand, you turn towards where Leon sat and place his coffee in front of him.

“It's not the greatest coffee.” You warn before taking a careful sip. The cream smoothed out the bitterness.

“It'll suffice.” Leon says, picking up his own.

The house is quiet now, awkwardly so. When you had suggested him to stay for the night (morning?), you didn't really think past that. Here you two were – one sitting and the other standing, on opposite sides of the island. A few birds chirp morning greetings outside the window, and the sky looks a little brighter.

Your eyes slowly trail around Leon's face as he stares out the window. You're only given a side profile, but it's enough to marvel at his handsome features. His sharp jaw, dimpled chin, long eyelashes.

He gives you a side eye as he takes another sip.

“Your eyes are glazing over.” Leon says with a small amused huff.

“It's been a long twenty hours.” You shrug, peeling your eyes away.

“We should probably go to bed, then.” He lightly suggests. Leon leans back and stretches in his chair, the small shirt riding up his stomach and showing a trail of light brown hair disappearing under the jogger's waistline. You didn't mean to look, but you did.

“Y-yeah. We probably should, huh?” You say, setting your cup down. That's as far as your body moves, though.

You watch Leon stand up, grab his mug, then walk over to your sink to set it down. His shoulder brushes against yours on his way back, and the sudden sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Just like in the car earlier, your mouth opens before thinking.

“Leon?” You call to him just as he's about to pass under the archway. He turns around to face you, eyebrows raised.

You take a few steps closer to him, your heart beating so strong in your chest that you worry Leon could hear it. When you're a foot away from him, you falter with your lips parted as if you were about to say something.

“Everything okay?” He looks down at you with softened eyes, his now damp hair falling into his face.

“I just… um. Look, there’s something I want to tell you but I-"

You're cut off by Leon leaning down to close the already small gap between you two, his warm lips pressing against yours. It takes you a moment to register the sensation of it all, even less time to melt into it. Your eyes flutter closed, unconsciously closing the rest of the distance. Leon's arm snakes around your waist and pulls you into his warm chest while his tongue slides along your bottom lip before parting them.

Your head spins as you grip onto his shirt, your senses overloading from how he feels to how your body reacts to him. The kiss grow hungrier, and the heat in your stomach grows hotter. It only takes until you’re fighting for air that you have to pull away. Leon's cheeks are bright red, his wide blue eyes contrasting against them. Both of your chests rise and fall rapidly in attempt to catch your breaths.

“I'm sorry.” Leon whispers, pulling away a little. He arm doesn't release you though, and you don't fight to leave.

“N-no, that was..” You’re a little dizzy but focusing on Leon’s body helps you from losing grip.

“You were in the middle of saying something and I cut you off.”

It could have been the shot nerves, or the look that Leon gives you, but you can't help but laugh. Your body shakes in his arms as you do, your head thrown back. You've been crushing on him for so long, but you still could never read the stoic faced, dry commenting Leon Kennedy. To have him kiss you first was like someone had cut the ropes that restrained you for so long.

Freeing.

“I don't know what I was going to say.” You say, your laughs dying down to small giggles.

“Can I do that again?” Leon asks softly. That impassive, hardened face of his transformed into that of a puppy in such a short time span, how could you say no?

Nodding your head yes, he leans down again, slower this time. As his lips meet yours again, you're more than ready this time. As your lips moved against each other, that heat in your core burns again, radiating warmth throughout your entire body.

The kiss turns as hot as your body. You feel Leon pushing up against you, and before you know it, you're backed into the archway. The light impact elicits a small gasp from you, escaping into Leon's open mouth. Your hands rest against his chest with your nails daring to dig straight into his covered skin.

Leon's large hands travel down from your waist to your hips, his fingers squeezing into your plush skin gently. You're practically sandwiched between his stone-like body and the wood behind you, but you don't care. Your hands slide up his muscular chest so that your arms can wrap around Leon's neck. Shaking fingers slide up into his dirty blonde hair and you can't help but tangle them into the strands and tug gently.

A soft whine comes out of him when you do that, the quick jerk pulling his lips away from you. Those ocean eyes of his open and look down at you with a dark expression. Despite that though, when he speaks, his voice comes out soft.

“Is this okay?”

“I'm not complaining.” As you grin, your fingers tug on his hair again, reveling in the reaction you get from him as you do.

“Careful.” Leon warns, his tone dropping slightly.

“Or what?” You tug again.

Leon doesn't even respond, he just steps back and effortlessly picks you up by the waist with both hands. He throws you over his shoulder and starts for the hallway, you squirming and laughing against his back.

“Which door?” He asks, stopping at the end of the hall where he's faced with two doors.

“The left one.” You say through choked giggles.

Leon pushes your door open with ease, one of his arms holding tight around your thighs to keep you safely in place. The light switch flips on with a click and your cozy bedroom illuminates in front of him. He doesn't take a moment to look around though, he's more focused on something else. Someone else. You.

He flips you down on the bed onto your back, a few of your decorative pillows and plushies falling to the floor from the impact. The way you look up at Leon with warm cheeks and a shy smile is enough to make him crack his own lopsided grin.

“You’re breathtaking.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”  

Sitting up, you reach over to grab Leon by his shirt and start pulling him down with you. He crawls into the bed, his lips meeting yours once again as you both slowly fall into the bed together. He has both hands propped up on each side of your head, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you with his weight.

Your fingers tighten in the thin cloth while kissing back, savoring every bit of him in your mouth. Leon’s lips break away and slowly start to trail kisses down your jawline and neck. Your head tilts back into the soft sheets so he has better access and as you do, a soft sigh escapes you.

As Leon's lips reach your collar bones, he runs one of his hands under your sweater and squeezes your side softly, appreciating the warmth and softness of your skin. His hand continues upward, your sweater pulling up with it. The blatant absence of your bra lets Leon's big hand cup your breast easily, filling his calloused palm.

Your hands were just as busy, both of them under his too small shirt and feeling the ridges and dimples that came with his muscular torso and stomach. His body seems to be burning just as hot as your own. As your hands travel down, your fingertips find the waistband of his pants. You tug gently, getting a small chuckle out Leon.

Leon breaks away to look at you, his face hovering over yours and his blonde hair tickling your forehead.

“Impatient, are we?” He teases, moving his hand away from your chest and back down to the soft part of your stomach. Before you can answer, he slides off the bed and stands at the end of it, towering over you. In one swift move, Leon's strong hands grip you by the waist and pull you to the edge of the bed as well, your ass barely on the mattress. The movement makes you gasp, your eyes no doubt full of surprise as well.

His fingers trail light touches down your legs and thighs before slowing at the hem of your shorts. He looks down at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to stop him. You don't, instead you hook your thumbs at the hem of your sweater and tug it up over your chest. It takes you a moment, but you're able to pull it all the way over your head and off completely, tossing it on to the floor.

Leon chuckles above you, an eyebrow raised but he's no doubt staring at your plush chest and curves.

“Oh shut it, Kennedy.” You say before flopping on your back again, arms raised above your head.

“I didn't say anything.” Leon pulls your legs up to where your ass is flush to him now, and you can feel how hard he is for you. He places a soft kiss on your ankle before slowly going down your leg. With each kiss, he slides down to the floor so that he's kneeling and at eye level with your clothed heat. Your thighs now sit on top of his shoulders and you can see Leon's mischievous stare aimed at you.  

He doesn't hesitate to lean forward and nose into you gently, feeling how warm you are. Leon inhales a bit as he squeezes your soft thighs in tight fingers, your sweet scent nearly driving him crazy. After pulling away slightly, one of his hands gently palms over your sensitive core. Your hips reflexively buck up, pressing yourself more into his hand. The quick friction of it causes a soft moan to leave you.

It had been a while since you’ve been touched like this. That and the addition of it being someone you had vied after for so long makes you want to come undone on the spot.

A huff escapes Leon while watching you, pleased by how you react so easily to him. With a long finger, he hooks it around the thin cloth of your shorts and panties and pulls it to the side. Leon groans at the sight of your pretty pussy, glistening with your arousal, ready just for him.

Leon likes to tease. You feel his hot breath pat against your exposed heat, and you let out a small whine in frustration. However, out of shyness, you hide your face by crossing your arms over your head.

“Hey now,” Leon says softly, reaching up to grab your forearm and tugging it down gently so that he can see your face. “don't hide. I want to see your pretty face while I taste you.” He gives you another lopsided grin and you flush even more. You nod and remove your arms, opting to prop yourself up on your elbows so you both had a better visual on each other.

He places his lips on the soft inside of your thigh, lightly nipping at your skin. Slowly, he trails his tongue down until finally, his lips just barely ghosts on your already swollen clit. A few seconds pass and then his warm mouth envelopes you entirely, the tip of his tongue slowly lapping at your folds. He can't help but moan softly, the vibrations of it resonating to your core. You taste just as addictive as he thought.

Leon pulls away which causes you to whimper, and you eye him with a pout as he looks up at you. He just meets you with a sly smile.

“You're still wearing way too much.” He says before grabbing the waistline of your shorts and pulls them down roughly, taking your panties with them. In a single fluid movement, he slides them down your legs and over your feet, tossing them to the floor behind him. His rough hands grip your thighs and push them down onto the bed, gentle yet firm enough that you couldn't move them even if you tried.

You watch as he doesn't hesitate this time to dive in, his tongue dipping into your slick, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit. As his tongue moves, your head is thrown back in bliss as soft mewls escape from your lips. Instinctually, your hips buck but that's as far as you can go. Your legs strain against Leon's strength.

Your fingers make their way into his soft hair, tangling and tugging. Groans vibrate against you once again, adding to the friction against your most sensitive spot. It doesn't take long for the sensations to overwhelm you, your toes curling into the sheets just as your fingertips did in his scalp.

Suddenly, Leon pulls away slightly only to insert a finger into your tight warmth. As he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, his mouth envelopes your clit once more, sucking ever so slightly. He doesn't stop there, the tip of his tongue making kitten licks as he does.

“Le-Leon I'm gonna..” You can't even get your words out, the rest of your words coming out in choking syllables. Instead, you tighten your fingers into his soft locks, tugging and pushing yourself more into his mouth as you chase your high.

Leon doesn't stop, not after you're moaning his name with your head thrown back and your nails digging into his scalp nor even when you're gushing hard into his mouth as your orgasm hits you like raging waves on ocean rocks.

You fall back onto the mattress with heavy pants and closed eyes as you feel your ecstasy fading away. From the front of the bed, you hear a low chuckle from Leon. Your left eye peeks open and you peer down to see Leon watching you with a smug smile.

“I bet you're pretty proud of yourself, huh?” You laugh, raising a hand for Leon to take.

“As a matter of fact, I am. You did so well.” Leon takes your hand and pulls you up into a sitting position right in front of him. The words he used sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but smile up at him.

“Well, it's my turn.” Without hesitating, you reach over and palm over Leon's not-so-subtle erection, tucked in so tight under the cloth that it must hurt. The moment you make contact, Leon sucks in a bit of air, already so sensitive from what he just did to you and the noises he got out of you.

Moving your hand up his length, you reach the waistline of his joggers and tuck in a few fingers before gently yanking down the thick fabric, taking his boxers with it too. His cock springs free, the tip angry red and glistening with sheer pre-cum, all because of you.

“Christ, Leon…” You mutter softly. With one hand, you're pulling his pants down while the other wraps around Leon's girth, feeling the heat and ridged veins against your soft palm.

You don't miss the way Leon's soft sighs come out of his parted lips as he stares down at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly and his gaze intent on your pretty face.

Slowly, you scoot towards the edge of the bed so that you’re sitting with your legs dangling and Leon standing right in the middle. You lean forward and flick your tongue up the little slit, gathering the drop of pre-cum in your mouth and then wrapping your lips around his head, savoring him.

The slight gasp from Leon sends a wave of arousal from your head down to your toes and you can't help but smile around him, your eyes meeting his darkened gaze. His hand reaches up and gently grabs a fistful of your hair then guides you up and down his cock, unconsciously bucking his hips so that you take in even more of him. It doesn't take long for your jaw to get tired from his size, but even still you take him all.

When you look up with watering eyes, you note how Leon has his own eyes closed from bliss, with his lips parted allowing soft pants to escape. The way his cheeks flush bright pink to the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, you love it all. It fuels your need to suckle on him even harder, your tongue swirling around him at every chance you can.

Before you know it, Leon pushes your head away, a trail of saliva connecting your tongue to his throbbing cock. You look up at him curiously but before you can really get a good look, he's leaning down and effortlessly picks you up by the thighs so that you're pressed up against his chest lest you want to fall backwards.

In one fluid motion, he's twisting so that his back is facing the bed and then sitting on the edge of it in the spot you just were. You get the hint quickly and find yourself sitting on your knees on either side of his thighs, your arms wrapped around his neck and his large hands holding you up by your ass.

There's a moment where he just looks at you, making sure that you're okay with this. You answer the only way you know you can, by lining his hard cock with your slick entrance and slowly sliding down on him.

The way your warm walls hug around him is almost too much for the both of you. With this position, he's deep inside, his tip almost kissing your cervix. You don't move for a moment, letting yourself stretch to his size. Leon doesn't hesitate to capture your swollen lips in another kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tangling with your tongue.

One of his arms wraps around your back while the other sits on your plush hip, his well manicured nails digging straight into your flesh. With that, he helps you move up and down on his length, and from there rapidly building moans escape you both.

Using the leverage from your knees, you're able to bounce up and down on him. He helps as he continues to kiss you hard, holding you up so that you can keep riding him easily. Breathy moans make you break away from his mouth, more trails of saliva connecting you both before splitting.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Leon moans out, resting his hot forehead on your shoulder as you gyrate your hips on him. Every roll creates friction on your clit and you can already feel a massive wave of pleasure about to wash over you.

Leon can tell too just by the way your breathing comes out ragged, how your moans pitch higher, and how your movements become sloppier as you chase that high once again.

“Cum for me.” Leon grunts out, his arm that wraps around your waist tightens as he holds himself up with his other arm, giving him leverage to thrust up into you hard. That was it for you.

The dam that welled now broke and you came hard on top of him. As your body spasmed in his hold, your teeth find his shoulder and bite down as you moan his name, muffled and broken up.

He doesn't cum yet, because he's not done. He's waited so long for this, and he wants one more orgasm from you.

There's not a moment to breathe as he stands up, his hard cock popping out of you, and quickly he twists back facing the bed. He gives you a long, lingering kiss before tossing you onto the bed again.

Despite the post-orgasm dizziness, you can't help but laugh out loud on impact, staring up at him with a bright grin and wild eyes. He gets on the bed and crawls over to you, the bed frame groaning from the shifts in weight.

Leon leans over you, his blonde hair tickling your face once more. He lowers himself down to kiss you again, this time slower and sensually. As he moves his lips against yours, he spreads your legs under him and hooks your leg in his elbow so that he can push your knee closer to your chest.

Your lips are locked in his when he pushes his way into your dripping pussy, filling you up once again. As he does that, a sharp gasp escapes into his mouth from the sudden change, only to transform into a low moan.

Leon's lips trail down your jaw and neck as he slowly snaps his hips against you, the smacking of skin and breathy moans filling the empty spaces of your house. His teeth find purchase against your sensitive skin, eliciting the sweetest noises Leon's ever heard in his life.

His lips trail down further, nipping at your collarbone then down to your breasts. He licks one of your hardened nipples before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. His teeth bite down a little making you gasp from the mixed pleasure and pain. He releases it before going back up your shoulder, grunts of effort escaping his parted lips.  

“God, you're perfect.” He moans against your neck before going in to suck on it, no doubt leaving a mark there for later.

Your hands slide up his sweaty chest and around his back, digging your nails straight into those back muscles you loved so much. You don't know if you're drawing red, but you certainly felt like you were by how tight you were holding on to him. As if your life depended on it.

He continues to fuck you into the bed, his grunts and moans coming out broken. You could have sworn you heard a little whine in there too, which only pushed you closer to the edge of your climax.

Leon releases your leg and lets it fall to the bed so that he can unwrap your arms around him and in one hand, he takes your wrists and flips them up above your head, holding you down as he pushes himself into you more, groaning as he picks up his pace.

“Fu-fuck I'm not going to last any longer..” He groans out as he rests his forehead on yours, both of your sweat mixing as his hot breath fans on your face.

“P-please cum in me.” You moan, wrapping your legs around his waist to hold him closer.

“Are you sure?” The look of hesitation flickers across his face before he notices how desperate you were for him. Then it turns into a wicked grin, loving the sight of you taking him so well and wanting more.

“Please!”

“Say it again.” That sweet begging voice of yours, he needs it. He snaps into you roughly, his fingers tightening around your wrists as he does.

“Please cum in me, L-Leon!” At this point, your words are slurring from being love-drunk, tired and fatigued but you don't want to stop until you're both finished.

Leon doesn't ask again, and as he feels that winding string about to break in him, he leans down and catches your mouth again, moving his lips against yours heatedly and just like that, you both let go.

Your legs tighten around his waist as ropes of his hot cum spill into you, his movements not stilling one bit as he finishes inside your pulsating walls. He can't help but groan your name as he does, feeling every ounce of energy draining from him with every last drop he shoots into you.

For a moment, there's a silence bar the heavy panting from the both of you. Then suddenly, you burst into a fit of laughter, him soon following. It’s contagious, and he leans down to kiss you again, chaste and sweet.

Leon pulls out slowly, and you can feel his cum already starting to leak out and onto the sheets. He releases your wrists then flops over next to you and sprawls out, his joints and bones popping as he stretches. Between this passionate session and his recent mission, he just knows his body will be mad at him later.

As you both lie there, staring at the now sunrise lit ceiling, sated grins sit on your faces. You both turn to face each other, staring into each other's eyes. He reaches over to move some of your hair off your face that had gotten stuck there from sweat, his fingers lightly caressing your skin.

“How long have you been waiting to do that, Kennedy?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“How long have you been waiting for me to do that, is the better question.” He counters, chuckling lowly.

“Far too long, that's for sure.” You mutter softly, giving him a small smile.

“Does this mean I'm definitely your favorite regular now?”

You smack his chest lightly and laugh, rolling your eyes at him. You sit up carefully, noting how racked your body feels from the heated exchange. Slowly, you slide off the bed and stand up on wobbly knees. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings as you stretch yourself, feeling the warmth of the sunrays peering through your sheer curtains on your skin.

“You've always been my favorite, dummy. No one else brings me fun trinkets from their dangerous business trips.” You joke lightly, turning around to face him. He’s lying on his side, propped up on an arm as he stares at you. God, he's so perfect.

“Good, because I'll fight anyone that comes close to that title.”

“I’m sure you will, Kennedy. I'm gonna go clean up in the shower, wanna join?”

“But, showering means I'll see you naked.” He feigns shyness, but his smirk tells something different. He’s so dumb, you laugh to yourself.

“Your loss.” You purse your lips and start for the bathroom. The thud of Leon landing on the floor behind you is instantaneous, his heavy footsteps following quickly behind.

It's well into the morning when you find yourself snuggled up lazily into Leon's arms, both freshly showered and satisfied. He helped you strip your sheets and put new ones on before you grabbed him by the arm and tugged him into bed with you – something he definitely did not try to fight.

With his big arm wrapped around you protectively, him lying on his back, you nuzzle into his ribs as you splay your arm across his broad chest. He's already in and out of sleep, soft snores escaping him. His arm around you just tightens in response, his fingers curling into your soft side as he mumbles softly. As the morning birds continue their melody, you drift off easily. Already is your mind busy dreaming of the man whose scent permeates every part of your senses, making this rest the easiest one you've had in a while.

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[whocaresstillthelouvre]

18 Seasons

A Joel Miller baseball player AU.

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller has only ever known playing baseball for his hometown team, and they’ve just announced they’re not resigning him. He heads to a fancy hotel bar to drink alone and wallow. He doesn’t except to find you, the team owner’s daughter, there.  Warnings: smut, baseball talk, drinking, banter (reader has a smart mouth and Joel’s got that asshole voice), unprotected p in v (but a discussion on testing and reader has an IUD), F receiving oral, Joel’s 42, reader’s in her late 30’s.  Words: 4,900 A/N: Happy 2024 Baseball Season! I’ve always thought Joel Miller would make a good baseball player, though I’m not sure if I just want to see him in tight baseball pants and that’s why I think that. 🤔 Anyways, this might be a bit of an adventure in me coping with the fact that my current favorite ballplayer is over 40 and only signed a minor league contract to play this season. Also, shout out to said favorite baseball player’s arm for being part of the cover of this, feels very Joel Miller to me. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Playlist

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"The Austin Capitals thank first baseman Joel Miller for his time and dedication to the team for the past 18 seasons. Miller is a six time All-Star, two time batting champion, and two time Gold Glove winner. He signed with his hometown team in the second round of the draft twenty three years ago and has been a great contribution both on and off the field. The organization will not be able to provide Miller with the proper playing time, with the current roster and plans for the upcoming season. We thank him for his years of service and he will forever be a part of the Capitals family."

Joel knew it was coming, it was inevitable. He had been warned of it multiple times, his agent straight and to the point about his chances, his brother and Maria more analytical and sympathetic, and his sweet Sarah so chipper and hopeful for him. 

For twenty three years he’s only known the Capitals. The only thing he’s ever been good at, baseball… he’s never been so good at anything else really, save maybe for wood working or fishing, but those were hobbies. Baseball was his job, he knows he’s a lucky son of a bitch who got to do this full time, and now it’s all over, he’s unemployed.

Joel needs a drink. The stronger, the better. 

DING. DING.

DING. DING. DING.

DING. DING.

He also needs to turn off his phone.

“What can I get you?”

“Gin martini, dirty please.”

“Should I charge it to your room?”

“Ye–“

“No, you can put it on my tab." You turn towards the deep voice, you’re used to the southern accent, you grew up around it, but this timbre is different and yet so familiar. 

“Joel?” What the hell?

He lifts his glass towards you, his dark brown eyes shining at you from across the bar.

You haven’t seen him in quite a few years, ever since you got the hell out of Texas, moving to New York and betraying your home state for packed subway cars and better politics. 

He stands and walks towards you, he looks just as good as you remembered. Broad, strong, and too damn handsome to be alone on what you know might be the worst night of his life.

“Figured you wouldn’t waste your time on any of that fruity drink stuff,” he nods towards your drink as it’s placed in front of you.

“Too much sugar gives me a headache.” 

“Mm,” Joel gulps down the rest of his drink and signals the bartender for another. 

“…How are you holding up? I’m really sor—“

“M’fine. Was expected.” 

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Understood. 

Joel Miller was never one for talking, or the media. He’d give them a nod and a quick answer before moving on to the next nuisance. Talking was never his job, you know this. Your dad would sometimes complain about how his star player couldn’t play nice with the reporters. You always admired Joel’s candidness, it’s one of the things that you found most attractive about him. He was always honest, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing depended on how high the team was in the standings. You’re going to miss him on your team, but you can’t let him know that.

“So, why exactly are you back here in Texas?”

“It’s my Mom’s birthday, she’s tired of visiting me in New York, was guilted back here as part of her present.” 

“Mm. New York, hate playing in New York.”

“Likely thing to hear you say. Guess I should ask you what you’re doing in a fancy hotel bar in the city you live in?”

“S’quiet here, it’s the fanciest hotel ‘round here, nobody who stays here cares about baseball. Not a lot of people recognize me without the hat on.”

“Ouch. I care about baseball.” 

“Yeah, and you don’t belong in a place like this,” Joel pivots to look at you, his arm resting on the bar top.

“Where do I belong, Joel?” You angle your body to look at him and swallow down the last bit of your drink.

“Some place cozier, not as cold and… corporate as this place. Some place… hip.”

Your head tips back in laughter. “Hip?! I have a phone case with ducks on it, I cried at the same part I always cry at during Paddington 2 last night. I’m far from hip, what a funny word.”

“Dunno, always got the idea you’re cooler than me.”

“Okay pro baseball player.”

“Not so pro now,” Joel scours.

“Hey, sorry,” you place your hand on his forearm, a perfunctory touch. You had zero decision on the matter, and yet you feel so much guilt over it. You know what this game meant to him and you know he made it known he wanted to return. 

“S’alright. Just weird to know I’m done for.” He looks down and focuses on his hand rubbing back and forth on the rim of the glass. A nervous tell. Your hand remains on his arm, Joel makes no attempt to move away.

“You’re not done for, I’m sure another team would like you.”

“Don’t want another team. My daughter grew up here. Hell, I grew up here. My brother’s here. Sarah just started college here. I couldn’t move away.”

His daughter. The big story of Joel’s first year was how the star rookie, was also a father to a newborn baby girl. Juggling a .300 average and fatherhood.

“Wow, she’s in college, huh? I remember seeing her at the stadium all of the time, reminded me of how I grew up there too.”

“Time flies,” a wistful smile on his face as Joel signals the bartender for another round of drinks for the two of you. 

Goodness he’s gorgeous. You’ve always found him attractive, ever since he was signed right out of high school. All tall, golden skinned and muscular, now his form is a little more filled out, his muscles less defined but still fully there. His arms and thighs thicker now, a small gut protruding, but still solid and muscular. His speed to round the bases is a lot slower these days but his power and batting eye are stronger from years of playing. He was a school girl crush for you, a stadium give away bobble head of his still sits in your office under the ruse that he was your team’s biggest player. Now you don’t know what to call it, you’re long past school girl crushes. All you know is now, over twenty years later, he’s still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Time sure does fly.

“Are you staying here tonight?” You cut the silence between the two of you, both of you facing the bar and quietly sipping your drinks. Joel’s eyes looking a little heavier, the alcohol taking its effect on him. You feel good, a lot lighter, but happy to sit and allow Joel to ponder.

“Planned on it. Booked a room. Figured I’d get drunk and go pass out, take care of everything I have to tomorrow. Just don’t want to deal with it tonight.” 

“I understand that, just didn’t know if you needed car service home, I could have ordered you one.”

“Dad’s money, right?” Joel bites out condescendingly. 

“Or, my money, you asshole,” you bark back. You know he’s pissed off at the world but there’s no need for his tone to be so mean towards you. 

“Sorry, still kinda pissed off at your family.”

“My family? You mean my dad? I had nothing to do with it, my mother had nothing to do with it. You can be pissed off at him, but you’re also not getting any younger and believe it or not our farm system and minors are stacked with talent waiting to play.” You try to calm your voice as you gulp a drink down from your newly made martini. You don’t want to be pissed off and drunk but goodness the cold gin cools your heated body. “You’re old Joel, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it sweetheart, but I know I’m still better than most of those kids.” 

“Yeah, well, stop getting injured and batting .220 and prove it.”

“Damn, you got a smart mouth,” Joel leers at you.

“Not to mention all the time and effort spent on keeping your body in playing shape. I’m sorry, you’re ancient in sports standards.”

“Real fuckin’ smart mouth, huh?” Joel leans in and whispers, “I like it.”

You fight the urge to moan, to give an audible to the feeling that’s now coursing through your body from those three words snarled into your ear. 

You feel the same feelings you felt those few years ago, while out with the team celebrating their playoff series win. Drinks flowing, cigars puffing plumes of smoke into the air, conversations shouted above music, bodies sweating and glowing different hues under the lights on the dance floor. The Capitals were heading to the World Series for the first time in twenty years, thanks to Joel Miller’s walk-off home run. Teary hugs shared with your family and friends as you watched him round the bases, it may have been the happiest you’d ever seen your dad. Hell, it may have been the happiest you’d ever been. You didn’t think the night could get any better, until Joel backed you into a corner of the club and stuck his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your dress. You don’t know if you’ve still forgiven him for pulling his fingers out of you and wiping the wet of your orgasm on his jeans before slurring out, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that,” as he backed away and left, leaving you all weak kneed and blissed out panting for air. 

You did agree though, he really shouldn’t have, the scandal that could’ve been brought on if the owner’s daughter was spotted in that position with the team’s star baseball player. He’s one of the reasons why you moved away, he was off limits and it drove you crazy. You casually dated, you slept with strangers, you spent three years with your ex who you thought you’d settle for and marry, but that night never escaped you. Sometimes you’d reach your hand between your legs and touch yourself while you remembered the look in his eyes as he nodded his head to signal you to follow him into that desolate space. Like he always wanted you as much as you always wanted him and he was seizing the opportunity. 

“I’m just letting you know what we’re all seeing. Trust me, I don’t want to see you in any other colors than the Capitals color. Red suits you.” If you’re being honest, you really prefer him in the olive green button up shirt he’s wearing tonight. The top few buttons of it unbuttoned to relieve the stretched seams around his large shoulders giving you a peek of the gold chain he always wears resting against the bronzed skin of his neck and chest.

“Mm, whatever the color you want to call this is,” Joel grabs the shoulder of your shirt and rubs the fabric between his fingers, “suits you.”

“I call it aquamarine, most would just call it light blue.” 

“S’pretty, s’soft.” You wonder if he can see how rapid your heart is beating or the swallow of air you gulp down as his eyes linger on your chest and neck. “Fits real well.”

“Thanks, bought it at one those real fancy stores they have in New York,” you lift your shoulder causing Joel to pull his hand back. 

“Do the boys in New York like you in this color?” Joel’s words drip with the sarcastic tone he’s famous for. 

“Worked a couple of weeks ago with a guy. HUGE New York fan,” you emphasize huge, two can play that game. “Like, big, real big.” 

“Mm,” Joel’s nostrils flare. “He your last? This… New York fan?” 

“Yep,” you smile through your glass taking a drink and licking your lips.

“Mm,” Joel’s eyes don’t leave your mouth. “And why’s that?”

“Been busy, haven’t found anybody that’s piqued my interest, I guess.” 

“And what was so special about him?” 

“Not sure,” you shrug, “he was good looking and paid for my martinis. I wanted him, he wanted me, the classic hook up.” 

“Talk to him since?”

“Here and there, he seems nice enough." “Mm,” Joel licks his lips as he leans forward placing his arm on the back of your chair and turning it to swivel towards him, his other arm rests on the bar, caging you in between. “You want nice?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, see the freckles on his skin from years of playing ball in the sun, smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with the soap on his skin. You’re so close you can almost count the gray hairs just beginning to tint his dark hair lighter. You want him.

“Not really. Plus, he was younger than me, I’m pretty sure I like older men.” You challenge him. You can compete with the best of them, and Joel’s one of the best, he’s made millions of dollars over the years just from being competitive. 

“Mm,” Joel moves the hand from the back of your chair to your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth, his touch igniting your core. 

“How long has it been for… you?” Your words come out a little too nervous than you’d like them to be. 

“Few months, not sure. Don’t like that type of distraction during the season.” 

“A celibate?”

“No, not that, just don’t have the time with deal with all that, between Sarah’s senior year ‘n me having to focus more on my regimen, ya’ know since I’m ancient.” 

“Mm,” you copy Joel’s sound. He smirks. 

“Never been my scene to meet someone, fuck them, and leave the next morning.” Your body tenses at his words. “I prefer to know someone before I touch ‘em. Too many people out there just want to say they slept with a ballplayer and move on. Not for me.”

The hushed tone of Joel’s voice and his proximity to you begins to take its toll on you, you feel so hot and quite flustered. “I understand that.”

“You ever been with a ballplayer? Ya’ know since you’re involved in the business.”

“I haven’t… just what we did in that club after the playoff win,” you blink at him, willing him to tell you he wants more.

“You want to do more than just that with a ballplayer?” Joel’s accent dropping an octave as he whispers the question out. 

“I do,” you just as quietly confess. 

“You want to do more than just that with me?” he leans in closer.

“I do.”

“Alright sweetheart, your room or mine?”

“I have the suite, so mine.” 

“Should’ve charged the drinks to your room then.” Joel turns and gets the bartender’s attention.

It’s becoming real. You calm your nerves as Joel signs the check and moves off the stool, you following him through the bar and lobby before reaching the elevator.

All you expected to do tonight was have a couple of drinks while reading a book in a quiet corner of the bar before ordering room service and watching whatever movie you can find on hotel TV. You’re now headed up to your room with Joel Miller.

The elevator doors ding open, empty with nobody following behind you. It’s just you and him in the mirrored oasis of the lift. You go in first and stand with your back against the wall.

“What number?”

“The P at the top, I have to scan my card,” you lift your key out of your pocket and hand it to him. 

“Of course. You got the suite.” 

“I did, wanted to treat myself on my return home.”

“Mm,” Joel scans the card and tucks it in the back pocket of his jeans. The doors close and your stomach anxiously drops as the lift speeds upward.

The vision of Joel surrounds you, his reflection repeated in every panel, you could stay right in this small room forever, seeing every angle of his handsome face. Aquiline nose, creased eyebrows, dimple tucked between a dark mustache and beard, plush lips, deep brown eyes, wavy hair.

“You’re staring.” You’re shocked out of your concentration by Joel’s whisper. “This whole elevator’s mirrors, I can see you as much as you see me.”

A blush creeps across your face. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel turns around and steps towards you, standing in front of you. “You look beautiful.” His hand rests against your cheek, his head angles down, his lips resting right in front of yours. “It’s hard to look away from you.” 

You close the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his. It’s a soft kiss, both of your tongues gently licking into each other’s mouths. You’re both savoring the first taste of each other in years, it feels like he also would think about your last kiss as much as you did. Joel pulls away first, turning his head to look in the mirror, you follow his gaze. His hand on your cheek, your hand resting on his bicep, far too big for you to be able to wrap your hand around it. This reality you’re in right now feels like something out of one of your wildest dreams. The alarm goes off, the elevator dinging your arrival to your floor. Joel turns away and you follow behind him as he unlocks your room door.

“Nice room, pretty big for just you, don’t you think?”

“It is. Maybe I figured I’d be sharing it with someone else. Maybe someone older who needed more space to get around on account of his old knees and hurt shoulder.”

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, sweetheart.”

“I welcome it,” you look up at him as you bend over to untie your shoes. 

“Where’s the bedroom?” Again, you like Joel’s bluntness. You appreciate how he doesn’t mince words, he knows what he wants and he tells you what he thinks. 

You point, he nods, and turns towards it as he begins to unbutton his shirt. 

“What? You got somewhere to go?” You shout still standing in the middle of the living room. 

“No,” Joel peeks his head out of the doorframe, shirt half open, his hands paused on a button. “I just really want to see you naked on your bed.” 

Your knees feel weak, your pussy clenches, your body breaks out in goosebumps. You love his mouth and the way he always sounds like an asshole, even if he’s telling you he wants to see you naked. 

You hurry to the bedroom, taking your shirt off and tossing it behind you. 

Joel stands with his shirt unbuttoned next to the bedside table, the only light source of the room is the lamp he’s turned on next to him. His skin might be your favorite color, sun bronzed with a patina of dark freckles across his chest and neck. His body standing in front of the dark wood paneled wall glowing in the aureate glow of the lamp takes your breath away. Maybe you should come home more often.

“Take your pants off,” Joel turns to you, his eyes lighting when he sees you without your shirt. 

He sheds his shirt before unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans. Your own clothing removal pauses as you stare at the trail from his belly to the black boxer briefs bulging with his erection. This man could never survive without spandex, his thick thighs strain the tight fabric.  “Like I said, take your pants off darlin’,” he chuckles. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him chuckle. 

“Oh, sorry, yes,” stammers out as you remove your jeans. 

You can’t help but not look away from him. You’ll never get over just how handsome and large he is. Other men with his features on their bodies would look ridiculous but Joel is perfectly put together. You can’t get over the fact that he wants you as much as you want him. 

“How’d you know navy blue was my favorite color?” Joel asks as he stares at your panties. You wonder if he can see how soaked they are. 

“Didn’t. Lucky you.” You’re not sure who’s luckier at this point, maybe you’re both ready to share each other’s luck. 

“Very. Get on the bed for me.”

You lay down on the soft sheets, the bed and cover are so plush you sink into it. Your hands by your sides pet the silky sheet and your legs rub against the fabric, it feels so divine and smooth.

“God, you look good like that,” Joel reaches down to palm himself through his briefs. “Might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Your body lights on fire at his praise, your pulse quickening, your almost naked body feeling overheated. “Spread your legs for me.” 

You follow his instruction, bending your knees and spreading. Joel climbs on the bed to kneel in between, his palms rest atop of your knees, you can feel the calluses on his hands from years of gloves and bats on your smooth skin. 

He runs his hands down your legs before stopping right at the edge of your panties. You moan as he takes a hand and runs it back and forth along your drenched panties. “This all for me?” His cocky smile making his dimple even more apparent. 

“Yes, fuck… yes,” you struggle out. You’re so turned on right now, aching all over. Joel’s barely even touched you and you feel like he’s already devastated your whole body. You’ve never felt this way with anybody else before. 

“Want to see all of you, take your bra off ’n I’ll take these off,” Joel says as he cups your cloth covered pussy. 

You lean up to unsnap your bra, quickly getting naked as Joel takes off your panties. He sits back on his heels, his eyes mapping your body. “Jesus baby, you’re so fucking pretty ’n soft looking.”

His voice, his accent, his praise, it causes a whimper out of you. 

“I know baby,” Joel leans down, his hands grab your ass cheeks and pulls your whole body towards him, easily lifting your ass up. Your pussy rests now right in front of his face, you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive folds. He’s supporting your whole lower half in his hands until you lift your legs to rest atop his wide shoulders. He licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit and back again. 

“Taste so fucking good, so fucking sweet, knew you’d be this good. Can’t believe I didn’t taste you before.” Joel’s words of devotion are spoken straight to your cunt. 

He devours your pussy like it’s never been ate before, fucking into you with his tongue, sucking on your clit, rubbing the bristle of his thin beard against your sensitive folds. Your thighs and legs beginning to shake against Joel as your whole body burns with pleasure. His hands are gripping your ass so tight, his strength and support the only reason why your whole body hasn’t collapsed as your orgasm quickly ripples through you.

Joel moans against you as you spill into him. He doesn’t come up for air as your hips writhe against him. He flicks his tongue against your pulsing clit, a scream escaping your mouth as he begins to press his tongue down on your too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Holy fuck,” you struggle out. “Fuck. Joel, Joel. Fuck.” 

“Mm,” Joel lifts his head up out of in between your legs, your wet glistening on the lower half of his face, his eyes resting under his furrowed brows staring right at you. You unwrap your legs from around his head as Joel gently helps your legs drop to the bed. 

Joel rubs your legs and thighs as he stares down at you longingly. His actions are so sweet, actions you never thought you’d see. You don’t think a lot of people get to see this side of him, his features relaxed, mouth slacked open a bit, eyes softened, this isn’t competitive Joel, this is bedroom Joel.

“Let me fuck you baby, don’t think I’m going to last long, wanted to prove to you I can fuck you all night but I’ve waited a long time for this.” 

Your core clenches at his words, you wanted to challenge him tonight too, but you can’t fathom the idea of waiting any longer for Joel’s cock inside you. He gets up off the bed, removing his briefs, his cock springing free. Fuck, he’s big and beautiful, the perfect size and shape to match his broad and athletic body. 

Joel climbs back on the bed, his body resting in between your spread legs again, this time he leans forward, putting his weight on his two arms as he looms above you. You feel his cock resting against your wet cunt. 

“You got a condom or should I have grabbed mine from my wallet?”

“No— can I ask you something?”

“Now?” Joel huffs. "I guess."

“Yes, yeah,” you gather your nerves before you confess. “I want to feel you, all of you. I have an IUD and I always use protection with… others, I just, I want to feel your cum inside of me.” 

Joel's jaw drops at the shock of your blunt words. “Fuck, yes. Of course. Jesus Christ.” His dick twitches against you as he answers. “I’m tested and clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

“Fuck baby, I’m so glad you asked.” Joel plants a kiss to the top of your head as he pushes himself into you. 

“Holy fuck,” you rasp out at the feel of Joel’s cock stretching you. He’s slow to enter, mindful of how tight your cunt is squeezing around him. It stings so good, you’ve never been this stretched before. 

You shut your eyes and focus on taking his length, anchoring yourself in this moment. 

“I can feel you clutching me, fuck you feel so good,” you open your eyes at Joel’s words. The glimmer of Joel’s gold chain catches your eye as he moves inside you. You’re mesmerized by how it moves between the two of you, the pendant swinging back and forth like a metronome of Joel’s cock entering and exiting you. “Look at me baby.”

You move your gaze from Joel’s necklace to his eyes, all big and brown and blown out with lust. He begins to increase his pace, your whole core beginning to build another orgasm. Joel cranes his neck down to kiss you, the way his mouth languidly moves against your mouth contrasts the brutal speed of the way he’s now fucking you. You move your hands up to cradle his head, gripping his messy curled hair, left longer during the offseason.

Years and years of pining over Joel culminating in this one night, a surprise encounter at the bar turning into the shared moans and groans you and Joel trade back and forth as your bodies move together.

He’s simply too beautiful, your eyes watching his heavy eyes disappear behind the crinkles on the side of them as he half smiles at you. Like he also can’t believe the two of you are doing this. 

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, the softness of the bed cradling you as Joel fucks you harder.

“M’close baby,” respires out against your mouth. Your cunt tightening even more around him as you both begin to reach the apex of your orgasms. “You gonna cum with me?”

You can only nod and blink hoping that your whimpers and moans let him know you’re right there with him. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty and tight, can’t believe how fast you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck baby, just talking about it— gonna fucking cum.” 

You feel Joel’s cock throb as his spend fills you, your orgasm following, pumping Joel’s cock as you pulse around him. 

He drops down to rest on his forearms, his body landing on top of you. You welcome the feeling of his burning hot body smothering yours. He kisses you as he languidly still fucks into your cunt with his softening cock. Your pussy drips a mixture of your intermingled cum out as Joel pulls out and lays next to you on his back. 

You turn and rest your head against his chest, his breaths slow and relaxed. Your hands run up his chest, stopping at the gold chain around his neck.

“Never took you for a necklace man, why do you wear it?”

“My daughter got it for me, when I won that playoff game.”

“Like THAT playoff game you hit the walk-off?” Your question implying it’s the same game you celebrated together in the back of the club. 

“Yeah, that one,” Joel wraps his hand around yours. “Sometimes I still think of you and I that night when I see it. Thank you for tonight. You made a bad day into the best night.”

A/N: I adore these two. This stands as a one shot right now, since I'm currently working on my multi-chapter story Elks, but I might revisit them later. Go sports!